Page 62 of Bannerless (The Bannerless Saga 1)

“Morning, Philos,” Enid said, which did as she hoped and diverted him from whatever he’d been about to shout.

He looked old. He’d aged just over the course of the last couple of days, anxiety curling his hands tighter, lost sleep hollowing his face. Enid might have felt sorry for him, if not for the malice glaring in his eyes.

“What is this? What are you doing here?”

“You offered a bribe to an investigator,” Enid said. The murmurs started among those gathered. “That’s only one problem. There wouldn’t have been a bribe if you weren’t hiding something.”

“You can’t do this,” he said in a low voice, sounding uncertain. “This is our place. This is a violation. I’m on the committee—if anyone should be making accusations it should be me, and you have overstepped yourself!”

“You’re not the only one on Pasadan’s committee,” Enid said. “We can get the rest of them here. Would that help? Having witnesses? Ariana’s already here; it’ll just take a moment to fetch Lee.”

“I . . . I . . .”

In fact, someone must have already gone to get Lee, because he trailed into Bounty’s courtyard along with a few more observers. “What is it? What’s wrong?” Lee muttered to those in the back, as if he’d stumbled on the scene of an accident.

Philos gaped at them all. The old man stood like he could block them, even though they could just go around. Last thing they wanted was a confrontation that would end with Philos tranquilized on the ground. The old man might not survive it. Let him get frustrated; she and Tomas had all the time in the world.

“In addition to offering a bribe,” Enid said, for the benefit of the observers, “we believe Philos has violated quotas for the Bounty household and has been hoarding grain for trade. We’re here to find the evidence.”

“No,” Philos said, weakly. “It’s not like that. We weren’t violating anything—it’s just . . . we needed it. To get our surpluses up. Yes, we had to go into some land outside our quota, but not much. But we needed it, if we were going to get a new banner.”

“You just got a banner a couple years ago!” Lee protested.

Enid suspected that Bounty had petitioned for a raise in quotas, and the rest of the committee, including Lee, had refused. They had enough. They didn’t need more, despite Philos’s arguments.

Ariana spoke to Enid but glared at Philos. “I suspected. No, I knew. I just didn’t have evidence.”

Lee

turned on her. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I did! I tried to tell you, but you didn’t listen, didn’t want to hear that anyone was doing anything bad; you wanted to pretend everything was perfect—”

Enid put a hand on her arm to calm her. Nothing more she could say, because yes, ideally, Ariana or Lee should have said something. Asked questions. Managed it themselves. But Philos was a bully.

All that was left was the search. Tomas leaned in and pointed. “Those two outbuildings look like they have cellars. That one’s hid pretty well with those honeysuckles—I’d start there.”

She turned to Philos. “I have to ask—did Sero know? Did he threaten to report you? Did you confront him about it, maybe in his shed?”

Desperately, he shook his head. His hands fluttered nervously. “No, no. I had nothing to do with that accident. This has nothing to do with that, nothing.”

Oddly, she believed him. But if he had nothing to do with it, then she was no closer to discovering whose footprints those were running away from Sero’s body.

One problem at a time.

“Well,” she said, turning to Tomas. “Shall we?”

“Sooner the better,” he said.

They hunted around the outbuilding with all the honeysuckle brambled around it; it didn’t take long. The vines hid where the foundation was raised and a cellar had been dug underneath. Part of the vines grew up a trellis that could be shifted to reveal the doorway. This was no accidental surplus, no chance mismanagement of resources. This was willfully taking more than they needed and hiding it from the whole town.

Enid and Tomas were no longer the villains here.

A couple of other folk of Bounty stood with Philos. He leaned on them, rubbing his forehead. His hands trembled. His whole world was coming down, and she and Tomas would have to sort out who in the household, and in the town, knew and who didn’t. How to mete out the punishments when all was done.

They pried open the cellar door and went down a rickety staircase to a dirt floor. They had to duck under a low ceiling. This was halfway between a cellar and crawlspace. Enid had her flashlight, fully charged, and scanned it around the room.

Bags. Bags and bags of grain, leaning against the walls and stacked against one another. Dozens. The household could use them to bribe, get deals from other towns and households, make trades. Make themselves more prosperous and secure. Wealth. This was wealth. Oilcloth on the floor protected the bags from moisture. Wire mousetraps in the corners. Likely a whole mess of cats patrolling the household, too. All of it carefully maintained.

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