Jusson worked on that a moment. “You mean, the Jaban Waste?”
“Is that what it’s called now?” Wyln asked. Finished examining my soul, he faced the king. “It was a vibrant place once, the middle of a very fertile valley.”
“It’s blighted land,” Jusson said. “Nothing grows there but what’s twisted and stunted. That’s from a demon?”
“And from an idiot for a prince who had his equally idiotic adepts summon it in the first place,” Wyln said. He turned to me, his hair whipping about his face in the wind. “I’d always intensely disliked it when my cyhn told me something painful or unpleasant was for my own good, Two Trees’son. But Laurel is right, we had to make sure. With both your strength and inexperience, you are very attractive to those who, like Magus Kareste, hunger after those who are—how did you once say? Young and seasoned with talent.”
Any other time I would’ve been stunned by Wyln’s near apology, but now I was more focused on other issues. “What would’ve you done if you’d found anything amiss?” I asked.
“Remedied the situation.”
The flash of temper at my manhandling was slowly dissipating, but anger was building in its place at thought of my soul taken and used as a battleground. Dark clouds started to fill the sky. “But there’s nothing here. Except me.” I frowned. “And you, Laurel, Jusson, Thadro, Jeff and what looks like Cais.” The massive thunderheads quickly reached the sun, boiling across it.
“They were caught in the backwash,” Laurel said, tracking the storm.
“Oaths and vows,” Wyln added obscurely. He again glanced at Jusson, with the Lord Commander and the outline of the majordomo. “But Two Trees’son is right. We should go. We’ve found out what we needed to—”
I didn’t wait for Wyln to finish. A boom of thunder cut across the enchanter’s words and everyone winked out, their footprints in the grass obliterated by the wind. Mine, and I’d be bloody damned if I’d share. Not with any sorcerer, not with my king and my teachers in the talent, not even with my best mate. I did my own circuit, though just to make sure that I was alone.
“Rabbit,” Laurel said.
Finished circling, I stooped down and parted the grass, touching the earth. And was surprised at the awareness that rushed back. But it was just me and nothing else. With a small sigh of relief, I straightened—and caught the flash of gray eyes. Startled, I met Peacekeeper Chadde’s equally surprised gaze. Lightning forked, splitting the sky, and the wind howled, snatching my hair from its braid as my lips pulled back in a snarl. Then I realized that Chadde wasn’t trespassing. She was in the street outside the warehouse, several of the town Watch with her.
“Rabbit,” Laurel said, more insistent.
The sun had risen above the mountains and, though I was shrouded in storm clouds, I shaded my eyes against its brightness. Rising on the buffeting wind, I could see over the rooftops: residential red, blue for commerce, the yellow tiles of the playhouse, the gold of the town hall and other municipal buildings, all towered over by the crystal-and-silver spire of the church. And across town at the Westgate, I saw the faded purple of the garrison. Freston looked as it ought, with more of its people setting out to the just-opening shops and other businesses, traffic pouring through the town’s gates to rumble through the streets—and no signs of dauthiwaesp anywhere. The church bells started to toll the hour, competing with a street vendor’s song about his wares. Looking back at the peacekeeper, I saw that she had come closer, her eyes wide.
“Rabbit!” A paw slapped my face and my eyes flew opened to find myself back inside the warehouse, still held between Laurel and Wyln. I immediately got my feet under me and pulled away. Taking my ash staff from Jeff, straightened my cloak and tabard, then lifted my head glare at all of them.
“We have company,” I said.
Chapter Thirteen
“I received a report of suspicious-looking people lurking near the old Eastgate,” Chadde said, “and when I came, I saw the gate here was open.”
At my announcement, Thadro had sent several of the Own outside to retrieve the Keeper of the King’s Peace. But they didn’t have to go far as Chadde and her men were already crossing the yard. At Jusson’s direction, the Watch were sent back to the street to guard the warehouse’s gate. Chadde, however, was escorted in—and almost immediately had her gaze snagged by the pile of darkness on the floor.
Jusson gave a sharp smile at the peacekeeper’s statement. “What a lively sense of humor the townspeople here have.”
Chadde looked up, her gray eyes gleaming. “Yes, Your Majesty. I’ve often remarked on it.” She continued her scan of the building’s interior, her gaze now lighting on me. I stared back, stone-faced.
“I thought you were going out to the tavern this morning, honored peacekeeper,” Laurel said. “To look for witnesses to the dumping of the unfortunate’s body.”
“I am, Master Laurel,” Chadde said. “Later. The patrons of the Copper Pig are generally unconscious until almost midday. I have, however, been to Menck’s house to speak with his wife.” Her gaze moved to Wyln, and a line appeared between her brows. Wyln smiled back.
“What did she say?” Jusson asked.
“That she didn’t know who killed him or why, Your Majesty,” Chadde replied.
“Do you believe her?”
“Not usually,” Chadde said, “but in this instance I do, given the way her husband died.” Her eyes drifted once more to the dark. “If I may ask, Your Majesty, what is that?”
“According to Master Cat and Lord Wyln, it’s where the head jailer was killed,” Jusson said.
“It is?” Chadde walked over to the ragged edge and squatted down. “This was caused by Menck’s death?”
“Remnants of the spell, honored peacekeeper,” Laurel said, joining the peacekeeper.
“Death magic done in my town,” Chadde said, frowning.
“In my town,” Jusson said. He and Thadro also joined Chadde and Laurel to stare down at the mess on the floor. “In my kingdom. Against my people.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Chadde said. “Menck’s wife did say that when he usually went out, he was careful to be with his friends.”
“So as to not be caught alone?” Jusson asked. “This rogue was the head jailer?”
“The mayor’s kinsman, Your Majesty,” Thadro said.
“I remember,” Jusson said. “Go on, Peacekeeper Chadde. You said usually. Did he meet with his fellow scoundrels this last time?”
“No, Your Majesty,” Chadde said. “His wife said he went out by himself yesterday evening—after he changed into his best shirt. She said that he only did that when he was meeting Gawell or going to the Hart’s Leap. And Gawell has already told me that he hadn’t seen him last night.”
Thinking on Chadde’s misdirection at the charnel house last night, I wondered if she also believed his honor the mayor. Then I remembered what Jeff had told me about the lecherous jailer and the inn. I must’ve twitched for everyone turned to look at me.
“Yes, cousin?” Jusson asked.
“Do you think he was lured here, Peacekeeper Chadde?” I asked, my voice cool.
“It seems probable, my lord,” Chadde skid. “Why else leave behind his friends? Given Menck’s interests, if it were anything else, he would’ve wanted a show of force and the extra protection.” The peacekeeper shook her head as she stood. “It must’ve been a surprise when he discovered what was waiting for him.”
“A surprise indeed,” Jusson said. “What shall be done about this? We can’t leave it here for the unwary to stumble upon.” A thought occurred to him and his brows snapped together. “Can it be used to work more sorcery?”