Wynn turned her head several times between Jan and Nadja.
"You are mountain nomads… the Tzigan?" she blurted out in Belaskian. "I read a brief mention of your people. What are you doing so far south? What do you eat in those barren mountains? Is it true that you can read future happenings?"
Leesil let out a sigh that turned to groan before he could stop it. He and Magiere had rarely traveled the mountains, but he'd heard enough of the Tzigan to be wary. Not that they were dangerous, but things had a way of turning up missing when these people were about. Both Nadja and Jan blinked in surprise at Wynn's barrage of questions, and Jan burst out laughing. He set his fiddle upon the table and patted the chair nearest his own.
"Come sit with me, little one, and I'll tell you all. First, that we prefer the name Mondyalitko. That Belaskian word is… somewhat unflattering."
It certainly was, thought Leesil, but appropriate for vagabond thieves. This situation was getting out of hand, and he turned to Zupan Cadell.
"That isn't why we came. " And he nodded to Magiere. "My companion and I seek information and hoped you could help."
Nadja watched Magiere with open curiosity and held out her hand. "Come, sit. What is it you wish to know?"
"My father," Magiere answered, and shook her head at the offered chair. "I'm looking for some way to trace him. He held this fief twenty-five years ago when I was born, and that is the last I know of his whereabouts. The few villagers who knew of him don't remember his name or won't talk. I hoped you'd have records."
Nadja's olive brow wrinkled as she turned to her husband. Cadell rubbed his wide jaw as he stared down at the table a moment and then shook his head.
"When we arrived, the keep was in shambles," he said. "Some furnishings had been looted. No lord had lived here for nearly two years. Neither had any taxes been collected. I agreed to manage the fief on the condition that Prince Rodek forgo the lost taxes and allow me time to reorganize."
The idea of a fief left without an overlord for two years was far too strange for Leesil's taste, but he shook his curiosity off to deal with the matter at hand.
"There must be something," he said. "Accountings, ledgers… anything?"
"Not that I have found," Cadell answered. "Likely the last overseer took any such back to the Antes estate or else they were looted. I've had to begin anew, even to re-counting the local households among the villages and reckoning what is due."
Magiere's face fell, her gaze dropping to the floor. She gripped the back of a chair.
A small part of Leesil was disappointed. A larger part was relieved, which in turn brought a heavy guilt. Whoever Magiere's father had been, Leesil suspected her mother had faced an uglier death than dying in childbirth. He was no longer sure Magiere should learn of this. And worst for his guilt, if this ended Magiere's search, perhaps they would be back on the road north in search of his own mother. Magelia was gone, but there was a chance that Nein'a still lived.
"Where would the records be taken, if they were removed?" Wynn asked.
Cadell frowned. "The Antes castle is in Enemusk, the main city for this province, but I'd guess the records would end up in Keosnk, the capital. Prince Rodek Antes reigns as grand prince for another three years, and he will live on the royal grounds for his term. From what I guess, he doesn't trust his younger brother, Duke Luchyan, with care of their family's holdings. If records exist, you might find them in the capital, but there's no guarantee. With all the civil skirmishes between noble houses over the years, Keonsk is always the center of conflict. Buildings have been burned and records lost."
As Cadell began, hope rekindled in Magiere's eyes, but by the end of his words, Leesil saw it dwindle again.
"May we look around the keep?" Wynn asked. "I will not disturb anything, but there may be documents hidden in places that others have overlooked."
Leesil was dubious, and Wynn seemed to catch this in his expression.
"Cathologers among the sages," she said, "like myself and Domin Tilswith, are experienced in both the protection and care of records. I do know what to look for."
Cadell consented, provided that anything found was brought to him first. And the search began.
In addition to the main hall, there were storage rooms and a kitchen on the main floor. Upstairs were sleeping quarters, one such room converted into a study. Leesil had trained as a youth in the art of hidden spaces, and he, too, knew what to watch for. He walked each room, scanning walls, floor, and ceiling for telltale cracks or unusual structure. Wynn inspected furniture, checking their undersides and pulling out drawers to look behind and beneath them. She even checked to see if chair and table legs were loose, a suitable space for hollowed-out hiding places.
Neither of them found anything.
"Do not give in yet," Wynn reassured Magiere. "I thought we should start up here, as Domin Tilswith says to exhaust upper floors first. But most archives are kept in lower levels, where they are more protected from fire and illicit removal."
Leesil agreed. Back down on the main floor, Jan waited for them by the main entryway.
"Can I help?"
"Can we go to the cellars?" Wynn asked.
Jan retrieved a candle lantern from the table. "Follow me, little one."
Wynn pulled a cold lamp crystal from her pocket and warmed it in her hands until it glowed brightly. The sight of it raised Jan's curiosity so sharply mat Leesil became wary again. The young man asked no questions as the four of them walked down the curving stairwell and into the darkness below.
The stairs emptied into a square space at the head of a passageway running beneath the keep, and the air was as chill as outside. Jan led the way with Wynn just behind him, and he stopped briefly to light two oil lanterns on the walls.
Along the passage were six doors, three to a side, of thick wood and rusted iron fixtures. Between them were support arches of larger stones across the passage's roof. At midway, Jan pointed downward in caution to a floor grate so no one would trip upon its hinges. Leesil took Wynn's wrist and steered her crystal down closer to the grate.
Beneath it was a hollowed-out square chamber that smelled of stagnant moisture-the keep's dungeon for prisoners. For a moment, Leesil thought he saw gaunt faces peering up at him from below. He pulled away.
These were only old guilts resurfacing in Leesil's mind. How many had he helped put in such a place-or worse- beneath Lord Darmouth's keep in the Warlands?
"What is in these rooms?" Magiere asked. She pushed on the first door in the passage's left wall, but it would not open.
"One holds stores we've gathered," Jan replied. "Another has surplus goods collected for taxes in place of crops and coin."
"And nothing was found here when you first came?" asked Leesil, studying Magiere's obstinate door with its rusted latch.
"Nothing of note," Jan answered. "Old crates with moth-eaten cloth or tin plates, probably from when the barracks were manned. I didn't look in all of them myself."
'Time to do so," Magiere said, and pointed to the doors. "Are these locked?"
"This one isn't," Leesil offered. "Give it a shove."
Magiere joined him to push. The door shifted enough for Leesil to work the latch.
"They should all be open," said Jan. "There's nothing here worth locking up."
Wynn stepped in behind Leesil, holding out her crystal so that its light spread through the doorway. The room was large enough to lie down in, but it was empty. Leesil took the crystal and scanned once along all four walls before shaking his head at Magiere.
"It's an old keep, and not one of importance," he said regretfully. "We'll look carefully, but don't expect this forgotten place to hold many secrets."