Page 53 of Bannerless (The Bannerless Saga 1)

Cut off from the Coast Road—that could kill a town like this, just a little too small to get all it needed on its own, that depended on markets and trade for the things that made life easier. Enid had the power to make that happen. Such a simple thing to say the word, to enact such a shunning. She took the uniform she wore seriously indeed, because people were right to fear it.

Whatever he was hiding, Philos wouldn’t go so far as to wish death on his town. So he remained silent. With a final glare at them all, even Kirk and Miran, he turned and stalked out.

Miran slumped as if exhausted.

Enid touched the young woman’s arm. “Take Kirk home, why don’t you? We still have an investigation to finish. You know very well that the sooner those answers come, the sooner we’ll leave and all this will be done. But I won’t leave till I know what happened. Spread that word. If anyone knows anything, they’ll do best to come to me quick. Right?”

They avoided her gaze as if it would allow them to avoid the subject at hand. She had cornered them well and good, and they didn’t like it.

“Come on,” Miran murmured gently, happy enough to be taking care of Kirk. “Let’s go.”

The boy still looked like he was about to cry. He hunched his shoulders and leaned into Miran’s touch, his face turned from them all.

Enid turned to find Tomas propped up in the doorway, looking tired and suddenly old. Like he’d had just enough of this and didn’t find any of it fun anymore. She could agree with that.

“Well,” she said brightly, hoping to distract them both. “That was a whole lot of interesting.”

“Were we finished with her?” he said. “Before the ‘interesting’ arrived?”

She thought about it, tracing back the events of the last few moments, the conversation with Miran, who’d been talking when Kirk barged in. What had she been saying . . . about Fern wanting Sero to join their household. Not that Sero would ever have agreed to that, based on what they’d learned about him. Miran shouldn’t have worried. But yes, she had seemed worried. Was that thread worth following? Enid suspected not. She was just a girl caught in the middle of it all.

“I think so,” Enid said. “She just happened to be the one to talk to Sero more than anyone else by virtue of her household feeling bad for him. Strange how people get mixed up in these things.”

“Yeah,” Tomas said. “I wonder, though.”

She made an inquiring noise, and he shook his head, dismissing his own thought. Tomas rubbed his shoulder, kneading muscles like he had strained something.

“You all right?” Enid asked.

“Yeah. Think I may finally be too old for this. What would you say if I took up basket weaving instead?”

He was fifteen years older than she was. Not as much older as he used to seem. Not old at all, really. “Whatever makes you happy, but I say you’re still the best enforcer on the road. Beautiful t

akedown with the boy, there.”

He rolled his eyes like he wasn’t convinced. “Thanks, I think. Not sure it’s a skill one should be particularly proud of.”

“The hard and necessary work that must be done.”

“Ah, yes,” he murmured. He did look tired. Pale, as if the fight, however brief and however much he had had the upper hand, had taken something out of him.

“Sit. I’ll get us dinner,” she said, patting his shoulder and going to find Ariana.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////

The sun was setting by the time the drama with Kirk had dispersed, and Enid was ready to be done for the day. If she asked at Newhome in time, there’d be a couple of extra servings of supper for odd travelers and guests. Tonight was a chicken salad with chunks of fresh bread. The cook gave her a basket to carry the meal in, and Enid thanked him.

Halfway back to the committee house, Philos found her.

She had a moment of fear—an actual spike of anxiety—because her hands were full and the man was still angry. Prone to doing something rash. As he’d done with Sero, maybe? She wouldn’t be able to easily defend herself. But she stood her ground, even while holding the basket, and faced him.

“Hola,” she said, just to let him know she saw him coming from behind the outbuilding at the edge of the household.

“May I walk with you, Inspector Enid?”

This was very formal, which instantly made her suspicious of him. More suspicious. “Yes, Philos.”

“We’re a good town here. We have enough. Not too much. Every mouth gets fed; everyone has a place.”

---