Pen cleared his throat. “Do you normally try to murder people you’ve just met?” Although that was what a soldier did, he supposed.
More cursing, if wearier and not so loud.
Pen worried. If the man died later from this injury that Pen had done him, would it count as death by demonic magic? Could he still lose Des to the Bastard’s peculiar justice, which had nothing to do with the vagaries of any human court?
Had Des, if not outright sacrificed herself for him, certainly risked such a fate?
I wouldn’t fret, she said coolly. He’s bound to be hanged first.
A dubious hope.
Pen was sure he needed Oswyl here, with Thala and her notebook, before he started interrogating suspects, but he had to know. “Did you shoot Learned Magal in the woods three days ago?”
Halber glowered at him from his thatch of hair and hatred. “That stupid Temple woman? It was the only way to get that hag Svedra’s demon out of her to destroy it. If it hadn’t jumped to that accursed fox, I would have been half done.”
“Half…?”
“And then there was that bitch my brother’s wife. And her whelp Wegae. It was all her doing from the start. Trying to take what was mine—for that weed.”
“Surely… you didn’t imagine that if you could murder all those people, you could get everything back? Your rank, your property, your place?”
Halber snorted contempt. “If I can’t have it, let no one do. Especially not them.” He turned his head away, spat, and added, “Didn’t have much more time. He’s spawning.”
Pen blinked. “Er… shouldn’t it have been a greater concern how you are to present your soul to your god?” Although Which god? was a good question. The Father of Justice was right out. The Mother and the Daughter likewise. The Bastard, god of all leftovers, seemed unlikely after Magal, although there was no telling. The Brother was a god of vast mercy, as Pen had reason to know, but…
“Curse the gods. Curse the world. Curse… everybody.”
Comprehensive, murmured Des.
“So… so you went through all this effort, perpetrated all this pointless cruelty, just to make yourself feel better?”
A wordless snarl.
Pen’s voice went dry; he couldn’t help it. “Is it working?”
Halber’s arms flailed in helpless rage, but he couldn’t reach Pen. He tried to the last, though.
Pen went back out to the porch and sank down on the wooden steps. The late afternoon was still bright and sunny. Perfect picnic weather, or to go fishing. After that abysmal bout of Halber, it felt as though it ought to have been midnight, and raining.
Pen ached. And felt ill. “Well. That was ugly.”
“You foresaw it,” said Des. Comfort? Cold comfort?
“It’s one thing to foresee. Another to see. It turns out.”
She was kindly silent.
He looked up to find Oswyl tromping toward them across the meadow, followed by a mob. Thala and her notebook, half-blind Baron Wegae being led by the hand of Jons his servant, Nath and Kreil bracketing Treuch between them. Inglis. Pen was relieved to see Inglis. They’d need a couple of men to get the helpless Halber back to the house.
Oswyl shot Pen a look of sharp inquiry as he neared.
“Your prisoner”—Pen gestured over his shoulder—“is restrained. Have at him.”
“Baron kin Pikepool says you saved his life.”
“Mm, probably. His lunatic uncle was just warming up to beat him to death, I think.”
“You coming in?”
“Rather not. I’ve had enough for now.”
“Hm.” Oswyl frowned in concern at him, but led the party inside.
He left the door open, though, and Pen, despite himself, ended up listening shamelessly.
After some noises indicating them getting Halber sitting up, Oswyl began with what were by now familiar preliminaries, with no cooperation from his surly suspect. But Oswyl shortly managed to get Halber and Treuch started in on each other, which perhaps explained why he’d dragged Treuch out here. The exchanges of blame and recrimination were better than any interrogation an inquirer could have devised, with or without red-hot irons. Oswyl only prodded them a little when they started to slow down.
“It wasn’t my fault!” Treuch declaimed. “He didn’t tell me why he needed me to get the Learned up there!”
Halber snorted contempt. Thala’s stylus scratched busily.
“He told me to tell her there was a badger I thought was possessed by an elemental. That I needed her to see if it was so, and take it away to her Order.”
Certainly a routine task for a Temple sorcerer, if important. A shrewd draw. If Halber had known little of sorcery before his first arrest, he’d likely had an opportunity to learn after.
Which was why Halber had pressed his old lackey Treuch to be his stalking-horse, of course. He’d been afraid Svedra’s former demon might have recognized him. Possible, that.
“I didn’t even see! He told me to just bring her and leave her. Tell her I was going to check if the creature was still in its den. I didn’t see anything!” Treuch somewhat spoiled this impassioned defense by adding, “He should have hidden her right then, not gone fooling off after that fox all by himself. It wasn’t my fault!”
“That will be for the judges to decide,” Oswyl sighed.
After Thala collected signatures from the listening witnesses, the men collaborated on devising a makeshift litter for Halber to be lugged away to the manor house. He’d be put on a cart to the Easthome magistrates as soon as a horse could be harnessed. Treuch whined horribly at the news that he was to be taken along tied to the rail. Oswyl was plainly unmoved by his protests. By nightfall, they would both be someone else’s problem, though Pen was certain the senior locator would have reports to write.
Oswyl came out on the porch as Nath and Jons maneuvered the litter down the stairs and marched away with it. Treuch followed with the dolor of a mourner in a cortege, Thala keeping a close watch on him. Kreil guided Wegae like a loyal dog. Oswyl lingered a moment to stare oddly down at Pen.
“Restrained? His spine is broken. Did you realize?”
“Oh,” Pen sighed, “yes.”
“How did that happen?”
“In the fight,” Pen answered, although that likely wasn’t exactly what Oswyl was asking. “Wegae witnessed it, I believe.” How much the poor fellow could see being an open question.
“Hm, yes, his description was dramatic, if confused. He sounds wildly grateful to you.”
“I don’t believe he could have succeeded in defending himself from Halber. The man was terrifying.”
“And yet you are standing, and Halber is… not.”
Not ever again. “I’m sitting,” Pen pointed out.
Oswyl puffed something not nearly a laugh. “Baron Wegae is coming with us to lay his deposition and accusation. What about you?”
Pen gestured to Inglis, leaning against the porch post and glummer than ever. “The shamans and I will be taking the foxes to their menagerie, for now. Best to keep them well separated from Halber and Treuch. I’m not sure I could control the fox’s demon if she sees them.”
“Ah.” Oswyl frowned uneasily. “You would know best, I suppose. We’ll need a deposition from you, too, in due course.”
“I won’t be hard to find. I imagine I’ll be splitting my attendance between the menagerie and the princess-archdivine, for now. And Hamo. I promised to call on Hamo tonight. I didn’t expect to have this much news for him.” Pen wondered if he’d need to apologize for sending Hamo on a blind search through his records all day.