Pinning the entire theft on Leech made the king delighted even though the food wasn''t returned. Sir Blouf, on the other hand, was clearly perturbed. A sign of his guilty ways? That the bit of chaos that the theft had caused hadn''t swelled into something more? Or maybe Sir Blouf is innocent and that he just hates others who please the king. I wonder what his thoughts are of the queen. Or the king''s many mistresses.


    Though just one, a wick has been extinguished.


    I''m not too thrilled Leech had to share all the blame, and it eats away at me now and again, but it had to be done. And fortunately, Leech is not around to wag his tongue. Seamil is the only one who can command the king''s army. If he was to be accused and charged, which I would never let happen, it would surely be the end.


    I''m truly glad this has finally been put to rest. But onto the other issues at hand. And with the sheriff''s keep destroyed, finding somewhere to house my men and I was my first act.


    The city''s prison was my initial proposal – it''s the only place now that has cells – but they had no space to spare. The warden said I had done too good of a job enforcing laws. I don''t know if he was jesting or being snarky. The prison was also disgusting, noisy, unkept and the smell was sickly. Even if they did have room, I wouldn''t have been able to think.


    After finding no other suitable place, no higher city official helpful on the issue as usual, Seamil sent me a message suggesting we use his and Lorma''s home. I''m sure it was their way of apologizing for the waste of time and energy they caused. And I agreed. Their neighbours weren''t too thrilled by the change in activity but they can kiss my arse.


    ********************************


    The portrait of Lorma''s late father glares at me with judgment. It''s a keenness I have witnessed countless times in the past. It rattles my nerves. He was a great man and kind when he wanted to be but I don''t miss his disapproval.


    ''Sorry, sir,'' I say, ''you''re coming down.'' I give the picture a salute before unhooking the frame. I carefully turn it around and place it against the wall on the hardwood floor. I then grab the portrait of Fey and hang her up.


    My nerves settle in haste.


    I''m so grateful I found her relatively unscathed inside the keep. There are a few tears in the canvas but they''re not noticeable if you step back.


    ''You always said you wanted a house like Lorma''s,'' I say. ''This is your home now.'' I give her a wink and turn around to walk across Lorma''s study, the room racked to the brim with shelves of books.


    Reaching a tall window, the sill coated with almost a finger of dust, I peer out and glance down at the fountain in the courtyard, my carriage idling by. Dead leaves collect inside, a pigeon rummaging, pecking around for insects.


    I''m envious of the bird. Such a simple life. And it can go wherever it pleases.


    A sharp bray pings my ears and I lift my gaze. I see May trotting down the street, chasing a toppling sprig of tumble grass. She seems to be enjoying the hunt. Another simple life.


    I hear the door to the study open and I turn around.


    It''s Jac.


    ''Sorry, sir,'' he says, ''but I keep getting lost in this place. It''s quite big, isn''t it for a house? A home?''


    ''You think this is big, you should see inside the palace,'' I reply. ''Now that''s a big home.''


    ''I doubt that will ever happen.''


    ''You may. But let''s hope you don''t.''


    ''Excuse me, sir?''


    ''If the city ever gets invaded, the last stand will be inside the palace. So let''s hope that never happens.''


    ''Yes, sir. One question, which rooms are out of bounds again? I keep forgetting.''


    ''The ones that are locked.''


    ''And why aren''t we allowed inside?''


    His lawman''s curiosity is as hungry as mine but it is an inappropriate question to ask.


    The truth is that the locked rooms are filled with the food stolen from the granary. There''s no other place in the city to store it, my home not big enough, so it''s all staying put.


    ''I''m sure the commander and the lordess have personal things they don''t want you to see, Jac,'' I say.


    ''Of course, sir,'' he says.


    ''And remember the east wing is out of bounds too. We don''t want to disturb the lordess. She''s been kind enough to give us her house. We won''t want to anger her and have it taken away.''


    ''Yes, sir. Well, I''d better be getting on with the reports. Now I just have to remember how to get back to the servants'' quarters.''


    ''Take the stairs down to the entrance hall, make a left, go down the corridor, through the third door on the right and down another set of stairs.''


    ''Thank you, sir.'' He''s about to leave when he asks sheepishly, ''And how do I get to the stairs to take me to the entrance hall?''


    ''Take a right out of the study and just walk,'' I reply with a smirk. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Jac bows and leaves, closing the door behind him.


    With everything going on, a moment of peace flitters through my thoughts, the pain in my leg seeming to disappear. I look out the window again and see Able, the blacksmith. He''s pushing a cart this way.


    He''s the spryest old man I''ve ever known.


    Moments later, I greet him down in the courtyard, sweat trickling down his wrinkled face and glistening his flabby yet bulky discoloured arms.


    ''I have what you asked, sheriff,'' he says.


    ''Thank you, Able,'' I reply before looking inside the cart.


    The weapons that were housed at the keep that my men and I used were crushed beyond repair and I asked Able if he could forge us new ones. And like the man he is, he obliged without asking for anything in return.


    ''There are some older weapons of mine that I''ve added, if that''s all right?'' he said. ''I''m not as swift as I used to be.''


    ''Of course,'' I reply. ''And you should have told me you were coming today. I would have sent my men to fetch them.''


    ''No worries, sheriff. It''s nice getting a bit of fresh air now and again. It can get a bit stuffy at my place. I also wanted to tell you something.''


    ''What''s that?''


    ''Something odd. Although, it could just be me getting more senile.''


    ''Go on.''


    ''Well I''ve noticed a few times recently that weapons in my foundry are not where I left them. As if someone''s been sneaking in while I''m sleeping and moving them around.''


    I tilt my head, puzzled. ''How odd indeed.'' But a possibility of a connection between my attacker and this soon washes over me.


    And it''s Able who makes the connection. He reaches into the cart and pulls out an ax. It''s the same ax that my attacker tried to kill me with.


    ''This was one of the weapons that did a walk about,'' he says. ''You can see it has no legs.'' Then laughing, he places it back inside the cart.


    Is my attacker playing with me?


    I''m about to warn Able of what happened, which I should have done right after the incident, when a yell makes me spin on my heels. Then looking down the street, I see Tready running towards the house, a look of panic on his face.


    Something''s happened. A woman''s been attacked. I can feel it.


    I watch as he bounds into the courtyard and over to me.


    ''What is it?'' I ask hurriedly.


    Tready looks like he''s about to expel his bowls, terror in his eyes. He''s pale as a ghost.


    ''What is it?'' I ask again.


    ''Sir . . . sir –'' he pants.


    ''Spit it out.'' Shivers tinkle up my spine.


    ''There''s a body. A woman. It''s the Night Cleaver. There''s no doubt about it.''


    The words squeeze my chest as if the weight of the entire city is pressing against me. I try to remain calm. I try to breathe.


    ''What makes you have no doubt it''s him,'' I stutter.


    ''By how the woman''s been handled. It''s not pretty. Not pretty at all.'' He then adds, ''I''m sorry, sir.''


    ''Where? Where was the woman – the body found?''


    ''Regent Road, sir.''


    Hearing the name makes me scream in anguish and I steady myself against the cart.


    It can''t be her. I just talked to her a few days ago. Had the Night Cleaver followed me to her house and then followed her to her friend''s?


    Blinking rapidly, as if it would change the circumstance, I mumble softly, ''Show me.''


    ''Pardon, sir?''


    ''Show me for king''s sake,'' I say more forcefully.


    *********************************


    I''ve never worked May so hard before as we fly through the streets of the city, Tready sitting next to me on the driver''s seat.


    But finally, we make it. And as the carriage skids to a halt before a crowd of onlookers, May squeals at me in disapproval.


    On our feet, Tready leads me through the throng of gawking people.


    ''What''s happened, sheriff?'' stutters an old man, trembling on his walking stick.


    ''Has someone been murdered?'' asks a middle-aged woman. She tightens the nightgown around her neck.


    ''We demand that you tell us,'' comes another voice.


    ''Is it to do with the enemy? Have they sent us a plague with their weapons?''


    That''s all we need, I say to myself. And I wouldn''t be surprised if that was in the cards.


    ''Out of the way,'' Tready yells at the gatherers. ''And go back to your homes or we''ll start throwing you all in prison.''


    The crowd doesn''t heed the warning but parts, opening up to the entrance of a pathway between two derelict shops. A sign nearby reads, ''Regent Road.''


    With an all too familiar feeling, trepidation eats away at my nerves as I limp towards the scene. And as I pass skeletal fences that have been stripped of wood, a cool wind whips at the back of me.


    It''s when I see Scar looming over the cloak-covered body, a pool of vomit and blood mixture beside him, that it truly registers.


    My boot crushing a piece of stray glass sends Scar cowering in fright and clattering to the ground, chunks of his morning ration down the front of his uniform.


    He wasn''t with us the first time the Night Cleaver came to terrorize the city.


    ''Sir,'' pants Scar, beads of sweat dangling on his forehead. ''I thought – I thought you may have been–''


    ''No worries,'' I reply and give him a helping hand back to his feet despite it hurting my leg. ''Who found her?''


    ''Children,'' says Tready. ''Three of them. They were playing.''


    Shit. Children shouldn''t have seen this brutality, this evil.


    ''Scar, would you remove the cloak please,'' I say.


    ''Yes, sir,'' he answers but doesn''t move a muscle.


    ''Scar?''


    ''I''ll do it, sir,'' says Tready.


    ''Thank you,'' I reply.


    Tready bends down and takes off the cloak, revealing a grotesque, animalistic savagery. The body is carved up like a roasted pig at a palace feast, her face barely recognizable. I cover my nose, for there''s a stench, the insides beginning to putrefy.


    ''It''s her,'' I say.


    ''Who, sir?'' asks Tready as Scar darts off to the side and spews once again.


    ''The woman who was previously attacked,'' I answer. ''The one that came to us.''


    ''That can''t be her.'' Tready looks beyond shocked.


    ''It''s her. And we''re definitely dealing with the Night Cleaver. I can''t count how many times she''s been hacked.''


    ''And it''s to be with a heavy weapon. The wounds are deep and thick. An ax most likely.''


    My body goes numb. Not only has my nemesis returned but he''s after me too.


    Scar fumbles back to us and sputters, ''An ax? That means it''s not the Night Cleaver.''


    ''The Night Cleaver used many types of weapons to do his deeds,'' Tready replies before I have a chance. ''The Night Cleaver was – is just a moniker.'' A few silent moments pass before he asks, ''Sir, what should we do with her? Being that it''s destroyed, we can''t store her at the keep.''


    ''We''ll have to take her back to the house. The cellar will be good, it''s cold down there. And I''ll send for an examiner to come and have a look at her. We''ll use the carriage to bring her there.''


    ''Will the lordess mind?'' asks Scar.


    ''I''m sure she will but there''s nowhere else to do the examination.''


    ''When should we inform the family?'' asks Tready.


    ''She only has a husband here in the city – poor man,'' I respond. ''He''s on the southern wall. And we should inform him as soon as possible. Him not being told in a reasonable time would be beyond cruel.''


    I should have informed him when she was initially attacked. I''ll regret that forever.


    ''I''ll do that, sir,'' says Scar.


    ''Are you sure you''re up for it?'' I look at the fresh vomit on his clothes.


    ''This spell will go.''


    I nod but then give it some thought. ''But first make sure he''s been at the wall all this time. Who knows we could be wrong and he might be the murderer. As you know, we''ve seen many spouses do away with the other.''


    ''Yes, sir.''


    I glance down at the body, my heart aching with grief. It''s a sight I thought I''d never see again. I should have done more to assure her safety.


    ''Should we tell the public now?'' Tready asks. ''Tell the public that the Night Cleaver has returned?''


    ''We shall. More fear is not what I want for this city but now I''d rather have that than have women hunted without them knowing. At least the public had some time to enjoy the fact that we caught the culprit who stole the food. Men, let''s put the cloak back over her and grab what you can. Let''s take her to the house.