“I went to question Lord Rabbit,” Chadde continued, “as he and his friends had been Menck’s latest victims. But his lordship had either been in the king’s, the Lord Commander’s, or the king’s majordomo’s presence all evening.” She gave a slight smile. “Besides, I’m sure Lord Rabbit has no need for Menck’s purse and, as the king’s cousin, has other ways of taking revenge.”
Even with my lieutenant’s wages, my purse wasn’t all that fat. But if it held nothing but air, I still wouldn’t have wanted anything the head jailer had. At the peacekeeper’s words, I tried to look prosperous and disdainful at the same time.
Mayor Gawell nodded. “Unfortunately, Menck had many enemies.” He gestured at the pile of unappetizing clothing, the stained shirt on top. “Is this all he had with him?”
“Yes, your honor,” Chadde said. “His cloak and shoon are also missing. Whoever took his purse probably has those too.”
Gawell sighed again, and let loose with a fit of coughing. He took a step back from the noxious garments, his eyes watering. “Hell,” his honor said, pulling a scented handkerchief from his sleeve and covering his nose.
So much for the grieving relative.
“Hell is right,” Master Ednoth said, aiming a sour look at the unfortunate Menck. “I’m not surprised that he ended facedown in a privy.”
And so much for the supportive friend.
“By the jakes, not in them,” Beollan murmured, his silver eyes gleaming. “Though apparently the tavern’s patrons do consider a miss as good as a hit.”
Chadde reached over to one of the other unoccupied slabs, picked up a folded cloth and, shaking it open, revealed a shroud. Gently moving aside the mayor and the merchant, she tossed it over Menck’s body, also covering the clothes and the loot underneath. “Master Laurel and I are done here, your honor, Master Ednoth. But come daylight I will go out to the Copper Pig to look around and question the taverner and the regulars. Maybe they’ve seen something—and maybe they’ll even tell me.” The shroud arranged to her satisfaction, she turned to the mayor. “Have you spoken with Menck’s wife regarding his funeral?”
Handkerchief still clamped to his nose, Mayor Gawell nodded. “Yes,” he said, his voice muffled. “I told her not to worry; I’ll take care of everything. Though I suppose that too can wait until the morrow. No reason to get Dyfrig up in the middle of the night.” The mayor cast one last, disgusted look at Menck’s shrouded form before turning and marching for the door, Ednoth with him. “You will keep me informed of your progress, Chadde,” he said over his shoulder. “I want whoever did this caught and justice done.”
“Yes, your honor,” Chadde said, her gray eyes watching the mayor and head merchant’s retreat. “I will.”
Chapter Nine
Laurel insisted on warding Menck’s body, and the coins and gemstones, before we left the charnel house. He also insisted that I help him.
“A violent death, dark arts, and cursed goods that were probably ill-gotten to begin with,” Laurel said. “It wouldn’t be wise to leave it all unguarded, honored folk. It’ll only take a few moments.”
No one argued, not even Ranulf. Instead, he helped Chadde by taking one of the two lanterns and, with the others, moved to the doorway to watch Laurel draw the wards of earth over the slab. When he was done, the Faena stepped back and looked at me. “Fire, Rabbit.”
Feeling as though Menck was leering at me through his shroud, I touched a shimmering green earth line and thought on fire in battle—in burning pitch and in flaming arrows. Flames sprung from my fingertips to run alongside earth until it too enclosed the slab, white-hot in the room’s gloom. Done, I bowed my head and, despite my bruises, Arlie’s fleas and Jeffen’s black eye, said a quick prayer for Menck’s soul, everyone bowing their heads with me, even Laurel. Even Ranulf.
“So be it,” Chadde said, she and the others blessing themselves at my fiat. Ushering us out of the death house, Chadde took the lantern from Ranulf, hanging both on hooks on either side of the doorway. She then closed and locked the door, placing the key back on her belt. With the iron bands imbedded in the door’s thick wood and iron grilles in the high, horizontal windows, the charnel house was near as secure as the king’s treasury (the north took their dead very seriously). And with the lanterns burning outside, people would soon know that someone had died and send to family and friends to see if it was one of their own.
Everyone waited once more as Laurel and I again drew warding lines, this time on the doors and windows. Ranulf frowned as he watched us, while Beollan followed our movements as if he could see the lines. Chadde and Thadro also watched, their expressions betraying nothing, while Jeff faced outward scanning the courtyard, a faint frown between his brows.
“Will that keep out thieves, Master Laurel?” Beollan asked when we finished.
Laurel shook his head, his beads rattling. “No, these wards won’t stop anything physical. We’ve stout doors, locks, and iron bars to do that. But something that wasn’t so physical, then perhaps this will hinder it.”
On that heartening comment, we followed Chadde out of the small courtyard, our steps quick as the peacekeeper led us down a small side street to the town’s square. There, amid the broken paving stones of that afternoon’s riot, she stopped. “We part here, my lords and gracious sirs—”
“Wait a damn moment,” Lord Ranulf began.
“Not now, Ranulf,” Thadro said, his voice very soft. “And definitely not here.”
Damn right, I thought. A sense of being watched stole over me and I joined Jeff in scanning our surroundings. For a moment I thought I saw a flash of red across the square in the dim light from the streetlamps. I stared, straining my eyes, but if there had been something—or someone—it had faded back into the shadows.
Lord Ranulf’s mouth flattened once more into a thin line as he glared at the Lord Commander from under his brows, but he fell silent.
“No sulking, Ranulf,” Beollan said lightly. “I’m sure that the peacekeeper will keep us informed of her progress.”
I tried not to gawk as the Lord of Fellmark tucked a hand under Ranulf’s arm. They hadn’t seemed to know each other that well during the king’s dinner. Jeff and I looked at each other, then away again.
Ranulf rubbed his face, tension easing from his shoulders. “Yeah, sure. I’ll wait.”
“I would also say not here, honored folk,” Laurel said, also very softly. “In fact, I would ask that we remain quiet on what we’ve seen until those responsible are caught.” Six pairs of eyes focused on him. “Of course, that doesn’t mean that your king shouldn’t be told,” he added blandly.
“That is probably wise, Master Cat,” Beollan said as the rest of us nodded.
“It’s a knotty problem, my lords and gracious sirs,” Chadde said in a normal tone that seemed to carry to the square’s four corners and back again, “given that Menck had a long list of enemies. But I’m sure if we find who has his purse, we’ll find his murderer.” The peacekeeper looked at the Faena, her brows raised. “Will you be able accompany me to the Copper Pig, Master Laurel?”
“Yes, honored Chadde,” Laurel said, uncaring of the sharp glance Thadro gave him.
“I will come for you, then.” Chadde gave a bow. “Goodnight all.”
The waxing moon was a merry grin that beamed down on us as we walked back to the king’s residence. The feeling of being watched had faded after we left the square, but I remained firmly planted between Thadro and Laurel, very glad that Jeff was walking behind us. Beollan and Ranulf were in front, having pulled away from us a bit. As I sleepily wondered on their friendship, they passed under a streetlamp—and I caught the flash of… something. I strained harder trying to see, but whatever it was had disappeared. If it was there in the first place. Probably just my overtired imagination, I thought as I stumbled over a cobblestone.