Fic: Andrea's Story, (5/2)

[jeriendhal]

142

Jonathan’s Sword, she thought, feeling her stomach turn. But that was impossible. Jonathan was in his sickbed, recovering. Would be recovering for many months, elven healing or not. Andrea was suddenly taken with the urge to fling the weapon away with all of her might, but instead set it carefully in a corner, stepping around the various sticky, drying pools of her master’s blood. Some Elven Domain official was surely going to investigate this mess. They would want to see the sword, then they, or someone they questioned, would recognize it. Then what?

All right, so someone had to have borrowed it. Why? Who? Count Veritelli was the obvious suspect. It was his kinsman that her master had half-slain and left near crippled in that duel. Except that he was an old man. Well, not old when compared to Master Tez, but certainly slower. Or perhaps it was someone in his retinue, suitably outraged at the outcome of the fight. A sensible assumption, except for the obvious point that Veritelli had been loath to directly insult his elven hosts during these negotiations, even with the terrible provocation of Jonathan’s injuries. And even if he did order something this outrageous, the man wasn’t so stupid as to order the use of his nephew’s sword, surely.

That brought up another objection, how? She couldn’t believe that her master would have just sat there while someone speared him with a sword. So it was sneak attack, against an ancient, mildly paranoid elf, in a house full of servants that could have heard him cry out if he’d had the chance. Not possible, unless the attacker was using magic. Were there mages in Count Veritelli’s retinue that could have cast a spell of silence and invisibility over themselves? She didn’t know. None had been mentioned by Master Tez.

Which left the elves.

That was a nice theory. Elves were easy to annoy, had an overabundance of mages and cruel senses of humor. Pinning the attack on the human delegation would be simplicity for them. They hadn’t particularly wanted to talk to the kingdoms beyond their borders, until Master Tez had exerted his peculiar influence to get them to the bargaining table. A very neat theory indeed, except for the fact that the average elf treated her master like something between a saint and a living god. Any elf who was aware of his status would be more likely to fling themselves in front of a sword directed at Master Tez, rather than attack him.

Humans couldn’t do it, elves wouldn’t do it. After that, who is left? Someone who could get close enough to Master Tez without suspicion, who could enter and leave the guest house without being remarked upon. Who might have the peculiar skills needed to also sneak into Count Veritelli’s own guest house and steal Jonathan’s sword.

Andrea looked towards the door, which the other servants of her master’s household had exited through. She felt her stomach knot up in revulsion of the suspicion in her mind.

An odd sort of servant.

The sort Master Tez likes to collect.

One of us.

TBC