The Chronicle of the Worthy Son

Guile Reeve

"I don't suppose you've noticed," she snapped, "but we have a situation on our hands, and I don't really expect the sheriff will much appreciate a snoop in the middle of it."

"Ma'am, I would not ask to see sensitive information nor to interfere in an operation. That would be improper, and I'd appreciate it if you would not malign my professional character when we've only just met." Able found he had started sweating. Sure, he'd studied what to do if a member of the force attempted to deny rightful access. Theory, Method had called it. Trust the theory now, with Nightwatch's words about the enforcers running Borealund like a frontier echoing in the back of his mind.

She took a breath and returned to a professional tone. "Look, I appreciate that you've come a long way, but I can't have strangers looking through my records."

Trust the theory. "Who is your commanding officer?"

She scowled. "Excuse me?"

"Your commanding officer," he repeated evenly. "I'd like to speak with him about access. Larbant law declares matters of deployment, imprisonment, and payroll to be public record, and therefore accessible to members of the public. I have not asked to look at documents relating to operations." Although he could indeed ask for those without legal repercussions, she had him worried doing so would put him at a greater risk than simply being declined.

Her nostrils flared, signaling he had gone from an annoyance to a hindrance, yet, admirably, she raised her chin and said, "Follow me, sir. You," she addressed the guard, "back to your post."

As the guard jogged away, Capstone led the way into the main hall and then through a door at the back, up a flight of stairs, and down a corridor. She stopped at the closed door at the end and snapped her heels together.

"My apologies, Sheriff," she said.

"Come in, Love," a muffled voice intoned within, and she obeyed.

Inside at a table by the window sat Sheriff Guile Reeve himself, or so Able was gathering to his astonishment. He had the stiff brow and strong jaw of a man who had seen a lot of sun and wind and searing heat and freezing cold. A hard man with faintly yellow eyes that might have inspired his parents to give him such an unfriendly name.

However, he did not appear unfriendly as Capstone relayed her dilemma to him and handed him the document of safe passage. He ordered her back to her duties and, once she had closed the door behind her, pointed out a chair to Able.

"Water?" he asked as Able promptly obeyed as well. "I'd offer something more suitable if I had it on hand, but you see, I am about to ride out and I do not drink when I am on the job."

"That is very prudent, sir. And I am fine as I am."

"Very well." Reeve leaned back in his chair and scrutinized Able, who hoped his new beard was making him appear more dignified than he felt right now, struggling to sit up straight. "A chronicler. I wasn't expecting to run into something of your kind up here, not least of all outside Adeptsby. Maybe once the castle is finished, then I might have thought to see your sort trickle in. This is not really the place for learned men."

"Not all learning comes from books, sir." Able paused then took a breath. "But this much did: you're Sheriff Guile Reeve, previously a captain in the army, brought in to replace Sparrow Bricker and rectify his underwhelming progress. You managed admirably in that capacity, aided perhaps in no small part by bringing in personnel who had previously served under you during the war. And then...something happened." Oh, Reeve was definitely paying attention to him. Now was the critical part. "You back-tracked. Late reports, collections under quota, and now we are sitting here with four whole months of taxes completely unreported and rumors that you've been losing convoys. What happened, Sheriff?"