"Then I think we've learned the mystery of Yotha House." Sulun frowned as he poured the liquid into a vial. "Spirits of cordial, burning fluid, more volatile than oiclass="underline" wicked stuff to be playing at. Especially wicked to mix with magic. Do they dare use magic at all with such stuff lying about? Hmm, they must have protective spells all about Yotha House, against just such happenstance."
"I see it well," Gynallea growled bitterly. "They preach against some poor fellow by day, then by night come and splash trails of these spirits though his fields, up to his house or barn. 'Twould need but a spark at one end of the trail to send fire racing to the other. Gods, what a wicked business!"
"And we've threatened it." Sulun corked the vial and stuffed it in his belt pouch. "We'd best put fresh well-wishing circles all about our house, and that right soon. We'd also best finish that stout stone wall as soon as might be, and sheathe the gates with brass."
"Friend Sulun." Gynallea laid a hand on his arm. "Think you that your folk can defeat Yotha's wizards?"
Sulun gave a long sigh. "It's possible," he said. "But I wish it might not come to that."
CHAPTER THREE
Folweel was sitting at the table in his study when Patrobe entered. He waved the tall burly man to a seat without waiting on the usual formalities.
"You saw Hegg's body?" he asked without preamble.
"I did, Brother." Patrobe clasped his hands and settled into his chair with the smooth calm of a professional soldier or courtier. "We may assume it happened as those louts said: the stone slipped its harness and fell on him."
"He was ordered to anchor a curse into the mortar of the wall," Folweel explained bluntly. "The curse was deflected back at him, and that right quickly."
Patrobe held up two thick fingers. "Either his work was quickly detected and countered, or the wall was already well-wished. Hegg was skilled enough, trained enough, he should have detected a protective spell already set."
"Then there are three possibilities: first, the protective was subtly enough set that an under-priest could not detect it; second, the protective was set not on the uncompleted wall but on the entire house and grounds—"
"Damned difficult, to all accounts," Patrobe cut in. "So much area—"
"Third, the wall was not protected at all, but one or more of the Deese wizards discovered Hegg's work and counterspelled it."
"Quick work of them."
"Aye." Folweel steepled his fingers. "In any event, we are not dealing with amateurs."
Silence stretched while Patrobe considered that. "Subtlety, then. If they expect magical counterattacks, perhaps they'll not expect, say, a simple visit of Yotha's displeasure?"
Folweel smiled thinly. "Will tomorrow's weather be dry?" he asked.
The ritual in Yotha House began and proceeded much as usual. The flame on the altar leaped up from blue roots when Yotha's name was invoked, and burned there tranquilly during the hymns and the offerings. The tray full of collected coins passed through the flames harmlessly, as usual. A slightly substandard fleece (after being covertly sprinkled behind the altar) caught fire and went up in a spectacular blaze when it was offered to the flame, making the giver almost faint where he stood, but there were no other incidents.
Then came a brief memorial listing of the recently dead, which happened to include the name of Hegg Gebbi's-son.
The column of flame on the altar flared, leaped, danced, and finally shot an arm of fire to the southwest corner of the altar.
The congregation moaned, cringed, and stared. The high priest chanted furiously for a long moment, and the flames finally retreated to their original size and shape. Folweel prayed loudly for understanding, then faced the flame for a long moment. When he turned to face the crowd, his face was quite calm, stern, and composed.
"Thus saith the Lord Yotha, Master of Fire," he intoned. "The god is displeased at the death of his good servant. He holdeth certain of the living responsible for the good man's death, and shall not refrain from chastising them with his wrath."
The crowd groaned, knowing what that meant, and cast suspicious looks at their neighbors.
The high priest swung straightway into his sermon, as if it had been inspired by the omen of the fire: a long diatribe against sins of pride, avarice, undervaluing of the gods, disloyalty, and abandonment of the path of virtue. No names were mentioned, but the congregation made its own guesses.
The noon bell rang, and Eloti stopped in mid-phrase. "Today's lesson is ended," she announced, rolling up the scroll in her lap. "Write one panel's worth of commentary to bring to class tomorrow. Gentlefolk, you are dismissed."
The little class of mixed adults, children, and adolescents duly closed and stacked their tablets, tucked away their styli, and prepared to leave.
Eloti watched them sidelong while tucking scrolls into her basket. That fellow Duppa was still shielded thoroughly, still as bland as an apple, still utterly self-effacing at study. He was probably a spy from Yotha House. What to do about him, though? He'd certainly made no attempts at subtle spellcasting, spreading disaffection among the other students, or prying about the villa. He came, he studied, he went away, leaving as little mark of his presence as possible. Was he merely spying upon her lessons here at Ashkell Villa, or was he biding his time until some proper moment to strike? No way to tell, not yet. Eloti took up her basket, wrapped her cloak around her, and strolled toward the main gate, dismissing the problem in favor of the task immediately ahead. The ten-league ride would take longer than the actual spellcasting, but it was unlikely she would finish before the usual dinnertime.
"Eloti, wait a bit." Gynallea caught her at the gate, plucked her sleeve, and drew her aside to an untenanted corner of the courtyard. "Cook's girl went to Yotha's service this morning—on my orders, don't worry—and came back just now with a tale you'd best carry."
"What news?" Eloti lowered her voice and glanced once around the yard.
"Yotha has taken public notice of you and your friends, daughter. His flame spurted up when the dead spy's name was spoken, and the priests say 'tis because he wants vengeance for the man's death. Best watch for fires at Deese House tonight, my dear. Tell your friends that."
Eloti's lips thinned as she thought that over. "Dear Gynna, might I borrow the use of a faster horse, and perhaps a pair of your guards, for the ride home today?"
"Vari, I'll need your help." Sulun leaned in the door of the nursery, startling the children. "Tami, dearest, can you take care of the little ones for an hour or so?"
"'Course I can," the little girl boasted. "Mama, are you going to make magic too?"
"Certainly not, dear. I've no gift for it at all. Stay here, now." Vari tugged on her cloak and followed Sulun out into the main hall. Even with the cook fires started, the big barnlike room could be chilly without the forge lit. "For that matter, Sulun, why are you still here? I thought everyone but those guards Eloti brought would be out helping her cast the spell."
"Like you, I've no talent for it." Sulun crossed to the water pipe near the millroom, shoved a bucket under its spout, and turned the stopcock open. "Fill the other bucket and follow me. Ah, damn, we should have thought to buy more buckets. Well, no matter. If my guess be correct, we'll have to wet down only a single section of the wall."