The pool of blood had extended like a steaming yet tranquil crimson lake.
This is something De Havilland would like to know. That was Tonbei's thought as he quietly watched the scene unfold before him.
The humans were dashing about, their sandaled feet echoing on the courtyard flagstones in the crisp early morning air. Household guards were being summoned and the Baron raised from his bed. The peace was irrevocably shattered.
The Ur-Obun warrior had followed the Justinian noble, as per De Havilland's request, from the human festival, for the past 48 standard hours. He had hurried to a dwelling first, Tonbei assumed it was the noble's current abode. Signs indicated he lived there with another human but no one else was present. The man had searched for something urgently, a simple looking metal strongbox, retrieved it and hurriedly left again.
As he had been commanded Tonbei had followed, clinging as before to the underside of the Justinian's skimmer. Such was his lot under the rule of his Human masters.
The journey had taken most of a day, travelling at speed across the rolling grass plains. It had taken great focus on his part to enter the meditative trance required to retain his grasp but he had managed. He always gave his all to follow De Havilland's commands.
Tonbei dropped off the vehicle as it started to slow and had followed the remaining way on foot. It appeared that the Justinian had arrived at a country estate but it was not the lord of the manor he had come to see, but one of the guests. It was one of the Hawkwoods; those humans who "owned" Velisamil, the planet of Tonbei's birth. The noble had seemed surprised to see the Justinian and was dismissive of him until words were mumbled into his ear. They had then hurried off and spoken in private at length.
The Ur-Obun was not without means and thus he'd learnt much of what they had discussed. The Justinian had traded secrets with the Hawkwood and now they planned to seek aid from the capital. Things were escalating quickly and they planned to leave at first light.
Tonbei had a decision to make, to report back or follow? He knew their plans now and De Havilland would want this information. Trailing them would gain no benefit, while alerting the Knight might give him time to plan. After consideration the Ur-Obun believed he knew him well enough to second guess his wishes. Tonbei would leave when his quarry did.
But this quarry would not be leaving.
There he lay, on the courtyard, broken. The fight had obviously been desperate, the Justinian's rapier lay a few yards from his corpse. But the killing blow was also obvious. An Ukari dagger still stuck in his neck. Tonbei could also see from his vantage point that the servants had noted the slip of parchment on the body. It bore a single mark, a hand holding a blood drenched dagger; the sigil of the Slayers guild.
He would tell all this to De Havilland. He would explain how his indecision about what he was required to do had prevented him from being watchful of his quarry. He would take the stern words and disapproving stares. He could see the bigger picture and he knew his place. He was, after all, an obedient servant.
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