Vambran felt the magic of his cloud of coins wink out. Realizing the threat was over, he sagged down to the ground, overcome with exhaustion.
"What in the Nine Hells happened?" Kovrim exclaimed, running over to his nephew's side. "By the Merchant's Friend, you're a sight! Who were those brutes?"
Vambran could only shake his head. All of the pain, from the shower of acid and the crushing cudgel blow to his shoulder, was enveloping him then, and he was woozy from it. His clothes were ruined, burned to shreds by the acid. He simply slumped into the corner where he'd made his final stand and let the blackness slip over him.
Emriana could barely concentrate on listening to Denrick's conversation, which wouldn't have been surprising under normal circumstances if she had stopped to think about it, given that he spent most of the day talking about himself. They were almost all stories the girl had heard numerous times during previous meetings with him.
But her distraction went far beyond growing bored with an uninteresting peacock. Her mind kept wandering back to the face of the woman she had seen the previous night, pale in the light of Vambran's odd magical flare, and Emriana was more certain than ever that it was the same woman she remembered working in the kitchens. Of course, she had only seen the girl a time or two, and she couldn't even remember the scullery cook's name, but she did recall that the woman had a distinctive face, with honey-colored hair that often fell down in ringlets around her eyes, giving her both a timid and flirtatious mien at the same time.
The private revelation made her more than a little jumpy, for Emriana would think that the tragedy of a death among the staff would have put a noticeable pall over the house. In fact, when Emriana considered it in its entirety, the logical thing to do would have been to cancel the tea. That certainly would have been the case at House Matrell.
Unless they weren't aware of the death, Emriana decided. But was she the person who should inform them, if that was true? Surely someone from the city watch had come around to the estate by that point to let them know. None of it was making much sense. She wanted to solve the puzzle, but something unsettling was holding her back, as well as Denrick's droning. She needed a way to find out for sure if the Pharaboldis were even aware that one of their own had died in the night.
Emriana forced herself to return her attention to the young man's comments, to try to reestablish some semblance of a conversation with him, lest he grow suspicious of her distracted demeanor. She smiled at him and nodded, pretending to be enraptured by his story.
"… and it was just at that moment that the boar came crashing out of the underbrush, heading straight for Jerephin."
He paused expectantly.
Emriana had heard it before. Jerephin was Denrick's older brother, and they had gone boar hunting a year or so before, at the Pharaboldis' country estate in the wooded hills to the southeast. She remembered something about Denrick supposedly saving the day from disaster, and she was pretty certain he was almost to that point in the story. He was waiting for her to give him the proper lead-in, she knew.
"So what did you do then?" she asked breathlessly, as though hanging on every word out of the pompous fellow's mouth.
"Well, of course I stepped between Jerephin and the boar and set my spear," Denrick replied proudly, standing with a flourish and acting out the motions for her benefit. "You have to keep your back foot turned sideways, like so," he explained, miming the position, "and put the butt of the spear up against the instep, like so,"-and he propped an imaginary spear in tightly-"then you just keep the tip of the weapon leveled at the boar and let it ram itself onto the sharp end!"
He burst out laughing at his own cleverness, and Emriana tittered along with him for a moment.
"Tell me something," the girl said, deciding the time was right to steer the subject to another path. "Have you ever seen someone killed?" she asked, trying to sound innocent.
Denrick blinked, studying the girl for a moment. Finally, he nodded, a little too vigorously.
"Sure, several times," he answered. "There are always executions, and I've seen a boar rip one of our porters practically apart when we-"
"No, I'm not talking about hangings or hunting accidents," Emriana interrupted, much to Denrick's disgruntlement. It was apparent to her that he took great delight in holding the stage and did not enjoy being trod over, even for a moment. "What I mean is, seeing someone killed, murdered, stabbed with a sword or a dagger right in front of you, where you were close enough to see the expression on the victim's face."
Denrick blanched the slightest bit.
"Certainly not," he said, "and with any fortune, I shall never have to. What brought on this morbid bit of conversation?"
The man was clearly uncomfortable discussing such grim matters, though whether he found the topic personally distasteful, or if he was just trying to act as the noble companion and spare Emriana the gruesome details, she wasn't certain.
"Vambran and I were witnesses to a killing last night," she said, hoping her comments still just seemed matter-of-fact. "The city watch slew two people who had falsely marked themselves as mages."
"Really?" Denrick replied, mildly surprised. "You don't hear about that sort of crime very often. Most people in Arrabar know better. What did you see?"
It was clear to Emriana that he had no idea of the identity of the victim. It was one of those instances her grandmother was talking about, Emriana decided. It was a time for subtlety, for keeping a low and congenial profile until she had a better grasp of what, exactly, was going on. She feigned disinterest.
"Oh, not a whole lot. We didn't get there until after it was all over, and the watchmen shooed us away before we could see much of what happened. But it was most unsettling, and I had difficulty getting to sleep last night."
Suddenly, Emriana knew who might know more about the scullery maid's death. She had to get back to the estate. Thinking quickly, she affected a yawn, waving her hand politely in front of her wide-open mouth.
"In fact, after last night's excitement and all of this sun and fresh air, I'm starting to feel…" and she faked another one, larger than the first.
"Oh, where are my manners?" Denrick said, rising to his feet. "I've kept you out here far too long. Your family is probably wondering where we are, and you must be exhausted. Come, well return home at once."
"But what of the picnic things?" Emriana asked, secretly pleased that he had taken her bait.
She was ready to be rid of the pretentious boy and could think of no quicker way to get him to do what she wanted than to swoon or do something else similarly ridiculous.
"Don't worry about them, Em. I'll send Turcan back here to collect them later."
Emriana nodded, feeling another "yawn" coming on, and even allowed Denrick to assist her in mounting Goldy. Quickly enough, they were back at the estate, and he was helping her inside to the coolness of the parlor. Almost immediately, she sped off, leaving him to deal with the animals while she departed under the pretense of changing back into her original clothes, Patimi in tow to aid her.
Once she was out of sight, though, the girl turned on the servant and looked her squarely in the eye.
"You know what happened last night," she said, her voice severe, "Tell me."