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High-Tower glared back and took a step around the table's end. Il'Sänke pressed a restraining hand to the dwarf's shoulder, but it didn't slow him. Il'Sänke ended up stumbling aside. In that instant Wy
"Captain," Duchess Reine repeated, and she stepped between the two. "These people have suffered again. Any necessary discussion will wait."
High-Tower held his place with deep, slow breaths and finally turned aside.
"Apologies, my lady," Rodian answered coldly. "But it is a tragedy of their own making… and it's time I was given a free hand."
"The king might feel differently," she said softly.
Rodian's angry expression wavered. "Pardon, but feelings have nothing to do with the law."
"The king is offering his assistance," the duchess went on. "A royally appointed physician has returned from a journey south. A Suman, one who knows toxins. The king has asked him to visit the barracks tomorrow to… examine bodies and provide any information he can for your investigation. For now, leave the sages be."
Rodian breathed in twice and shook his head, and Domin il'Sänke watched him carefully.
Wy
She should've been relieved—and part of her was. People like Rodian wouldn't understand the breadth and importance of the project. But if he were kept from delving deeper into these horrid events, he might never uncover what she already believed. The killer was u
The apprentice il'Sänke had sent off came ru
Nikolas never even moved as High-Tower and Adlam lowered him onto the stretcher and the apprentices rushed him off. But there was nothing to be done for Miriam or Dâgmund.
"As you wish, Highness," Rodian said. Without even a nod to her, he backed toward the hall's main exit.
"Expect the royal physician tomorrow," Duchess Reine told him.
The captain turned and left without another word.
After polite farewells, the duchess and her bodyguards followed. Wy
"I must report to Premin Sykion," High-Tower muttered.
"May I go to Nikolas?" Wy
"No!" he growled. "Premin Adlam doesn't need you. Return to your room."
Stung, almost hating him, Wy
Two more of their own were dead! A third barely clung to life, struck down by something no one would admit was real. And she was sick of being treated like some addle-brained mental invalid who should be shut away.
She nearly ran across the courtyard and up to her room, slamming the door behind herself. Sinking onto her bed, she felt her anger drain away, but despair rose in its wake.
She tried not to imagine what had happened to Miriam and Dâgmund, and what it meant when Rodian said only one had died like Elias and Jeremy. Why hadn't the captain sent his guards to protect them? Or had he, and they arrived too late? Had they seen anything to shed light on the murders and who—what—kept after the folios?
Wy
A soft knock came at her door, but she had no wish to see anyone, except perhaps the captain.
"Who is it?" she called weakly.
"Open up," il'Sänke answered.
Wy
Domin il'Sänke pushed her back as he entered and turned to close the door. He held something long in his hand, nearly as tall as himself, but it was hidden beneath loose wraps of dull burlap. He glanced toward the dwindling cold lamp on her table.
"Fix that," he said with a curt gesture.
Wy
Amid the folds of opened cloth lay a polished oak staff. One end was sheathed in a long, loose leather sleeve, held closed around the wood by a drawstring.
"Such an item takes time," il'Sänke said. "And cost, in trial and error as much as resources… more for as much as I hurried."
Moons had passed since Wy
"Finished?" she breathed. "Finally finished?"
"Finished?" He snorted. "Perhaps… but there is no more time to test it further."
Wy
"Come here," he commanded.
He reached down and gripped the staff's tawny shaft, lifting it. Turning it over, he let it slide through his soft grip until its butt thumped upon the floor. And finally he pulled the sheath off its top end.
Mute glimmers exploded around the room as light struck the sun crystal. Its prisms played multicolored wisps upon the walls. Wy
"Do not judge High-Tower," he said harshly. "He is stricken by Miriam's death… as I am by Dâgmund's."
Wy
"This will take time and practice to use," he said. "And you will treat this object with great care, as a replacement might not even be possible. Are you prepared for a first lesson?"
Wy
Domin il'Sänke's dark brown eyes held none of their habitual sly humor. They were hard and frightening. But she reached out and grasped the polished staff.
"Yes… I've been ready all along."
Chapter 9
The following afternoon, Rodian barely listened as Garrogh went over the latest barracks issues to address among their own contingent. "And some of the men are complaining about the new cook," Garrogh went on. "Lúcan says she drinks. Should I look into it or just have her replaced?"
Rodian glanced up from his desk. After a nearly sleepless night, he hadn't heard most of what Garrogh was saying. He'd spent the day trying to occupy himself while waiting for the appointed royal physician to determine Miriam's official cause of death.
As for the other dead sage found in the alley, a journeyor named Dâgmund, the cause was obvious—head trauma. The young man was barely recognizable, his face caved in by a hunk of brick wall.
Rodian hoped this Suman physician might tell him something of use, at least more than the city ward's healer had concerning Jeremy and Elias. He still remembered the instant that tall black figure had broken a brick wall with only its cloth-wrapped hand. Who—or what—had killed those young sages? And he couldn't stop thinking about the last of the trio, the one named Nikolas Columsarn.
Any living witness was worth more than the word of a dozen Suman physicians, royally appointed or not. But it was too soon to know whether Nikolas would recover enough to answer questions.