"Byrd left these with you?" she asked. "After you searched through his belongings without his permission? He just handed them to you and said, 'Here, show your friends'?"
"Wynn-"
"Where is Magiere?"
Leesil sighed. "Downstairs with Chap and Byrd. Putting out breakfast, I believe."
"Get your cloak," Wynn said, and stood up, gathering the drawings. "And Magiere's. We need to speak alone."
"We don't need to go out. I'll call Magiere and Chap up-"
"No! I am not saying anything with one of Darmouth's spies nearby, who appears to have his own agenda. There is no telling what Byrd will do with any information he might overhear."
Leesil crossed his arms. Wynn stood there waiting until he realized she would not budge. He finally turned and opened the room's door.
"Meet me downstairs."
Wynn tucked the drawings under the bed. She put on her sheepskin coat and shouldered the pack. She felt something shift in her pocket and reached inside, remembering the cold lamp crystal she had placed there. Lifting it out, she examined it for a moment, feeling wistful for Domin Tilswith and the Guild of Sagecraft. Alchemists among the sages, artificers who practiced thaumaturgy, created the crystals. The stone glowed brightly when warmed by human hands. She sighed and slipped it back into her coat pocket.
She lifted Tomato and Potato from her bed and carried them downstairs. Byrd had placed a bowl of milk near the kitchen doorway, and she settled them there. Tomato began lapping milk immediately, but Potato sat on his brown rump, blinking sleepily. He noticed his sister's busy tongue and sniffed about until his squat nose led him to breakfast.
Magiere pulled aside the doorway curtain and stepped out from the kitchen, a ratty old hand towel over her shoulder. Her black hair hung down her back over a white linen shirt. Wynn noticed how seldom Magiere bound her hair back these days.
"Did you look at the drawings?" Magiere asked without a "good morning" or a "sleep well?"
Wynn did not answer. Leesil came down the stairs wearing his cloak and carrying Magiere's.
"We need to go out for supplies," Wynn said. "All four of us."
Magiere glanced at Leesil and back to Wynn. "What do we need that we don't have already?"
Wynn grasped Magiere's forearm. "We need to go out for supplies."
Magiere looked at her for a moment, then lowered her voice. "How long? Byrd's busy with a late breakfast."
"Tell him to keep it warm," Leesil said.
Magiere turned back around the bar's end, headed for the kitchen doorway.
A loud hiss and an angry snarl came from the kitchen. The doorway curtain snapped and curled up as something low to the floor raced under it. Tomato scrambled away through Wynn's legs, but the confused little Potato lost his footing and tumbled onto his face.
The white blur of Clover Roll boiled from around the bar, and Chap came through on the cat's heels, sending the milk bowl splashing off through the table legs in the common room. Clover Roll jumped for a high table, and Chap charged after, sharp teeth snapping.
"Chap! Stop it!" Wynn rushed in before Leesil could move.
She wrapped her arms around the dog's chest, but he was much stronger than she. Her grip slid down to his haunches. His next lunge pulled her feet out from under her. Wynn landed on her rump as Chap got his front legs on the table. Clover Roll's back hunched almost as high as his belly hung low.
Byrd came running out with a bowl of eggs in his hands. "Clover! You flea-bitten bag of bile!"
Leesil grabbed Chap by the neck so Wynn could get up. Clover Roll hissed and spit, his wide belly swaying back and forth. Wynn saw that Chap's face was bleeding below his left eye.
"It's not the dog's fault," Byrd said. "Clover bushwhacked him from a cupboard. Must have been waiting there all morning for the chance. Swung down, hanging by one paw, and swiped your dog before he knew what was coming." He wagged a finger at Clover Roll. "You can quit this victim's act. You're the perpetrator here, and if that dog needs a healer, it's coming out of your share this month!"
Leesil pulled Chap down to the floor. Wynn rummaged in her pack for a jar of salve and applied some to the dog's face. The wound was minor, and certainly no healer was required.
"We need to go out for personal supplies," she said to Byrd, ignoring Chap's low grumble. "It will not take long."
Byrd cocked his head in puzzlement as he lifted Clover Roll off the table. "Dress warmly, as it's bitter out today. And Leesil, keep your face and hair covered, and put some gloves on those hands."
Wynn thought Leesil hardly needed reminding, but she let go of Chap to pull her own gloves on. The four companions left the inn and walked up the side street to the thoroughfare of the merchant district. Light snowflakes blew past them and twisted gently around the buildings in the breeze. Even Magiere, who seldom seemed to feel the cold, shivered briefly.
"Someone want to tell me what we're doing?" Magiere said, and looked directly at Wynn.
"Not yet," Wynn answered.
Chap was more settled, now that they were away from the cats, and trotted with his tail in the air, unmindful of the cold weather.
Wynn noticed that the mood and health of the people living within Venjetz. was a stark contrast to those of the villages. Shops and inns bustled with activity, though more subdued than the great city of Bela or even the dark streets of Keonsk, the capital of Droevinka. But unlike the villages of this province, here no one clung to their horses and goods in fear. There was no shortage of motley soldiers about. Armed guardsmen patrolled the streets in twos or threes at regular intervals, yet no one appeared fearful for their young sons helping in the market. Perhaps conscription was not allowed within the city walls.
The most notable oddity Wynn saw was the state of disrepair. Few streets outside Favor's Row were cobbled, but unlike the dirt streets of Keonsk, which were kept carefully grated and smoothed, Wynn found herself walking on frozen mud clumps and wheel ruts, as if the streets of Venjetz had not been tended in years. Some shops and stalls were falling apart, yet the people appeared industrious. Perhaps there were no woodsmen, lumber millers, or ironworkers left to make materials for repairs with so many conscripted for too long. Or were they being employed in other pursuits in a land where war might come at any time?
As they approached the open marketplace, Wynn caught the sound of hawkers' shouts and the smell of overspiced meats. Chap whined pathetically, and Wynn pointed to a small open-fronted stall with smoke rising through a clay chimney on its snow-dusted roof. Half of the place was open all the way to the back wall. Stools were ringed around small tables.
"In there," she said.
They took a table at the back corner. Leesil sat to one side, hood pulled forward around his face, and studied the other patrons. Wynn settled in at the back with Magiere to the other side. When customers left the nearest table, Leesil shoved the vacated furniture farther away with his foot to give them more privacy. The buzz of voices all around would help mask anything they said. Leesil called out an order for tea and porridge to a boy hauling away a tray of empty bowls.
Wynn leaned intently toward him. "You need to tell us what is going on."
Magiere pulled her hood back and shook out her hair. "What do you mean?"
"You saw the drawings," Wynn whispered. "And we know who. what kind of person Byrd spoke with last night. So what does this add up to?"
Magiere closed her eyes and sighed. Leesil rubbed his face and looked away.
"What?" Wynn looked at each of them in astonishment. "You know what he is involved in, and you did not bother to tell me?"
She was reluctant to say "Darmouth" or "assassination," even in a hushed voice.