The Sapphire Crescent

CHAPTER TEN

Emriana's breath nearly caught in her throat as she first stepped out onto the high balcony overlooking the gardens of the Matrell estate. The open lawn in the middle had been filled with tables, and party guests mingled everywhere throughout the grounds. Colored lanterns hung from every tree, sat on walls and banisters and the tables themselves, swaying in the gentle breezes. On one porch looking down on the festivities, a full orchestra played lively tunes, to which numerous party goers danced in line, laughing and clapping in time with the music as they did so, on a second large patio directly below the musicians.

The scents of lamb and eel roasting over a large fire pit dug near the spread, as well as peppers and turnips, made Emriana's mouth water. She could also see platters of cheeses, saltfish, a variety of spicy sauced meats and vegetables, and more kinds of sweets than she could imagine. She was already craving some of the custard pastries she loved so much. In the middle of the tables set with the food was a large pedestal with a magnificent ice sculpture atop it, an image of a mermaid lounging on a rock. The sculpture glowed somehow from within, and spellcraft also kept the frozen wonder from melting in the warm evening air.

Servants roamed through the guests' tables with pitchers of wine, ale, and cool fruit juices, keeping every visitor's cup or tankard filled to overflowing. Everyone had put on their most dazzling attire for the evening, and Emriana nearly jumped for joy at the number of attendees. She thought she would pop, and she imagined that the silly grin on her face must have made her look six years old, but for once, she didn't care if anyone accused her of such. The girl made up her mind right then and there that, despite the events of the past several days, she was going to thoroughly enjoy the party in her honor.

She looked to her left, where her brother stood, thankful that he was beside her at all. The lieutenant had arrived only moments before the first guests, coming to her straight away. Despite Jaleene's protests, Emriana let him into her rooms, where he proceeded to tell her what was going on with the mercenary company, and how he'd managed to sneak away.

"I don't know how long I'll be able to stay," he explained, "so we can't waste any time tonight. The first chance you get, suggest a private walk and take Denrick where we agreed. I'll be there and we'll get the truth out of him."

The realization that Vambran might be gone by morning made Emriana shudder. She hadn't even considered the possibility that he would disappear again before the two of them managed to uncover the details of the mystery behind the two murders, and yet it was looming in front of her. The girl shook her head, refusing to let those worries spoil her evening. Instead, she focused her attention on the fact that her brother was there right then.

Vambran was decked out in a most regal outfit, his officer's uniform. He wore a finely tailored pair of dark blue breeches, loosely tucked into his crisp black boots, which came almost to his knee and were then turned down to a wide cuff. A snow-white silk shirt billowed over his arms, with tiny slashes in each sleeve designed to show off the blue silk layer underneath. His black leather riding gloves made a nice contrast to the shirt. Over all of it, the lieutenant wore his ceremonial breastplate, all polished silver with gold highlights, including the family crest, a bas relief tiger's head facing directly forward. He had even buckled on his crossbow, which hung from his belt on the opposite side from his sword.

"You look dashing," Emriana whispered to her brother. "Especially the breastplate."

Vambran smiled and whispered back, "It was Xaphira's, you know. She gave it to me the night she disappeared. I had to have it adjusted for size a bit, of course. You, by the way, look radiant."

Emriana giggled and looked down at her own attire. She and Jaleene had spent most of the afternoon preparing her for the evening, and for the first time, she was glad for it. She wore a dress the color of sea foam, creamy white with just a hint of green highlights in it. Over it, her entire upper torso was bedecked in an elaborate vest of fine gold filigree that hugged her bosom snugly, enhancing her figure. From the wrought mesh of gold hung emeralds interspersed with tiny bells and chimes. Every move she made caused the little instruments to tinkle gaily. Even the girl's boots, hidden beneath her dress, were festooned with strings of bells that jangled sweetly when she walked.

Emriana's hair had taken the longest, for it had been pulled up and piled stylishly atop her head, with individual ringlets hanging down at each temple. Though she found it difficult and occasionally frustrating to walk elegantly and keep still so that it would not come loose, she felt very regal. Jaleene had even applied some face paint, highlighting her cheeks and darkening the area around her eyes. When the girl had seen herself in her wall mirror, she felt that the last vestiges of her childhood had faded away.

"Shall we?" Vambran asked, offering his sister his arm.

Emriana smiled and looped her own wrist around his crooked elbow, and together they descended the steps to the party.

At that moment, the orchestra stopped in mid-song, and Uncle Dregaul appeared on the balcony next to the musicians, directly above the crowd.

"Lords and ladies," he began, gesturing for quiet. The general conversation dropped to a low hum, with only a few murmurs still rolling through the guests. "Tonight is a very special occasion, for many reasons. We have several delightful surprises in store for you throughout the evening. But before we can let the party truly begin, let's all welcome our guest of honor tonight." He gestured, open-palmed, toward where Emriana and Vambran stood at the bottom step of the last staircase. "Tonight," Dregaul said, "Let us celebrate her passing into adulthood. Let us envy her, and try to remember what it was like to be sixteen." That drew more than a few chuckles from the crowd. "I present Lady Emriana Matrell!" Dregaul finished with a flourish.

The partygoers gathered close, clapping and cheering cordially for the girl.

As Emriana and Vambran approached the garden, guests hovered around the siblings, and every last one of them greeted her, calling out good wishes for a happy birthday. The first to meet her at the base of the stairs were, of course, her own family. Grandmother Hetta was standing in the front, with Ladara right by her side, as usual. Emriana smiled brightly at her grandmother, and she thought she would begin to cry, she was so happy.

Hetta leaned down and gave Emriana a kiss on her cheek.

"My little Em is all grown up," the elderly woman said, a glow in her eyes of absolute pride. "Dazzle them, dear."

Emriana's mother gave her daughter a tight hug. "My baby," she said, then stepped back. Evester and Marga were next, with the twins by their sides.

Evester gave Emriana a quick hug and whispered, "You've made us all very proud."

Then he was stepping back again, letting his wife in.

Marga beamed as she took Emriana's hands in her own. She smiled for a long time.

"Just look at you," she said softly. Then she finally crushed the girl in a tight hug. "It's wonderful having you as my sister-in-law."

Marga kissed Emriana on the cheek, and Emriana flushed with emotion, genuinely happy.

The twins both hugged their aunt at the same time, wrapping their arms around her waist.

"You look beautiful," Obiron said.

Emriana smiled down at her nephew.

"If you promise to behave, I'll dance with you later," she told him.

That brought a huge smile from the boy, who nodded and looked at his mother.

"Can I eat, now?" he asked.

Marga rolled her eyes and shooed him away with a, "Yes, but don't get anything on your clothes."

Quindy was feeling the fabric of Emriana's dress and said, "Can I wear this when I turn sixteen?"

Emriana gave a mocking groan and grabbed her niece in a second hug.

"Sweetheart," the older girl said, "You'll have your own dress that's twice as pretty as this one."

When Quindy grinned, Emriana tussled her hair and stood up.

"All right," Hetta commanded, "let her through. She has guests to greet."

The family parted to allow Emriana and Vambran to pass through them and meet everyone else.

The birthday girl beamed as she strolled among her well-wishers, smiling and thanking them with a word or a nod. She didn't feel at all like herself at the moment, but like she was hiding in someone else's body, a member of the royalty with everyone in attendance at her beck and call. She took a deep breath, getting her proverbial feet back under her and firmly on the ground.

It's just a party, she told herself. No one made you queen.

There were guests in attendance from numerous other merchant Houses. Many folk she knew, at least by sight and reputation, if not personally. There was Ariskrit Darowdryn, the matriarch of House Darowdryn, one of the oldest and wealthiest merchant clans in all of Chondath. Ariskrit was probably nearly as old as Grandmother Hetta, and Emriana had seen them together on more than one occasion at parties, visiting like old friends. Ariskrit's nephew, Tharlgarl, was at her side, a huge bear of a man with great white mustaches that hung down below his chin. Everyone called him "Steelfists," and the nickname fit, for he was wearing the most pompous suit of full plate mail Emriana had ever seen, fully stylized with gold highlights. It must have weighed as much as Emriana herself did, the girl thought, and she could only imagine how stifling it would be inside the suit in the warm and sticky clime.

Both of them smiled and took her hand, offering her congratulations, as though turning sixteen was some sort of accomplishment that she had worked for, rather than simply a passing of years.

A little farther on, Emriana shook hands with several members of the Elphaendim household, including the patriarch of the merchant family, Thalammose, who stood quietly with his grandniece, Cauvra. Cauvra was only a couple of years younger than Emriana herself. Cauvra looked positively bored, but as Emriana caught her eye, the other girl smiled and waved. The girls had played with one another on the handful of occasions when the two Houses gathered together for some event or another, though in more recent days, the word in the gossip circles was that Cauvra was a budding young wizardess and her great-uncle Thalammose, an accomplished arcanist himself, would no longer let her far from his side. "The Old Elf," as many referred to him derisively behind his back, apparently feared to let her out into the world, where her potential talents could easily be enslaved or misused.

Brastynbold Elphaendim was also there, though he was about as far from his uncle in temperament as possible. Whereas Thalammose was a quiet, timid lover of books, "Oldhelm," as people knew Brastynbold, was a boisterous fellow with a huge love of wine and a fair brawler in his own right. Few people in Arrabar had not heard the story of the time he'd hurled a greatsword across an entire courtyard-after downing nearly a small keg of fiery wine by himself, so the story claimed-squarely striking a thief in the back as he attempted to escape by climbing over an estate wall. Looking at the immensely tall, barrel-chested man, Emriana no longer doubted the veracity of the story, especially after he took her hand in his own with a riotous laugh and brought it to his lips for a kiss. He nearly took her arm out of her socket, but she turned the grimace into a smile and politely curtsied, then moved on.

Some other guests, Emriana did not know. She smiled at them just as sweetly and thanked them for attending just as sincerely. In addition to the necessity to show her genteel upbringing and avoid embarrassing Uncle Dregaul in the eyes of anyone he might have business dealings with, Emriana was genuinely grateful for the attention she was receiving that evening. Over the course of the years, the Matrells had been invited to a good number of coming-of-age birthday parties themselves, even though in the greater scheme of things, their House was not high in the rankings of the politically powerful or prestigious clans. The girl knew that political success was primarily due to her grandmothers shrewd business dealings and connections with greater Houses. That same acumen was respected in social circles, and most of the people there that night were honoring Emriana because Hetta had always dealt fairly with them. Most of them were.

Denrick Pharaboldi was standing near the end of the crowd as Emriana and Vambran approached. He had dressed in lavish style, with breeches and boots of similar fashion to Vambran's, though his were maroon in color. Instead of a billowy shirt such as her brother wore, though, Denrick wore a great vest that hung down nearly to his knees. The vest was open, and the girl could see several crisscrossing chains of gold coins adorning his bare chest. hen he saw her approaching, the young man went into an elaborate and superfluous bow, with his forehead nearly touching his bent knee and his arms spread wide.

Emriana suppressed a groan and curtsied slightly in response. Vambran squeezed her hand subtly, where no one else would notice, but the message from her brother seemed clear I'm here with you, so calm down and act the part. Emriana widened her smile as Denrick looked her up and down appraisingly.

"You are a sight," the young man said, and the way in which he gazed at her figure, coupled with his words, made her feel vaguely like a piece of livestock at market.

Emriana curtsied again and said, "Thank you, Denrick. You are looking well tonight, too."

Denrick's eyebrows arched slightly in surprise at her choice of words, but before any more could be made of it, Vambran said, "I have the privilege of the first dance, Em," loudly enough so that several people could hear. "Come on, before your line of suitors grows too long." To Denrick, Vambran said over his shoulder, "Sorry, good sir, but you'll have to indulge me."

Denrick smiled, somewhat sickly, Emriana noted, but nodded and waved them toward the patio where the dancing was taking place, as though it was of course the absolute correct sequence of events, and he wouldn't have dreamed of intervening.

When they were together on the dance floor, turning and stepping to the notes of a new tune, Emriana gave Vambran a relieved look.

"Thank you," she whispered as they moved in time, weaving in and out of the other couples in a sequence. "I just wasn't ready to face him, yet."

"It's all right," her brother replied, "I could tell you were still working up your courage. But he's already coming over here, so get ready."

Emriana nodded and took a deep breath as she and Vambran finished the complex steps and moved to the ends of their respective lines.

Soon enough, Denrick stepped in and whispered something to Vambran. Emriana saw her brother nod, and he moved aside to let the Pharaboldi heir take his place. With one last, piercing glance at her, Vambran strolled off, falling in with a crowd of other folks close to his age, all of them wanting to hear about his latest exploits with the Sapphire Crescent.

Denrick was an excellent dancer, Emriana had to admit, but her mind wasn't really on the steps, and more than once, she got fouled up during the moves. Finally, Denrick pulled her out of the line and off to one side.

"Are you all right?" he asked, looking very concerned.

The girl tried to smooth her expression to one of complete innocence and said, "I'm fine. This is all just a little overwhelming, that's all."

Denrick nodded sagely, giving her a look that said, "I know exactly what you're going through." His eyes brightened.

"Let's take a walk," he suggested.

Emriana had to swallow the lump that rose suddenly in her throat. Unsure of her own voice, she simply nodded. Then, steeling herself to trust in the plan and in her brother, she took the older boy's hand and led him away from the main party, through the garden and along one of the meandering paths between stands of trees, bushes, and vines. The couple walked for a little while, Denrick apparently happy to let his counterpart lead the way and probably thinking that she was taking him to one of her favorite secluded spots in a far corner of the garden. For her part, Emriana tried to make it seem as though she was simply strolling with a companion, though she wanted more than anything just to drag Denrick to the location she and Vambran had agreed upon before the party had begun.

After a few moments, Emriana turned down another path that led back in the general direction of the house. Denrick hesitated, tugging on the girl's hand.

"Wait," he said. "Where are we going, now? I thought we were going to come out here and be alone," he added, smiling and flashing his eyes at the girl in the semidarkness of the moonlit night.

"There's a great view of part of the city over here," Emriana lied, struggling to control her panic. He knows we're on to him! her mind screamed. He's figured it out!

"Oh," Denrick replied, easing up. "As long as we can enjoy the view by ourselves," he added, his voice husky.

Emriana didn't answer as she resumed her trek through the greenery, winding her way up the sloping hill to the estate. When they broke free of the garden path and began to cross the lawn, she could hear the sounds of the party on another side of the house. She longed to be back there, among the colorful lanterns and the smiling people. She had felt safe there, admired and honored. Where she was, there was only Denrick, and despite her private mental admonitions to be strong, she feared him.

Shaking off the feeling of dread that was washing over her, Emriana led the older boy to a set of steps that climbed to a higher part of the house, a wide patio that surrounded a cistern built into the structure for catching and storing rain water. The pool was filled at the moment with cool, clean water almost to its brim. There was a single doorway leading inside, but the path was dark there, for it led into a part of the house that was little used at the moment. They were alone.

Denrick nodded in satisfaction and strolled casually around the perimeter of the cistern, staring at its surface, which was undulating gently in the warm night breeze that blew in from the harbor to the west, carrying with it the smell of the ocean and the scents of the blossoms from the garden below. Emriana stood and watched him, wondering what he thought was about to happen. She wondered if he even had an inkling.

"So, where's the city?" Denrick asked. "I thought you said you had a good view of it from here."

"I-" Emriana began, stammering. She hadn't thought he'd care one way or another, once she got him there and showed him that they were ostensibly alone. "I meant that-this isn't the right spot. It's a different place where you can-"

"You were fibbing to me, weren't you?" Denrick said, coming around the corner of the cistern toward the girl.

She blanched-though he couldn't see the blood drain from her face in the near-darkness-and barely stopped herself from fleeing back to the party right then and there. He was calling her bluff. He knew what was going on.

"You don't come up here to see the city. You just wanted to have me all to yourself," the older boy said, smiling wolfishly at her. "It's all right; you can admit that you want to be with me here. It's just the two of us, now, no one around to pretend that you're still all prim and proper."

Emriana took a step back, confused, but nonetheless wary of the advancing figure.

"What?"

"I said, you don't have to pretend that you're still the innocent little girl," Denrick replied. "I know how you look at me, and I feel the same way." He took another step closer. "Up here, where no one else is around, you can let down your guard, be the woman I know you are. You've turned sixteen, now. You look all grown up to me."

Another step.

"Denrick," Emriana began, backing up another step, until suddenly, she was against the railing and had nowhere else to retreat to. "I'm not… I mean, it's a little too fast to…"

She couldn't get the words out. She kept seeing Jithelle Skolotti's face, kept imagining that that must have been how Denrick had tried to woo her, too. What had he said that would have made the woman get into his bed?

"Em," Denrick said, taking another step closer, close enough to reach out to her, and he started to. "Quit pretending you don't want me to do it," he said, taking her by the waist and drawing close to her. "I promise you, I'll make you feel so good. Trust me."

Suddenly, Emriana couldn't maintain the pretense anymore. She shoved Denrick backward from herself, hard. Then she darted to the side, out of the corner in which he had apparently been trying to trap her.

"Is that what you told Jithelle before you had her killed? To trust you?" she spat as she maneuvered herself around to the opposite side of the cistern pool from the older boy.

"Jithelle? What?" Denrick said, shaking his head and trying to guess which way to circle the pool to reach Emriana.

Every time he stepped in one direction or the other, she would counter it, keeping the pool between them.

"Stop this, Em," he demanded, taking a firm couple of strides to his left.

"No," the girl replied, moving in concert with the older boy. "I'm not letting you near me. I know about Jithelle, Denrick. I know about all of it."

Denrick stopped then, staring hard at Emriana in the gloom.

"Well, I guess that proves it, then," he said quietly.

"What do you mean?" Emriana asked, watching the boy for some sign of attack, some indication that he was going to come after her.

Where is Vambran? she wondered desperately, berating herself for letting slip her suspicions before he had arrived.

"What I mean is, you're not the innocent little girl you've been pretending to be," Denrick replied. "Yesterday, at the picnic, you knew already, didn't you? All those questions. You were setting me up, weren't you?"

Emriana was already shaking her head before Denrick even finished his accusation.

"No," she said. "Not when I first arrived. I only figured it out later, when we went to get the picnic basket. And even then, I didn't know you were bedding her, you lecherous bastard."

Even in the darkness, Emriana could see Denrick wince at her revelation and scathing words.

"Em, you don't understand," he began. "I didn't know, then. I only heard it later, last night."

"Liar," came a voice from overhead, on the roof of the entryway into the house. Vambran crouched there, looking down at both of them. Emriana sighed in relief, nearly collapsing against the railing. Denrick whirled around in shock, backing away from the edge of the house several steps to get clear of any attack. "Em and I think there's more to your story that you're not telling, Denrick Pharaboldi."

"Vambran," Denrick began, regaining his composure somewhat. "What are you doing here?" He looked again at Emriana. "You set this up," he growled, folding his arms across his chest. "You two are working together."

"That's right," Vambran said as he swung himself over the edge of the roof and dropped down to the tiles of the patio, landing softly. "We planned the whole thing."

He began to walk around the perimeter of the pool, like Denrick had done before, and the younger man would have been forced to move in the same circular direction to keep the lieutenant away from him. But Vambran simply stopped when he stood next to his sister. Emriana reached out for her brother's hand and gave it a squeeze, just a silent way to thank him for showing up when he did.

"So, go ahead," Vambran said. "Tell us again how you didn't know about Jithelle's death beforehand. Tell us how you're just as distressed as everyone else about her death."

"That's right," Denrick replied "That's what I was trying to tell Em. I didn't have her killed. She was slain by the city watch, running from them after trying to impersonate a mage. I had nothing to do with it," he insisted. "If you were there, as you claimed yesterday, Em, then you know this already."

"That's pretty convincing," Vambran said, "but I'm not buying it. Those weren't city watchmen that night. They were hired killers dressed up like thugs, sent to kill your mistress."

"What? No," Denrick said, practically whining. "The watchmen said she was a criminal. I couldn't believe it. She'd never done anything like that before," he babbled, and Emriana felt sick to her stomach. Whether he was telling the truth or not, the thought of him wanting her, to have her in his bed with him, was making her sick.

"Liar," Vambran said again. "You had to get her out of the way so you wouldn't have an illegitimate heir running around."

"What?" Denrick said quietly, stiffening in the faint moonlight. "What are you talking about?"

"She was with child, Denrick," Emriana said. "Your child. You killed your own child!"

"No," Denrick said, crumpling down to the tiles, his voice cracking. "I didn't-she was pregnant? I was going to be a father? Oh, gods!" he whimpered.

Vambran crossed the distance between them and loomed over Denrick as the younger man drew his knees up under his chin and wrapped his arms around them. Emriana watched from where she was, still safely on the opposite side of the cistern from both of them. Despite his crumbling demeanor, Emriana found no sympathy in her heart for him. She simply looked on him as a pathetic, despicable person. There had never been a time when she was truly enamored of him, despite his obvious interest in her, but knowing what she more recently did, she regarded him with loathing. He may very well have been innocent of the crimes against Jithelle, but she doubted he had as much regard for the servant as he was pretending. He had been far too eager to become intimate with Emriana that night for her to believe that.

"I'm not convinced of your innocence," Vambran said, towering over the huddled Denrick. "You're going to have to try a little harder to prove it to me."

Denrick craned his neck, looking up at his tormentor.

"I told you," he mumbled, "I had no idea of any of the things you're-"

There was a scream from the other side of the house, a loud, piercing sound of terror and anguish. Vambran jerked upright, cocking his head. Emriana felt her heart leap into her throat.

"Who was that?" the girl asked, trembling.

"I don't know, but I'm going to go find out. Come on," he said, turning and taking the stairs two at a time back down to the garden.

Emriana was right behind her brother, leaving Denrick and all thoughts of his transgressions behind. Together, they sprinted in the direction of the sound, which seemed to have come right at the edge of the party. Emriana was a fair runner, but it was impossible for her to match Vambran stride for stride, and the lieutenant very quickly left her behind. Still, she hoisted the dress she wore high enough to keep it from tripping her up and kept going, terrified to think of what might have befallen one of her guests.

When she finally caught up to the scene, Vambran was already kneeling down, a crowd gathered around him. Ladara was right next to her son, sobbing, and Emriana knew that it had been her who had screamed before. Someone else was shouting for everyone to move back, to give them some room. As Emriana drew closer, she nearly sat down in the grass right there, horrified. It was Hetta.

Em watched helplessly as Vambran worked on their grandmother, who was lying in the grass on her back. Vambran was turned away from his sister, so she could not see what he was doing. His concentration was focused on the elderly matriarch's legs. With a sudden jerk, Vambran's arm came up, and he held half a crossbow bolt in his hand, the metal head dripping blood. At the same time, Hetta lurched in pain, issuing a feeble cry of suffering. Emriana cringed but closed the rest of the distance and knelt down next to her grandmother.

Hetta's eyes were open, but they were staring off at the darkened sky, glazed over and seeing nothing. Her breath was rapid and shallow. Her calf had been hit, and Vambran was pulling the rest of the bolt out, having already snapped off the head to avoid further pain and injury. Then, ignoring Ladara's panicked sobs for him to do something, the mercenary placed his hands on the wounds on either side of his grandmother's leg and began to chant a prayer.

Emriana squeezed her own eyes shut and prayed right alongside her brother, begging Waukeen to let Hetta live. She know that her own pleas were insignificant compared to the true divine power inherent in Vambran, but she didn't care. No amount of fervent, sincere entreaties would hurt the cause.

To the girl, the waiting seemed to go on forever. She opened one eye to look down at Hetta, still with that glazed look in her eyes, then she glanced over at her brother. He was still in the midst of his prayer, face smooth and serene. She couldn't imagine how he could remain so calm, but then, she reminded herself, he had seen such horror before, on the battlefield.

Hetta gasped and tried to sit up.

"So cold!" she blurted out, tossing her head from side to side and casting her gaze, which was quite clear and focused again, around.

She cried out, reaching for her leg as though suddenly realizing she had been injured.

"Easy, Grandmother," Vambran said, grasping Hetta by the hand and moving closer to her head. He gently forced the elderly woman to lie back down. "You're going to be fine."

Ladara let out a sob, but it was one of relief. His mother grabbed at Vambran and hugged him, then put a trembling hand to her mouth as she patted Hetta on the cheek.

Only upon hearing her brother's words did Emriana allow herself to relax. She realized she had been holding her breath the entire time and exhaled sharply. She felt tears of relief running down her cheeks. She reached up and put a thankful hand on Vambran's shoulder to reassure him, and nearly jerked her hand back again, startled.

The muscles in the mercenary officer's shoulder were tight, corded, and felt like steel. Emriana watched as he slowly stood, looking around.

"Who saw what happened?" he demanded.

Several people began to speak at once, all clamoring to be the first to inform the large man, who had a look of death in his eye, what had transpired. From the jumble of words, Emriana somehow deciphered that Hetta had simply been standing there, visiting with several other folk, when she cried out and crumpled to the ground. Then Ladara screamed, and everyone came running.

Vambran must have been able to piece together the story from the cacophony, too, for he finally held up his hands for silence.

"Where did the shot come from?" he said, his voice like ice.

Party guests turned to one another for some sort of support, but no one seemed to know. The lieutenant was answered with a lot of shrugging.

There was another shout, this time from the undergrowth off to the side of the open lawn. Vambran had his sword out, advancing toward the sound, almost before Emriana had turned to see what the commotion was. A house guard came stumbling out of the underbrush, a crossbow in his hand. When he saw the hulking Vambran coming at him, weapon out, he grimaced and held up a placating hand.

"I found it. I just found it," he insisted quickly, frantically trying to calm the mercenary before he was attacked.

Vambran relaxed but then, just as quickly, he lunged forward and snatched the weapon away from the guard. He peered down at it for a moment, then, tossing the thing aside, he sprinted down the path, leaving behind him a wake of startled guests, gasping and looking at one another to try to understand what was happening.

Em rushed over to the crossbow and took a closer look at it. There was a note attached. She unfurled it and read;

Next time, it will be her heart I pierce.