Beollan jerked aside Gawell’s once fine cloak to reveal a large, heavy-looking purse hanging from the mayor’s long-suffering belt. Before Gawell could stop him, he yanked the purse off, juggled it a moment as if it were hot, then flung it away, the Marcher Lord’s face twisting in disgust. The purse bounced once, twice, then burst open to scatter jewels, gold coins, and a red silk drawstring bag that slid along the paving stones to come to rest at the edge of the clearing by the alleyway mouth. I stared at the bag shimmering in the sunlight, and an itch started between my shoulder blades.
“Well, well, well,” Jusson said in the returning silence. “So that’s where Menck’s hoard went.”
“The head jailer had a hoard?” Suiden asked, looking at the twinkling loot. He frowned, the clan markings on his face suddenly standing out. “What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s cursed,” Thadro said. Some townspeople and even a few soldiers had reached down to the gemstones and coins. At the Lord Commander’s words they all snapped upright again, one trooper wiping his hand on his trouser leg. “It appears that we’ve discovered who put Rodolfo’s body in the morgue,” Thadro continued, “if not who actually killed the master player.”
The itch grew stronger, snaking down my spine, and I slipped away from Wyln, working my way through the crowd.
“Helto,” Gawell wailed. “He killed Rodolfo. To feed the demon.” His desperate gaze lit on Ednoth creeping towards the alley. “But it was Ednoth’s idea to raise the revenant in the church.”
At the abrupt focus of attention, Ednoth broke into a sprint—and was tackled by watchmen and garrison soldiers. ‘That’s not true!” the head merchant declared as he struggled. “Gawell raised Rodolfo, just as he raised Menck—”
“No, I didn’t!” Gawell said as he circled away from the still-approaching dead jailer.“Menck didn’t work,not at first—” Realizing what he’d just admitted, he broke off. “I mean—”
“The wards we placed on the house of the dead held,” Laurel said, “and the demon had to help you break them in order to retrieve the unfortunate jailer. The demon’s price was a life—which gave you another victim to play with, one you turned loose on Elder Dyfrig.”
“So you were trying to kill me,” Dyfrig said. “As you killed Keeve and Tyle.”
Gawell frantically shook his head. “No! Rodolfo wasn’t supposed to hurt anyone. Just wreck the church so we could blame it on Rabbit and the magicals. The demon promised.”
“The demon lied,” Laurel said.
“I was tricked!” Gawell cried.
“Murderer! Kinslayer!” Dyfrig thundered. “Trafficker in hell!”
“I repent!” Gawell shrieked. “Save me!”
“No matter how despicable,” Jusson sighed. “Perhaps a little fire, Lord Wyln?”
Wyln shook his head. “I’m still blocked, Iver’son,” he said, holding up his palm with pale blue flame weakly burning in it. He turned to ask me—and discovered that I was no longer at his side. He started scanning the crowd, Jeff, Arlis and the Mountain Patrollers joining him.
“Blast and rot it.” Jusson said. “Does anyone have any rope? Perhaps we can tie the damn thing down and let His Reverence deal with it.”
Reaching the clearing edge, I steadied myself with my staff and, resting my haunches on my heels, studied then red silk bag. Finely drawn sigils of containment covered it, keeping whatever was inside, inside. I hesitated, then picked up the bag. It was warm against my skin, with a hum coming from within, more felt than heard. The itch crawling over my body, I undid the bag’s drawstrings and peered in. It was a knife.
“The jailer is turning around,” Thadro called out.
A familiar knife, small enough to fit into a boot sheath. Mine.
“Is it going to Ednoth?” Jusson asked. “Everyone stand away.”
“No!” Ednoth cried. “I repent too!”
It was the boot knife that I’d lost in Elanwryfindyll. Here, in the mayor’s purse, many leagues from the Fyrst’s court. I upended the bag and it slid into my palm. The hum grew louder and my rune, quiescent for so long, twinged.
“It’s not going for Ednoth,” Chadde said.
But when I’d lost it, the knife had been plain with nothing remarkable about it. It now had symbols etched into the blade on both sides. Curious, the butterflies fluttering above me landed on my hand. But they took off again, frantic. There was a quick intake of breath and I glanced up to see Wyln standing over my shoulder, Jeff, Arlis and the Mountain Patrollers with him.
“Did you also know this, Faena?” Wyln hissed at Laurel.
Laurel turned his head to look over his shoulder at us, then down at what I held. The rest of him quickly turned and he strode over to where I crouched down, his pupils expanding as he stared at the knife. “No,” he rumbled. “The Lady told me about the mayor’s treason, sorcery and murders when She escorted me to the lake, but She said nothing about this—”
“Rabbit!” Ranulf shouted. “The revenant is going for Rabbit!”
Laurel, Wyln and I all looked up to see Menck slowly lurching towards us. Gawell stumbled to a halt and bent as far as he could, gasping for air. “See?” he wheezed, forever quick to foist blame elsewhere. “I told you he was a witch—”
“Gawell,” the townspeople said. “Shut up.”
A couple of troopers appeared carrying coils of rope from their saddles and two of the Own ran up with the doyen’s chest of blessings. As Dyfrig knelt at the chest and opened it, lassos flew out. The loops dropped over Menck’s head and the troopers hauled back, but the rope around its neck had no effect and the dead jailer still pressed forward, dragging them with it. More troopers and guards joined the two holding the lassos, while others showed up with additional rope, darting in to quickly circle it around the revenant’s waist and legs.
“What have you there, cousin?” Jusson asked, he and Thadro joining me.
“It’s my knife,” I said. “My bloody boot knife.” I picked out the symbols for earth and water on one side of the blade, flipping it over to see fire and air on the other. “What the sodding hell did they do to it?”
Wyln turned ancient, rage-filled eyes on Gawell. “Talent thief,” the enchanter breathed. “Dream robber. Stealer of life.”
Everyone once more went still—except for Menck. Although wrapped from head to toe in rope, Menck’s corpse took a dragging step. Townsfolk joined the Own and troopers, adding their strength to those pulling back on the ropes.
“What?” Jusson asked.
Laurel flicked a claw at the knife. “It’s sympathetic enchantment, honored king, where personal effects like hair or nail clippings, or an object worn close to the body, like a ring, is used to create a gateway to all that person is, even to their very soul.”
“I had this knife from when I started in the army until I lost it at the Fyrst’s court,” I said.
“They must’ve used it to kill the unfortunate jailer and summon the demon,” Laurel said. “Which is probably why the revenant followed Gawell and is trying to come at you.”
“All of them feeding on Rabbit’s talent,” Wyln said, full of rage. “On him! No wonder he has been wasting away—”
“Majesty!” one of the Own cried out.
Jusson and Thadro turned, shifting in time for me to see Menck shove through the crowed that surrounded it. More guards, troopers and townspeople jumped on the revenant, but they were easily flung off. The dead jailer rapidly lurched towards us trailing rope.
“Damn,” Thadro said. He moved in front of Jusson and tried to thrust his sword through Menck, but it rebounded off the dead man’s frozen belly. Before he could recover, the revenant grabbed and threw him into Suiden and others rushing towards it. They all went down under the Lord Commander’s weight. Jusson spun out of its path, bringing his sword against the dead jailer’s neck. However, that was just as frozen as the rest of the corpse, and the sword rebounded. With a shove, Menck sent Jusson flying into Laurel, and they both fell, taking Wyln with them. Now moving so fast it was almost a blur, it swung its arm like a club, knocking Arlis and Jeff into Javes, Beollan and Ranulf, all of them going down with a clatter of swords, battleaxe and armor. Then the revenant was on me. I’d risen, bringing my staff around, but it was snatched away and the revenant encircled my throat with its icy hand, its leer filling my vision.