Dressed, Cyprus followed Lance to the Scharfrichter office. Just as he'd been warned, Wolfe was there. Dark brown hair fell to his shoulders and gray eyes were like brittle flint, waiting to spark a fire.

Cyprus' friend and fellow guard Milkavich was already in place, standing at attention. Lance fell in next to him, and Cyprus took the spot on the end.

Wolfe flipped through a sheaf of paperwork. "There's been a complaint filed, a local matter. You'll accompany ...