his knife a foot from his captive’s eyes, then brought the point of it down on
the other’s nose. ‘You tried to kill me,’ he said softly. ‘Tell me why or you’re
missing more than some fingers only.’
‘Sabellia, Sabellia,’ the maimed retainer moaned. ‘You’ve ruined me now, you
bastard.’
Samlor flicked his blade sideways, knowing that the droplet of blood that sprang
out would force the other’s eyes to cross on it. They would fill with its red
proximity. ‘Talk to me, little man,’ the caravan-master said. ‘Why are you
here?’
The injured man swallowed bile. ‘My lord Regli,’ he said, closing his eyes to
avoid the blood and the dagger point. ‘He said you’d killed his wife. He sent us
all after you.’
Samlor laid the dagger point on the other’s left eyesocket. ‘How many?’ he
demanded.
‘A dozen,’ gabbled the other. ‘All the guards and us coachmen besides.’
‘The Watch?’
‘Oh, gods, get that away from my eye,’ the retainer moaned. ‘I almost shook-‘
Samlor raised the blade an inch. ‘Not the Watch,’ the other went on. ‘My lord
wants to handle this himself for the, the scandal.’
‘And where are the others?’ the point dipped, brushed an eyelash, and rose again
harmlessly.
The wounded man was rigid. He breathed through his mouth, quick gasps as if a
lungful of air would preserve him in the moment the knife-edge sawed through his
windpipe. ‘They all thought you’d run for Cirdon,’ he whispered. ‘You’d left
your cloak behind. I slipped it away, took it to a S’danzo I know. She’s a liar
like all of them, but sometimes not… I told her I’d pay her for the truth of