Page 60 of Esperance

“No. I doubt he’ll send any word until he’s back at Westmont.”

Carver nodded and pushed to his feet. “I should start back so I can return before dawn.”

Ford lifted an eyebrow. “You just don’t want to stay and tell me about your wife and what it’s like to be married.”

That was true, but he didn’t have to admit it. He lifted the knitted hood off the table. “Be sure to tell the monkeys hello for me.”

“Ha. As if they’d care about a jester like you.”

A smile tugged at Carver’s lips, but as he met Ford’s eye, he grew serious. “Be careful out here.”

Ford’s features settled, chasing away all signs of mirth. “I’m not the one surrounded by potential enemies, Carve. And I’m certainly not married to one.”

That was a fair point.

Ford rose from his chair.

Outside, the wooden steps creaked.

Carver and Ford froze. Then they were both moving; Carver drew his knife while Ford did the same as they crept silently toward the door.

There was an urgent knock; three hits, a slight pause, then three hits again.

Ford’s brow grew lined as he hurried to open the door. “Hugo, what—”

“I’m sorry,” the young man interrupted. Hugo had served alongside Ford as a scout in Carver’s army in Harvari, and he’d agreed to become one of Ford’s messengers here in Esperance for the next year. The usually calm man looked harried; his face was flushed and his eyes widened as he saw Carver. He offered a quick salute. “General, I—I didn’t expect you.”

“What’s happened?” Carver asked. “Is it word from my father?”

“No, it’s far worse than that.” Hugo looked to Ford. “I was heading back to the village after our meeting tonight, and I decided to take a shortcut. I found something just off the trail—scorched bones.Humanbones.”

A chill skated down Carver’s spine. “Where?”

Hugo’s expression was grim. “About an hour’s walk from here.”

Carver glanced out the window, trying to gauge the night sky. If they ran . . . He turned to Hugo. “Show us.”

Carver spotted the scorched bones before Ford lit the lamp he’d brought to the scene. As Hugo had described, it was right off the trail. It wasn’t a main road to the nearest village, or to Esperance—but it connected both places, and that seemed significant.

The skulls had been separated from their bodies, and all the bones had been gathered into a pile on the muddy ground. The earth surrounding the pile had been scorched, but the fire hadn’t spread to the surrounding foliage.

Whoever had started the fire had remained to watch while the bodies burned.

The frequent jungle rains had washed away nearly all traces of blood, and the footprints stuck in the mud were indistinct. Still, Ford was scanning them intently, tracking the entire area with his skilled gaze.

Hugo crouched near Carver, both of them studying the bones. Without touching the macabre pile, Carver could see four skulls. He was sure there were a few more.

“Maybe they’re locals,” Hugo said, though he didn’t sound confident. “This could have nothing to do with what’s happening at Esperance.”

Carver eyed Ford, who was still exploring the small clearing. “What do you see?”

“It’s difficult to tell,” his friend murmured, studying the foliage on the edge of the clearing. “Some of the breaks here could have been from animals passing through, but . . .” He fingered a spot on a tree trunk and frowned. “This notch is from a blade.” He continued to explore the area while Carver tried to rein in his impatience.

Ford was good at what he did, but he did it in his own time.

Carver didn’t want to disturb the bones before Ford had a chance to study them, so he pushed to his feet and waited.

After several long minutes, Ford finished his assessment and twisted to face Carver and Hugo, the glow of the lamp casting strange shadows over his serious face. “My best guess? These people were ambushed on the road and dragged over here.” He nodded to the edge of the clearing. “They were killed against that tree—beheaded. Not only do we see the skulls detached, but there are multiple notches at varying heights on the trunk, and some dried blood remains in the deeper marks where the rain couldn’t reach. The fact I can see any blood at all, not to mention any residual footprints, suggests that this attack is relatively recent—possibly within the last couple of weeks.”

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