“Is this all of them?” Soen demanded of the manticorian warrior standing next to him.
The evening breeze was rising behind the elven Inquisitor as he surveyed the scene. He would have enjoyed drinking in the freshness of the air as it flowed around him, still damp from the sea beyond his sight to the south. The sunset was deepening into a rich, vibrant salmon color, marred only by the black smoke still curling up from the ruin on the hilltop, its pall rising to join those of a number of surrounding Houses. He would have preferred to turn his back on the carnage, bask in the rays of the setting sun, and breathe deeply of the fresh evening. Such luxuries, however, would have to wait.
“Yes, Master,” the manticore rumbled. “Fifteen of the House servants survived. Two warriors of the House Centurai were alive, but they engaged us on our arrival, and we were forced to kill them. . and it appears impossible to account for the full Centurai.”
Soen turned his head slowly toward the manticore, his gaze itself a question.
The manticore was an old one, golden streaks running through his shorn mane. He shifted uncomfortably. “The Impress Warriors were still returning from the war. The majority of the warriors of this House appear to still have been in transit through the folds.”
“We will deal with one disaster at a time,” Soen said in clipped tones. “You were the first to arrive?”
“Yes, Master.”
“And what is your name?”
“Gradek, Master. . Centurai Captain of House Megnara.”
“Megnara?” Soen said with studied casualness. The names of these petty frontier Houses were only now, after four days into this investigation, starting to make sense to him. House Acheran was only one of the many Houses that had fallen on the frontier, and that name had quickly led them to a host of others within what Soen had come to call the Dark Frontier. It was not until Codexia Qinsei brought him a report of a messenger from the House Megnara Centurai that he had even heard of House Timuran. “Oh, yes, House Megnara. That’s about fifty leagues from here, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Master.”
“So how does a Centurai Captain of a House many days’ journey away end up at the door of this fallen House?”
The manticore’s eyes narrowed, but he gave no other sign of his anger at his embarrassment. “By accident, Master. We were set upon by the mad warriors when they hit during our return from the war. We fed through whatever folds were convenient and available, trusting that the Myrdin-dai would sort out our transportation home after the mad warriors were killed. After several folds, we arrived here and sent a runner at once back through the fold to report to the Myrdin-dai what we had seen.”
Soen nodded. “What of Lord Timuran and his family?”
The manticore gave a quick grunt to show his discomfort before he spoke. “The remains of Lord Timuran were found just inside the main doors. The fire had not reached the body, but there was little left nevertheless. He was only identified by the baton still in his grip, his signet rings, and what little remained of his clothing. We have not yet found his head.”
“It was expected,” Soen thought. “Anyone else?”
“We actually found Lady Timuran first,” Gradek continued, the bile in his stomach apparently settling as he spoke. “We saw her above the subatria wall, impaled on one of the House standards. My Octian Leader Jatuh believes she was dead before the fire reached her body. He is the one who brought her down.
“Go on,” Soen urged.
“Beyond that, the overseers and the Guardians were undoubtedly all slaughtered.”
“All of them. . you’re sure?”
“The moment we arrived, Master,” Gradek said, “I specifically ordered each of my Octian commanders to secure the House and protect any elves they encountered. None were reported.”
“Still, they will have to be accounted for in any event.” Soen turned back to examine the huddled group sitting on the ground before him, the smoking ruins of their former life behind them. “These slaves are all that’s left, then. Any of them broken?”