“Laurel said— He didn’t stop the commander, did he?” I asked, worried.
“No,” Jeff said with a soft laugh. “Cais did.”
“Cais,” I repeated. I flopped back against my pillows, wishing I’d been awake to see.
“The majordomo was very polite,” Jeff said. He shifted on his bed again. “Weird stuff is happening, and not just Menck’s murder.”
“Well, that’s weird enough,” I began.
“Yeah, but with all that he had been involved in, it’s surprising that he hadn’t been skinned, gutted and left hanging in the town square before now,” Jeff said.
That was true. Even the garrison commander had complained to the town elders about how soldiers who’d become a little too merry while in the town were waking up in jail plucked like chickens. “Mayor Gawell protected him,” I said.
“There’s protecting,” Jeff said, “and there’s aiding and abetting. And it wasn’t just shaking down people in jail. One of the serving lasses at the Hart’s Leap told me that Menck used to pester the girls there something fierce. They complained to the innkeeper, who barred Menck from coming in. Then the innkeeper’s son was set upon and beaten. The lass said that Menck swaggered into the Hart the following day. The innkeeper didn’t stop him.”
I recalled the son’s beating—and the rumors that it was because of a gambling debt owed to one of the garrison’s soldiers. “Commander Ebner got all worked up about that,” I said. “Told Gawell that all his men were accounted for, and for Gawell to look to his own House.”
“And Ebner was right,” Jeff said. He sat up and clasped his arms loosely around his knees. “But don’t you see? It was Mayor Gawell who came to see Ebner, not Chadde. Why would the mayor be involved in that? That’s Chadde’s job.”
“Hell,” I said, as I remembered both Gawell’s and Ednoth’s annoyance at Menck’s murder—and the look Chadde had given them as they walked out of the charnel house. I pulled the covers up to my chin, their weight comforting.
“Now Chadde is keeping stuff from the mayor,” Jeff said. “And Thadro let her get away with it. Just as he let Cais gainsay him over you, even though he treats you like you’re something he scraped off the bottom of his boots.”
“I noticed,” I said. “But I’m more worried about Wyln being missing. Ebner had him locked up and under guard, Jeff. That’s bad enough. But what if he got out and went to look for me? I’m not at the same place I was yesterday.” I thought about the powerful dark elf enchanter—angry, offended and maybe worried, crossing paths with the same riotous people who greeted me when I got out of jail. My spine tightened. “And where’s Arlie? Is he with Wyln? If so, why hasn’t he brought Wyln here?”
“I wouldn’t worry about Arlis,” Jeff said, his voice a little distant. “I’m sure he’s fine wherever he is, whoever he’s with—”
The bedroom door suddenly opened and the majordomo walked in, carrying a tray. “I heard you talking,” Cais said, shutting the door behind him before going to the small table, a candle on the tray lighting the way. “Master Laurel left instructions if you were to awaken.”
As he came closer, I could see the teapot on the tray and I slid further down in the covers. “Laurel said the wardings aren’t to be disturbed,” I tried.
“Master Laurel assured me that a teacup will fit between the lines,” Cais said, pouring the tea. “After which you are to go back to sleep, my lord.”
The cup did fit easily through the wardings, though I could’ve sworn the lines shifted to make room. The majordomo stood over me until the last bitter drop. He then somehow got my nightshirt through the wards and, taking the tray and candle with him, murmured a very pointed goodnight as he firmly shut the door, leaving us once more in the dark.
There was a moment of silence, then Jeff gave another soft laugh. “Lord Commanders and now us. Sort of makes you wonder who’s the servant and who’s the master.” He settled down in his bed. “I guess we better do as he said. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” I echoed. I could feel the tea at work within me, once more easing the pains and aches that had awakened with me from my nightmare. However, though Jeff’s soft snores soon filled the room, I lay on my back staring up towards the ceiling, where I could see Laurel’s warding lines of earth crisscrossing above me. I touched one where it came down at the side of the bed—and smelled sweet grass and earth that took me back to my days of plowing fields on my parents’ farm. My dream was now in fragments, a jumble of Rosea, waves and a voice booming that it wasn’t winter yet, all of it nonsense. Figuring that Jeff had been right in that it wasn’t surprising that I had weird dreams, I still slid one hand under my pillow to find my feather. Then, turning on my side, I curled my other hand about a warding line. Watching the line glow through my fingers, my eyelids drooped until I slipped into sleep once more, the feather clasped to my chest.
This time I did not dream.
Chapter Eleven
“Two Trees’son.”
My eyes cracked open, noting the predawn gloom. I closed them again—wake up hadn’t sounded yet and I was going to sleep until the sergeants yelled me out of bed.
“Two Trees’son.”
That did not sound like any sergeant I knew. My eyes opened once more and, rolling on my back, I rose up on my elbows to look around. The memory of the previous day’s events flooded back and I blinked sleepily at Jeff, sprawled in his trundle bed. The voice, though familiar, hadn’t sounded like him either. Besides, he was still snoring. I started to lie down again, figuring that I’d been hearing things in my sleep.
“Two Trees’son.”
I paused midsnuggle to stare at the fireplace. It was full of fire even though last night’s fuel was gray ash. Seeing that they had my attention, the flames started leaping up the chimney.
“By the Lady, Two Trees’son, will you get over here?”
Pushing back my covers, I sat up and looked at the wardings. But even as I considered how to get past them, and if I really wanted to, they shimmered brightly before coalescing into a slowly spinning sphere of swirling browns and greens. It bobbed after me as I stumbled over to the fireplace.
“Honored Cyhn?” I asked, trying to make out a face in the fire. However, I saw nothing but flames.
“You are not your best in the morning,” Wyln said.
“Yesterday was eventful, honored Cyhn,” I said. My braid was half undone and I pushed my hair out of my eyes. As I did, something brushed my face and I looked down at my hand to see that I still clasped my feather.
“So it was,” Wyln said. “I need you here, Two Trees’son.”
” ‘Here’ ?” I asked. “Where’s here?” I crossed my arms, hugging myself. The room was cold. “Everyone’s looking for you, honored Cyhn.”
“Are they?” Wyln sounded amused. A tendril of flame shot out, forming into its own sphere that hovered in front of me. “This will bring you. Quickly, Two Trees’son.” The fire started to die down. “And put some clothes on.”
“Wait,” I began. But the fire winked out, leaving the gray ashes on the hearth.
“More oddities,” Jeff said behind me, his voice thick with sleep.
“That was Wyln,” I said. “He wants me to join him.”
Jeff sat up, scrubbing his hair and yawning. “Are you?”
“Have to,” I said, looking around for my robe. I found it hanging in the clothespress with the rest of my clothes and I slipped it on. “An elder has summoned.” There were stories of those who refused to obey their cyhn—and the dire things that happened to them, from banishments to beheadings. Great stuff for bards’ songs but I’d no desire to be known through the ages as Rabbit Lackhead.