Thinblade by David Wells Page A

against those who were trying to kill him. He had committed no crime. Yet men, armed with steel and magic, were trying to murder him. Alexander had never done anything that justified the forfeiture of his life. He was entitled to live until he had. The man he’d killed had died in the commission of a crime. He’d come to kill and had died instead. Justice done. An emotional hardness began to take shape within him.
    The men guarding the gap in the wall were little better. If they’d been paid to kill him, then they were the enemy, but Alexander had to be sure. They might just be city guard following orders. He couldn’t justify killing innocent men just because they were in his way.
    When he looked up from his thoughts, all eyes were on him. “Jack, I need you to do a little scouting for us. We need to know if those guards are being paid to find us or if they’re guarding the gap for another reason. Can you do that?”
    Jack nodded, “No problem. I’ll go around these buildings and come down the street, have a little chat with them and be on my way. Once I’m out of sight I’ll make my way back here.”
    “Sounds good. We’ll be here,” Alexander said.
    Jack headed off down the alley.
    Alexander made his way to the corner of the building so he could watch from the shadows when the bard approached the city guard. He didn’t have to wait long before he heard what sounded like drunken singing. Sure enough, Jack Colton, Master Bard, came into view, weaving and singing loudly, with a flagon of ale in hand. Where he’d gotten it was a mystery to Alexander; he’d only left just a few minutes before.
    Jack approached the guards and raised his glass. “A toast to the city guard of Southport, the finest city guard in all the Seven Isles.” He was talking loudly and slurring his words ever so slightly. The guards looked at Jack and then at each other.
    “Move along, there’s nothing to see here.” The squad commander was all business.
    “But I was going through the wall. You guys don’t usually guard the cracks in the walls.” He looked both ways conspiratorially and leaned in, speaking in an exaggerated whisper. “What’s going on?”
    Alexander relaxed his focus so he could look at the guard’s colors.
    “Fugitives are loose in the city. No one gets through the wall. Now move along.” The guard rested his hand on the hilt of his short sword.
    Jack stepped back in a show of innocence holding both arms wide. “What’d these fugitives do? Maybe I’ve seen ’em.” He swirled the ale around in the flagon before taking a drink, all the while looking a little unsteady on his feet.
    “They killed their family and burned down their parents’ house.”
    Alexander’s blood ran cold. The guard’s colors revealed a corrupt character and his words were lies.
    Jack blurted out, “Hey, is there a reward for their capture?”
    The second guard chuckled. “Who said anything about capturing them? The Reishi are offering a hundred gold sovereigns for their heads.”
    “Hold your tongue, you fool,” the guard commander snapped as he shot his subordinate a murderous glare. “There’s no reward, now move along!” he said, taking a few steps toward Jack.
    “Okay, okay, I was just askin’,” Jack said, stumbling backwards. He started down the road and turned to shout, “I just wanted to help.” Then he quickly disappeared around the corner when the guard took two purposeful strides toward him.
    Alexander withdrew around the corner again. He had his answer. A deadly calm filled him. The flutter in his belly vanished. The sweat on his hands dried.
    He looked straight at Anatoly, still standing quietly with his arms folded across his chest, and said, “We have to kill them quickly and get through the wall before they can call for reinforcements.”
    Anatoly grinned ever so slightly, Lucky nodded slowly, but Abigail nearly gasped. “Alex, we can’t just kill them. They’ve done nothing to harm us. They’re just