Chapter Eleven

Chane could not help being alarmed by the number of guards “escorting” a small group of guests to their rooms. And what were Sumans doing in this remote place? All six guards remained a discreet distance behind, but he glanced back more than once, and noticed that Osha did the same. The elf, Nikolas, and Wynn each carried one of the three candle lanterns from the main hall.

Duchess Beáumie, holding her velvet skirt in one hand as she began climbing a flight of stairs, led the way as if the guards did not exist.

She stepped off the landing upon reaching the third floor.

“I apologize that we have no true guest quarters,” she said, not sounding remotely apologetic. “The keep is small; however, we have three spare rooms in the upper servants’ area. Though they are sparsely furnished, you should find them comfortable.”

Down the passage, Chane spotted three open doors. Two female servants in white aprons hurried out of the far one.

“Is all prepared?” Sherie asked.

The second girl halted, turned, and bowed her head. “Yes, my lady.”

The duchess stopped at the first door and gestured inside as she turned to Wynn. “Mistress . . . ?”

“Hygeorht,” Wynn supplied. “Journeyor Wynn Hygeorht.”

“Of course, Journeyor, you may have this first room,” the duchess went on. “Your bodyguards can take the second, and young Master Columsarn the third and smallest . . . for his own.”

Chane detected a note of spite in her designation of the last room, as if Nikolas was only a guest here and she meant to remind him. The young sage did not respond. Chane, however, fought against a sudden urge to balk at the arrangements as an unpleasant realization hit him.

Wynn, as a female emissary of the guild, could certainly not share a room with one of her guards. As the counselor’s son, Nikolas also should have a private room. And it was unusual that two “bodyguards”—which was the ruse Chane and Osha played—would even be housed here instead of in the barracks. So the duchess probably thought she was offering a favor by housing them inside the keep. That meant he would have to share a room with the elf.

The very thought pushed him to refuse, until Wynn caught his eye and shook her head once, very slightly.

“That will be fine, my lady,” she said. “Thank you.”

Appearing relieved, as if an unpleasant duty here was done, the duchess swept back down the passage for the stairs. “A meal will be ready soon,” she said over one shoulder.

Chane glanced uncertainly at Wynn, but Nikolas spoke up first. “I think . . . I will get settled.”

As the young sage headed for the last door up the passage, Wynn looked to each of her other companions. Once Nikolas entered his room, she tilted her head toward the nearest open door, her room.

“Come, help me get settled,” she said loudly, and then slipped inside with Shade right behind her.

Both Chane and the elf went for the door at the same time. Chane halted at one side, but Osha back-stepped and stood silently watching him. With a glare, Chane raised a hand, ushering the elf to go ahead. Osha did not move.

Wynn’s harsh whisper carried from within the room. “Both of you, get in here . . . now!”

Chane stepped in, immediately meeting Wynn’s irritated expression. Shade grumbled and hopped up on one of the narrow beds. Even when Wynn eyed Osha the same way as the elf entered and shut the door, it was not satisfying to Chane. He stood waiting for Wynn’s rebuke over the standoff in the passage, but she only looked away with a shake of her head.

The room was simple but serviceable, with two plain single beds—one near the front wall by the door and one at the rear. A worn, short table stood by each, and a water pitcher and basin rested on the nearest one.

The only light in the room was from the candle lantern that Wynn held, and she set that on the rear empty table as she dropped her pack and staff on the far bed.

“What is going on in this place?” she asked suddenly.

Chane held up a hand to halt any further comment. He stepped back and cracked the door. From what he could see—and hear and smell—the Suman guards had left, but a keep guard remained at each end of the passage, one near the stairs and another at the other end, where an archway led to somewhere else on this level.

Chane quietly closed the door. “It appears we are not to go walking around on our own.”

Osha frowned. “Many guards are not . . . normal?” he asked in Belaskian.

Chane realized the elf would have little experience with human castles or keeps or the ways of human nobility.

“No, the number is normal,” Wynn answered, “but they aren’t usually used to keep guests locked inside their rooms.” She sank down beside Shade on the far bed. “At least we can speak freely in here.”

That was true. Without Nikolas, they could speak as they pleased.

“I have not been long in this land,” Chane said. “Are Suman guards often hired for local forces?”

“Not that I know of,” Wynn answered. “And what did you make of Jausiff’s servant, Aupsha? She’s not Suman, though I’ve heard of other peoples farther south described like her.”

“I cannot place her, either,” he answered. “But she, as connected to the duchess and the master sage, might be the likely messenger that we seek.”

Wynn shook her head. “Not if she was sequestered for fear of plague after she and Nikolas’s father went into the villages.”

“One of . . . Suman guards could be . . . messenger,” Osha put in. “They move free in keep.”

“Maybe,” Wynn said. “But they appear to be more the duke’s men than the duchess’s. Still, it is possible.” She turned to Shade. “Did you pick up anything from any of them, some memory as a hint?”

Shade did not even lift her head from her paws as she huffed twice for no.

“Well, this is where we start,” Wynn went on. “We need to establish the identity of the messenger, if it was someone inside the keep.” She looked at Chane. “I don’t need to consult your sense of deception to know that everyone in that hall was lying about something.”

Yes, Chane had slowly developed his “talent,” though such differed for each Noble Dead. At a guess, some abilities depended upon who the person had been in life.

He had lived on the fringe of Belaski’s gentry and nobility, where truth was to be guarded, an asset not shared except for advantage and gain. What had only recently manifested was his ability to sense deceptions and lies in spoken words, if he focused and let the beast of his inner nature sound its warnings to him. Many lies had passed in the main hall, though there was one that had made his inner self rattle its chains.

“Good place . . . start,” Osha said, still struggling with his Belaskian. “Who lie to who . . . and why?”

“Well, the duchess seemed to be taking a good deal upon herself,” Wynn said, “if she sent the message while Jausiff and Aupsha were in quarantine. Both letters that arrived at the guild were written in the same hand, and since Nikolas never mentioned anything odd in that, we can assume Jausiff wrote both of those. So either the duchess is covering for Jausiff or she somehow got the letters and sent them without the duke’s knowledge.”

“She did not send the letters herself,” Chane put in.

Wynn glanced up. “You’re certain?”

That was the moment the beast had stirred inside of Chane.

“When she told Karl that she sent them for Jausiff, she lied. Yes, I am certain.”

Wynn eyed him a moment longer and then nodded.

“That leaves Jausiff as the one who arranged for the delivery,” she said. “Somehow he found a way to send the letters through someone, but there’s another problem in that. We don’t know if that person was the one who went all the way to Calm Seatt . . . or if the letters were handed off to another messenger. Anyone here traveling that far would be missing for so long as to be noticed. The duke would know that much by now, and he was certainly surprised by all of this.”

“And we do not know if a messenger has even returned,” Chane added, “be it one from the keep or a second one confirming the delivery. There is also the need to confirm if the messenger and infiltrator at Dhredze Seatt are one and the same.”

Wynn’s expression fell.

Chane was uncertain whether her sudden frown was for the whole tangled problem, or his merely stating it, or both.

He understood and shared her fears, for the messenger and/or would-be thief was the key to all this. Someone had breached the dwarven underworld, the realm of the Stonewalkers, even though the infiltrator had not reached the orb of Earth. There was the fear that an agent of the Ancient Enemy had learned where they had hidden an orb. If Jausiff was connected to such an agent, then he could not be trusted, and the master sage’s agenda had to be rooted out.

It was also possible that the thief had nothing to do with Jausiff and had acted on his or her own and not returned here. If so, then Wynn and the rest of them had wasted time in coming here.

“Messenger first,” Osha said, pushing himself back into the discussion. “Maybe-thief we find next, unless same.”

Wynn nodded. “Yes, that still seems our only path forward.” She placed a hand gently on Shade’s head, and the dog’s ears pricked up. “And we have a few extra methods to use in searching.”

“Anything?” Chane asked. “Anything at all, even seemingly unconnected?”

“Shade said no already.” But then Wynn twitched slightly, her eyes appearing to lose focus.

“What?” Chane asked a bit too sharply.

Wynn blinked, frowned, and looked down at Shade. “Just a flash . . . an image of two of those Suman guards standing in front of a door in a dim, windowless passage. Maybe . . . maybe underground.”

“Whose memory?”

Shade rolled her eyes up at Wynn.

“The duke . . . Karl,” Wynn whispered, still looking at Shade. “But that’s all she saw. I think everyone was so focused on the moment at hand that Shade couldn’t catch anything else.” She stroked the dog’s soft, charcoal-colored head. “It’s all right. You keep trying.”

The door suddenly swung inward without a knock.

Chane dropped his hand to his longer sword’s hilt as he turned.

In the opening stood the tall and dark-skinned female servant, who looked only at Wynn.

“Master Jausiff wishes to see the texts you brought for him,” she said, her accent smooth and rolling.

• • •

Wynn studied the woman in the doorway. She looked so out of place here, regardless of the common wool tunic and long, heavy skirt for a cold, dank climate. And she hadn’t dropped her eyes, as had the two serving girls making up the rooms.

“Now . . . please,” the woman said, her full lips exposing starkly white teeth.

“Of course,” Wynn answered, and she dug in her satchel containing the books.

“I will come as well,” Chane stated.

“No,” Aupsha answered flatly, though she never looked away from Wynn.

“It’s all right,” Wynn told Chane. She needed to speak to Master Columsarn—Jausiff—as soon as possible. Perhaps she might gain some further clues by a few tricks, and she looked back to Aupsha. “May I bring my dog? She gets restless if I leave her alone too long.”

After a brief hesitation, Aupsha nodded once, making her hair shift stiffly on her shoulders. Chane was still watching Wynn with concern as she slipped out behind the tall woman. As Wynn did so, she heard another door open, and looked up the passage.

Nikolas stepped out of his room and paused at the sight of Wynn with his father’s tall, foreign servant. And, now that Wynn paid attention, she realized that Nikolas had obviously never seen Aupsha before.

“I’m going to see your father,” Wynn said, holding up the texts.

“So am I,” Nikolas responded.

“He has not sent for you,” Aupsha said coldly, taking one step up the passage and halting between Wynn and the young sage. In truth Wynn hoped Aupsha might prevail here, as she needed to speak with Jausiff alone.

Nikolas stood his ground. “He is my father, and I am going to see him.”

When he took his first step, Wynn turned her eyes on Aupsha’s back . . . and dug her fingers into Shade’s scruff. She wasn’t even sure whom she should send Shade to block off, but Nikolas stepped past the tall woman unchallenged. Surprisingly, he didn’t appear frightened.

Aupsha turned slowly, keeping her eyes on Nikolas until he stood beside Wynn. Only then did Wynn see the twitch of Nikolas’s eye, like the old Nervous Nikolas. The tall woman silently stepped around all of them to lead the way to the stairs and past the keep guard waiting there.

The passage was wide enough that Wynn, Shade, and Nikolas walked side by side past the guard’s watchful eyes. At the stairwell they had to fall into single file, with Shade in the lead and Nikolas behind Wynn.

Aupsha took them one floor down, to the keep’s second floor, and stepped off down another passage almost all the way to its end. One large door there was already open.

As if he had heard them coming, Master Jausiff Columsarn stepped out as the tall servant arrived. In contrast to Aupsha, he looked perfectly at ease in his clothing—a gray sage’s robe—and he didn’t have his cane in hand. He did have a rather intense, serious expression even before he turned his eyes on Wynn. That quickly changed when he looked beyond her.

At the sight of Nikolas, Jausiff appeared slightly startled, though he recovered quickly with a warm smile.

“Settled already, my son? You weren’t always so efficient.”

“I just wanted to see how you were,” Nikolas responded.

Whatever he’d expected from his father, it wasn’t a playful jibe about his past youth in this keep.

“Of course,” Jausiff answered with a chuckle. “We’ll have a good long talk, you and I. But first I must see what the journeyor has brought me from the guild. If you wouldn’t mind, son.”

Wynn was taken aback by this, though it was the way she preferred things. As she glanced at Nikolas, he appeared a bit stunned as well.

“Um, that’s fine,” Nikolas tried to answer. “I’ll . . . wait.”

Jausiff’s smile broadened, and he looked to Aupsha. “Is their dinner prepared?”

“I will check,” she said, and she turned and left.

Jausiff, still smiling, studied Wynn for a breath before waving her in. She’d barely entered with Shade when he solidly closed the door.

“My private study,” he said, stepping slowly around her.

The chamber had all the fixtures and messy qualities of a longtime office, with shelves covering every available wall. Ink bottles, quills in old cups, open ledgers, and stacks of papers were half-organized across a solid, dark wood table serving as a workspace.

However, something about it struck her as sad.

Perhaps because of an overabundance of shelves, the master sage had tried to make them look filled by placing scrolls lengthwise and spreading out various books and volumes in small sets, as if he could not stand the sight of too much empty space. There was a good bit of dust on most of the collection, as if little had been taken off the shelves in a long while. In one back corner stood a small unmade bed, suggesting that this room served as his living quarters as well: one room for his library, office, and bedchamber.

What had kept him here all these years?

Sages by nature were curious people who loved to be either lost in their research or off on a journey of discovery. Something had anchored him here. But as Wynn’s attention turned from the chamber to its occupant, now standing behind the messy table, any personal questions vanished from her thoughts.

Master Columsarn’s warm good humor was gone as his gaze locked on Shade.

“Unusual for a sage to travel in the company of a pet, especially a wild . . . animal of such size. How did you acquire her?”

Wynn tensed. She could be standing before someone in league with a minion of the Ancient Enemy. Also, he’d hesitated at mentioning an “animal” as a companion, as if he might have used another word.

As a master sage, Jausiff would be well educated and possibly even know about the majay-hì. But unless he had traveled in the lands of the Lhoin’na, it was unlikely he had ever seen one. She had no intention of offering any information about Shade unless he commented more specifically.

“She found me, after finding herself wandering Calm Seatt,” Wynn answered lightly. “She’s proven an able companion I wouldn’t be without.” This last was added with some emphasis, and Jausiff crossed his arms.

“Indeed,” he said, and then pointed at the bundle in Wynn’s arms. “I assume those are for me?”

“Yes.” Glad for the shift of focus, she approached to place the satchel on the table. “Premin Hawes sent everything you requested.”

“And a few things more,” he said dryly while opening the delivery. “I did not expect an emissary from the guild, and certainly not some hired sword and a Lhoin’na archer. Did Premin Hawes have a reason for not sending the texts with my son?”

Wynn had faced down her own superiors more than once and had lost any tolerance for intimidation, subtle or not. This master sage exuded an unusually strong presence, and, in truth, he was not wrong. Premin Hawes had exceeded his precise request.

Searching for an answer, Wynn fell to a half-truth. “Nikolas seemed . . . hesitant to return home, perhaps distraught. Given the rarity of some of these texts, the premin thought it best if one of her order transported them, and with proper protection for the remote destination.”

Jausiff’s eyes narrowed. The explanation was plausible, and since he knew everything of Nikolas’s past, he would believe in his son’s reluctance to return. The aging sage’s intense gaze drifted downward over Wynn’s midnight blue robe.

“You must be a very trusted student,” he said. “Perhaps one of the premin’s most favored, to be given such a task.”

“Of course.”

“You could have no better teacher, then. And you’ve studied under her for years in the order of Metaology?”

Wynn swallowed. “Yes.”

Where was the old sage going with all of these questions that weren’t really questions? Something was wrong, and she needed to turn her own questions on him instead.

And then Jausiff slipped the first text out of the satchel. For one blink, lines of age softened on his face as he looked at it. It brought Wynn a stab of pity. How lonely he must be here, so far from the guild’s archives and library to fulfill his needs and wants. Here there would be few if any scholarly chats with peers.

When he opened the text in his hands, Wynn again saw the title on the cover:

The Processes and Essence of Transmogrification.

“It has been many years since I’ve perused this,” he said. “Of course under Hawes, you must have read it at least once. Can you refresh my memory on the sections relating to the mutation of flora?”

In spite of his conversational tone, Wynn knew she was in danger. He was not some lonely scholar seeking discussion. He was testing her, and she had no way to answer. Until recently she had been in the order of Cathology, devoted to the preservation of knowledge—and she had never read the text he held.

“I read it once a long time ago,” she replied.

Jausiff’s gaze rose slowly from the opened book. “Yes, some sages have better memories than others.” He laid the text down, picked up another, and opened it, and again Wynn caught the title.

The Three Aspects of Existence.

“Now, this one Hawes has students turn to regularly,” he continued. “Even apprentices of other orders study it. Do you agree that it is the three Aspects, and not the five Elements, in which we find the strongest grounding for the magical ideologies? And what about the processes—spell, ritual, and artifice—used across all three arts? Do those hold a stronger connection than the ideologies to the Aspects . . . at least for you? Of course, there’s the whole misnomer about cantrips being simple spells. Certainly you’ve come to that realization, for as far as you have progressed . . . Journeyor?”

Wynn kept her eyes on the text. Except for the most basic practices of thaumaturgy, and one botched ritual that still plagued her with mantic sight, she knew next to nothing about magic. And certainly she didn’t know enough for a passing philosophical debate under the master sage’s sudden barrage.

That hesitation ruined Wynn. Jausiff snapped the book shut and rounded the cluttered table more quickly than he should have as he closed on her.

“You are no student of Frideswida Hawes, and perhaps not even a sage. What are you doing here in your little masquerade? And how did you come by these texts and my son’s company?”

“I assure you, I am a sage,” she stated flatly, meeting his eyes and trying not to waver. “You can ask your son, if you—”

“I am not blind—yet—girl! My son obviously knows you, accepts that you claim to be a sage, but that does not explain the robe you wear. Nor is it enough for me!”

“Nikolas and I . . . we’ve become friends . . . at the guild,” she stumbled on. “Until recently I was a journeyor of Cathology. I applied to change orders less than a moon ago and was very recently approved . . . by Premin Hawes herself.”

“That is the extent of your story?”

“Not a story but the truth.”

He pointed to the texts on the table. “And Premin Hawes entrusted you to bring me those, particularly the first volume? I do not think so. At least one is only for the eyes of masters, domins, and above! Which is partly why I asked that they be sealed from my son’s eyes.”

For a sick old man he stepped much too swiftly past her, though she barely had time to note this before he jerked the door open. And there was his missing cane, leaning against a casement’s end behind the door.

“Nikolas, come,” he called, and then glanced back at Wynn. “Thank you for your service. Since your duty is complete, there’s no need to linger. You can return to . . . your new order in the guild.”

Wynn went numb at being so quickly undone and dismissed. With little choice, she collected herself and left, passing Nikolas just outside the door. Poor Nikolas still appeared lost, confused, and likely worried about his father. The last of those concerns was unnecessary, from what Wynn had seen.

Jausiff was no sick, frail old man, so why had Nikolas been called home?

Shade’s tail was barely out the door when it shut.

Wynn flushed for a moment before she could even ask, “Did you catch anything useful?”

—No . . . memories— . . . —from old one . . . Not . . . slip . . . once—

Wynn ran her hands over her face. The old sage had even outdone Shade. Now they were both suspected by one of the few here who might have some answers. This had become a terrible blunder.

—I try . . . when . . . he . . . not know . . . see . . . me—

Wynn dropped her hands and looked down into Shade’s crystal-blue eyes. Those broken and halting memory-words, and Shade’s reluctance for language, often distracted from how much Chap’s daughter had begun to comprehend human ways strange to her. Wynn ran both hands over Shade’s large head and down her neck, and then looked to the door shut tight against her. She heard muted voices inside the master sage’s chamber, but she couldn’t make out what was said. Perhaps Jausiff might tell Nikolas things he would tell no one else.

She and Shade were still alone in the passage, and, after brief reluctance, Wynn crept closer and crouched before the door. Hoping to hear what transpired inside, she leaned close to the keyhole.

“Father, you . . . you tricked me into returning?” Nikolas stuttered. “You are not ill at all, are you?”

“I had my reason for deception, out of concern about the duke. You saw the changes in him, yes?”

After a long pause, “I saw . . . something.”

“He has locked down the keep,” Jausiff continued, “and some sense of normalcy must be reestablished. The duchess and I thought a guest—a reason to force him to play host—might help bring him back to himself. We could think of no one but you for whom he would open the gates.”

“Me?”

Another pause followed, and Wynn imagined the aging counselor nodding.

“I know I promised that you would never have to return here,” Jausiff went on, “but will you, to assist us? The duchess needs you. . . . I need you. Nothing else that we have tried has reached the duke, and now he might be shaken enough to respond to his childhood friend. He always trusted you.”

It was hard to be certain from outside the door, but Wynn thought she heard Nikolas expel a shuddering breath. She clenched her fists at the old sage’s cruelty in reminding Nikolas of trust, especially given what Shade had shown her of the night Nikolas tried to flee with Sherie. Wynn wondered what story had been provided to explain the old duke’s death; certainly it had not been the truth.

Whatever Sherie and Karl had decided to say, perhaps Jausiff had been given the same lies as everyone else regarding that night. But Nikolas blamed himself for the elder duke’s death, accident or not.

“Will you stay and help?” Jausiff asked again.

Again a long pause, and then a quiet, “Yes.”

The sound of footsteps came toward the door.

Wynn scrambled away, pulling Shade a short distance down the passage before the door opened and Jausiff looked out.

“Journeyer?” he asked. “Is there something else?”

“I thought to wait for Nikolas. With guards placed near our rooms, it seemed better not to walk about without someone known here.”

The wrinkles of Jausiff’s brow deepened. “Guards?”

Nikolas came out, breaking the moment, but he was almost as ashen gray as his robe.

“And you two are friends at the guild?” Jausiff asked, suddenly good-humored again. “For some time now?”

Wynn kept silent.

“Yes,” Nikolas answered absently.

“Splendid,” Jausiff said. “Go find some supper, as a meal should be ready by now down in the kitchen.”

Eager to be far from this study, Wynn took Nikolas’s arm. “He’s right. Let’s go find something to eat.”

She hurried him away without looking back until she heard the door close. The old sage was nowhere in sight, and only Shade trotted after them. Halfway down the passage, Nikolas exhaled, and Wynn slowed.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

He came to a complete stop and closed his eyes, and a little of his color returned. “My father wants me to help him and Sherie with Karl. I said I would . . . but . . . I can tell she’s sick at the sight of me. I don’t know how long I can stay here.”

Wynn hesitated again. As of yet Nikolas had no idea what she was really doing here, but if he had access to the family, he might be able to help her.

“You can see there is something very wrong here, can’t you?” she asked, and when he didn’t answer or open his eyes, she went on. “If you want to help the duke, you need to find out what has happened to bring about the change in him—his odd behavior, according to your father; his insistence on a plague; his refusal to let anyone come or go, even for messages to be sent. Once you know more, you’ll have a better idea what to do.”

Nikolas opened his eyes, and when he looked at her, he appeared so tired and locked in dread.

“You think I should talk to Karl? Ask him about these things?”

“No.” Wynn shook her head, and this was the tricky part. “I think you should talk to Sherie.”

Nikolas’s body stiffened.

“You said she and your father want your help,” Wynn rushed on. “If so, then she’ll talk to you. Ask her how this all started, and see . . . see if she knows anything about why Karl stopped all messages being sent to or from the keep. And given that, how your father managed to get a letter to you.”

Nikolas frowned, but he was paying more attention now. “How my father sent a message? Do you think that’s important?”

“Aside from some obsession over a plague, real or not, why would your old friend not send for help with that . . . or let anyone else do so? That alone is worrisome, and maybe a sign that whatever is wrong is getting much worse.”

Wynn gave him a few breaths to mull that over, though it was only a half-truth.

Finally he nodded. “I’ll try. Maybe tomorrow.”

Wynn took a careful breath in relief, but after her exchange with Jausiff, something else still bothered her. Though she hadn’t known what to expect upon meeting him, he didn’t strike her as the type of man to have actively sought to adopt a child, especially considering his profession. If she was to succeed here, she needed to know more about his character.

“Nikolas,” she began, not quite certain how to word this. “How did you . . . How did you come to be adopted by Master Jausiff?”

For once Nikolas wasn’t averse to speaking of his past. “I don’t remember any of it. I was only an infant, but Father told me that my parents were apothecaries down in the village, and he was fond of them. They were the closest things he had to friends at that time. A fever passed through the villages, and though my parents did all they could to help, they were struck down themselves. My father brought me to live up here . . . the same year that Sherie was born.”

His expression became pained again, and Wynn did not press him further. His explanation did help her understand Jausiff a bit better: he was loyal to those he considered friends, enough to adopt their orphaned child. Then again, that didn’t mean much in the end. She assumed even minions of the Enemy might be loyal to some friends.

Taking Nikolas by the arm, she urged him on. “Let us find this promised supper, considering how late it is. I’m starving, and Shade, well, she can always eat.”

Her thoughts turned back to Nikolas’s promise to speak to Sherie—to try to learn the identity of the messenger. Whether he could learn anything of use was still to be seen, but at least it was a start after her horrible blunder with his father. She was determined not to let that happen again the next time.

All she needed was some reason to go at the master sage again, and it might depend on Nikolas acquiring some answers first.

• • •

Chane paced the small room he was forced to share with Osha. The elf sat in silence on the bed closest to the door. Not that Chane minded silence, for their having to speak to each other would be worse, but he hated the present situation.

Wynn had been escorted away at the master sage’s request and had been gone too long. Chane rebelled against the very thought of her alone with anyone here, for no one in their group knew whether some new minion of the Ancient Enemy might be hiding among the residents of this keep.

Finally he could stand it no longer.

“I am going out,” he rasped.

Osha rose instantly. “I come, too. She gone too long.”

Chane stalled at the door, with Osha an arm’s length behind him. “No. You stay. I will be back.”

He had no idea how he might search for Wynn, given the guards at both ends of the passage, but he did not want the elf along. Yet a fight to put the interloper in his place was out of the question. Wynn would not forgive him for that.

Osha merely stood there, slightly taller than Chane—which was beyond annoying—with his ridiculously long white-blond hair hanging loose. In exasperation Chane opened the door, stepped out, and of course Osha followed.

They both stopped upon seeing the woman called Aupsha pass by the guard near the stairs and come straight toward them. Her dark eyes flickered slightly in surprise at the sight of them outside of their room.

“A meal has been prepared in the kitchens,” she said. “I am to bring you.”

“Where is Wynn?” Chane demanded.

Aupsha remained stoic. “I will bring her and Nikolas when Master Jausiff has finished speaking with them.”

“Nikolas is with Wynn?” Chane asked, looking past her toward the stairs.

“Take us to her,” Osha said.

The woman said nothing to this. She simply turned and headed back the way she had come.

Chane hesitated for only an instant. Was she leading them to Wynn or to whatever late meal had been prepared? Either way he would get out of this passage, past the guard without incident, and then choose what to do next. He followed, hearing Osha two steps behind him, and he made a brief peripheral assessment of the guard as they passed. The man appeared armed with only a sheathed longsword—no visible knives, daggers, or other secondary weapons.

As they neared the second floor, Chane heard familiar voices. He reached the next landing, and relief came at the sound of Wynn’s voice. Then he saw her with Nikolas coming down the passage, and Shade trailed behind them.

Aupsha paused, blocking Chane from going to Wynn.

“Chane . . . Osha?” Wynn said at the sight of them. “We were coming to find you before heading to the kitchen.”

Chane cocked his head toward Aupsha. “We have an escort.”

Asking Wynn about what had transpired with Nikolas’s father would have to wait for privacy.

Aupsha turned back, heading to the next flight of stairs downward. Chane let Wynn and Nikolas slip by, but before he could step in behind her . . .

Osha took advantage of his rearward position and did so, even pushing in front of Shade.

Chane clenched his jaw as he followed behind.

The tall servant woman led them down to the main floor, but instead of heading into the main hall, she turned right down a dim passage lined with several narrow archways. They passed rooms filled with casks and crates, and Chane assumed these were extra stores, though it was odd that they were stored in the keep’s main building. A short way onward, they emerged into the heat of a kitchen with food and simple place settings on a long wooden table ringed with stools.

“We are to dine in here?” he rasped, unable to keep distaste out of his voice.

Aupsha ignored him, but Wynn glanced back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he covered quickly.

In his youth, when he had visited other noble families with his father, he had never once been expected to eat in the kitchen. He had rarely even seen such places where only servants went to bring a meal to a main hall or more formal dining chamber. However, his and his companions’ status here was uncertain.

Cutting Osha off, he followed Wynn to the far end of the table. Soon she, Chane, and Nikolas were seated, which put the elf at the far end near the entrance. Shade dropped her rump to the floor at Wynn’s side and snuffled repeatedly while starting to drool.

“I will return when you are finished,” Aupsha said, and she abruptly left.

Only two other people remained: a fat woman in a stained apron and one of the girls who had helped prepare their rooms. She looked to be about sixteen, overly slender with dark blond hair, and she kept her eyes down. The fat woman glowered first at Wynn and then at Chane from where she stood by the wood-burning iron stove.

Chane had no idea why she should be so insolent.

“We are sorry to have disrupted your schedule,” Wynn said to the cook. “We were delayed. I’m sure you were already cleaning up for the night.”

Their journey had not been delayed, for they had to travel by night, but Wynn’s apology seemed to have the proper effect. The stocky cook grunted with a nod and began dishing out boiled potatoes, glazed carrots, and what might have been roasted beef onto plates.

“Can’t be helped. You need to eat,” she said somewhat grudgingly.

Chane noted that she did not defer to Nikolas at all. So far the only person outside the family who had acknowledged the young sage had been Captain Holland out at the front gates. Something about this seemed relevant, but as of yet Chane was not sure why.

The shy girl brought them their filled plates, and Wynn smiled at her. “Thank you. What is your name?”

At first the girl did not answer. She cautiously set a plate in front of Osha while glancing up as if trying not to stare at his pointed ears and large, slanted eyes.

“Eliza, ma’am,” she said quietly.

“Thank you, Eliza,” Wynn responded. “Could you spare a plate for my dog?”

The girl’s posture relaxed slightly with a glance at Shade, and she nodded. “Yes, of course, ma’am.”

Chane always noted how strangers were either frightened or fascinated by the sight of a large black wolf kept as a “pet.” Either reaction could be useful, and even Shade took advantage of this at times. The serving girl appeared to fall into the latter category, and Chane knew exactly what Wynn was up to.

Servants knew secrets, whether useful ones or not. Befriending them was thereby useful as well.

“You ain’t giving that dog my good roast,” barked the fat cook at the stove, and she pointed to the kitchen’s rear chopping table. “There’s boiled bones over there.”

At that Eliza stalled with a plate already in hand. She set it aside to hurry in gathering stewed bones for the “dog.”

And an awkward meal began.

Chane knew that, given a choice, Wynn did not care for meat, but she dove into her potatoes and carrots. As a result she was too busy to speak. Osha was silent as well, and ate like someone uncertain where his next meal would come from. Nikolas would not look at anyone and pushed his food around his plate.

Chane looked down at a plate loaded with food he could not eat. He waited until the cook turned her back. When the girl spotted him sliding a gravy-soaked slice of beef over the plate’s edge—over the table’s edge—she smiled slightly and looked away as Shade snapped up each slice before it hit the floor. Then he forked his vegetables over onto Wynn’s plate. Eliza came around with a pitcher of ale to fill the clay cups, and Wynn took her own two slices of meat and passed them under the table as well—most likely to avoid offending the prickly cook. Shade had the best meal at the table and much better than a few stewed bones.

“How was your meeting?” Chane asked as softly as possible.

Wynn shook her head, whispering, “Later.”

Nikolas picked up his cup and downed half of its ale. He had not touched his food. Osha’s plate was empty, though he ignored the ale after taking a puzzled sniff.

“I think we are finished,” Wynn called to Eliza.

The girl nodded and darted out into the passage. She returned a moment later, led by Aupsha.

Chane found the entire situation odder and odder. Were they guests, prisoners, or simply a notch above the keep’s staff? Aupsha stood near the archway as the girl hurried about in cleanup.

Chane looked down at Wynn. “It appears our escort awaits.”

• • •

Wynn’s mind was busy as Aupsha led them up to the third-floor passage and their rooms. She was eager to speak with Chane and Osha but did not want Nikolas in on the conversation. Upon reaching her door, she feigned a yawn.

“I’m exhausted. Good night, everyone.”

Openly relieved, Nikolas nodded and hurried off toward his door. As Chane passed by, Wynn tugged his sleeve, tilted her head toward her door, and mouthed, Come in a little while.

Chane eyed Nikolas entering the far room and then nodded as he headed off to the second door. Osha followed him, though not before a quick, deep look that made Wynn swallow before she slipped inside her room.

She waited along with Shade until certain that Nikolas would be settled for the night, and then she changed her mind. It would be less notable to the guards if she went to the other room instead of Chane and Osha coming back out to enter hers, so she cracked the door open.

Both guards were still in place at each end of the passage. Both glanced her way. She stepped out and ignored them as she went to the second door and knocked.

“I forgot to give you instructions for tomorrow,” she called out.

The door cracked open, and she stepped in to find Osha behind it. Before he said a word, she put a finger over her lips.

Wynn listened carefully as Chane closed the door after her. She heard no footsteps in the passage outside, so both guards had remained at their posts. Apparently they didn’t care about the guests’ movements so long as no one left the upper floor without an escort. With a sigh, she turned to Chane and Osha, and noted that the small room was much the same as her own.

“How was . . . meeting with old sage?” Osha asked.

“A disaster,” she answered honestly. “Jausiff came at me with questions about my new order that I couldn’t answer. That ended everything, when I was exposed as some type of fraud in this robe.”

Chane frowned. “You learned nothing?”

“Well . . . he’s not ill or infirm from age, and I do think he’s genuinely concerned about Karl. His loyalty to the family isn’t in question, or he would’ve left this place years ago. But something else is going on here.” She mulled over the rest of the encounter. “It appears Jausiff called Nikolas back to help with issues concerning the duke. Even that didn’t seem to be all there was to it. Once I was alone with Nikolas, I suggested that he speak to the duchess . . . to see if Sherie knows any more about how the messages were sent.”

Chane stepped closer. “Will he . . . or, rather, can he?”

Obviously Wynn wasn’t the only one doubtful of Nikolas’s usefulness. “I think he’d do anything so he can leave here. He told me he’d try tomorrow.”

“Good,” Osha said, nodding to her.

She deserved no such praise after being so poorly prepared to deal with Jausiff.

“I hate to use Nikolas like this,” she said, “but I couldn’t see any other way. The duchess is unlikely to talk to me, let alone either of you. She might not even know anything of use. We need to know if the messenger was sent from here, as that’s our only hope of learning if that person and the would-be thief are one and the same. And how Jausiff is connected, if at all.”

“As you say, and it’s more than we had upon our arrival,” Chane replied. He moved around her to the door; Osha sidestepped away as he grabbed the latch. “There is nothing more we can do tonight, so you should sleep now.”

His abrupt manner—almost as if he wanted her to leave—caught her off guard. Perhaps he was right on both issues. Feeling somewhat off center and frustrated by failures, she headed for the door as he opened it.

“All right,” Wynn agreed, still puzzled by Chane’s eagerness to see her off. “Osha, I will see you in the morning.”

Did Chane really want to spend the night alone, watching Osha sleep?

Date: 2014-12-29; view: 691