"Should I get a hat, Loiosh?"
"Yeah, Boss. It'll give me something to play with when I'm bored.”
Okay, skip the hat.
There was a small hut, probably a farmhouse, set back a long ways from the road. Why build so small when there is so much room? Were there laws about it? If so, why?
The Furnace had climbed up noticeably higher in the sky, and I was starting to sweat a little. I stopped, opened a water bottle, and drank, then poured some into my palm for Loiosh and Rocza. Rocza still couldn't drink out of my palm without tickling me with her tongue.
I passed a few clumps of trees—thin, with the branches far over my head and forming a high awning—but other than that, there were just the gently rolling farmlands, like an ocean in all directions, with stuff growing in neat rows. Sometimes there would be something that was almost a hill, and there the rows would be along the hill, rather than up and down it, which looked to me as if someone went to a lot of extra work, but no doubt there were reasons having to do with the sort of witchcraft all peasants knew in this land.
I guessed I'd been walking well over an hour now, maybe two. I tried to check the time on the Imperial Clock, and of course I couldn't; it was just habit. I didn't notice exactly the point where I was far enough from the Orb that the effect of the amulet prevented me from getting the time, but it's odd how, once I became aware of it, it made me uncomfortable. It isn't like I needed to know the time anymore; it just made me twitchy that I couldn't find out whenever I wanted. No doubt those who lived here could tell the time pretty effectively by how high the Furnace was in the sky. I looked at it, then looked away. There was a thin wisp of smoke ahead and off to my left, probably some peasant burning rubble.
"Boss, those are walnut trees on the left."
"Ah. Good. I'm glad one of us recognizes them."
"You could have asked the coachman to describe them."
"I was too embarrassed."
Just past the trees was a gravel road, looking impressively well-maintained. I took it, and the thin plume of smoke was now directly in front of me, and I suddenly got a bad feeling.
"Loiosh—"
"On my way, Boss"
I tapped my rapier and kept walking.
It took him about three minutes.
"It's the house, Boss. Burned to nothing. And—"
"Are there bodies?"
"Six so far. Two of them small."
I fought back an inclination to run; I was obviously hours too late already. I also told myself to shut up because my brain was busily constructing scenarios in which this wasn't my fault. Yeah, get real.
By the time I was fifty yards away I was able to see that they'd made a proper job of it. There was a brick chimney, and smoking rubble; that's it. There was a medium-sized barn nearby, and a few smaller outbuildings that hadn't been touched, but the house itself was cinders and ash: I don't think there was piece of wood left as big as my fist.
I kept walking. I couldn't get too close—it was still bloody hot. But I saw a body. This one was whole, and unburned, just outside the scorched area. She was facedown. I turned her over, but there didn't seem to be any obvious marks on her. The expression on her face wasn't pretty. She was middle-aged. We'd been related—maybe she was my aunt, or great-aunt.
"Boss—"
"You know, I don't even know what my own people do with bodies.”
The wind shifted and smoke got into my eyes. I backed away.
"Boss——"
"Go find the direction of the nearest neighbors, Loiosh.”
"Sure, Boss," he said, and flew off. Rocza went with him.”
I'm not sure how long it was, but presently he said, "Not far, Boss. About a mile. Start west and you'll see it."
I turned my back on the Furnace—it was still morning— and started walking. My feet felt numb, which was odd.
I did, indeed, see the place—a neat little cottage; it looked cozy. Loiosh and Rocza rejoined me and we approached the place. By the time we reached it, there were two people waiting for us, one holding a scythe, the other some sort of small curved cutting implement I wasn't familiar with. One was a little older than me, the other quite a bit younger, maybe around sixteen or so.
"That's close enough," said the older one. "Another step closer and I'll—"
I kept walking. Loiosh flew into the young one's face; the older one started to turn, stopped, and by that time he was on his back with my foot on his weapon-hand. He made a pleasing "whump" as he hit the ground. The other, I assume his son, turned back toward me as Loiosh flew away, by which time I was holding a dagger at his throat. There was a stifled scream from the cottage.
"Don't threaten me," I said. "I don't care for it."
They both glared at me. The younger one did it better, but maybe that's because he was still on his feet. I took a step back and made the dagger vanish. "You can get up," I said, "but if either of you look like you're trying to hurt me, you'll both bleed. Then I'll go inside."
He stood up slowly, dusted himself off, and looked at me. Yeah, he could glare better standing. I could have given him a lesson in manners, but that wasn't what I was there for.
I gestured over my shoulder without letting my eyes leave them. I knew the smoke was quite visible from here.
"Did either of you see what happened?"
They both shook their heads.
"If you had, would you tell me?"
They glared, but gave no other response.
I took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. I knew the only reason I wanted to take it out on this pair was that they were the ones in front of me; but that didn't help all that much.
Yeah, I got my temper under control.
I looked at the two of them, then finally focused on the presumed father. "My name is Merss Vladimir. You see the smoke. Someone burned that house down either before or after killing everyone who lived there. I don't know how many bodies there are, because I couldn't get close enough to count, but at least six. And at least two of them are children. They were my kin. I want to know who did it. If you know, and you don't tell me, I will hurt you badly."
He dropped his eyes, and his mouth worked. "We didn't see," he said. "I sent K—I sent my boy over to look, and he saw what you did. We were talking about what to do about it when you, when you showed up."
"All right," I said. "I'm not from here. What is customary to do with bodies, to show respect?"
"Eh?"
"What do you do with the bodies of those who die?"
"We bury them," he said, as if I were an idiot.
"What else?"
"What...sometimes Father Noij will ask the Demon Goddess to look after their souls. Sometimes not. Depends on if, well, if they were known to follow Her."
"Were they?"
He nodded.
I turned to the younger one. "Go get Father Noij. Have him meet me there. And I'll need a shovel."
The father's mouth worked again. "I have two shovels," he said. "I'll help."
"Were they friends?"
He nodded. "I heard that they, well I heard things. I didn't care. They never bothered me. And one winter—"
"All right. You can help."
"I'm sorry I—"
"Forget it."
I turned and walked the long, long mile back to the Merss place.
In what had once, I guess, been the back yard there was what I thought was a maple tree. I sat down and rested my back against it while I waited. Swirls of smoke came from the rubble of what had been the house, and I could see at least three blackened shapes that had once been people.