Page 22 of Sword & Sacrifice

“Neither did I.”

“What were you doing during the fire?”

“Sleeping,” Jasper replied. All the soldiers were manacled before being removed from their quarters, but he ignored the heavy chains as he rested his arm along the back of the chair in a relaxed pose.

“Through the smoke and shouting?” Darian asked, one eyebrow raised in disbelief.

“I’d been through a full eight-hour shift and four hours of training led by this bitch,” Jasper tossed the last word over his shoulder at Griselda. “A tidal wave couldn’t wake me.”

“Who are your bunkmates?” Archer asked.

Jasper ignored the question, instead asking Darian, “How’d they buy your loyalty? A promotion?” Something he saw in Darian’s face made his eyes light up and he straightened. “That’s it, isn’t it? Are you taking Varro’s place? No wonder you’re so eager to remove anyone loyal to him. You’re eliminating the competition.”

The statement held some truth. Griselda had talked about training Darian into a proper general after he’d fought Alistair alongside them. Although they sometimes butted heads, Darian’s skill with a sword and loyalty to Silas had impressed both Archer and Griselda. It was also true that Darian hadn’t chosen his side based on what Archer or Silas would do for him but based on what Alistair and the other advisers had done to Arnsveld and Bellacosta.

“What would you do for your country?” Archer asked.

The change in subject drew the soldier’s attention back to him. “I’ll protect it with my dying breath, whether the threat comes from within or without.”

“Varro is a threat,” Archer said succinctly. “His choices and his supporters’ actions led to countless deaths.”

“How many Bellacostans have you skewered on your own sword?” Jasper asked. “How many have you killed in the past few days?”

Archer had done his best to avoid deaths on the battlefield—it hadn’t always been enough. Not that his answer mattered. Like all the other Bellacostans set against the Arnsveld-Bellacosta alliance, this soldier only cared about his own beliefs, never the full story. “Tell us about the magic.”

Jasper stiffened, then tried to cover the telltale guilt with a sneer. “I’m not a mage, why would I know anything about magic?”

“I can smell it on you,” Griselda growled. “You smell like you walked through shit and tracked it all the way here.”

So he’s not a mage himself, but he probably came in contact with magic recently.

“That’s ridiculous. You have no proof of—”

A knock on the door interrupted him and Emera strode back into the room. “I searched his room as you ordered, General, and found this”—she held up a crumpled bit of parchment—“stuffed into the mattress of his bunk.”

Griselda’s face scrunched up in disgust. She grasped the parchment between her thumb and forefinger and held it as far away from her face as possible. “Thank you, Captain.”

After a cursory examination, Griselda passed the letter back to Emera, who walked it over to Archer’s desk, holding it gingerly like she might handle an explosive. As she passed Jasper, he lunged from his chair, manacles rattling as he tried to snatch the letter back. Emera’s elbow collided with his face with a harsh crunch and a spray of blood. He fell back into the seat, clutching his broken nose and moaning in pain.

A few blood droplets had spattered onto the letter smearing some of the ink. Archer avoided touching them as he read the brief message.

The sparrow flies east to seek shelter from the storm. It hopes to find others nesting in the hills.

“Explain,” Archer ordered, holding up the letter.

“Fuck you,” Jasper spat, blood spraying from his lips.

Archer glanced at Emera and ordered, “Isolate him from the others.”

“You sure you want to keep him alive?” Griselda asked. “We kept Varro alive and look at how many problems that caused.” She’d always been a staunch advocate of eliminating problems at the roots.

“He might receive other letters,” Archer explained. “If we kill him now, the magical connection may break, and we’ll lose a source of information.”

She pursed her lips in displeasure but nodded to Emera, who dragged Jasper out of the room. Once the door closed again, Griselda eased herself into the chair across from Archer. “So, any idea what that means?” she asked, waving at the letter.

Darian read it over Archer’s shoulder. “Someone is trying to set up a meeting in Sparrow Hill.”

Griselda’s brow furrowed. “Why’s that name sound familiar?”