It being so hot, putrefaction had already started on Basel’s body, so Suiden had us move it into the cold storage room. Laurel Faena placed wards around it to help slow decay, but, as the cat told the two captains, “Nature will have her way, honored sirs.”
“Just as long as we can delay her for a few hours, Sro Cat,” Suiden said. “I wish to present Basel before the king, along with your spritewood and dragon skin.” Instead of putting Lieutenant Groskin under guard with Ryson, the captain assigned him vigil over Basel’s body while the rest of us prepared to escort Laurel to the royal compound. The lieutenant stood at the cold storage room door, wearing his parade uniform. Suiden made the lieutenant give up his knives (all six of them) and his scabbard hung empty as he stared at the wall opposite him, his eyes haunted.
Basel’s shade made the men very edgy at first, but as it was Basel, and he did none of the traditional ghostly things like bleeding rivers of blood through his slit throat or giving quick demonstrations of decomposition, they calmed down somewhat. What really helped, however, was that instead of roaming the embassy wailing and clanking chains, Basel attached himself to me.
Having mounted an expedition into our quarters to liberate our clothes and accoutrements from the spiders, Jeff, Esclaur and I retired to the captains’ office to prepare for Laurel’s audience with the king. As we dressed, Jeff looked sideways at the haunt who stood next to me. “Why is Basel following you about?”
My hair flopped down into my eyes and I pushed it back. “The moon season started with last night’s full moon. In the Border this is the time when the betrayed and murdered”—I too looked sideways at Basel, transparent in the light coming from the courtyard doors—”and I guess he’s both, seek justice.”
“But we’re not in the Border, Rabbit,” Jeff pointed out.
“Tell him that,” I said.
“Besides, you had nothing to do with Basel’s death.” Jeff paused. “Did you?”
“Don’t be stupid.” I carefully inspected my tabard for lurking spiders before jerking it over my head. “How would they get justice if they haunt their killers? They attach themselves to whoever they feel can avenge them.” Or should. I once more pushed away the thought that Basel died because of me, and picked up my empty scabbard. I stared at it.
“You could’ve been a haunt too,” Jeff said, also staring at the scabbard.
Empty or no, I buckled it on anyway. “Don’t think about it.”
“We all could’ve been,” Lord Esclaur said. He had won a short but furious battle with the royal physician and was now dressing in civvies provided by Javes. He adjusted his quiz glass, making sure the ribbon wasn’t twisted, his hair once again carefully pomaded and curled.
I stared at the captain’s spiritual brother in every aspect, even down to translations, bringing to mind the rest of the king’s men in waiting. “Tell me, wolf, how long has Javes been part of the pack?”
To Esclaur’s credit, he didn’t insult me with false protestations of not knowing what I was talking about. He was quiet for a moment as Jeff and even Basel turned and looked at him. He then smiled the same tongue-lolling grin I’d seen on the captain. “He’s been part of the Court quite a while, my lord.” He cocked his head. “Not so naive, are. you?”
“They will engrave that on my tombstone,” I said, picking up my gloves and a couple of handkerchiefs, giving them a good shake. The feather fell out from one of the yellow squares onto the floor, but no one noticed.
Jeff’s brow creased. “But Javes doesn’t have a patronymic. Besides, I heard his father’s a merchant.”
Army intelligence again.
“That’s what he said, but does anyone know who his mother is?” I tucked my gloves into my sword belt, put my handkerchiefs in my other pocket and glanced down, making sure that my trousers draped properly over my newly buffed Habbs (they had gotten smudged between the fight last night and the spider bashing this morning).
“No, Rabbit isn’t naive at all,” Javes said from the door. I quickly turned around. “Just willfully thick at times about things he doesn’t want to be true.”
“Sheesh, you’re like twins,” Jeff said, looking between Javes and Esclaur. “Uhm, sir.”
“You’ve always known who I am,” I stated. “When you joined us in the beginning, you damn well knew that I was ibn Chause and eso Flavan. Sir.”
Javes met my eyes, the yellow of the wolf changing back into the brown of the man. “My act of ignorance wasn’t because of you, Rabbit.”
Somehow that failed to relieve my mind. But then Captain Javes began to frown and he raised his quiz glass. “I say, didn’t you get a haircut last night?”
My hand shot up to my hair, and down my hair. I turned my head and could see the ends brushing my shoulder. I tugged it just to make sure it was mine and not some wig someone plopped on my head when I was distracted, and winced. It was mine. “Sodding hell,” I whispered, feeling my spine tighten.
“Just what we need, more weirdness.” Javes walked over to his desk and rummaged around in a drawer, finding a length of string. “Here.” He watched me fumble with it, then took it back. “Turn around, I’ll do it.” He combed and plaited my hair into a queue, finding another string to secure the end of the braid. “Let’s not give Jusson’s nobles something else to ponder on. If anyone asks, lie.”
My palm itched and I rubbed it against my leg.
“Oh, pox on it,” Javes said. “Don’t say anything, then.” The itching faded.
The captain turned to Jeff. “You have Rabbit’s back.”
Jeff nodded.
“Only Suiden and I can dismiss you. No one else, not even Rabbit, understood?”
Jeff nodded again. “Yes, sir—”
Toe claws sounded out in the hallway. Laurel was coming towards us, running, and I turned again to face me door, welcoming a crisis, any crisis, to take my mind off what was happening to me. The Faena hurried into the room, his eyes wide with his iris a thin ring around his dark pupils.
“Rabbit, did you take the spritewood staff and the dragon skin?”
On the other hand, there are some things that should never ever happen. My spine tightened even more as I asked a question I already knew the answer to. “No, why?”
“They’re gone.”
Bloody, sodding, pox-rotted, blast damn it all to hell.
Chapter Thirty-eight
“How could they be stolen?” Javes asked as we stood in front of the closet where they had been warded. Jeff and Esclaur looked over my shoulder as I peered in, all of us searching the cubby as if Laurel had missed them as they lay in a dark corner. He hadn’t. Javes moved me aside and ran his hands over the shelf where they had lain, but the closet remained empty.
“Why would anybody take body parts?” Esclaur asked.
“To some it’s just wood and lizard skin, honored lord,” I said. I gestured at my boots. “Sort of like our leathers.”
Javes sighed and stepped back, admitting defeat. “I suppose we ought to tell Suiden that they’re gone.”
We found Suiden standing by one of the courtyard doors in the hallway, looking out at the shrubbery. The captain’s eyes narrowed into green slits as Laurel told him of the theft.
“I’d rather face the plague, honored captain,” Laurel said, “as it’s less toxic than the staff and skin in the hands of someone of ill intent.”
“You said they were warded, Sro Cat,” Suiden said.
“Warded against any ill effects,” Laurel replied. “Not against theft.” He ran his paw over his head, sending his beads rattling and clacking together. “If I’d thought someone would be stupid enough to take them—”
“Only a fool,” I said, my voice soft.