As she walked through the back entrance, the first thing she saw was a large wood-burning stove with a vent above it in the top of the tent. The bald cook, Volkian, was sitting in a chair beside it with his face in his hands.
Amelie cleared her throat, and he looked up.
Upon recognizing her, he jumped to his feet, moving faster than she would have expected.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded. “I told your lieutenant everything I know last night.”
“No, you didn’t.” She kept the dagger hidden in her hand, gripping the hilt with the point upward and the flat side against her wrist. Walking closer to the cook, she tilted her head. “Who brought you those mushrooms?”
“I don’t know. I’ve talked to my assistants and no one will own up.”
“You talked to them this morning? So if my lieutenant goes and talks to them, they’ll tell him that you already questioned them yourself?”
Panic flickered across his face.
“I knew you were lying last night,” she said, “but I didn’t say anything. Tell me who brought you the mushrooms, and I’ll keep quiet. Stick to your current story, and I’ll go tell the lieutenant I think you’re lying. He’ll believe me. My sister and I are Prince Anton’s seers.”
His breathing grew labored.
“Trust me,” Amelie went on. “You’d be much better off talking to me. He always gets results, but I don’t think you’ll like his methods.”
In defeat, Volkian sank back into his chair. “It was the gypsy girl.”
“Mariah?”
“I’m not sure of all their names.”
“The young one with the black hair?”
“No, her elder sister.”
“Mercedes?”
He nodded. “Yes, that’s her name.” He put his face into his hands again. “What a fool I am. I was trying to get the stew ready to serve, and she just appeared. But Captain Keegan has an arrangement with one of their young hunters, and those gypsies are always bringing venison or fowl or rabbits for the captain’s table.”
“And she told you that she had some mushrooms?”
“Not at first. First she asked me if you or your sister would be dining with the captain. He’d already told me to have your supper served in your tents, so I told her no. That alone should have gained my attention. But then she showed me the mushrooms and reminded me how much he loves them cooked with butter. Her sister . . . well, her sister knows the captain.”
Indeed, Amelie thought dryly.
“He’s been complaining about a lack of variety,” Volkian went on. “But I don’t have much to work with! I thanked her and fried up the mushrooms. Fool.” He looked up. “Do you understand how it will look to your lieutenant, to Corporal Quinn, if they find out I accepted mushrooms from some gypsy girl? I’ll be lucky if I’m only dismissed.”
Yes, Amelie could see his dilemma, but at present, she had no intention of giving away Mercedes, not until she knew more. And that meant protecting the cook.
“Listen,” she said. “You keep up your courage, and I’ll keep your secret.”
He studied her cautiously. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I like those gypsies a lot better than I like your captain.”
Turning, she walked out of the tent.
Although Jaromir had never been one for just sitting, at the moment, he was glad for having taken on the task of sitting at Keegan’s bedside. Hopefully, Céline, Amelie, Rurik, and Quinn would get some sleep while he sat here alone.
It gave him time to think.
Keegan had not yet awoken, but his breathing was still even. His complexion was a sickly shade of gray-green, and Jaromir did not doubt Céline’s assessment that the man’s recovery time would be long.
However, this left Jaromir with some decisions to make, and he considered what paths were open to him. In the end, though, he could think of only one way forward if he was to solve whatever was happening here, stop it, and get the silver flowing again.
The rear tent flap opened, and Quinn stuck his head inside.
“How is he?”
“I thought you were getting some sleep.”
“I couldn’t.”
Quinn’s genuine concern caught Jaromir off guard, as he’d not seen much of a connection or loyalty between the two men.
“I think he’ll live,” Jaromir said, “but Céline is right, and he’ll not be fit to command for some time.”
The anxiety on Quinn’s face grew more pronounced as he came inside to stand near the bed. “Does that mean we’ll be recalled and replaced?”
“Not yet.” Jaromir paused. “As the only available officer, I’m taking command of the camp.”
He waited to see how Quinn would accept this news. Officer or not, Jaromir didn’t serve Prince Lieven. However, he did serve Prince Lieven’s son—and thereby the House of Pählen. If Quinn accepted him, the others would follow suit.
His concerns proved to be groundless. Quinn leaned against the bed in open relief. “Yes, sir.”
Amelie left the provisions tent and walked straight to the miners’ encampment. Upon breaking through the tree line, she turned left and headed toward the largest of the covered wagons. An old man sitting outside with a smokeless pipe in his mouth nodded a greeting. She nodded back.
When she reached Mercedes and Mariah’s wagon, she paused out front at the sight of the clothesline; both her green wool dress and Céline’s lavender one were hanging there and appeared to be nearly dry. Every last speck of mud and blood had been removed, and the dresses looked new.
Mercedes was a skilled laundress.
Unable to put the reason for her visit here off any longer, Amelie climbed the few steps up to the back door of the wagon. In spite of what the cook had told her, she needed to know for certain whether Mercedes was the one who’d poisoned Keegan . . . and she needed to know why. There were a number of possible reasons for Mercedes to want him dead, but those reasons had existed well before now. Why had she finally acted? And did her reason have anything to do with the Pählen soldiers being turned into mad wolves? Could Mercedes be the one behind that as well? Had Keegan learned something, so she’d decided to get rid of him? But if that were the case, why wouldn’t she simply infect him next? Why switch to poison?
Amelie had many questions, and if Mercedes wouldn’t talk to her, she had her own methods for learning the truth.
Raising a hand, she knocked lightly. “Mercedes?”
The door opened almost right away, and Mercedes looked out. Her posture was tight but not overly anxious.
“Are you alone?” Amelie asked.
“Yes, Mariah is off searching for berries. I was just about to go and join her.”
Amelie pushed her way inside and closed the door.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Mercedes demanded, backing up.
“Céline was up all night trying to save Captain Keegan, but you probably already know that.”
Mercedes watched her carefully, and Amelie wouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating this woman. She might be slender, but she didn’t look weak.
“I haven’t told anyone,” Amelie said. “Not Céline or the lieutenant. I just want to know why you did it.”
“Did your sister succeed in saving the captain?”
“Yes.”
Of course Amelie didn’t know that for certain yet, but if Keegan were already dead, she’d most likely have heard about it.
Mercedes turned away, closing her eyes.
“Why now?” Amelie pressed on. “If you were going to kill him over what he’s been doing to Mariah, you’d have acted before this.”
Opening her eyes, Mercedes spun back. “What do you know of our lives? Of what brought us here? Of how years of suffering can deaden a soul? You . . . with your fine wool gowns and your lieutenant and your meals at the officers’ table. Get out! At heart, you’re nothing like your sister, and I don’t owe you anything.”