Sieged

Chapter One

'Goodnight, sheriff,' says the young woman. 

But as she's about to close the door, I quickly blurt out, 'Oh, one more thing. . . .' 

'Yes, sheriff.' 

'When someone knocks, especially at night, make sure you know who they are before opening the door. Yes? As you know, the world has more evil than good.' 

'Yes.' 

'Good. And goodnight.' 

'Goodnight, sheriff.' 

I bow again and trudge on, light soon vanishing from the street. I'm not far along when a breeze flitters by, carrying a familiar smell. It's strong and earthy with a hint of pig dung. And it makes my belly churn again. 

After five years of this city under siege, I can't believe he still has a supply of berry weed. The southern wall is not far away. Should I go and say hello to my friend? I haven't seen him in ages. More than two weeks. A few moments won't hurt my investigation. Who knows, maybe he can help or give me a pang of inspiration. My head always clears in his presence. 

I change direction and follow the smell. It takes me past my old army barracks, under one of the many disused and crumbling aqueducts in the city, and through a tiny park once lined with glorious silverbark trees, their foliage a vibrant purple. Now, and like many other parks in the city, it sprouts vegetables. 

Past the skeletal remains of the Southern Market, its thatched roof no more, I enter an alleyway, the narrow walk space eventually opening up into a small square. Soldiers, at least four dozen of them, and all dressed in armour, are resting, resting before their next shift. 

I hear loud snores and quiet chatter and see men eating their grotesquely small and cold rations. Several heads gravitate towards me. Some bow and I bow in return. Others salute but only soldiers are allowed to salute back. 

At the far end, a soldier stands guard below a set of stairs carved into the monstrous sandstone boulders of the southern wall, its tiny flecks of crystals glinting ever so despite the night. 

Closing in on him, I see through his crooked helmet that his eyes are shut. 

Unlike the other soldiers, he shouldn't be resting. We don't need some nefarious individuals sneaking up and causing chaos amongst our first and only line of defence. 

I stop in front of him and clear my throat. 

The soldier wakes with a start, taking a step back. His right hand grabs the hilt of the sword tucked into his belt. 

I do the same, to defend myself if it comes to that. 

I shouldn't have startled him. 

'Sheriff,' he quacks, immediately releasing his grip. 'I just closed my eyes for a second, I swear.' 

I can't count how many times I nodded off at my post when I was in the army. And a few of those I was caught and punished. 

'No worries, soldier.' I say. I would be more concerned if there weren't the other soldiers around. 'I won't tell anyone.' 

'Thank you, sir.' 

'Just please don't do it again.' 

'Yes, sheriff.' 

'Is Commander Frum up there?' I nod above us. 

'He is, sir, but I'm not sure where precisely.' 

'May I. I need to have a word with him about something important.' 

With speed, and a bit of a stumble, the soldier moves aside.