Tristam stopped short as they came to the livestock pens. He’d known that the sight would trigger memories, but he still wasn’t prepared for their intensity. He closed his eyes against the rush of images—the screaming crowd, the cat’s sharp claws. After a few moments, the flashbacks subsided and Tristam let out a ragged breath.

“This is where it happened.”

The Councilmen entered the pen, but Tristam hung back. It was empty now. The workers must have moved the sheep—or perhaps the barbarian woman had opened the gate. The dirt was stained with blood where Jack and his horse had lain.

“You say the cat was inside here?” said Malikel.

“Yes. Jack rode his horse in as well. I was on the other side, outside the fence.” Doing nothing.

Willem cleared his throat. “This is a small pen. Young Jack shouldn’t have come so close to the enemy without reinforcements.”

Tristam stiffened at Willem’s words. “With all due respect, sir, Jack rode in to help a trapped man.”

Willem raised his eyebrows. “And traded his life for a farmer’s. I admire your friend’s bravery, but he didn’t do you or the farm any favors by getting himself killed.”

“Perhaps we should focus on the matter at hand, Willem,” said Malikel. The words brought Tristam back to his senses, and he swallowed the retort on his tongue.

“You’re right, of course,” said Willem. “My apologies, Tristam. It was not my desire to make this any more unpleasant for you.”

“No offense taken, Your Grace,” Tristam replied woodenly. But Willem’s words haunted him. Had Jack’s attempt to save the man actually been a foolish mistake?

Willem dusted off his hands. “Regardless, I think I’ve seen all I needed to see. I will leave the rest in your capable hands, Malikel.” He swept his eyes across the farm. “The barbarians choose a bad time for this. Our treasury is already stretched thin.”

“Indeed,” said Malikel with a wry smile as Willem walked off. “We are all concerned about how the attacks will affect the treasury.”

Tristam deemed it unwise to reply. Finally, Malikel turned his attention back to Tristam. “These are definitely the Demon Riders we’ve heard about from traders and farms farther out. There have been reports for the last few months, but they’ve never come within a day’s ride of the city before.”

“Has anyone spoken to them?” asked Tristam.

Malikel shook his head. “The Demon Riders don’t seem interested in negotiating. They take what they want, and they’re vicious enough to get it.” He surveyed the farm. “We’ll have to increase patrols in the area.”

It seemed such a paltry effort. Were they just going to wait around for the barbarians to attack again? Tristam once again saw Jack’s face in his mind, eyes glassy from blood loss. “May I ask a question, sir?”

“Of course.”