“If your uncle schemes,” Walegrin broke in defensively, “he does so on
Sanctuary’s behalf.”
Chenaya threw back her head and smiled scornfully. “Molin Torchholder does nothing except in his own behalf. But I didn’t call you here to argue my uncle’s lack of virtue. As you pointed out, it’s late.” She rubbed her backside. “And
I’ve had a rough night.”
Walegrin folded his arms, unconsciously imitating Chenaya’s aggressive stance.
He looked down at her. “Then what did you call me here for?”
“You’re the police,” she said over the noise from the stables. “What’s the biggest problem you’ve got in the city right now?”
He scratched his chin and considered. “Right now?” He pursed his lips, put on an expression of intense seriousness. “I’d say it’s finding the thief who stole
Tempus’s horse before he takes the town apart.”
She stared disdainfully at him, gave him her back, and headed after her friends.
“Go back to your bunk. Commander. I picked the wrong man. I’ll take care of
Kadakithis myself as I’ve always done.”
He came after her, caught her by the shoulder. Chenaya whirled, knocked his hand away. “Wait,” he pleaded as she started to leave him again. “What about
Kadakithis? If thfcre’s some trouble, let me help.”
She ran her gaze up and down his rangy height, taking his measure. She’d kept an eye on him during her time in Sanctuary and generally considered him one of the few honest men in the city. Reportedly, he was competent with his weapons, though not a brilliant fighter. He did seem, however, to have the loyalty of his men, and that counted for much.