“Was he?” Jusson asked, his voice still mild. “Well, that’s understandable, seeing as you’d given him back to a man he’d fled in horror—after swearing that you’d keep him safe.”
“The law governing the apprenticing of the talent-born is strictly enforced, honored king,” Laurel said, his voice just as mild. “You had a very potent demonstration of why with Rabbit’s inadvertent translation of his fellows while in Iversly, and the chaos that followed.”
The changing of my troop mates into animals and fantastic beasts did happen on the morning of the rebellion. However, the one had nothing—or very little—to do with the other, as the conspirators, my cousin Lord Teram ibn Flavan and Lord Gherat of Dru, had been planning their coup for years. I slid forward in my chair, ready to explain how the aspects did as they willed and a lot of a mage’s training was on how to keep from being consumed by his own talent. Only to again meet Thadro’s stare as it once more turned very muddy.
“It was an eventful spring, wasn’t it?” Jusson marveled. “Full of magic and rebellion, both here and in the Border. But we survived and now you’re back.”
Laurel nodded. “Yes, honored king. With Rabbit safe— and my oaths honored. However, I’m no longer the Council’s representative. The new ambassador should arrive shortly.”
“So we’ve read,” Jusson said. A brow rose. “More politics, Master Laurel?”
“The Council felt that it would be better for me to focus just on one task,” Laurel said.
“Which is”—Jusson’s eyes dropped to the sheets in front of him— ” ‘teacher in the talent’ to our cousin. As is this Enchanter Wyln, who is brother-in-law to the Fyrst of Elanwryfindyll.”
Laurel nodded once more. “Yes. While Rabbit has had enough training for the Council to declare that he doesn’t have to be apprenticed again, he will still need many more years of study for him to become a full mage. Wyln and I are here to see this through.”
“How magnaminous, this giving of your time and efforts to someone who has no claim on you!”
“Not really, honored king,” Laurel said. “As I said, someone untrained in the talent, especially someone with Rabbit’s strength, would invite all sorts of havoc, and no one sane wants that, fae or human.”
“So you say. But we remember you had a hidden agenda once before and we can’t help wondering if there are any other reasons for your return.” Jusson’s brow rose. “Are there?”
Laurel lifted his paw, the truth rune softly shining. “I give my word that I’m here to teach Rabbit.”
Jusson smiled again. “Such a solemn avowal, complete with signs and wonders! However, we’ve seen our cousin dance very nimbly around that rune just a little while ago and, from what we’ve seen and read, you are even more graceful in your steps, Master Cat.”
“We want the same thing—Rabbit strong and capable, no?” This time Laurel didn’t raise his paw, but took his staff, the beads on it rattling as he held it in front of him. “By the Lady, this I will achieve. Fiat.”
Want the same thing? A sneaking suspicion flashed across my mind and I frowned.
“Strong and capable and ours?” Jusson asked. “We’ve also read about Loran the Fyrst’s claims on our cousin.”
My suspicion grew stronger. “Sire?” I asked. Jusson, intent on Laurel, once again ignored me, but Thadro added a frown to his mud-puddle stare.
“Yes, honored king,” Laurel said. “His Grace Loran has declared Rabbit cyhn—”
” ‘Kin’?” Jusson interrupted.
“Close,” Laurel said. “It’s an elfin term meaning fosterage, among other things.”
My suspicion deepening, I opened my mouth. But Thadro, glaring, shook his head and I closed it again, fighting not to glare back. Apparently I was to have no say in how my future was divvied up.
Jusson kept his gaze on Laurel. “Another thing I’ve read. But Rabbit has been a soldier going on six years. He does not need to be fostered.”
“Elves have a different idea of adulthood, honored king,” Laurel said. “But rest assured that Rabbit’s cyhn to the Fyrst’s lineage will not affect his fealty to you.” He also smiled, his eyeteeth gleaming. “Besides, interfering in your oaths would not be wise. You are king, no? And your pledges bind the very land. Tampering with any part of that could unleash a strong, hrmm, backlash.”
Hell. My gaze snapped away from Thadro to Laurel at the cat’s reference to Jusson’s conversation with Lord Ranulf. A conversation where Laurel hadn’t been present, at least not bodily. I waited for the royal explosion, but Jusson just looked irritated. “I thought you learned how to block your thoughts from being scried, cousin,” he said.
When I’d come into my full power, one of the talents that manifested was the ability to thought-scry. I was a strong sender and it had seemed that those who could would stroll through my thoughts at whim—as Laurel and others had demonstrated on several occasions. I spent most of last summer learning to keep my thoughts to myself. So I thought. Apparently, I thought wrong.
“I had, Your Majesty,” I said, also irritated.
“You’ve had a very full day, Rabbit,” Laurel said. “And you’re tired and hungry. It’s understandable that your control would falter.” He looked back at Jusson. “However, the fact that it had, honored king, and that I was able to take advantage of it, shows that Rabbit isn’t ready to be left on his own—” He stopped, his ears swiveling back. A moment later there was a knock at the door.
“Our other guest, Lord Wyln, has finally arrived,” Jusson said, still annoyed.
Thadro nodded at Jeff, who opened the door. But instead of the Enchanter Wyln, it was the Keeper of the King’s Peace who stood in the doorway. Before either Jusson or Thadro could react, Chadde came into the room and bowed, her gray eyes sweeping over both me and Laurel as she straightened. “I beg pardon for my intrusion, Your Majesty,” she said, “but there’s been a murder.”
Chapter Seven
The head jailer was as unprepossessing dead as he’d been alive.
I stood in the town’s charnel house looking down at Menck’s naked body occupying one of four waist-high stone slabs. Torches were in sconces on the gray stone walls, casting flickering shadows over the room, while steadier light was provided by lanterns placed at the head and feet of the corpse. The tallow-dipped torches reeked here as they did in jail, competing with the rushes and dried herbs strewn on the floors. And underneath it all was a lingering stink of corruption mixed with a more pungent aroma normally found in privies and jakes. I tugged the borrowed cloak further around me, very glad for the smell-dampening cold.
Menck’s eyes stared up at the dark ceiling in leering horror, his mouth gaping open to show missing and decayed teeth, his beard-stubbled cheeks pasty white. I was not a stranger to violent death, having caused my share of it in the course of my army career. But I’d never seen anything like the stab wounds on the jailer’s torso—so many of them, and all a bright, glittering red. Then I realized that the glittering was because the blood was frozen, and I frowned. While cold, it hadn’t dropped to freezing yet. I reached out a gloved hand to a hairy and somewhat grimy arm to see if the rest of the jailer was frozen as well.
“Lieutenant,” Thadro said.
Holding in a sigh, I dropped my hand. Beside me, Jeff slid a glance at the Lord Commander before meeting my gaze, then we both turned back to watch Laurel as he gently poked and pried at the corpse, Peacekeeper Chadde at his side. When we first arrived, Thadro had tried to preserve Chadde’s modesty by covering Mencke’s delicate parts with a kerchief. However, the peacekeeper gave the Lord Commander a calm stare and, quirking a smile, he removed it again. She now followed Laurel’s every move.