Field of Death: Part XIII

The block came hurtling out of the office to smash into the wall opposite Ian Blackthorn's barracks office. Several pages stared at it wide-eyed, knowing one of them should retrieve it and bring it back inside to the Captain. Finally, the law of the pack prevailed and the youngest of them was nudged over to pick the block up.

"I've got that."

The page froze in the act of reaching down. Ian sighed to himself as he drew closer; the boy had the look of a doe frozen at the sight of a wolf. "It's alright, Alun. I threw it, I'll pick it up." He did so, nodding to the other three pages who seemed intent on melting into the wall at their backs. "It's a warm day. Why don't you all go for a swim in the pond. Report back after dinner."

He watched as the four boys scrambled off down the stairs, the barracks door slamming behind them. "Wonderful, Ian. You can't catch this damn killer, but you manage to terrorize you pages." He scowled, nodded to the nearby guard and stalked back into his office. A toss landed the newest block on the desk next to the rest. Colin Daniels, younger brother to Jacob, another immigrant from Flaxley, had been found dead by his mother in their barn, his throat slit. Another family torn apart for no sane reason.

And no help forthcoming from Valorward.

Ian sank down into his chair, taking a deep breath as he sought to center his mind on the problem and banish the rage that threatened to overwhelm his thoughts. Anger would not help him find the killer any quicker.

But DAMN those O'Donnells!

He'd finally managed to get Lord Lerrad to come in and talk with him about these deaths. Not that it had been any help; Lerrad had said he had no idea who might be behind this, knew of no incidents like those Ian had asked about having taken place at Flaxley, and had then bolted out of here as fast as he politely could.

Lerrad had been lying, of course. Ian's instincts had been honed by years of watching the face and eyes of an opponent with a sword. Lerrad hadn't been able to look Ian in the eyes after denying any knowledge and his hasty departure only added to the certainty he'd been less than honest That had been yesterday afternoon, and then last night, Elspeth O'Donnell had arrived in the firehall. Ian rubbed his forehead; just the mere memory of the conversation made his anger flare again. The woman was impossible. Not that she'd told him anything useful, either. She'd nearly spilled her tea when Ian had told of Colin Daniel's death and mentioned the man had been yet another younger sibling. But like a she wolf guarding its young, Elspeth had defended Lerrad and repeated they had no idea what was behind all this.

Well, what else had he expected, really? When had the O'Donnells ever been completely honest with him?

He picked up the last block, the Colin Daniels block, turning it over and over in his hands.

The upshot of it was that Ian had finally done something that he was not particularly proud over doing. He'd threatened them. Elspeth asked him if he was trying to blame Lerrad for the deaths.

"No. But I would suggest, Lady O'Donnell, that you talk to your husband and persuade him to tell me what he knows before another person dies, before another Flaxley immigrant dies, or I will have no choice." He'd taken a sip of water before continuing. "I will simply let it be known among the Flaxley immigrants that Lord O'Donnell may know who is killing their loved ones and has said NOTHING!" He'd slammed the palm of his hand on the table and Elspeth had fairly hissed at him across the table.

"You evil man! You will sow suspicion and hostility among the people who depend on him!"

Ian sighed at the memory; Elspeth logic always left him bemused.

"I'm evil?" he'd asked. "I'm trying to stop a murderer. Your husband knows who it is, milady! And all he can think of doing is running home and gathering his family into the fortress. Meanwhile, people are dying! You know what I think? I think it's someone Lerrad knows well, maybe someone he's related to by blood."

"Related to? I believe you know all his living relatives. His father passed, leaving he and Tuckian. Wenndolyne is his only other living relative."

"Hm. I'd forgotten about that. Lady Wenn did spend time at Flaxley in her youth, didn't she? And unlike Lerrad, she's usually forthcoming. Perhaps I should question her."

The rest of the conversation had gone about the way most of his talks with Lady Elspeth did, but before she'd left, he'd planted, he hoped, a seed. "When you go home, milady, you look into his eyes and you ask him about what he knows. watch what he does. And then ask yourself this: can you live with yourself if another one like young Fionn dies?"

Today, Ian shook his head. There was no telling what went on in the head of an O'Donnell. They were not criminals, but sometimes he thought he'd go mad dealing with the pair of them. At any rate, Lady Wenndolyne had assented to speaking with him. Perhaps she had the key to this mess.

He fervently hoped she did, before another innocent died.