Valkyrie of Desire

42. What Murder?

What flavors a fight better than pride

A spice to turn plain men heroic

And heroic men legendary

—Duroken "Happy" Gutpuncher

A warm evening wind ruffles Hildr's blouse as she hurries along the edge of the city street. She tugs at the hem, hiding her nakedness underneath.

A loose cobble stone makes her stumble, and she slides on her worn soles. Cursing under her breath, she edges away from hanging lanterns and curious glances.

If only she had not given Apple her straw hat. She rubs the fuzz covering her scalp. How much has it grown in a day, in a week? It may be coming back in her childhood blonde instead of the fiery orange of her recent years, but her wanted posters are already colorless. Baldness helped keep her anonymous. Now the hat, such a simple item, may mean her life ... or death.

Keeping to the shadows, Hildr makes her way to her townhouse lane.

A crowd of men block the side street, holding lanterns on poles that end in sharp hooks. Metal clinks under their gray tunics decorated with the city's lumber-themed heraldry—dark brown stumps split by silver axes in fields of green.

Slipping among the soldiers, she bobs her head. "Excuse me. Coming through. I just need to get—"

Hildr bites her tongue. Ahead, several of the guardsmen gather in a tight circle with the elder sisters, her nosy neighbors.

Muffin, the short-fat one, yells and waves her arms about with exaggerated flair. Some grumbles from the soldiers, and she collapses into the one of them who grunts to keep her afoot.

Hildr hides the side of her face with her hand and shuffles past. Lacking sleep and a skirt, whatever business this is, it is best resolved without her.

"Oi, that's the vixen!" says Patsie, the sharp-tongued other sister.

Still men ahead. Men all around. Hildr gulps and hunches down.

Behind her, Patsie says, "Hairless and half-naked, stranger than a feather in a pie! Yep, she's the vagabond's partner!"

Vagabond's partner? What has this old scarecrow figured out?

Several soldiers turn to Hildr with gloved hands reaching.

"Easy, girl," says one with his sword half-drawn. "Don't do a dumb thing."

Hildr slaps away another's hand. "Stay back, or I'll scream."

The soldiers shuffle to surround her. A full squad or even two, are they all here to apprehend her? No way she can rely on her gimped desire skill against so many.

"What?" She presses her legs together. "Has there been a break in?"

One of the men who was interrogating the sisters comes over, the squad leader, by the gold trim on his tunic.

"Interesting that you mention a break in." He smirks at her. "You call yourself Hell'Gina, but you are Hildr, yes?"

She shrugs, biting her lip. She has already said too much. City guardsmen are the same everywhere. When on a case, any little thing said to them can be twisted into condemnation.

He waves his arm. "Bring out the suspect."

Two of his fellows drag out a ragged man from the first townhouse, the landlord's home. Sweat rolls down Hildr's cheek as the hairy refugee she had set up there coughs and mumbles. Shit logs. Are these the garbled pleas of a broken man?