But at the moment being able to talk to the dogs wasn’t helping much. They weren’t making any sense. Lena knew that they were still in the woods, guarding the kill and waiting for somebody to carry it home, but why were they so sad?
When the butler appeared in the doorway as soon as Jasper had returned to the nursery, Lena hardly needed to look at his face to know that something horrible had happened.
“Lady Shantell,” he began gently, “there’s been an accident. Lord Kristion was shot—”
Shantelle jumped out of her chair and hurried across the room. “Where is he?” she demanded.
The butler actually turned pale. “They’re bringing his body home now, Lady.”
Shantell collapsed on the nearest chair and started screaming. The butler stood frozen in the doorway, gaping at his mistress, who had probably never been anything but gentle and soft-spoken in her life. Crossing the room past her so that she could talk to the butler without trying to scream over her, Lena suggested that he summon her maid and the priest. The butler bowed gratefully and left at a speed that was just a bit slower than flight. Shantell continued to scream, leaving Lena wishing that she could flee the room as well.
With the help of the housekeeper, Shantell’s maid got her to drink some sort of sedative and put her to bed. The body was brought home, washed, and laid out in the chapel, where the priest said prayers over it. Apparently he considered it proper for someone to be in the chapel with the body until it could be buried, and Lena, who was in the habit of rising before dawn at the Temple, volunteered to take the predawn watch.
She found herself wide awake over an hour before she was due in the chapel, and she could still hear the greyhounds in her head, so she dressed quickly and went out to the kennels. The Kennelmaster was asleep—I don’t blame him; he must have had a really horrible day yesterday— and the dogs whined quietly and crowded around her. Lena stroked heads as they were shoved into her lap and tried to calm them. But all too soon it was time for her watch in the chapel, and the dogs were unwilling to be parted from her. At least they’re quiet as long as they’re with me, so I guess it’s better if I just take them along.
Lena preceded the dogs into the chapel and told them to hang back, so that the housekeeper, who had the watch before hers, left without seeing them. Lena sat on a bench at the head of the bier, and the dogs formed a circle around the body.
The chapel was made of stone and was separate from the main house, so it was very cold inside. Lena wrapped her cloak more tightly around her, but it didn’t help her shivering much. She rose to her feet and paced around the bier, envying the dogs their fur. They lay quietly, but she could feel them, a low mumble in the back of her mind, mourning for their master.
She heard heavy footsteps approaching, and she hastily returned to the bench and bowed her head as if in prayer. She wasn’t sure how to pray in this situation; she didn’t know enough about Shantell’s god to feel comfortable addressing him, but she was pretty sure that Shantell would object to prayers addressed to any other god, especially in her god’s chapel. Possibly her god would too, and Lena had no desire to anger him. So she mostly thought about the life of Lord Kristion and how much everyone was going to miss him.
The footsteps had entered the chapel, and Lena had heard a thud as their owner collapsed onto a bench near the back of the chapel. Now she could hear weeping, the choked sobs of a grown man trying unsuccessfully not to cry. Without raising her bowed head, she cast her eyes sideways. It was Lord Teren, Kristion’s best friend—the man who had killed him.
Lena had heard enough of the talk when they brought the body home to know that the death had been a tragic accident. The men had become separated in the woods, and the arrow that Lord Teren loosed had not been intended to lodge in the heart of his best friend. She could understand his grief, and she sympathized slightly—though I still think it’s stupid and dangerous to loose an arrow when you are not absolutely certain of your target. And I don’t think there’s any god that will help you if Lady Shantell finds you here . . .
Naturally, that was exactly what happened. Shantell had awakened at dawn, as she usually did, and her first act was to come to the chapel to pray. She didn’t see Lord Teren at first, so she started by scolding Lena for bringing the dogs into the chapel. “I’m sorry,” Lena murmured and then stopped talking, knowing that no defense could possibly appease Shantell. :Go outside and hide where nobody will see you,: she directed, and the dogs slipped down the side aisle of the chapel and out though the door that Shantell had left ajar.
Shantell, turning her head as they moved, saw Lord Teren and started screaming again, but unlike yesterday her screaming had words. “You murderer! How dare you show your face here?
“Shantell,” he began, “I am so sorry—”
“You killed my husband!”
“It was an accident—”
“You enjoy killing, you and those damned dogs!”
“If having the dogs here is distressing to you, Shantell, I can remove them to my estate so you won’t have to see them again.”
Shantell’s voice dropped from a scream into something that Lena found much more frightening; it was cold, hard, and intense. Each syllable was precisely enunciated as she said, “I will have every single one of them killed before I allow you to profit by what you’ve done.” She turned on her heel and stalked out of the chapel.
Lena sank back onto the bench and shivered uncontrollably. She means it, she realized. She really will kill them. She thinks of them as dumb animals, and technically they’re property . . .
“Lord Teren?” she asked timidly.
He looked at her in surprise. “What is it, uh—”
“Lena,” she supplied, not surprised that he’d forgotten her name with all that was going on. “What did she mean by ‘profit’?”
“Greyhounds, especially trained hunting dogs, are valuable animals,” he said with a sigh. “But if she thinks I’d kill anyone, let alone my best friend, just to get his dogs, she’s . . .” he faltered, apparently unable to come up with any description he considered acceptable.
“—crazed with grief,” Lena finished for him. It was a condition she understood. She didn’t remember her mother much, but she had adored her father, and her initial reaction to his death had been very similar to Shantell’s. She had screamed wordlessly for at least half an hour. And if I’d known what life was going to be like with my brother as my guardian, I’d probably have screamed even longer. “Can she really have the dogs killed?” she asked anxiously. “Do they belong to her now?”
“I believe that Kristion’s will leaves them to Jasper.”
“But Jasper’s a child, so he doesn’t get to make decisions.” Another subject I know about. “Who is his guardian?”
Lord Teren looked sick. “God help us all; I am.” He buried his face in his hands. Lena wasn’t sure whether he was praying, crying, or both. She sat in uncomfortable silence until the steward arrived to take over the vigil and then quietly left the chapel.
She wasn’t hungry, so instead of going in search of breakfast she went to the kennels. The Kennelmaster was there, but the dogs who had been in the chapel with her were not. The only dogs in the building were Minda, a female who had just given birth, and her six puppies. To Lena’s surprise, Jasper knelt next to them, sobbing disconsolately.
“I’m sorry, Jasper,” she said, starting to express condolences on the death of his father, but he turned at the sound of her voice and flung both arms around her legs, almost knocking her to the floor.
“Make her stop!” he begged.
“Make who stop what?”
Over Jasper’s sobs, the Kennelmaster explained, looking both ill and ill-at-ease. “Lady Shantell stormed in here about half an hour ago and ordered me to kill all of Lord Kristion’s dogs. Jasper had come down to look at the puppies, so he heard her.”