"I've been three days without hot food," she answered.
The man turned to look at his wife. "Evelyn, please fix a plate," he said. "We have important company." Evelyn smiled back.
The man beckoned Satine to a table. She removed her cloak and sat down. She welcomed the warmth that had begun to seep into her bones. The man poured out two glasses of wine.
"What is your name?" Satine asked.
"I am Shamus," he answered. He smiled. "And I am well aware that there is no point in asking yours."
Satine took a sip of wine. "You don't look like a consul," she said.
Smirking, Shamus took the pipe from his mouth and he placed it in a bowl.
"Really?" he asked. "Tell me, lass. Just what is one of us supposed to look like?" He gave her a wink. "Don't make the mistake of painting us all with the same brush."
He was right. Her only association with consuls had been with the menacing Bratach and his greasy underling Ivan. This calm, married man in his neat little country cottage seemed worlds away from their kind. But if he was a consul, married or not, he was powerful.
Evelyn appeared with a plate of food. It looked like stew-mutton with rosemary, Satine's nose told her-and boiled red potatoes. A big hunk of aged cheese sat on one side of the plate.
Satine began to shovel the food in hungrily. Shamus remained silent for a time as he watched her eat. When she was done, Satine wiped her mouth and sat back in her chair. Shamus poured her another glass of wine.
"Thank you," she said. "Now then, what is the message you have for me?"
Shamus' face darkened a bit. "Let's the three of us go and sit by the fire," he answered.
Satine nodded, picked up her wine glass and followed the consul and his wife to the fireplace. The three overstuffed chairs looked very comfortable. Satine sat and crossed one of her long legs over the other.
Shamus noticed that his pipe had gone out. He took a wax taper from the mantle and set it alight in the fire. Soon the pipe was smoking again. Waving out the taper, he looked at Satine.
"Forgive me," he said. "Would you like a pipe?" Satine shook her head.
Shamus sat down across from his wife, who took up her knitting as she settled into her chair.
Seeing that the fire was low, Shamus called the craft. A dry hickory log from the pile next to the hearth lifted into the air to gently land atop the ones already burning. Its smoky fragrance gradually filled the room. Apparently satisfied, Shamus turned his attention to Satine.
"Bratach and Ivan are dead," he said.
Satine took a quick breath. Leaning forward, she scowled.
"How?" she asked.
"Faegan," he answered. "It had to be. Bratach was found in the tunnel, hanging in a web of the craft. He had bled out. He could have been killed by the wizard, or it might have been suicide. There is no way to know."
"Why would he commit suicide?" she asked.
"He would have gladly taken his own life, rather than be forced to reveal information to the wizards of the Redoubt," Shamus answered.
"We all would."
"And Ivan?"
"His body-or should I say, what was left of it-was found upstairs. It seems he was blown apart by a bolt of the craft. In any event, you will be receiving no more help from them. I strongly suggest that you never visit that archery shop again."
Satine sat back in her chair. She had never liked Bratach or Ivan, but she had come to rely upon the information they provided her. This would make her sanctions more difficult.
"How will you proceed?" Shamus asked her.
The Gray Fox thought for a moment. "I will keep going," she answered. "There are four more people on my list. I'm following two of them now. To the best of my knowledge, the other two remain in Tammerland. If I can dispatch the ones I'm following, then I can deal with the others at my leisure. But without benefit of Bratach and Ivan's information, things will be more difficult. When did they die?"
"One of our agents visited the shop three days ago," Shamus answered. "The killings had apparently just occurred. Consul riders from our network were immediately sent out with word to all of the other sanctuaries. The one who informed us arrived here yesterday. He stayed the night and then rode back."
Satine decided to take a chance. "What of the orb?" she asked. "On my way here I passed by a great canyon that had been gouged into the earth. I have never seen anything like it. The orb did that, didn't it?"
Shamus nodded. "The Orb of the Vigors is bleeding. These are wonderful times for us, my dear. But of course you must already know this; it is the reason you were hired. It is said that only Tristan or Shailiha can heal the orb. If you can kill them both, victory will be within our grasp."
"How did you and Evelyn come to live here in Morningshire?" Satine asked.
"I knew Wigg and the other wizards of the Directorate well," Shamus answered. "Later, I was also one of those who helped build the Gates of Dawn. Nicholas-Tristan's son-altered the nature of our blood signatures, bringing us out of the darkness and into the light. I was proud to serve him. Before that, Evelyn and I lived in Tammerland for many years. When the Gates of Dawn fell, the surviving consular network sent us here. It certainly isn't Tammerland, but I have come to like it. Each of us in the brotherhood must do his part, whatever and wherever that might be."
"Forgive me, but how do you make ends meet?" Satine asked. "It is my understanding that the Directorate never allowed the consuls to learn how to conjure kisa."
Shamus smiled. "The story about the calmatrass berries is true," he said. "I have a small patch out back that I harvest and sell. Evelyn cans the rest for sale in the winter, and she also sells her knitting. With a little help from the craft to make our work go faster, we get by."
Evelyn looked up from her knitting. "Tell me, father," she asked, "does she remind you of anyone?"
"Of course, mother," he answered. "I saw it the moment she walked in."
"What are you talking about?" Satine asked.
"You remind us of our granddaughter," Shamus said.
"Where is she now?" Satine asked.
Shamus' face grew hard again. "Clarissa is dead," he answered softly.
"During the ill-conceived return of the Coven, she was raped and butchered by the very same winged ones the prince now commands. Her parents were also killed. Clarissa was a schoolteacher in Tammerland, and she was about your age. She knew nothing of the craft, or of my part in it all. Many of us have paid dearly to see the defeat of the prince and his wizards."
Silence reigned for a time, the only sound the occasional crackling of the fire.
Sensing that it was time for her to go, Satine stood. "I must leave," she said. "I want to thank you both for everything that you have done for me."
"Please stay the night, child," Evelyn said. "There's no reason for you to sleep out in the cold."
Satine shook her head. "I cannot afford to miss seeing the Minions when they take flight. That is how I have been following the prince and his group."
Shamus rose. "Suppose I arranged to have you wake two hours before dawn?" he suggested. "Would that give you enough time?"
Satine carefully considered their offer. The prospect of a warm bed was very tempting, and the odds of a roving Minion patrol discovering her campsite were next to nil.
"Very well," she said. "I accept. And thank you."
"It is we who thank you," Evelyn said. "It is good to have a young woman in the house again."
"I have a small barn round back," Shamus said. "I'll go and bed down your horse."
The elderly consul went to the door. Taking his overcoat from a peg on the wall, he walked outside.
Satine sat back down in the chair by the fire. Evelyn came to pour her another glass of the calmatrass berry wine.
The three of them talked for hours as the logs burned low in the hearth. Satine awoke with a start. at first she didn't recognize her surroundings and immediately lunged for the dagger beneath her pillow. Then she remembered that she had stayed the night with Shamus and Evelyn and she calmed down. She got out of the warm bed and dressed quickly.