"Of course. Ash–"
Ash was walking along the nearest row
of plants. The leaf form and structure was much like a poppy, but
the petals were fleshier, more like a rose. White, with blue
stamens.
"Kismollen," she said, glancing back at
the men. "So much of it."
It had been planted in such a strange
way. Widely-space, the far rows the tallest, and the nearest
decreasing in size from right to left, with the left most little
more than a seedling. She bent to examine it, and then shifted
uncomfortably, a chill rising through the leather of her boot.
Stepping back, she glanced down.
"Captain."
Ash tried to be calm, but could not
stop herself from backing away, staring in nauseated horror. It was
as if someone was standing right below her, on the wrong side of
Luin. Through the dirt she could see the heel, the unmistakable
curve of the arch, and each pale toe outlined separately.
The underside of a foot.
Farpatten strode over, bending to
scrape dirt away. "Fresh-turned," he murmured. "Sun, why
upside-down?"
"There'll be others," Thornaster said,
and surveyed the long rows of plants, then looked sharply at Ash as
she exclaimed, leaned forward, then backed away further. "What is
it?"
"Frog-shaped birthmark," she whispered.
"That's Frog."
Chapter Thirty-Three
No neighbourhood would overlook dozens
of men working to tear down a house as swiftly as possible, even
without the frozen corpses being unearthed in its garden. Soon
Farpatten had to put some of his resources to crowd control,
keeping back a growing stream of gawpers. There was no way to
prevent word from spreading, but no one could anticipate whether
the 'Cold Man' would flee or attack.
A Smallholder at the top of the street
opened his house to the Guard, providing a base of operations, a
steady supply of food, and a place to retreat to when the chill set
too deep. Farpatten settled Telat in a second story room
overlooking the street, asking her to alert them if the Cold Man
should appear.
Unable to face the increasing
collection of corpses any longer, Ash soon joined her Huntsmen
there, and found Lauren assisting in an impromptu lesson in
Firuven. Telat, in a dress Bitty had brought down from the palace,
seemed to be thoroughly enjoying pointing out objects in the street
below and naming them.
"Have they established how many?" Melar
asked, turning to Ash.
"One under every plant," she replied
wearily. "Tied with their hands beneath their knees and buried
upside-down, all looking like they were just buried. Frozen solid,
and showing no signs of thawing out."
The whole of the Vicardie family had
been there, but the Guard had chosen not to share that information,
and Ash was glad of their reticence because she could hardly bear
to think about them. Just tools, used and discarded, and she would
never be able to ask Frog why.
"You're losing your voice again," Bitty
observed.
"I think it's the cold air. Though I'm
glad for the excuse to not stand grimly watching any more." She
summoned a smile, apologised to Lauren and Telat for interrupting
the lesson, and then led her Huntsmen to a small bedroom at the
back of the house.
Once the door was firmly closed she
began with: "There's something I've been meaning to let you three
know," but then she trailed off. Last night, and most especially
that morning, had left Ash keenly aware of important things which
needed doing, but it was harder to make this particular shift than
she'd anticipated.
"Are you going to finally tell us
you're really a girl?" Bitty asked, interestedly.
"What?" Larkin sputtered.
"And that you're having some kind of
thing with this Thornaster person?" Melar added.
"
What?!
" Larkin gaped around at
them all, and then threw up his hands. "Why am I always the last to
know?"
"I had no idea you two had guessed,"
Ash said, immensely cheered.
"Ash, if you were really a boy, I'd
have made a play for you years ago," Melar said.
"Same," Bitty added. "Don't tell Arras,
though. She wouldn't take it well."
"I won't! I'm staying Ash Lenthard
while I'm in Montmoth – I just wanted to square this with you
three. Though I'm obviously going to have to control my expressions
if it took you less than a morning to spot the thing with
Thornaster, Melar."
She explained her future, though not
her past, and accepted congratulations, then sat on the bed smiling
as Melar and Bitty teased Larkin for failing to be observant. Her
friends. She had underestimated them: after so many years they
would never fail to support or cheer her. Nor were they afraid to
boss her around, ordering her to get some rest, and threatening to
tuck her in when she protested.
And then she was being strangled. Frog
knelt over her, his hands around her throat, and she struggled for
breath enough to ask him why, how, and then, inevitably, he turned
into Eward Carlyon, and she was trying to pull her hand away from
him, desperately, but the marriage cord glowed icy black and sank
beneath the skin of her hand.
"Ash. Beloved. Wake up."
The hand she was trying to pull away
was simply tangled in the blanket. Thornaster, sitting on the side
of the bed, gently smoothed the hair back from her forehead, and
smiled when she finally focused on him.
"You're very prone to nightmares,
stripling."
"I know. Look forward to years of being
kicked to death."
He seemed to find this an immensely
romantic thing for her to say, but eventually drew back from
kisses. "The timing involved in this is excessively frustrating. I
came up to tell you they've finished with the roof, and are
starting on the floor – using hooks and chains pulled by horses
because it's not safe to work any closer to it."
"What happens if the Cold Man escapes,
or finding him doesn't change anything? A stalemate, with Karaelsur
unable to gain more souls, but us not able to get rid of that
thing?"
"No." Thornaster curled his fingers
through hers, and then held up their joined hands, staring at the
glowing lines beneath the skin. "The people all around here are
sick because it's feeding on them. It's growing stronger, and I
have no idea how to stop it, and, Sun!, I wish I could run to my
father."
"So your father could stop it?"
"I think so. The combination of
Astenar's blood and the Rhoi's bond gives him a great deal of
strength. And this is most certainly a matter of such importance
that it would warrant him going outside Aremal's borders. But by
the time he arrived it would most likely be beyond him, and all
Montmoth frozen corpses."
Ash shuddered because she kept seeing
Frog, freshly taken out of the ground. Dirt griming all the small
crevices of his face, and his mouth turned down.
"I'm not liking myself because part of
why I'm upset is I feel cheated," she said. "I suppose he would
have been executed if we'd captured him, but at least we could have
found out if there were mitigating circumstances. Could kismollen
be involved? With the bodies frozen I couldn't check for any
telltale blue. Or perhaps he was led by his father's ambition. I
hate the idea that Frog might have done this because he thought
Kiri was some sort of prize which came with the Rhoimarch."
Thornaster squeezed her hand. "Arun
asked your Kiri if she would be willing to spend the next few
months acting as Setsel Ormsley's seruilis."
"Truly? She agreed?"
"She did. I promptly offered her sword
lessons, for most obscure motives."
Ash gasped, and tried to swallow
laughter, which made her throat hurt rather more.
"You don't give up, do you? I'd far
rather watch you fight than learn a new weapon. They're not a sport
to me, and anyway, right now I think I'd end up second-guessing
myself more." She gestured at her throat. "I took Telat away from
two boys, and I don't know if I was slower than usual, or one of
the boys unusually fast, but there was a bad moment. Would having a
sword instead of a staff have made a difference? Or would I have
hesitated either way, because of this?"
Ash held up their joined hands, turning
it so that she could better see the knotted marriage cord, and
decided that, again, this was not a conversation to put off.
"Telat saved
your
life last
night. And I'm...hanging back. I'm not used to that. Healthy
caution, yes, but – I'm sorry, I know you feel this is a great
blessing, but I can't help but wish Astenar hadn't done it. It's
pulling me off-balance. Usually the only life I risk is my
own."
He had listened wordlessly, brows
lifted in surprise. "You've never worried about leading your
Huntsmen to their deaths?"
"Of course. But I don't let them take
undue risks. While I sometimes – when it's necessary – push further
than I'd let them go. But it's not even that, it's ordinary things,
things I shouldn't hesitate from. Knowing I could kill you is
paralysing."
"You're looking at it backward." He
lifted their joined hands a little higher. "This isn't a sword at
my throat, it's a safety rope. If I'm mortally injured, your life
force will sustain me, giving me a much greater chance to recover.
We'll both be less likely get ill – you'll benefit from my
bloodline there, since Estarrels rarely sicken. The bond won't do
much for a beheading, though, so try to avoid that."
"Are you sure?"
"About the beheading? Absolutely. The
rest – it's been decades since the last known bonding, but the
records are fairly clear on the subject. It's a little like a
Rhoi's bond to the land, but the benefit is to each other."
"Is that why I felt warmer when I held
your hand back in that cellar?"
"Possibly. I –" He stopped, staring at
nothing, then said: "I'm an idiot."
"Are you expecting me to agree with
you? We've only been married a day. My opinion of you hasn't had a
chance to drop that low."
"Gratifying as the bond might be,
Astenar doesn't do this as an affirmation of our choice. It's
usually been in response to some larger danger. I thought it a
means to keep those doing Astenar's will alive long enough to carry
it out. But this is a bond like a Rhoi's. In its way, it's a
conduit to Astenar. And Astenar's strength."
Remembering the light that had
accompanied the bonding, Ash looked at him unenthusiastically.
"You're suggesting we should, what, try putting our hands in the
soul-stealing goo?"
He grimaced, then shrugged, and kissed
her forehead lightly. "It's something we'll need to think about.
But not yet – they must have found something about that building by
now."
Chapter Thirty-Four
Downstairs they found Hawkmarten
talking to Farpatten.
"Have you located the owner yet?"
Thornaster asked.
"Bringing her in now, Ser Visel."
Farpatten replied. "There's been several layers of identity to sift
through, but we think this is the last one."
A murmur at the door warned of the
arrival and they all turned as several tall Watchmen crowded in,
bracketing a woman, holding herself very upright, her hair
carefully coiled, but her skin waxen. Charity Dunn.
Without Morton standing at her back she
seemed small, and older somehow, and when she looked around the
room she passed over Ash without any apparent recognition before
she focused on Farpatten.
"Are you in charge?" she asked, with an
attempt at her usual honey-sweet condescension. "Truly, the Guard
has abandoned courtesy altogether. What do you mean by dragging me
here?"
"I've been informed that you are
Landhold of the house at sixteen Porter's Way. Is this true?"
"Why, I could not say. I am a very
wealthy woman. You cannot expect me to keep track of all my
properties."
"You had best remember quickly,"
Farpatten said. "We have unearthed over a dozen bodies there, and
expect more. Do you have any knowledge of this?"
Charity Dunn blinked rapidly, lost what
little colour she had, then sagged. The Guardsman nearest her
exclaimed and caught at her arm, managing to divert her into one of
the sturdy kitchen chairs.
"Landholder." Farpatten was
unrelenting. "What do you know of these deaths?"
"Nothing!" Charity Dunn shook her head
over and again, as if that would prove her denial. "No. I am...I
have...I am merely a name on paper. A favour for another."
"Who?"
"Decsel Pelandis."
Farpatten grunted, then said to
Thornaster. "The Firuvari girl's description was of white hair and
white eyes. The Decsel, Tranor, is bedridden, but both his brothers
and his son share his colouring – glass-pale blue eyes and platinum
blonde hair. The lad's unlikely, but either Ryle or Keskedin are
possibilities."
"I've met both Ryle and Keskedin
Pelandis," Thornaster said. "They showed no hint of the taint this
would produce. How certain is it that Tranor Pelandis is as injured
as is claimed? I was told he was unable to walk."
"That's so, Ser Visel," Farpatten
confirmed. "Though the family arranged for every form of care,
including importing a healing mage, he had suffered so many
crushing injuries that there was no hope of walking. Even living
without constant pain is difficult. He is rarely in the city, but
both his brothers are at the family residence in the Deirhoi
District."
"We'll start with them, then,"
Thornaster said.
Ash was trying not to stare at Charity
Dunn. This was a woman who had had no hesitation using her position
to gain the most she possibly could from those who rented her
properties. But the way she sat shrunken into herself felt somehow
indecent.
Since Ash lacked any means – or true
desire – to ease Landhold Dunn's distress, she did her the simple
courtesy of not gawping at her further. That was something
Genevieve would have expected: to not gloat, or make a bad
situation worse, but to do only the necessary things.