There was little relief in returning to her cell of a room. How could she warn Byrd?
CHAPTER TWELVE
Wynn dressed as Tomato and Potato wrestled on the rumpled bedcovers. The door was ajar, and Chap was gone. She gathered up the kittens and headed downstairs.
The common room was empty except for Clover Roll, curled on a table near the window. A strange rattling came from the kitchen, so Wynn set the kittens down and pushed aside the doorway curtain.
Magiere and Leesil rummaged about, gathering sausages and hard biscuits and tea leaves. Their hair was in loose disarray, and Magiere's muslin shirt hung out of her breeches. Chap whined as he paced and wove between them, getting in the way more than anything else. A late night and morning had made them all miss breakfast, but Chap's exaggerated complaints were far too dramatic.
"Did you see Byrd when you came down?" Magiere asked.
"No," Wynn replied. "Have you been up long?"
"Not long," Leesil said, and placed a kettle on an iron hook arm above the hearth's embers.
Physically he looked improved. His eyes were no longer bloodshot but still held a hint of the haunted withdrawal that Wynn had observed since the night of Faris's visit. Something in the Mondyalitko's words had upset Leesil, even horrified him, but Wynn hesitated to ask.
And it unnerved her that Byrd was suddenly missing.
Leesil should pay more heed to her concerns about that man's involvement with the anmaglahk. He did not seem to understand what would happen to the common people if Darmouth were assassinated.
"Do you suppose Byrd might…?" Wynn began, then thought better of it. Byrd would hardly be meeting with the elves in broad daylight. "So what do we do for today?"
Leesil glanced her way and then returned to staring at the kettle not yet boiling.
Wynn immediately regretted asking. He wanted a course of action to follow but objected to all of their suggestions. And she feared her sympathy would only make him feel worse. Magiere dropped a few sausages into the iron pan settled among the hearth's coals, and they began to sizzle. The smell made Wynn slightly nauseous.
"You had the only option last night," Magiere said. "Take the vampire's head to Darmouth for bounty."
Leesil's face clouded. Any denial he was about to spit out was lost as Byrd swatted the doorway curtain aside and stepped in.
"You won't need it," he said. "Darmouth wants to see you-now. He wants a report about last night. The dead woman was the mistress of Lord Geyren, a younger noble growing in favor."
"Why?" Leesil asked, and his tone was cold. "Geyren's men were there, as well as two city soldiers. There's nothing Magiere can add that they haven't already reported."
Byrd shook his head. "He wants to hear about the hunt itself. That's all I know."
"Very well," Magiere said. "Back in Bela, even Councilman Lanjov wanted word on our progress. And he couldn't stand being in the same room with us."
"That's not all he's after, I'll wager," Leesil said, and closed his eyes. "You don't know who you're dealing with."
Wynn had no wish to cause Leesil distress, but it was he who did not understand. She had no intention of leaving Venjetz until they knew what Byrd was planning.
"There are two choices," she said. "Continue the search, which means getting back into the keep, or leave for the mountains to find a way to the elven lands."
Wynn expected Leesil to lose his temper again over her so bluntly stating the obvious. It seemed the best way to force him to choose, instead of resisting every suggestion.
Leesil slumped as he covered his face with one hand.
Wynn almost choked for what she had just done and looked to Magiere with silent regret for hurting Leesil further. Wynn expected little more than Magiere's fury, and this time felt she deserved it.
Magiere simply frowned and nodded her understanding.
Chap licked Leesil's hanging hand and barked once, confirming Wynn's words. Leesil slid his palm over the dog's head.
"You want to go back in?" he asked.
Chap again barked once.
Magiere pulled Leesil's other hand from his face and gripped it tightly. "Can you give us any plan, any ruse to try? Once we're inside, are there people to speak with, bribe"-she shrugged-"threaten?'
"No," Leesil said, but he appeared to be thinking. "Servants and guards won't know anything and couldn't be bribed anyway. Darmouth holds something over everyone he keeps close, like Faris or Omasta. Nothing you'd offer could outweigh that."
"Well, then," Wynn said as the smoky smell filling the room began to sting her nose. "We will have to find an opportunity once we are inside."
Byrd had remained silent throughout this exchange, but now added his own admonishment. "And you're forgetting one thing, lad. If Magiere doesn't report, Darmouth will simply send soldiers to retrieve her. He's given an order, and she has to go."
"I know that!" Leesil glared at him. "And I haven't forgotten that you talked her into-"
Chap bellowed, turned a quick circle, and shoved his way between Magiere and Leesil to the kitchen hearth. A yowl followed, and Wynn stood upright, wondering if he was hurt. Both Magiere and Leesil looked at the dog.
Smoke billowed into the chimney from out of the pan on the embers. The stench burned Wynn's nose. She barely made out the blackened shrivels of sausage remains in the pan.
Chap let out an angry series of yips as he shuffled before the hearth.
"Oh, stop it!" Magiere snapped at the dog, and pulled Leesil toward the curtained doorway. "Come and help me get ready. Wynn, get your cloak and your pack. We'll meet you back here."
"My good pan!" Byrd growled, and rushed for the hearth.
He grabbed an iron poker and speared the pan's handle loop. When he lifted the pan, it toppled to dangle from the poker's end. The sausages' charred remains tumbled into the coals with a sizzle and puff of ashes.
"You people are the worst patrons I ever took in for nothing," Byrd grumbled.
Chap whimpered and shoved his head into the hearth. He began hacking and sneezing with smoke billowing around his face. Wynn grabbed his haunches and jerked him back.
"Both of you be quiet!" she shouted, and grabbed Chap's muzzle in one hand. "And you-stop acting like a drunkard at the bottom of an empty keg!"
She snatched a hard biscuit off the table and shoved it into Chap's jaws. Chap bit it in half and spit the pieces on the floor.
"Fine," Wynn said. "Then go hungry."
She stomped out of the kitchen and did not slow until she reached the upper hallway and the door to her room. Across the way, the door to Leesil and Magiere's room was shut tight.
Magiere wanted Leesil alone for a moment, and Wynn understood. She slipped into her own room to bundle up for winter weather. She was pulling on her gloves when the door opened and Leesil stepped in. He held two small daggers in makeshift sheaths, each with dual straps attached.
"Give me your arms," he said.
"Where did you get those?"
"I bought the makings back in Soladran," he answered. "I pieced them together the night we stayed in the barracks. Now give me your arms."
Wynn was uncertain. Leesil pushed up her coat sleeves and began strapping the sheaths to her forearms, the dagger hilts held downward toward her palms. He pulled her sleeves down to cover them.
"Reach across for one," he said, "or fold your hands into your sleeves against the cold to grab both. Don't do it until the last moment, or you'll lose the advantage of surprise."
Wynn looked up at his tan face and amber eyes. His concern touched her, and she leaned her head against his chest.
"We will be fine," she whispered. "You will see us soon."
Leesil closed his arms around her shoulders, holding her rightly.