Free Rules of Conflict by Kristine Smith Page A

guilty of.”
    Shroud’s head shot up. “I don’t care.” His eyes glittered, their
fervor promising stakes and bonfires to anyone who crossed him. The monk gone
mad. “I’ll do whatever it takes to save her. If that means jumping down the
hellhole and dragging the entire Commonwealth in after me, I’ll do it.”
    Evan watched the color rise in Shroud’s cheeks like fever. You
lovesick fool. What did he expect in return for his risk-taking, gratitude? You’ve picked the wrong girl, Johnny boy—trust me, I speak from experience. He walked to the trolley, picked the largest cakelet he could find, and popped
it into his mouth. “Jani had managed to get her hands on that log just prior to
my arrest. After that, it disappeared. Any idea who sent it to you?”
    Shroud eyed him warily, then shook his head. “None. All my efforts
to retrace the delivery route petered out.” His manner grew more distant as he
calmed. “Whoever it was, they knew how to cover their trail. And they knew I
had the background to understand what the information in that log implied. And
the willingness to use it.” He closed the carryall and hoisted it to his
shoulder. “Good-bye, Evan. See you in a few days.”
    Evan charged Markhart with seeing Shroud to the door. He refilled
his glass, this time without soda, and wandered out into the backyard.
    He tried to consider his options, but thoughts skittered away like
beads from a broken string. He studied his fingers, which had stiffened, the
nail beds tinged with blue. He shivered. I’m in shock. He remembered the
sensations from that day on the lakeshore, just as he remembered the other
things. Lyssa’s screams. The chill smoothness of Serena’s small hand as he
touched it for the last time.
    “He doesn’t like you.”
    Evan wheeled to find Markhart standing behind him. She stood only
a stride away, so near that she had to tilt her head back to look at him. She’s
so short. He’d known it, of course. He just hadn’t realized it. “I don’t
like him, either. You don’t have to like the people you work with.”
    The woman pondered, her worn face grave. “My sister scolds me for
working for you. She says you’re a killer. But she works at Sheridan, and her
husband’s retired Service, so her viewpoint is skewed.” Her voice, made ragged
by nicsticks, was shaded by a muted accent Evan couldn’t place. “Others don’t
think that way.”
    Down the street, a dog barked. Evan stiffened. “And what way do
those others think?”
    “They think that whatever you did, or didn’t do, you paid.”
Markhart’s normally aloof demeanor softened. “Because of the children.”
    The barking increased. Another dog joined in, followed by the
whining hum of older-model skimmers. Evan’s heart thudded. “Is that what you
think?”
    Markhart sighed. “I think you’re a very sad man.” She frowned at
the glass in his hand. “I think you drink too much.” She smiled sadly, lined
face crinkling. “Maybe you don’t want me to think anymore.” She squared her
hunched shoulders. “Now I have a dinner to prepare. Another one that you won’t
eat.”
    “What are we having?”
    “Tomato-dill soup from one of the boxes Dr. Shroud gave you. And
kettle beef.” She raised her chin in response to Evan’s scowl. “They only allow
me so much to run this house, sir, and I can’t afford real animal on what they
give.” She nodded. “But there’s fresh peas I need to shell, so if you’ll excuse
me.”
    “Wait a minute,” Evan said, “I’ll help.” He started out walking
alongside her, but as shouts and laughter sounded from the surrounding homes,
he quickened his pace until his knee crunched with every stride. Shroud’s visit
had rattled him—he normally sequestered himself indoors long before this. He
always avoided the outside in the afternoon, when school had let out for the
day, and the children returned home.

Chapter 6
    The skimchair stalled as it floated down the gangway
leading