The Sword of Wisimir

Chapter 12: Quitter (Part 2)

Urin was alone.

His hand hurt. Not as much as before, but enough to stop him thinking of anything else, but it didn't do much to rid him of the guilt.

Some hero.

Leel had gone straight to the guest rooms, he'd find Serice there and she'd disappear. Any advantage Urin thought he might get would be gone and worse, a woman would be murdered.

Once again, I'll be part to blame.

He went to the door and opened it, the clerk at the desk looked up.

"Come inside."

Wordlessly the young woman stood up and followed him back into his office.

"Is there something I can do for you sir?"

He looked at her; plain, slightly bookish with bitten ink stained fingernails and hardly out of her twenties, but she'd have to do.

"What's your name?"

"Nieril sir."

"How long have you taken shifts at my door Nieril?"

"Nearly two years, Minister."

"When are you due home?"

"Another hour."

"Nieril, I have a task for you. It may take up some of your own time, I apologise for that, but I can pay you an additional sum," he explained.

"Very well."

"It requires discretion, so you must not be away from your desk long, and must speak to no-one about what I ask you to do."

Nieril looked nervous, but nodded.

"I need you to go into the archives at the courthouse and find me everything you can on the name Maximillian."

The girl frowned at that. "I don't recognise it sir."

"It may date back to a time before the crossing." He went around his desk and opened the drawer, this time pulling out a long golden key. "This opens the Secrets; the special vault at the back?"

"I know what it is, sir."

"You should search there first, but carefully, only when no-one else may see you."

"If they are that old—"

"I know, they may take a time to find. I can pay you a half a crown for every evening you spend."

Nieril's face brightened immediately. "Of course, I'll get to it this evening, Minister."

"Thank you Nieril."

When the girl left, he shut the door behind her, his hands pressed to the thick wooden panels. Once again his eyes strayed to the wound. The flesh had cauterised and blackened. Yet he could still move his fingers and with a little more pain, ball them into a fist. The sensation made him feel light headed, but he kept his hand clenched and mustered his courage before opening the door again.

"Nieril?"

"Yes?"

"I'll be popping up to the guest suites. Should anyone call, I'll be fifteen minutes at most."

"Of course."

He marched past her decisively, confident, nothing like how he felt. But he needed to know and needed to see. He'd no idea what he would do, but anything had to be better than the weeping confessional he'd managed earlier. When he reached the stairs he took them two at a time, reaching the rooms in moments. He found the one he'd left Serice in and opened the door wide.