"So what did you do then?" she asked breathlessly, as though hanging on every word out of the pompous fellow's mouth.
"Well, of course I stepped between Jerephin and the boar and set my spear," Denrick replied proudly, standing with a flourish and acting out the motions for her benefit. "You have to keep your back foot turned sideways, like so," he explained, miming the position, "and put the butt of the spear up against the instep, like so,"-and he propped an imaginary spear in tightly-"then you just keep the tip of the weapon leveled at the boar and let it ram itself onto the sharp end!"
He burst out laughing at his own cleverness, and Emriana tittered along with him for a moment.
"Tell me something," the girl said, deciding the time was right to steer the subject to another path. "Have you ever seen someone killed?" she asked, trying to sound innocent.
Denrick blinked, studying the girl for a moment. Finally, he nodded, a little too vigorously.
"Sure, several times," he answered. "There are always executions, and I've seen a boar rip one of our porters practically apart when we-"
"No, I'm not talking about hangings or hunting accidents," Emriana interrupted, much to Denrick's disgruntlement. It was apparent to her that he took great delight in holding the stage and did not enjoy being trod over, even for a moment. "What I mean is, seeing someone killed, murdered, stabbed with a sword or a dagger right in front of you, where you were close enough to see the expression on the victim's face."
Denrick blanched the slightest bit.
"Certainly not," he said, "and with any fortune, I shall never have to. What brought on this morbid bit of conversation?"
The man was clearly uncomfortable discussing such grim matters, though whether he found the topic personally distasteful, or if he was just trying to act as the noble companion and spare Emriana the gruesome details, she wasn't certain.
"Vambran and I were witnesses to a killing last night," she said, hoping her comments still just seemed matter-of-fact. "The city watch slew two people who had falsely marked themselves as mages."
"Really?" Denrick replied, mildly surprised. "You don't hear about that sort of crime very often. Most people in Arrabar know better. What did you see?"
It was clear to Emriana that he had no idea of the identity of the victim. It was one of those instances her grandmother was talking about, Emriana decided. It was a time for subtlety, for keeping a low and congenial profile until she had a better grasp of what, exactly, was going on. She feigned disinterest.
"Oh, not a whole lot. We didn't get there until after it was all over, and the watchmen shooed us away before we could see much of what happened. But it was most unsettling, and I had difficulty getting to sleep last night."
Suddenly, Emriana knew who might know more about the scullery maid's death. She had to get back to the estate. Thinking quickly, she affected a yawn, waving her hand politely in front of her wide-open mouth.
"In fact, after last night's excitement and all of this sun and fresh air, I'm starting to feel…" and she faked another one, larger than the first.
"Oh, where are my manners?" Denrick said, rising to his feet. "I've kept you out here far too long. Your family is probably wondering where we are, and you must be exhausted. Come, well return home at once."
"But what of the picnic things?" Emriana asked, secretly pleased that he had taken her bait.
She was ready to be rid of the pretentious boy and could think of no quicker way to get him to do what she wanted than to swoon or do something else similarly ridiculous.
"Don't worry about them, Em. I'll send Turcan back here to collect them later."
Emriana nodded, feeling another "yawn" coming on, and even allowed Denrick to assist her in mounting Goldy. Quickly enough, they were back at the estate, and he was helping her inside to the coolness of the parlor. Almost immediately, she sped off, leaving him to deal with the animals while she departed under the pretense of changing back into her original clothes, Patimi in tow to aid her.
Once she was out of sight, though, the girl turned on the servant and looked her squarely in the eye.
"You know what happened last night," she said, her voice severe, "Tell me."
The woman, suddenly flustered, stumbled through apologies and denials, all the while unable to look Emriana in the eye. Shaking her head, Emriana grabbed her hand and dragged her deeper into the house, back into Lobra's old bedrooms.
"Enough pretending. You were moping about this morning when you were helping me to dress. I know you know what I'm talking about, because I can see it in your eyes. Now tell me. What was her name?"
Patimi started to shake her head again, but then the facade faded away and the woman simply pressed both of her hands against her face, her body wracked with silent sobs. Emriana felt slight remorse then, feeling compassion welling up for the poor woman who must have lost someone she cared for, and yet had to go through her day as if nothing were wrong.
The girl reached out, tentatively at first but when Patimi didn't shy away, more boldly, giving her a comforting hug.
"I'm sorry," Emriana said, patting Patimi's hair gently. "Tell me what happened."
Finally, the servant had collected herself enough to pull free of Emriana's hug and straighten her shoulders. She sniffed a couple of times and wiped her eyes, then nodded and began to speak.
"The soldiers came last night, late, after almost everyone was already abed. They told us that Jithelle had marked herself as wizard, had run from the soldiers. It was all so hard to believe, I just couldn't imagine…" Patimi's face screwed up with emotion again, and she cried softly for a few moments before continuing, "Jithelle would never have done that, ma'am. She didn't even know her runes, much less any magic tricks. She was a good girl and wouldn't get into any trouble."
Patimi sniffed again and looked at Emriana beseechingly, as if expecting the girl to somehow make it better.
Emriana sighed and consoled the woman again.
"Of course she wouldn't," she said. "But why were you pretending that nothing had happened? Why aren't the Pharaboldis mourning or even acknowledging her death?"
Patimi shook her head and replied, "Madam Anista said we don't want the scandal. Because of the plague mostly, but also just because…"
"The plague? What plague?" Emriana asked, startled.
"Oh, the soldiers claimed that she and the other man-her lover, they say, though I don't believe it-the soldiers said that both of them were practicing dark rituals and were tainted with the magic plague. Said the bodies"-and Patimi began to sob as she finished-"had to be burned!"
Emriana sat back, stunned. If the bodies had been burned, that meant that Vambran couldn't have watched the communing spell to speak with the pair's spirits. And no one would hear their side of the story. A thought struck Emriana, then.
"Patimi, you said you didn't believe that the other one, the man who was with her, was Jithelle's lover. Why?"
"Because she had her heart set on someone else. She was never interested in Hoytir; no one ever even saw them together."
"Hoytir? That was the man? You knew him, too?"
Patimi stared at Emriana.
"He was one of the stable boys," she breathed, wiping her eyes again.
"What?" the girl exclaimed, sitting back, her eyebrows raised. "Here?"
The servant nodded and said, "A decent man, from what I heard, but he and Jithelle never looked twice at each other. He knew his place."
"What do you mean? Why wasn't it his place to see her?"