Jane Cross's Arc

Chapter 4 of 5

The lead soldier gestured toward the altar, and one of his men brought forward a rolled parchment. He spread it flat across the stone surface, weighing the corners with wooden tokens. Jane moved closer, keeping her hands visible. The document showed a list of names, each one crossed through with dark ink. The soldier's finger traced down to the last entry. "We're looking for someone who passed through this region three months ago," he said. "A deserter from the merchant guild. Goes by several names." His finger stopped. Jane read the entry upside down, squinting at the cramped script. The name hit her like a fist to the chest. Lucaino. Not Geno's family name — the first name her mother had whispered once when Jane was small, before the silence became permanent. Before the abandonment. The soldier watched her face. "You recognize it," he said. Jane's throat closed. She'd spent three years chasing shadows and half-remembered syllables. Now the name sat in front of her on a military document, bracketed by accusations she couldn't read from this angle. "I might," she managed. The soldier rolled the parchment back up. "Then you'll want to hear what we know about them," he said. "And what they took when they ran." Jane forced herself to breathe evenly. "What did they take?" The soldier nodded to another man, who brought forward a leather satchel marked with a merchant's seal. He pulled out a folded letter, the wax crest cracked but still visible. "Guild funds. Trade agreements signed under false authority. And this." He held up the letter. "A contract binding several northern towns to a shipment that never arrived. The people who trusted Lucaino lost everything." Jane's hands curled into fists. She'd prepared for a hundred versions of who her parent might be. A coward. A drunk. Someone too weak to stay. But a thief who destroyed lives for profit — that was a version she'd never let herself imagine. The soldier tucked the letter away. "If you've seen them, we need to know. They're dangerous, and they won't stop running until someone makes them." A high-pitched cry cut through the air. Jane looked up to see a bright bird circling above the ruins, its orange and blue feathers catching the light. It dove toward the command tent the soldiers had erected near the gate, landing on a pole outside. One of the men retrieved a small cylinder from the compartment strapped to its leg, then carried it to the lead soldier. He opened it and scanned the message inside. His expression hardened. "The merchant's council confirms Lucaino was last seen near the border," he said. "Two weeks ago. Traveling with forged papers." He looked at Jane. "This waystation of yours — it's right on that border. You treat people without asking questions. That makes you either a fool or an accomplice." Jane met his eyes. "I'm neither. But if Lucaino comes through, I'll know." The words tasted like ash, but she forced them out. She'd spent three years searching for a reunion. Now she was offering to turn that person over to armed men who saw them as a criminal. The soldier studied her face, then nodded slowly. "We'll be watching the border. If you see anything, send word." He gestured to his men, and they began breaking down the command post. Jane walked back to the cottage, her legs unsteady. The stranger inside still needed care, and the soldiers would be gone within the hour. But everything had changed. She'd found the name she'd been hunting, and it came wrapped in theft and betrayal. The choice she'd imagined — standing face to face, demanding an explanation — had just become something uglier. Now she had to decide if she wanted answers badly enough to become the trap that caught them.