"And sweet buns." Wotheng smiled with him. "I'll ask, anyway, but I do believe you're correct, Master Baker."
"Unless, of course," Eloti interjected, "the miscreant stirred the flour with a paddle or stick."
"Paddle? Stick?" Tygg glowered. "Not in my storeroom. I keep the paddles out here where they be needed, near every moment. Anyone seen goin' into the stores with such would surely be noted, and 'marked upon. Besides, where would the poisoner have carried a pint measure of black mould, goin' into the stores, and it not be noted?"
"The mould might have been hidden in a bag under the clothes," Sulun considered, "but you're right about the stirring. Where could anyone have hidden even a stick that was long and stout enough to quickly mix a pint of mould into a barrel of flour?"
Wotheng frowned and rattled his fingertips on his knees, and Sulun could guess the man's thought. Either the faithful old baker was lying, which seemed very unlikely, or the poisonous mould had somehow magicked itself into the barrel. Reconstruct the sequence, was all he could think of.
"Try hard to remember, good Tygg," he said. "When was the first moment you saw the barrel?"
"Ey? Why, when it came off Bassip's wagon, Sir Wizard."
"What, he brought it to your door himself?" Sulun couldn't imagine any one man shifting that huge barrel alone.
"Ah, I see what ye mean. Nay, sir, I first clapped eyes on it when 'twas on the wagon, when the carter came knockin' at the door. I helped him roll it into stores myself. Oh, and I'll take oath, the lid was on it firm and tight then, and sealed with good wax, as Feggle always does it."
"And then you opened the lid?" Wotheng took up the thread.
"Aye sir, right then: opened and looked, and found it clean, on my oath."
"And did you pay the wagoner right then?" Eloti asked, eyes narrowing. "Had you the money in hand when you brought the barrel in?"
"Eye, not so. I went to my officium to fetch it. Then I came back and paid him and he left, and I called my lot off to lunch, and there's an end to it, for surely no one could have come into stores while I were out fetchin' the money without the wagoner would have seen 'em."
"True, true," murmured Eloti. "And are you certain you closed and barred the storeroom's outer door after the wagoner left, before you went to eat?"
"Aye, for certain, good lady. Don't I know well enough that rats and thieves get in when doors swing open?"
"Hmm. So after lunch everyone went back to work and the apprentices came in and out, and at day's end you locked up fast, I trust?"
"Oh, aye, be certain."
"And you're also certain no one could have come in again before Meep and Higgle yesterday morning?"
Again the baker struggled with his conscience, and again his conscience won. "Aye, m'lady. No door nor window forced, nothing touched. Nor none other thing. Look you all." He pointed to the doorsill, which had been recently swept clean. "'Tis an old baker's trick I had of my father. Every night afore leavin', I sprinkle a bit of flour about the doors and under the windows. Every morning I sweeps it up to keep the rats away. If any thief, nay nor anyone, came in durin' the night, by whatever means, they'd've left tracks in the flour and on the floor beyond. No way to hide it, save by sweepin' up all the flour. Either way, I'd have noted that when I came in by morning."
"Marvelous!" Sulun admitted. "I must teach that trick to my people."
"Aye, would ye that?" Tygg beamed, flattered.
"So, to go on," Eloti murmured. "Meep and Higgle came in, Meep made the rye bread while Higgle tended the fire, then the loaves were packed and sent off by your wagoner. And no one else touched the dough?"
"As ye've heard." Tygg shrugged. "I swear, I cannot understand it."
"Yet someone did despoil the flour, as you can see." Eloti pointed to the warm bowl of rough dough.
They looked. They could all see that it had risen slightly, by itself, with no yeast added.
Tygg grabbed the offending bowl with a curse, and threw it into the fire. "'Twas magicked there, good folk," he pleaded, "I'll swear, it had to be!"
"Fear nothing." Eloti smiled gently, patting his thick arm. "I'm sure it wasn't you nor any of your people who tainted the flour."
"Deese and Kula know it," said the baker, fervently clasping his hands.
On the way back to their mule wagon, Sulun chewed the problem over. "I swear," he admitted, "I don't know where to search next. If Feggle and Tygg are honest, and—" He threw a quick look to Wotheng. "—I'm quite sure they are, then the poisoning happened in Tygg's shop, yet no one there could have done it."
"I should go back and question the kitchen drudges singly," Wotheng remembered, stopping where he was.
"Not necessary," said Eloti. "None of them did it."
"Eh?" Wotheng gaped at her. "How do you know?"
"Consider." Eloti ticked off on her fingers. "The flour arrived just before lunch. The kitchen help wouldn't have gone to fetch more flour, do more measuring, mixing, or kneading, just before lunch; no, they'd have been finishing their tasks, not starting new ones. Any of them doing otherwise would have been noticed, and reported to Tygg, by his rivalrous fellows. So would anyone, after lunch, who took a stick or paddle into the storeroom—or who came out of it with flour high up on his arms. No one broke into the bakery during the night, or Tygg would have seen it in his flour-trap on the floor. Meep and Higgle tossed a coin to see who would bake and who fire the oven, so there was no predicting in advance which of them would go to the stores and get to the rye flour. They might have conspired together to taint the flour, but I doubt it, from the lack of love between them. By the time the other apprentices came in, it was too late; the flour was already mixed to dough, if not in the oven."
"But if none of the apprentices—" Wotheng huffed. "I can't believe Tygg would—"
"Surely not Tygg. But who was the one person left alone with the open barrel of flour while Tygg went to the officium to count and fetch the money?"
Wotheng had the presence of mind to whisper it. "Bassip the Wagoner!"
"If, as Tygg says, he also delivered the bread, then I've seen him coming and going at Deese House." Eloti sniffed grimly. "He could easily hide a pint measure bag under his cloak, and he would know where the rye bread was bound."
"But," Sulun remembered, "how would he stir it in? Tygg would have noticed flour on the man's arms."
"He drives an oxcart, remember? And he always carries with him his long-handled driver's whip."
Zeren was no longer guarding the mule wagon when the others came up, but that wasn't necessary. Half of Wotheng's guards were watching, a few copying the motions, as he showed them one of his favorite moves.
" . . . so you drop low—low as you can—as you step forward, getting under his shield. Lift your own shield, so, to block any downward chop and also to block his sight of what you're doing. Then come up with the sword at the exposed body. Up, you see? If the other fellow doesn't counter early, there's almost no defense against it; I've rarely seen it fail."
Wotheng raised his bushy eyebrows and turned to the companions. "How very many skills your folk have. Think you yonder large priest might be persuaded to come give his lessons more regularly?"
"I'm sure of it," Sulun agreed. "But at the moment, what shall we do about our poisoner?"
"We'll lay hands on him shortly, that I assure you." Wotheng's smile didn't reach his eyes, which were as chill as Sulun had ever seen them. "The wife doesn't bake either, having much else to do. We've our bread delivered at about this hour every morning. Ho, fellow!" he called to the nearest guard, interrupting the sword lesson. "Has Bassip the Wagoner came yet with the bread?"