“Yet when we arrived here, we had to travel halfway around the town to Kingsgate,” Jusson said. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“It’s a rather involved story, Your Majesty,” Chadde said.
“I have some free time,” Jusson said. “Do you have to run off to this tavern right away?”
Chadde judged the position of the sun. “No, Your Majesty.”
“Then you can come back and tell me all about it so I can pose questions of my own—” Jusson suddenly stopped, turning his head to the yard’s gate, listening, Wyln and Laurel doing the same. After a moment, I could hear a commotion in the street, growing louder. At Thadro’s signal, a couple of the King’s Own hurried across the yard to the gate and pulled it open to reveal the town Watch still standing guard. However, instead of moving to block whatever was approaching, they were stepping out of the way and bowing. The next moment, Doyen Dyfrig appeared in the gateway, flanked by his two church clerks, Keeve and Tyle. Trailing behind all three was the royal guard Thadro had just sent running for the doyen.
“His reverence was already on his way here, sir,” the guard said to the Lord Commander.
“Oh?” Jusson asked, not waiting for Thadro to tell him what the guard had said. “Any particular reason, your reverence?”
“Oh, yes, I have a reason,” Dyfrig said. The doyen was wearing his everyday brown robe, and his white hair, free of his big hat, was disordered by his walk. But in his hand was his Staff of Office, complete with small silver bells, and there was nothing faded about his blue eyes as they blazed at Laurel. He gave a sharp rap of his staff against the cobblestones, causing the bells to ring like judgment.
“What have you done to Menck’s body, Faena?”
Chapter Fourteen
Though the Watch had been left guarding the abandoned warehouse, it was still a large and varied group that flowed into the courtyard of the charnel house. The King’s Own entered first, marching quick step, their boots thudding as they struck the paving stones in unison. Jusson came behind them, his long strides easily keeping pace. With Jusson were Thadro and Dyfrig. The doyen, despite his age, also kept up easily, his knuckles white as he thumped the Staff of Office against the ground with each step, the bells constantly ringing. Flanking Dyfrig were his two clerks, Keeve and Tyle. Next were Laurel with the beads clacking, feathers fluttering and knotted cloth swaying on his own staff, Wyln with a fire sphere over his shoulder, Chadde completely unencumbered, and me, with feather, braid, stick and my own spheres, and more royal guards brought up the rear.
The small courtyard filled up fast.
But in spite of everyone crammed into the courtyard, it looked as dreary in the morning light as it had the night before. Even the buildings that rose up over the house of the dead presented blank faces with no windows or other openings visible anywhere, as though they had turned their backs on the proof of our mortality. Or at least mortality for some of us. Wyln stopped next to me, his young face turned to the charnel house, his ancient eyes tracing the lines of warding.
“Thorough,” he remarked quietly to Laurel, who stopped on my other side.
Laurel rumbled agreement. “They won’t burn the body.”
Wyln actually blinked twice before swiftly turning his head to the Faena. But before he could speak, folks clustered near the house’s doorway moved to meet us—Mayor Gawell, Master Ednoth, several servants and a couple of guards I recognized from my stint in jail. My hand went to my sword while Jeff made a soft snarling noise behind me and Arlie, loitering in the vicinity of Thadro, stiffened.
“It is an outrage, Your Majesty,” Gawell said as he reached Jusson. He bowed with a short bobbing motion as if he could only bend so far before his massive stomach bounced him upright again. “I’ve come to tend to my kinsman and I’m locked out!”
The servant behind the mayor did carry a large washbasin in which were a sponge, a cake of soap, a stoppered bottle of perfumed oil and a jar of unguent. (Menck was going to smell better dead than he ever had alive.) But, though Gawell was dressed more soberly than he had the night before, in a plain shirt, coat and trousers, I couldn’t quite picture him washing and anointing Menck’s body as he wore his chain of office, its starburst glittering in the sun. Unless it was to remind the corpse who was mayor.
“You’re tending Menck?” Chadde asked. “Where’s his wife?”
“At home, overcome with grief and worry,” Gawell said, scowling at the peacekeeper.
“Odd,” Chadde said. “When I saw her earlier this morning, she wasn’t overcome at all—at least not with grief. Said something about Menck’s death leaving her high and dry with a parcel of brats.”
Gawell seemed to swell, his belly thrusting out his chain of office. “You forget yourself, peacekeeper—”
Master Ednoth touched Gawell’s arm and the mayor stopped midswell. Ednoth smiled at the king. “Forgive us, Your Majesty, for airing our squabbles in front of you. It’s just a little disconcerting for his honor to be denied access.”
“Don’t worry, Master Ednoth,” Jusson said. “So far my stay here has been one revelation after another.”
“A revelation? Is that what you call it?” Doyen Dyfrig asked. The doyen had moved in front of the door and he now indicated it with a wave of his hand. “I call it vile. I can feel it out here, radiating like a forge full of loathsomeness.”
Dyfrig was right. Something was coming from the charnel house, right through the wards. It was like what had infected the coins and jewels we’d found sewn into Menck’s clothes, but darker and heavier. I started to join the doyen, but stopped, the same reluctance I felt in the warehouse coming over me.
“It wasn’t like this last night,” Laurel said, his brows knit. “Something has changed.”
“Something has changed all right,” Dyfrig said. “You arrived. What have you done, Faena?”
“Nothing, Elder Dyfrig,” Laurel replied. He lifted his head, scenting the air.
“Whatever is in there arrived without the Faena cat’s help, as his whereabouts have been accounted for at the time of the murder and beyond,” Jusson said, conveniently omitting Wyln and his disappearing act. “But talking out here won’t uncover what’s in there. Open the door, peacekeeper. Let’s see what is going on with the jailer’s body.”
A thin line appeared between Thadro’s brows at Jusson’s order, but Chadde started towards the charnel house immediately. As she pulled at the key on her belt, Wyln looked across me to Laurel. “Think the warding is enough?”
“Fire and earth against water, drawn both inside the death house and out,” Laurel said. “Let’s hope so.”
But Laurel spoke to Thadro, and the Lord Commander, the line deepening between his brows, had the King’s Own clear the space in front of the door—leaving Chadde standing at the door all by her lonesome. The peacekeeper turned the key and the loud click echoed against the stone walls. All of us held our breaths as she pushed open the door— and let them out again in a whooshing sigh as nothing happened. Then the door seemed to stick.
“What’s wrong?” Jusson asked.
“Something’s in the way, Your Majesty,” Chadde said. She shoved with both hands, but the door wouldn’t go any further.
“Thadro,” Jusson said, and the Lord Commander, now frowning deeply, sent Arlis to help the peacekeeper. I caught a hastily smothered grin on Jeff’s face.
Both Arlis and Chadde managed to muscle open the door wide enough for someone to slip through—just barely. They moved back and Mayor Gawell tried to push his way past them.
“No, Gawell,” Jusson said as royal guards blocked the mayor. “I go first.” He looked at Dyfrig. “Your Reverence, would you care to join me?”