Magiere remained standing, while Leesil straddled a bench, loosening his shirt collar. Wynn sat down with Chap beside her.
"What about the other dogs?" Leesil asked.
Stefan didn't answer, but his faint smile remained as he studied Wynn more closely. The hide of Elvish symbols was half-unrolled beside her upon the bench.
"Who are you?" he asked. "It's difficult to imagine such a bookish girl involved with these other two."
"I help as I can," Wynn answered.
Magiere folded her arms. A few moments in this lord's languid presence was enough to stir her dislike of the man. He was likely useless and found himself far too tragic.
"Why don't you get to the point… why you called for us," she said.
"It's a rather long tale, but if you can help, I will pay anything you ask."
"Just tell us what plagues these people."
"My replacement," he said.
And he began his story.
Lord Stefan Korbori's wife, Byanka, wasn't beautiful, accomplished, or overly rich. He was a soldier, son of a second-generation noble who'd died in military service to Prince Rodek's father. Distinguished by only a minor title, he possessed both the ambition and the ability to lead, but he considered himself most fortunate to have won Byanka's hand. She was blood kin of the Antes house, favored second cousin of Ivanova, half sister to Prince Rodek. And Rodek was reining Grand Prince of Droevinka.
In Byanka's company, Stefan surfaced from the ranks of lesser nobles to the attention of Baron Cezar Buscan, Prince Rodek's chief counsel and Protector of the City in the capital, Keonsk. After quelling a peasant uprising over grain tax, at the age of twenty-eight, Stefan was rewarded with the Pudurlatsat manor and its coveted fief, only two days' travel down the Vudrask River from Keonsk.
He took his new responsibility seriously, and Byanka served well as his lady without complaint at being taken from court. She shared his ambitions and knew the fiefdom was a stepping stone toward favor with the Grand Prince himself. After two years in the fief, Stefan celebrated the birth of a son. In that hour, he felt affection for his wife that had nothing to do with her royal blood.
Crops flourished, his son learned to walk, taxes were collected on time, and the fief's commerce grew. After excelling in arms of war, Stefan showed his worth in orderly governing. Life was good as he returned home on a quiet night from a neighboring village. Byanka sat in the main hall by the huge hearth, teaching their son to pet Shade more softly and not pull on the dog's fur.
Stefan smiled. "Any luck?"
"Not really," Byanka answered. "It's fortunate she's so patient with him."
Stefan's wife was short, plump, and plain, with mouse-brown hair, but she paid careful attention to proper appearances. She had engaged Geza's daughter, Elena, as a personal maid to dress her hair every morning, though she rarely left the manor. Her idea of a good day was raising their son and enjoying a dinner with her husband, when they might discuss the future together. He appreciated her calm demeanor and understood her sacrifice in marrying him, and he promised himself she would never regret such a choice. In the years to come, he would surely be appointed to serve on the prince's counsel at court.
Geza, the captain of his guard, entered. "My lord, you have a visitor from Keonsk."
'Taxes aren't due for a month. Who is it?"
"I don't know him, my lord," the captain answered. "He calls himself Vordana and says he was sent by Baron Buscan. Should I show him in?"
"Vordana? No title?"
"None that he mentioned, sir."
This visitor was unlikely to be of serious importance and perhaps was only a messenger. Until he was certain, Stefan thought it best to receive this Vordana privately.
"Byanka, why don't you take the boy upstairs?"
With a smile for her husband, she whisked their son away. Soon after, Geza escorted the visitor in and left the room. Stefan didn't bother to mask his surprise.
Vordana was of medium height and slight of build. Unarmed, he wore a shin-length umber brown robe that swished when he walked, and it was tied closed by a scarlet cord. There was no mud on his boots. His clothing, unusual for travel, was not the most remarkable thing about him.
Around his young face of twenty or so years hung hair as white as that of an old man in his final days. It lay unbound across his shoulders, reaching to midtorso, and glowed vividly in the firelight of the warm hall. He wouldn't be thought handsome, with his thin-lipped mouth and deep-set eyes, but he was striking.
Stefan didn't know what to say and forgot even a polite greeting as Vordana circled the room, looking at everything but Stefan and nodding in approval.
"Yes," he said in a hissing slur, "this will do nicely."
"You are from Keonsk?" Stefan asked. "Baron Buscan sent you?"
Vordana turned as if seeing Stefan for the first time, or perhaps as one forced to take notice of another's presence. "Yes," he said again.
"You didn't come alone? Do you have men who need barracks for the night?"
Vordana stared at him through black eyes. "I have, two guards outside. I required no others, as those stationed here will serve my needs."
Stefan tensed, disquiet growing inside him. "My people will see to your needs for the night. Perhaps you should state your business."
"Business?" Vordana stopped near the hearth with his arms folded. "I am to assume the stewardship of this fief. Is that not part of Baron Buscan's authority, to award the fiefs of the Antes?"
At first, Stefan suppressed his rising alarm, wondering what he could possibly have done to fall out of favor. All was in order in the fief, and more so, it had improved in his care. He stilled his thoughts and stood his ground.
"I oversee this fief," he said, "and Baron Buscan has sent no word to the contrary. By your own address, you aren't even titled."
Vordana smiled with teeth as white as his hair. He coiled one hand into his robe and pulled out a rolled parchment.
"Here is the order signed by the baron. You have been reassigned to the cavalry under Baron Lonaes, on his way to Stravina concerning border matters. I understand you have a wife and child, so you are welcome to wait until morning to take your leave."
Stefan snatched the parchment from Vordana's hand. It bore the Antes seal.
He tore it open and scanned the contents twice to confirm every poisonous word. It ended with the rough signature of Baron Buscan. Stefan had somehow fallen from favor.
"It has all been arranged," Vordana said. "I am told you are devoted to the grand prince and the Antes house, and that you would respond with good grace and duty."
Stefan remained completely still for a moment. Then he jerked his sword from its sheath. Vordana's smile didn't have time to vanish before he ran him straight through the heart. Stefan's voice was quiet and sharp as he whispered to Vordana.
"Here is my good grace to you."
Vordana's smile faded. He tried once to gulp a mouthful of air and died before his body struck the floor. Dark red blood spread outward through the white shirt beneath his robe. From out of the shirt's collar tumbled a small brass vial, some strange token hanging by a chain, and it dangled over his shoulder upon the floor.
"Geza!" Stefan shouted.
His captain ran into the room, sword drawn, for Stefan never shouted. "My lord?" Geza began before he saw the body.
"Where are his guards?" Stefan demanded.
"Outside, in the courtyard," the captain answered. "Waiting with the horses."
"Find men you trust for discretion, and send them to the stables. Tell those two guards to take their horses there. When they are out of sight, have your men kill them both. Dispose of the bodies and mounts in the forest where they will not be found. If anyone comes to ask, we have had no visitors from Keonsk. Do you understand?"