Page 8 of Bannerless (The Bannerless Saga 1)

That was true enough. Especially a place like Pasadan, which seemed to have never had one. How much of a shock were they in for?

They had seen people moving around from the first: someone in skirts at a laundry line, a teenager herding geese toward a pond, a blacksmith stepping into the street to stretch his back or to look into the clear sky to gauge the weather. No one had a reason to glance up the winding lane that led out of the valley until they heard the car’s motor. The kid with the geese first, then the blacksmith. The kid ran to the large whitewashed building, probably the community hall and committee rooms, a way station for travelers. This was where Enid and Tomas would be living while they conducted their investigation. She hoped this didn’t last much longer than a day or two.

By the time Tomas guided the car up to the communal building, a crowd was there waiting for them. The three in front were likely the committee members, gray sashes hurriedly put over their sho

ulders, standing rigid as walls. The rest stood a little ways behind them, leaning in to hear—but not too close. Spectators. A chorus, to report on gossip. A general mood of anxiety made everyone frown, but no one held anything that might be used as a weapon, no pitchforks or knives in view. Tomas had weapons—a staff and a packet of tranquilizers. Mostly for show. She’d only seen the tranqs used when somebody lost their temper. Sometimes, people lashed out. And if they did, Tomas would be ready. But right now, everyone just seemed cautious.

The committee trio waited: a white-haired old man, tall, arthritis twisting his hands; a second man, bald, short, and round, with narrow eyes and skin like amber; a woman, younger than the others, with her hair in a dark braid, her gaze lowered. Biting her lip as if thinking hard about something. This would be Ariana, then. She’d requested the investigation. Enid wanted to get her alone to talk as soon as possible.

The white-haired man, however, glared daggers. Very likely, he was the committee chair, Philos. The other must have been Lee.

Enid and Tomas left the car and came forward. Tomas stayed a little behind, leaving no doubt who was in charge. Ah, yes, that would be her. She wasn’t a big woman, but she wasn’t small either. Average height, with some weight and muscle on her. Tomas and his wood staff would be the one the folk of Pasadan glanced at nervously. The threatening one.

She donned a placid smile, as if nothing at all could ever be wrong. “Hello. I’m Enid. This is Tomas. The regional committee called for an investigation after a request was submitted. We’ll make it as quick as possible. Would you three like to step inside so we can talk?” She didn’t look at the crowd that had gathered, the folk she didn’t want listening in.

The old man and committee chair, Philos, didn’t move. He looked her up and down, clearly sizing her up.

“You seem young,” he said. He glanced at Tomas. Wondering maybe if he was really in charge, if he was supervising some sort of training assignment. She wanted to snarl at him—would regional send a trainee on a possible murder investigation? Truly? Maybe he thought so. Such stories were told about investigators, after all. That they had too much authority, wielded too blithely. Trouble was, no one had found a better way to do the job.

“I’ve worn my uniform for three years, sir,” Enid said. “Tomas is my enforcer. I hope we can take care of this unpleasantness quickly.”

“It was an accident,” Philos said.

The woman, Ariana, rolled her eyes. Commentary on a long-running argument? Enid was able to catch her gaze then and raise a questioning brow.

Jaw set, she stepped forward with sudden resolve. “Investigators, welcome to Pasadan. I’m Ariana. This is Philos and Lee. We’ll help in any way we can.”

“Thank you. Let’s go inside, shall we?” Enid gestured at the door that she hoped led to some sort of conference room.

“Come, Philos,” Ariana murmured through gritted teeth.

The man’s posture flinched just enough to let him turn and lead the others to the door and inside. Enid and Tomas followed. Enid lingered long enough to look over the gathered crowd and offer a friendly smile.

No one smiled back, and no one seemed put at ease. Investigators didn’t make a lot of friends and weren’t often welcome. Not while they were wearing their uniforms.

She’d guessed right, and the front room of the community building was a group meeting space: committee meetings, public hearings, petitions. During some periods it might have been used for harvest, food or wool processing, or town-wide activities during bad weather. The place had a cement floor, windows and skylights letting in plenty of natural light, and a faint agricultural air of hay and soil. A long wood table and chairs sat on one side of the room, along with a blank chalkboard. An all-purpose room, clean and worn with use. Enid approved.

The three committee members clustered by the table; Enid guessed they’d usually sit on one side of it during hearings but that they didn’t know what to do now. They were so rarely the object of a hearing, and not the ones in charge.

“You must be tired after traveling,” Ariana said, bustling as she defaulted to the role of a good host, eager and hopeful. “Would you like to rest first? We have a good way station here, a shower for washing up if you like.”

As lovely as a shower sounded, they didn’t have time. “Later,” Enid said. “Why don’t we sit and discuss business first.”

In a moment they were arranged at the table, the committee members on one side and Enid on the other, as if this were a normal meeting after all. Tomas ranged around the room, hands behind his back, studying the walls and window frames as if he were a carpenter running an inspection. Philos kept glancing over at him. Wondering what Tomas was up to, no doubt. While the enforcer was on his feet, the others would never relax, and that was all to the good as far as Enid was concerned.

Enid waited a moment. Resisted asking if everyone was comfortable; they likely wouldn’t answer her.

“We received the initial report. A man was killed. Sero,” she said.

“It was an accident,” Philos repeated.

“Why do you say that?” Enid asked him.

“He fell and hit his head.” Very decisive.

“Did anyone see it happen? Is there a witness?”

No answer. The three glanced at one another, then quickly looked away. Afraid to reveal too much, even by looking. So no one saw, or no one would reveal anyone who did see.

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