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

window. The sun was out and beyond the glass there was a broad view of Gulltown and the sea to the south. She stood and enjoyed it for a minute. The sun gave the room a warm glow, and failing that there was a fireplace on one wall and a pair of leather bound chairs positioned in front of it. Arla ran her hands across the smooth surface of the table that dominated the rest of the room. This was a good place, and now she could afford it.
    “The other room, Ima?” the renter said.
    Arla followed her into the bed chamber. It was smaller than the sitting room, and darker, but that suited her fine. She sat on the bed, which was larger than she was used to. It felt soft.
    “These are good rooms,” Arla said.
    “Aye, and seven silver a week, in advance” the renter said.
    “Will you take a gold for three weeks?” Arla asked.
    “In advance?”
    “In advance.”
    “I will.”
    Arla pulled out her purse and took out a single gold coin. She handed it over and the renter made it vanish somewhere inside her voluminous dress. She smiled. Apparently now that money had changed hands she was disposed to be friendly.
    “We own the bakery,” the stout woman said. “I’m Catia, and my husband is Rolf. Your rent includes a loaf every day.”
    It was a small benefit, but it pleased Arla. She guessed that Catia and Rolf had once lived in these rooms themselves, but prosperity had brought a better house, and now they had this place empty.
    “Thank you,” Arla said.
    Catia produced an iron key and handed it over. It felt smooth and solid in Arla’s hand. It gave her a feeling of being substantial, of being part of the city. She had never quite felt like that before. Now she had a home, a job, friends. She was, truly, no longer just a former guard.
    She stayed in the rooms for a while after Catia left her, sitting in one of the chairs with a window open. She could hear the whispering of the river, and the faint noises from the docks around by the Shining Wake. Perhaps she would dine there again. She had liked the place, even if all they served was fish.
    Arla felt the faint stirrings of happiness. She had never trusted happiness. At Ocean’s Gate there had been the ever present evil of the Faer Karan, and the guilt that came with serving in their guard. It had been a decent enough life, but it was gained at the cost of other people’s lives and happiness. This was different. Now she could look in the mirror and forget what she had been.
    There were a few things in her old rooms that she should fetch. There wasn’t much. She had a winter coat, a sack of other clothes, spare boots, a knife. They were things she needed. She left her new home, locking the door behind her.
    It took a while to walk across the old town. As she walked she fell to wondering what Hekman had in mind for tonight. Perhaps when she’d fetched her property she’d ask Catia to wake her when they closed the shop and try to get a few hours sleep, even if she didn’t feel tired. It would be better to be fresh.
    She was so lost in thought that she didn’t see the men until they made their move.
    They could have done it better, though. They moved too early. She saw a drawn blade, the glint of armour, and a moment later there was an arrow on her string and she’d turned to face them.
    There were four of them. King’s men by the look of them. Arla reckoned she could take two of them before they closed, but that was all. They stopped when they saw the arrow. They knew who she was, and knew what she could do with a bow.
    “Arla Crail, you must come with us.”
    “I don’t think so,” she said.
    She could see the leader was eyeing her arrow. She made sure that he could see it was pointed at him.
    “We are arresting you on the direct order of the king,” he said.
    “I work for the council,” she replied. It was nonsense, of course. The council operated at the king’s sufferance. If the king wanted something badly enough the council did it. She wondered how