Bannerless (The Bannerless Saga 1)

“Come sit,” Dak said, coming up to her and gesturing to the fire. He’d gone to get his guitar, its strap slung over his shoulder in that all-too-familiar way. “Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

“Can’t.” Couldn’t maintain objective distance for an investigation during a party. And she couldn’t imagine folk being in a mood for celebration with a couple of investigators on hand. “They’ll be happier if we’re not there.”

Tomas also lingered outside, near a corner of the building. Standing watch, seemed like. “Someone might want to talk about the investigation,” he explained. It happened sometimes, a local with something to say, but without the pressure of formal questioning, coming to them under cover of darkness or some other pretense. But Enid suspected this was an excuse for him to get out of their way. She almost wished he wouldn’t.

But she and Dak did need to catch up with each other, didn’t they? Might as well get it over with. “Why don’t you come in for a couple of minutes? You won’t need to go play while everyone’s cooking.”

Inside, she pulled chairs from the table and acquired a couple of mugs of cider while Dak explained that he still traveled a week or so out of every month to play for markets and festivals, usually only when invited in advance these days.

“I’m mostly settled now. Newhome—Ariana’s household—took me in, the poor chumps. I teach the kids in the town reading and writing, a little music.” His guitar leaned against the table beside him. Every so often Dak glanced at the doorway as if worried. Enid didn’t know if it was the uniform or the sense that Tomas might be outside, eavesdropping, or secretly wanting to throw him in a pond.

“You and Ariana?”

“We’re friends,” he said. The phrase could have meant anything when Dak said it. “She was kind to take in a stray.”

“Strange to think of you settled down.” He shrugged, as if he couldn’t explain it either. She gestured to the guitar. Worn blond wood instead of the black lacquered one he’d had before. “You found a new one.”

“Yeah. Wasn’t as hard as I was afraid it would be. This is actually my second new one. Best one yet. If someone’s out there building guitars, the world can’t be all bad, yeah?”

“Right,” she said softly.

His presence had no bearing on the investigation, but she would have preferred to do without the distraction. She’d gone for months without thinking of him. Years. Why should he cause her any worry now? Her lips twisted wryly, regarding him, trying to figure out how much he’d changed, if at all.

“You get back to Fintown often?” she asked.

Dak shrugged. “Haven’t been that way in a few years.”

“Ah.” Enid had traveled to Fintown just two years ago—delivering copies of records, not because of an investigation. Xander was co-head of Petula Dock these days. Still sailing. Strange, to think she’d been there more recently than Dak. She and Xander had only spoken of him in passing.

A knock came at the door. Enid expected Tomas, but Ariana leaned in. “Is everything all right?” The question was tense; her hand gripped the door frame. Laughter sounded from outside. Night was settling in, and the fire would be going strong by now. Dak’s absence would be noted.

“He’ll be out in a few minutes,” Enid said. Ariana took the hint and ducked out, biting her lip.

“What about you, Enid?” he asked, when his own tale reached a suitable end. “You’ve been busy, I take it.” He gestured at her, or rather at the uniform she wore.

“I have,” she agreed. She thought for a moment about what she could say, how to explain Serenity, Sam, her career—all of it—and no words seemed adequate. So she settled on broad summary. “Life is good.”

“Bien, bien,” he said. Another long silence passed. He studied her, and she him. She was used to dealing with long silences. He very much wasn’t. “You’re still in Haven, then?”

“I am. I started a small household with three others. We do all right. I travel quite a bit.”

“I imagine you do.”

Enough with the small talk. She resisted the urge to straighten, to lean in a

s if this was a serious interrogation. “I’d like to ask you . . . did you know Sero?”

“Not really, no. He was a loner. That’s why he lived out on that patch by himself. No one ever visited him. No one much even talked to him.”

“He never came out to the fire pit for gatherings?” she said, gesturing toward the party outside. “Not even to hear you play?”

“No. Can’t charm everyone, I guess.” His smile turned lopsided, and she chuckled at the joke. “Ariana said you think it’s a murder. That can’t be right, can it? I heard it was an accident. He just fell.”

“Possible murder. We’re still asking questions, looking for possible witnesses.”

“She was pretty upset,” he said.

“A lot of people are. I can’t blame them. Can you remember the last time you saw Sero? Maybe just walking around town, working on some of those fences?”