“He didn’t,” Chadde began.
“Dyfrig!” Gawell shouted from outside.
“Until now,” Chadde finished.
Surprised that the mayor hadn’t pushed in behind us, I looked out the door. Or tried to. Thadro had filled both the doorway and the immediate area outside with royal guards, displacing Gawell, Ednoth and their servants to the far end of the courtyard. But the courtyard was small and neither Jusson nor Dyfrig had kept their voices down. Even if they’d missed the occasional word, Mayor Gawell, Master Ednoth and the rest had to have heard enough to understand that serious loot had been found on Menck’s person—and Jusson’s thoughts on how the head jailer had acquired it.
“Dyfrig!” Gawell shouted again, sounding frantic.
“You will have trouble if you don’t let him in, Your Majesty,” Chadde said, her voice soft. “However, you’ll have trouble if you do!’
Though still unsteady, Dyfrig pulled away from my supporting hand. “That’s true, Your Majesty. But perhaps we can minimize it.” The doyen turned to his clerks. “Go to the church and bring back the implements of blessing.”
“Leave you, Your Reverence?” Tyle protested, casting suspicious glances at Laurel and Wyln.
“Alone? With them?” Keeve, seeing me trying to retake Dyfrig’s arm, stepped between us, pushing me away.
“Yes,” Dyfrig said, moving Keeve back while at the same time placing a restraining hand on my shoulder. “Hurry.”
The royal guard opened up to let the two clerks through, but closed again before Gawell could make his way to us. Once clear of the crowd, the slap of Keeve and Tyle’s shoes echoed as they ran.
“Will someone let me in?” Gawell wailed as Ednoth began a measured speech about how magicals were allowed inside while Menck’s near kinsman was made to wait outside like a beggar at the gate.
“Quick, Rabbit,” Dyfrig said. “Get Menck back on a slab.”
My skin crawled at the thought of touching the head jailer’s corpse, but I obediently moved towards the body, motioning Jeff to help me. However, Wyln caught my arm.
“Do not,” the enchanter said.
“No, Rabbit,” Jusson said at the same time. “Leave it where it is.”
“Your Majesty,” Dyfrig began, glaring at Wyln.
“There is no hiding the disarray in here and I will not have it said that I tried,” Jusson said. He turned to Thadro. “Let the mayor in.”
Dyfrig watched with worried eyes as the guards in front of the door once more parted, and Gawell trotted quickly to the charnel house, his footsteps light for a man of his girth. Wedging his way inside, his eyes narrowed as he took in the wreckage, his gaze lingering on the coins and jewels on the floor. As Ednoth, the servants and jailhouse guards squeezed in around him, Gawell turned to Chadde, livid. “You said that Menck’s purse was stolen.”
I blinked at the fact that though Menck’s body had been tossed on the floor, the first words out of his honor’s mouth were about money.
Chadde, however, seemed neither worried nor surprised. “His purse was stolen,” she said calmly. “These were hidden in his clothes.”
Gawell’s jowls took on a purple hue, his eyes bulging out a bit. “And you didn’t think it necessary to tell me that?”
“No,” Chadde said. “I didn’t.”
“That’s it!” Gawell roared. “I’ve had enough of you! You’re through! Get out! Get out of here and get out of Freston before I have you thrown out!”
“First our cousin is beaten and robbed in jail, and now our officer is dismissed and threatened before us,” Jusson said.
Gawell’s head snapped around to the king, the purple fading rapidly from his jowls, leaving red splotches behind.
“Your Majesty,” he stammered. “You heard her; she lied to me.”
“No, she didn’t,” Jusson said. “She withheld information, which is different. Just ask the Faena.”
Gawell shot a wild glance at Laurel, but Laurel ignored the mayor. Done with the slab, the cat was examining the wall under one of the empty torch brackets where the gray stone had streaks of what looked like white rime. I stepped closer to Wyln, the enchanter’s hand moving to my shoulder, while Jeff crowded in close behind, all three of us watching Laurel.
“The Keeper of the King’s Peace doesn’t report to the mayor anyway, sire,” Thadro put in. “She reports to the province’s governor.”
“So she does,” Jusson agreed.
“But we haven’t a governor,” Gawell said. “Not since Lord Ormec died.”
“So you don’t,” Jusson once more agreed. “However, that only means that, until we appoint a new governor, those who were reporting to Ormec now report to us, including our peacekeeper. Surely you know that as you’ve been mayor for, what? Nineteen years?”
The red splotches also faded, leaving Gawell’s face pale, but before he could reply, Ednoth spoke. “Forgive Gawell, Your Majesty. He’s naturally upset about the death of his kinsman—Hey!”
“Pardon,” Laurel said as he pushed past Ednoth and Gawell. He stopped at the door. “Please move, honored folks.”
The purple bloomed back into Gawell’s cheeks. “Insolent magical!” the mayor began, while Ednoth said, “Such disrespect, Your Majesty.” Both sputtered to a halt when Laurel looked at them, his amber eyes molten.
“Move.”
Ednoth and Gawell both backed away, their hands shaking as they blessed themselves. Doyen Dyfrig scowled, but his expression Changed as he stared at the door. “What is that?” he asked as he started to join Laurel. I snagged him, though, pulling him back.
“No, Doyen,” I said. “Don’t go any closer.” I could see rime on the door edge, leprous white against the dark wood and iron bands.
“Is that frost?” Jusson asked, his brows pulling together.
“So it seems.” Extending a claw, Laurel pushed the door almost closed and revealed ice covering the back completely—thick, white and uneven, like melted wax. And Menck’s body, shoved against the wall by the opening of the door, was now freed from its tight confines. It flopped onto its back, the head lolling to the side, aiming those leering eyes right at me.
“Heaven forefend and protect us!” Doyen Dyfrig whispered.
Chapter Fifteen
“Revenant,” Wyln said as he moved me out of Menck’s line of sight, his hand coming up to trace fire. He didn’t have to pull very hard, though, as I was already moving. Bravado was all very well on a battlefield, but I had no need to prove my manhood by having staring contests with day-old corpses with fresh eyes. The rest of the body seemed pretty fresh too—there was no sign of stiffening, the stab wounds still glittery red. Overlying the wounds were thin lines that formed a mesh on the fish-belly-white skin. I eyed them, thinking that their spacing was about right for the warding lines Laurel and I drew last night. I blessed myself and willed the flames in front of me hotter. All of a sudden I was feeling very cold.
Doyen Dyfrig turned his scowl on the fire tracery, but everyone else’s attention remained on the dead jailer. Laurel leaned over and, without touching, examined the dark lines. As he did, the body shifted again and the head moved so that its leering gaze was now aimed up at the Faena. Laurel’s whiskers swept back to show his fangs, his ruff standing straight up.
“Everyone out,” he said, his voice a low, rumbling growl. “Now.”
“Do it,” Jusson said, already moving, and the Own pushed everybody out of the charnel house. Reaching the courtyard, I turned to see the mayor’s party hustled out, Gawell protesting, Ednoth full of outraged dignity.
“What was that?” Dyfrig asked as he stopped by me, distressed. “What has happened to Menck?” He stiffened, his voice going sharp. “And what are you doing, Faena?”