Patrol 2: Lost & Found

Chapter 15

"You know I would never draw steel in your establishment, Licia," Vania replied, smiling.

Licia sighed and shook her head. "So then why'd he leave so quick? Such a nice boy, now that he's not arresting my Derry." She looked at Vania. "You could do worse."

Vania made a face. "We would never have a relationship like that, Licia. We were only work partners, and now we're not. There's nothing left between us."

"If you say so, dear. Well, unless I can get you anything else, feel free to come on upstairs. We're closing up shop."

Vania nodded, standing slowly; "Thank you, Licia. I will." She started to go around the counter as Licia walked to the front door.

As the baker's wife reached for the lock, the door swung open and she gasped; recovering quickly, she said, "Oh! Good evening. I'm sorry to say we're closed. We'll be open again tomorrow morn—"

"I'm not here for your goods. I'm here to speak to your enforcer guest."

Licia looked at the person in the doorway and gasped again. She stammered, unable to get a word out.

Hearing the sound, Vania quickly came over; "Licia, is everything all right? What's—" Vania froze, words dying in her throat, at the sight of a dark-cloaked person standing in the doorway, the hood obscuring their face edged with red arrows and axes. She swallowed, then gently pushed Licia behind herself and stood in the doorway, blocking the person's entrance. "What do you want, Dark Hand?"

"Just to deliver a message to you, disgraced Enforcer Vania Nahalora."

Vania continued to frown, refusing to react. Word travels fast in the underside of the city. She stared hard at the empty blackness of the inside of the hood.

"Mistress Nanda has taken a special interest in you, Taila's daughter. She wishes to speak with you. In return for your humoring her with your presence, she offers information on the magic using killer who eluded the best efforts of the city's so-called protectors."

Vania scowled; "I have no business with anyone such as your mistress. Good evening. Don't bother me again." She pushed the door shut, causing the frame to rattle, and quickly threw all the bolts home and thrust the heavy beam in its brackets, barring the door shut.

"I—I think we'd best get upstairs," she told Licia. The woman was pale, long-fingered hands holding her large belly. "Come on." She took the woman's arm gently and walked her to the back, through the door, and up the stairs. After helping Licia sit on the divan with her feet propped up, she hurried back down to the kitchen, stopping to check the locks and bar on the household door on her way.

Derry carefully tucked a cloth over the mounded dough, humming as he put his bakery to bed. He looked up as Vania entered the kitchen. "Ah, Vania. Good evening. Have you decided to stay?"

"Derry. Quinsenniel was just here."

The baker's smile disappeared; "Where's Licia?"

"Upstairs. I just walked her up to rest on the couch."

"Cianna?"

"She's with Kuran in their room, playing. I heard their voices before I came back down."

Derry took a deep breath, leaning on one of the wooden shelves full of bowls and pans. "What does Nanda's gang want now?"

"To speak with me," Vania replied.

"What? Why? You refused, didn't you?"

"I don't know why. And yes, of course I refused. Quinsenniel said Nanda was offering information on the killer in exchange for just showing up to talk."

Derry shook his head; "Nanda never gives information away so cheaply. There must be something she wants."

"I don't intend to find out." She walked over to Derry, looking around the kitchen. "Is there anything else to do for tonight? I already checked all the doors—made sure they were locked and barred. Wards are activated."

Derry nodded. "Good. Thank you. No, there's nothing else. The bread will rise during the night, and in the morning, I bake. Let's go upstairs." He tossed his apron onto his work table and took Vania's arm.

Upstairs, Vania sat with Derry's family, chatting with Licia and playing with the children. Finally, as everyone went to their beds, she pulled her cloak close about her, grabbed a blanket, and lay down on the divan.

Thoughts of the day's events cycled through her mind, playing on constant replay behind her eyelids: the nightmare, running to Derry, finding Adar's body with Eddin, arguing with the captain, rescuing Laria, speaking with the captain, going home, having dinner at the bakery, talking with Bergin, Quinsenniel showing up, spending time with Derry's family...

A tapping at the door at the bottom of the stairs drew her attention. She clutched the edges of her blankets, ears straining. Did I imagine it? I don't hear anything now. Maybe it was one of Nanda's gang. Maybe it's the killer. She lay in tense silence, rigid, eyes wide, barely breathing. Maybe I imagined it. She took several deep breaths, forcing herself to relax.

As she began to fall asleep, the tapping came again. I... don't think I'm imagining that. But, who is it? And why? The pounding on her door and Adar's pleas rose in her memory. She bit back a sob and pushed the memory of the nightmare away. No. This is something else. If it was a plea for help, it wouldn't be light tapping—it'd be anxious pounding and shouting. Like he did. She gritted her teeth and tried to once more relax enough to fall asleep.

Her hands found their way to the bumps in her cloak pocket. The very round one was the communication orb from Eddin. Never hesitate to call for me, he had said. The smaller, heavier bump was the purse from Bergin.Your work family wants to help you, he reminded her in her memory. She sighed.