All of which was infinitely more reassuring to him than a windowless room a few paces across.
He did not learn nearly as much as they did, but he did find out why they were so concerned about this one incident. It was not the first, but the latest of many. They didn't tell himhow many, and he didn't ask, but he had the feeling that it was a larger number than "a handful."
He didn't think that the local constables were aware of this; their questioning had not tended in the direction that Ardis and Tal Rufen's did. He could not imagine the High Bishop getting personally involved unless this problem extended beyond Kingsford, and he wondered just how far itdid go.
He was torn between wanting to volunteer his services and wanting to stay out of it all. He really didn't have time to act as a kind of aerial constable. He wasn't trained to do so, he wasn't deputized to do so, and he did have another and very important job to perform.
On the other hand, the more the Bishop and Tal Rufen spoke, the more he admired them. He found himself wanting to help them however he could.
And he could not deny the fact that he was curious, very curious, about what was going on. Never mind that these were not his humans, not of his Aerie, nor allied directly with the Haspur; never mind that he was very busy with his own work. He was intensely curious, alive with curiosity, dying to ask questions he knew would not be answered.
Unless, perhaps, he volunteered his services. Perhaps not even then, but the only chance he would have that theymight would be if he volunteered. It was altogether disagreeable.
In the end, he couldn't make up his mind, and they finally ran out of questions themselves.
"Thank you, Sirra Visyr," the High Bishop said gravely. "I know that we have, among us all, rather thoroughly disposed of most of your day, and I apologize for that."
"Not at all," he replied graciously, and before he could say anything more, Tal Rufen had escorted him out of the Cathedral and left him in the courtyard behind the main gate. And at that point, there was nothing left for him to do but endure his curiosity and spread his wings to fly across the river in the last scarlet light of sunset.
Chapter Seven
Once they were safely ensconced in her office, Ardis turned to Tal, one eyebrow arched significantly. After a week of spending most of his time in her presence, he knew most of her signals. This one meant, "Well?"
Which in turn meant, "Tell me everything you think about what just happened." When Ardis chose, her expressions could be very eloquent. It was convenient, having a way to convey a broad request with a simple gesture of a single eyebrow. He wished he could do the same thing, but his face didn't seem inclined to oblige him.
He began with the first supposition that the Kingsford constables had come up with. "I never for a moment suspected the Haspur of being involved with this, and I doubt that he deliberately murdered the real killer to keep us from finding out that he was involved."
She tilted her head to one side, which meant, "Oh? Why?"
"For one thing, there weren't any Haspur anywhere near any of the other places where we've had similar murders, and it would be cursed hard to hide a Haspur anywhere around a village of less than a hundred people." He raised his own eyebrow, and she nodded. "For another, I never heard anything about Haspur being able to work magic, and if they could, wouldn't you think that poor bird your friend Padrik tried to turn into the centerpiece of a holiday feast would have worked some magic to get his tail out of that cage?"
"Only a few humans have the powers of magic, so just becauseone Haspur is not a mage does not imply that all of them lack that capacity, but your point is taken," she replied. "Why don't you think he killed the man deliberately?"
"Because he's a predator," Tal said firmly. "You can see it in how he's built—talons and beak like a falcon or a hawk, eyes set in the front of his head rather than the sides like a Mintak's. Predators do their own killing. He'll kill for food, or in the heat of rage, and he'll do it himself, but he won't let the river do it for him. That's what Padrik's captive Haspur did—tore his guard apart in the heat of fear and rage, with his own talons. That's what this Haspur wasgoing to do before the killer cheated him and fell through the ice. At that point, the rage ran out, and the Haspur stopped wanting to kill the man."
"As a theory, I would say that is reasonable. In this case—" she paused for a moment. "I would say that in this case, it probably is true. It certainly fits the facts."
"And all the other reports of the witnesses," he pointed out. "They did say that the Haspur grasped the man by his tunic shoulders and tried to pull him out of the water, and the man tore loose and dove under the ice. It was certainly not too far from the docks for them to see clearly, despite the distracting effect of this Haspur's colors."
"All right, all right!" She held up her hands. "I believe that I can trust your reasoning; I am pleased to see that you don't rely on instincts alone."
He flushed; at one point he had waxed eloquent on the subject of "a trained constable's instincts." Perhaps he had been a little too eloquent.
"Never mind," she continued, "I think you are correct and my 'instincts' also agree with yours. I've sent one of the mages to the river to try and find the body, but as we both know, finding it now will probably be of limited use."
"Because it's been in running water." He sighed. "What about the victim?"
She shook her head, sadly. "Useless," she replied. "The poor child was wearing a Gypsy amulet, and the mere presence of that contaminated any slight aura there might have been from her attacker. It would be analogous to looking for a trace of incense smoke in the presence of a smoldering campfire."
"Damn." He bit his lower lip, then hit his fist on his knee, angrily. "We're still reacting after the fact. We have to anticipate him somehow!"
Her face darkened, and she looked away from him for a moment. "I'm sending warnings out, but I can't reach everyone, not even all the Free Bards. Some of them simply won't hear the warnings, especially the ones who are still traveling. Some won't heed them; even if it comes from me, I am still of the Church and they do not trust the Church. And as you yourself discovered, there are many unfortunate women who are not Free Bards who are still street-entertainers, and most of them will never hear anything but the wildest of rumors."
"And most of them can't afford to spend a single day or night off the street, much less weeks or months," he muttered. He thought it was too low to hear, but her ears were better than he thought, and she bowed her head.
"And there, too, the Church has failed." She sighed very, very softly. Her lips moved silently and her eyes remained closed; and he flushed again, feeling as if he was spying on something intensely personal.
She looked up again, her face stony. Evidently God had given her no revelations, not even a hint of what to do.
"We won't be able to prevent him," she said bitterly, her voice steady and calm. "We both know that. And I can't think of any way that we could even catch him in the act, except by accident."