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"Now!" Rodian snapped.
Lúcan jolted into motion and ran down the alley.
"Who would do this, and how?" Garrogh whispered softly.
Rodian found his second staring over one shoulder at the dead girl.
"What did…?" Rodian began, and then faltered.
He doubted his own senses and the memory of what he'd seen.
"What did you see?" he finally asked. "When you came in behind me?"
"A man," Garrogh answered, his brows gathering. "A tall man in a black cloak. Why?"
Rodian quickly hefted the surviving young sage. Holding his charge carefully, he strode down the alley toward the cart. His anger flared as he stepped over the girl's body.
The royal family valued its misguided sages. Now two more were dead, and another might soon follow. But no matter who had done this, High-Tower and Sykion were responsible. They'd refused to acknowledge the danger and sent more of their own out in the night.
This time Rodian would drag the truth from them.
Wy
If she just sat doing nothing, and Domin High-Tower or Premin Sykion came by, either would surely comment. They never missed an opportunity to note any odd behavior on her part. But she dared not leave even long enough to fetch a journal or book from her room.
Supper was finished, and still the messengers hadn't returned. What was taking them so long?
Wy
But instead, Domin il'Sänke appeared, pulling back his cowl.
"Wy
"Where have you been?" she asked bluntly.
His smile faded. "I ate supper early in the kitchens, perhaps too much. At my age, one needs to walk off such a meal before turning to other matters."
"Sorry," she said, feeling foolish for her urgency. "Nikolas, Miriam, and Dâgmund have not returned. After what happened last night…"
She trailed off as his expression changed again. His left eye twitched, and he licked his lips.
"The folios are not your concern," he said, barely above a whisper.
Wy
"Pardon," he muttered, and his gaze suddenly fixed elsewhere in the hall. "It has been a long day, and I have one more thing to K modon attend to."
Wy
Domin High-Tower stood in the narrower side archway, not looking at her but beyond her, perhaps at il'Sänke. He seemed expectant, even in his usually dour state, but his expression suddenly changed.
High-Tower's wide features slackened in some shock.
Wy
And a thunderous boom echoed down the main passage beyond the archway.
Wy
Il'Sänke raised an arm in her way.
She barely glanced up, finding his gaze turned toward the outer passage, and then Captain Rodian came around the turn.
His face tight with anger, he carried the limp form of Nikolas Columsarn.
Rodian's hard gaze settled on il'Sänke as the first sage of rank in his sight.
"Get one of your physicians," he barked over heavy, exhausted breaths.
Il'Sänke was already reaching out. "Here, Captain, let me take him."
The tall Suman lifted Nikolas from the captain's arms and headed for the nearest table.
"Where are Miriam and Dâgmund?" Wy
Rodian ignored her, looking about the hall. "Where's High-Tower… and Sykion?"
As il'Sänke carefully laid Nikolas on a table, others in the hall rose from benches and chairs, drawing nearer.
"Here," High-Tower answered.
His gaze locked on Nikolas as he closed on the table's far side. Il'Sänke put a hand on the young sage's chest and leaned down to listen at Nikolas's slack mouth. He glanced up at High-Tower, nodded once, and the dwarven domin breathed a sigh of relief.
Wy
Rodian didn't even look at her. He kept his angry eyes on High-Tower.
"Dead," he said sharply, "in an alley near the Feather and Parchment."
All the warmth drained from Wy
Il'Sänke grabbed the sleeve of a female apprentice in brown. "Get Premin Adlam or Master Bitworth… or any elder in the hospice. Quickly, girl!"
Rodian kept his eyes on High-Tower. "And your folio is gone as well," he hissed.
High-Tower finally looked up, but he didn't appear surprised.
Wy
"The others," she whispered, "the same, like Jeremy and Elias?"
He closed on the gathering at the table. "Yes… or one of them."
Wy
"Someone is killing for your folios," Rodian snarled at High-Tower. "And you're going to tell me why." Without looking away from High-Tower, he jabbed a finger at Wy
Wy
"Chlâyard… do not!" il'Sänke whispered.
For an instant Wy
It had been so long since she'd heard anyone utter the domin's name in Dwarvish, and her gaze flickered between High-Tower and il'Sänke. What was happening between these two?
"What's in those texts?" Rodian shouted, and his voice echoed about the still hall. "Why do you throw away more lives in your denial and ignorance… and deceit?"
High-Tower's face flushed within his red beard and hair.
"Captain!"
Wy
"I heard—and came straightaway," she said more softly.
She wasn't dressed in her split gown this time. Beneath the sea green cloak of the royal family she wore a leather vest over a stark cotton shirt, and leather breeches tucked into high riding boots. She looked far more like one of her own, the horse people of Faunier, than a member of the Âresky
How had she learned of this tragedy so quickly?
Rodian's jaw tightened, and he looked baffled by the sight of the duchess.
"Highness," he said, with only a curt half bow. "How…?"
Wy
"We must get Nikolas to the ward," she urged. "There's no time to waste"
High-Tower's hands were tightened into fists the size of sledgehammers, but he seemed to hear the sense in her words. He quickly dispersed the cluster of apprentices and initiates.
"Get the boy proper help!" Rodian spit. "Then you and I will talk."