Sykion actually sputtered in finding her voice. “You ... yourself ... just told us four of your men had been injured.”
Rodian raised an eyebrow. “You wish me to charge her with assault? Do you believe Journeyor Hygeorht attacked them personally?”
Sykion glanced away. “We simply wish you to bring her home.”
“The journeyor is a free citizen,” Rodian returned. “She decides where she calls home. I have no authority to force her to return here if she wishes to be elsewhere. And so, without a formal charge ...”
He let those words hang.
Sykion’s gaze darkened again. “You are well aware this matter is sensitive to the guild. Tomorrow, I will speak with the council and decide our best course of action. I will also speak with the royal family about what happened here tonight ... about your inability to secure one small, four-towered keep inhabited by no one but scholars.”
“You do that,” Rodian said, and he stepped out of the main doors, into the courtyard.
He wasn’t quite as sure of himself as he sounded.
Dänvârfij was unconcerned when she and her companions reached the rooftops around their quarry’s inn. She sent Eywodan to check and found that no one was inside the room that Én’nish indicated. In truth, Dänvârfij was relieved.
This meant that when their quarry began to return, she could make a proper head count and watch for Brot’ân’duivé. But the night grew too long, and with it grew her anxiety.
“They should have returned by now,” Én’nish whispered.
Dänvârfij agreed. “Go check the room itself. See what you find inside.”
Én’nish was off immediately, reaching the window, prying the latch, and slipping inside. The rest of them waited, poised to act, as Dänvârfij watched the top window without blinking. Én’nish was not inside for long.
She swung out, scrambling to the inn’s top, and came at an open run to leap across to the adjoining roof. Dänvârfij’s stomach turned hollow.
“Empty!” Én’nish related. “Everything is gone. Not even a blanket remains.”
Dänvârfij dropped to her haunches, chin on her knees as she stared at the window. Brot’ân’duivé had again slipped out of reach, somewhere beyond the next shadow ... and the next.
Magiere busily helped Osha and Leanâlhâm set up their new quarters on the east side of what Brot’an had called the Graylands Empire. Chap merely climbed on a bed and lay watching the room’s door. Magiere still wasn’t certain if Brot’an and Leesil had been merely cautious or outright paranoid in changing locations. But looking about, she found little cause to complain.
This room was larger and possibly had been two rooms joined into one at some time. A hearth with an iron hook rod for cooking food and two good-sized beds helped fill the space. There was a stout table, along with several chairs.
So, they had all they needed for the time being. Still, Magiere kept trying to find something to do, anything to keep from glancing at the door again as some sound drifted up from the inn’s common room.
And Leesil still didn’t come.
He and Brot’an should’ve gotten Wynn and arrived by now. So many things could’ve gone wrong, even beyond what she imagined. Chap seemed no less worried. More than once, he got up and went to the window, rising on his hind legs and placing his forepaws on the sill to look out. He always gave up and returned to the bed—except for the last time, when his ears straightened up, and he went to sniff at the door.
“Soon!” Osha said too sharply.
Magiere was not the only one that Chap was making more anxious.
“Come,” Osha said, looking to Magiere and then Leanâlhâm. “We make tea.”
He picked up a chipped water pitcher and headed for the charred teapot near the hearth.
Chap’s ears suddenly rose and stiffened again, and he was up on all fours atop the bed. Magiere almost snapped at him, and then the door did open.
Leesil stepped in, leaving the door wide.
Magiere took a rushed step toward him but halted as Wynn stepped in with Brot’an right behind her. Magiere almost collapsed in relief. Of course Leesil had succeeded. If he knew anything, it was how to sneak about without getting caught ... most of the time.
“Magiere!” Wynn cried, running at her. “Chap!”
Magiere didn’t even finish returning Wynn’s slamming hug before the little sage rushed away and nearly threw herself on top of Chap. But as Wynn rolled off Chap and sat up on the bed’s edge, her small mouth gaped.
“Leanâlhâm?” she whispered. “Osha?”
Osha met Wynn’s gaze, and whispered back, “You are ... well.”
The relief in his voice was unmistakable, like someone discovering a wound had healed instantly. The whole room filled with tension all over again, not that Osha noticed as he stared into Wynn’s wide brown eyes.
Magiere wanted to groan. Those two had unsettled issues between them, which she’d hoped would remain so, and then she noticed Leanâlhâm.
At Wynn’s arrival, Leanâlhâm’s eyes had brightened for the first time since her arrival with Brot’an. She’d taken only one step to go greet Wynn when everyone heard Osha’s whisper.
Leanâlhâm instantly halted and looked across at Osha, who still watched Wynn. The girl’s features went slack. She dropped her gaze, averted her eyes, and backed away.
Magiere had no time to wonder at this, though the girl’s reaction worried her. What mattered was that Leesil was all right, and that he’d managed to get Wynn back. But when Leesil turned to shut the door, for some reason he didn’t turn around again. Magiere went over, stepping in at his side and reaching for him. Before she touched his arm, he pulled down his face wrap.
His features were strained and tight, as if he held in something awful. His expression changed even more. He didn’t look at Magiere, but she’d seen that kind of anger in him before. The kind that went so far that it turned him focused and chilled to the point of frightening.
Magiere gripped his arm, drawing closer to him. “What is it?”
Finally, he held her eyes with his own. When he answered, the words were loud enough for all to hear.
“I saw Chane in there ... inside Wynn’s guild.”
Chapter 19
CHAP TENSED ON THE bed as Leesil spoke those words.
Wynn turned toward where Leesil stood by the door, his back still turned, and it was only Magiere’s steady glare that waited for the sage. Chap knew Magiere was an instant away from open rage.
A small part of him almost wished to let the foolish little sage face such a consequence. Even in their scant time together a few nights ago, he had seen the change in Wynn since their journey here from the Farlands. She was serious, more in control, perhaps even a little hardened. Most of her wide-eyed wonder and naive curiosity had grown faint. Her wispy, light brown hair was a mess, and her pretty, olive-toned features were unreadable.
And Chap still grew angry with her.
What does Leesil mean?
Wynn twitched at his voice in her head and turned her face toward him, but she was silent, perhaps trying to decide how to answer. Before, whenever Wynn was cornered into an admission about Chane, her expression would be awash with guilt and shame—and sometimes defiance. A rush of words would always follow as she tried to defend herself.
Not this time. She said nothing.
“What do you ...” Magiere began, and then looked at Leesil. “Was he with her?”
“He was looking for her,” Leesil answered, now turning about to eye Wynn. “I’d bet my life on it. Wasn’t he?”
“Yes,” Wynn answered.
“You knew!” Magiere accused, both her hands clenched into fists. “You knew he was coming for you.”