Colonel Gales coughed, meant as a signal. It was heavy, liquid, and disturbing. He remained far from recovered.
The Queen stopped jabbering. “Josiah?”
“Cleave to the problem at hand. Don’t look into the gloom just yet.” “Of course. Gentlemen. We have a monster among us. How do we find him? Babeltausque?”
The sorcerer shifted uneasily. Gales and Wolf looked at him like they dared him to open his mouth. Both had been in Greyfells service a long time.
Inger had heard rumors, too. “Well? Wouldn’t you understand this kind of mind better than anybody?”
Babeltausque asked, “Is there the remotest chance that your cousin has been getting out at night?”
That was well-played. Inger would relive her experiences as a comely lass in a household where wickedness was routine and Dane of Greyfells was one of the more wicked players.
Gales and Wolf kept on eyeing him darkly.
He tapped into his courage. “Torture isn’t what moves me. I never harmed anyone. I only love them till they break my heart.” Gales and Wolf donned contemptuous smiles.
Inger seemed appalled.
What a screw up. He had used the present tense.
What mad, self-destructive force compelled him to indict himself that way? Was he so conflicted that he would set himself up to be convicted of another’s monstrous behavior?
Wachtel looked eager to get that word out. He might betray himself in his haste.
“All of you, listen. I did not harm Phyletia Plens. I didn’t know her.
She is nothing to me. Was nothing, in that way. Look for someone else.
As Her Majesty noted, there may be no hunter better than I. Doctor, sit.
Relax. We’ll be here a while. Tell us, has this happened before?” The old man took his time. Finally, he nodded. “Sadly, you are correct. There have been similar incidents, the most recent before your arrival. Things were more confused back then. No one had attention to spare for an anonymous child who probably brought it on herself.”
“Anonymous?” Babeltausque asked.
“She turned out to be Ellie Wood, a runaway, in flight from an abusive father. There was another one, seven or eight years ago, named Tefe Black, thirteen and pregnant by her father or one of her brothers. It would have been a marvelous scandal if there hadn’t been a war on.”
Babeltausque nodded. “Their deaths touched you.”
“They were children. Nobody loved them. They were tormented by their own kin first, then a monster consumed them. No one cared. No one but me. And I was powerless. Not even Michael would take it on.” Tears filled the old man’s eyes. The others were amazed. Babeltausque said, “Black isn’t a common surname, is it? It sounds Itaskian. Right? Mr. Wolf, didn’t we run into that surname somewhere recently?”
Wolf looked blank. “I don’t think so.”
“The butcher. In the shop where the Heltkler girl left the beer.”
“His name was Black? I don’t recall that.”
“Maybe I didn’t mention it. Neighborhood gossip says Haida Heltkler was an abuse victim.”
“The butcher?”
“Maybe too obvious. He wouldn’t destroy the girl physically. He would be feeding a different need. He would be the unwanted lover.
Someone else would be the punisher. Someone close to the butcher.
Let’s find out if Tefe Black was related. If so, we’ll look for the man Black’s girls ran to… Doctor?”
Wachtel seemed to be choking.
…
“That isn’t particularly subtle,” Nepanthe observed, watching over Varthlokkur’s shoulder. “You said you don’t want people remembering you.”
The Unborn was making a night progress over Sedlmayr. “This is the time when little plots will come to life. Radeachar will discourage them.”
“What will you do about what’s happening in Vorgreberg?” She meant the girl-killer.
He sighed. He did care. He was appalled. But there were only so many hours and no way everyone could be saved. There were bigger issues. And those people were not idiots. They could manage if they wanted.
“And tell me this, husband. How can you eavesdrop in Castle Krief but not on Haroun or Mist?”
“We lived in Castle Krief. I know every inch. Every inch remembers me. And I bespelled the place before we left.” And he could eavesdrop on Mist, when conditions were right. But Mist insisted on making it difficult now that she knew it could be done.
The truth was more technical but that was the gist.
“The baby-killer.”
Exasperated, “What would you have me do?”
“Something. Good men do nothing.”
He counted silently.
Nepanthe said, “The Star Rider will be there till the end of time. Meantime, the monster has hold of another girl.”
“I understand.” Surrendering to the will of the wife.
The villain should not be hard to find. A divination at the body dump… “I’d have to go there. I can’t manage the time dives from here.”
Fright flashed across Nepanthe’s face. “Really? You’re not just saying that so I’ll ask you to back off?”
“No. I have to be there to catch the necessary personal resonances.”
Nepanthe freed one of her classic sighs. “What must be, must be. Go.”
“You insist?”
“I do.”
“I’ll set Scalza’s scrying bowl so you can watch.” That lacked any facility for listening in. He did some this and that while mumbling about it being a good thing that Radeachar did not have much character. The monster had gotten flung all over creation lately, with little respite.
He had the Unknown show itself blatantly, then called it back to Fangdred.
…
Ozora Mundwiller glared at Kristen. She scowled at Dahl Haas. “That thing is going house to house, staring in windows!”
Dahl said, “The wizard wants it understood that he’s watching.”
The old woman seemed inclined to lay the blame at their feet. “We’ve always known that. Why the sudden close-ups?”
Kristen said, “Neither of us knows Varthlokkur well enough to fathom his thinking. If I was to guess, though, the intent is to panic somebody into thinking that the wizard is onto them.”
“Somebody in Sedlmayr.”
Dahl nodded. “Would that be a first?”
“No. But it would be someone skilled at not getting noticed.”
Aral Dantice came to all three minds. And Aral had disappeared.
Ozora announced, “I have regained my composure. I will assume the Unborn’s behavior to be a message. I’ll ask questions. If there is anything going on I will expose it. Bight? Where is that boy?”
Haas said, “He’s got a new crush.”
“That Blodgett chit? He’s not supposed to let Kristen out of his sight.”
“She would be the one,” Kristen said, amused. “She may be just a wee bit more pliable than I am.”
“I’ll ply…”
Haas added, “She seems like a nice kid. Down to earth. For her age.”
“But an orphan,” Ozora grumbled. Styling. It was no secret she actually liked Bertie Blodgett. The girl made her laugh. “Living on the charity of the enThal family. Where did she come from, anyway? Those people…!”
Old family animosities were at work there. Ozora was too old and set to let them slide. She was, surprisingly, still flexible enough not to issue anti-fraternization decrees on that basis alone.
Later, Dahl teased Kristen, “You got too old for Bight.”
“What you mean is, too sophisticated.”
“And too taken.”
“That could be changed. I see the way you look at that Bertie.”
“Can I help it if I’m not dead yet? A man is a man. I never do anything but look.”
Kristen did not take that in the spirit in which it was offered.
…
“I don’t have the skills to divine the past!” Babeltausque declared, not for the first time. “I’m not really a necromancer. The spirits I command can’t look back, either. We need to find something of the villain’s and trace that. Or just keep on working the neighborhood where the girls grew up. We’ll find something eventually.”