The Lawkeeper of Samara (The Fourth Age of Shanakan Book 2) by Tim Stead Page B

and yet he remained well intentioned. He had not conquered Samara, but saved it. He did not want the crown, he did not collect taxes, he did not expect the people to obey him except on one matter – there must be no war. He had instead gone back to White Rock and ruled there as the Faer Karani Gerique had done before him.
    She put the book aside, and as the first hint of dawn coloured the sky over her head she wrote a letter.
    She wondered how long it would take to reach White Rock and the Mage Lord’s hand.

Twelve – The House of Tarquin
    Arla didn’t sleep well. The pain from her burns stabbed at her all night. Two hours before dawn she gave up. She rose and washed and dressed, strung her bow and tied on a quiver of arrows. She went out into the old town.
    It was not the first time she’d walked the empty streets before dawn, but now it felt different. In the past she had been Arla Crail, and just Arla. Now she was a law keeper, and Samara was a city with a terrible crime at its heart.
    She walked down to the harbour. This was one place where people were already awake. Dozens of small boats were out in the pre dawn lamping for fish. She could see them like a constellation of stars, each flame trickling light back across the water towards her. It was pretty.
    She walked along the harbour street with the water at her right. To her surprise it seemed that the Shining Wake was open. Light flooded out of its windows, and when she came level with it she could see people inside, sitting at the tables. There was a smell of food, fresh bread and jaro, coming out of the door. She sat on the wall opposite and watched.
    The men and women inside seemed quite well to do. Their clothes suggested so, at any rate.
    Arla was considering joining them. She was hungry. But she heard a step on the street close by and turned. There were two men, both armed. Merchant militia by their look.
    “Who are you?” One of them asked. “What are you doing here?”
    Arla smiled at them. “No harm,” she said. “I’m a law keeper, just taking the air, seeing the city at peace.”
    “Aye, it’s a fine time of day,” one of the men said, relaxing. The other didn’t seem so easily satisfied.
    “Can you prove you’re a lawkeeper?” he asked.
    “Do I have to?” Arla replied. He had a point, though. She could be anyone, and she was sitting outside a tavern in the pre dawn with a bow.
    The more suspicious of the two men seemed not to have an answer for that. Arla guessed he didn’t really want to press the point. “Look,” she said. “I’m going in. You can follow me if you like, but I need breakfast.”
    She turned her back on the men and crossed the road to the tavern door. She had to eat or leave, and she was hungry. Inside there were quite a few empty tables, and she found one in the corner where the light was a little poorer. She was still very aware of the degree to which she was disliked by the king’s men, and didn’t often frequent places like this where she might be recognised. This was a merchant crowd, though, and she ordered and ate a light meal with a cup of hot jaro without being bothered. She was glad that she didn’t have to eat fish for breakfast – they had eggs and bread and bacon, which suited her better.
    By the time she left the first gleams of dawn were in the sky over Morningside and she strolled up towards the law house feeling full and reasonably content with her lot. She had not felt this easy with herself since… well, not for a long time.
    Lamps were burning in the law house and Ulric was already there. She wondered where he spent the night. A counter had appeared since the previous evening, like the bar in a tavern it stretched across the room and Ulric was behind it.
    “Good morning to you, Officer Crail,” he said.
    “Ulric, call me Arla,” she said.
    “As you wish.” He raised the end of his counter, which was hinged, allowing her to pass into the body of the law house. She went to the big room.