Scorched earth followed the shape of the fields exactly, stopping just inside the fence line. The wooden fence itself was unmarked by the blaze, which had burned the house so thoroughly that only the base stones allowed Aralorn to see where the house had been. All around the croft, the fields lay pristine under the snow.
Wolf slipped through the fence and examined the narrow line that marked the end of the burn.
“Magic,” he said. He hesitated briefly, his nostrils flaring as he tested the air. “Black magic with the same odd flavor of the spells holding the Lyon. Look here, on the stone by the corner of the fence.”
She stepped over the fence and knelt on the blackened ground. Just inside the corner post, there was a fist-sized gray rock smudged with a rust-colored substance.
“Is it human blood?” she asked.
Wolf shook his head. “I can’t tell. Someone used this fire and the deaths here to gather power.”
“Enough power to set a spell on my father?”
Before he could answer, the wind shifted a little, and he stiffened and twisted until he could look back down their path.
Aralorn followed his gaze to see a man coming up the trail they had taken here. By his gray beard, she judged him to be an older man, though his steps were quick and firm. In ten years a child might become a man, but a man only grayed a bit more: She matched his features with a memory and smiled a welcome.
“Whatcha be doing there, missy?” he asked as soon as he was near enough to speak, oblivious to Aralorn’s smile.
“I’m trying to discover what kind of magic has been at work, Kurmun. What are you doing here? I thought your farm was some distance away.”
He frowned at her, then a smile broke over his face, breaking the craggy planes as if it were not something he did often. “Aralorn, as I live and breathe. I’d not thought to see tha face again. I told old Jervon that I’d have a look at his place, he’s still that shook. Commet tha then for tha father’s passing?”
She smiled. “Yes, I did. But as it turns out, Father’s not dead—only ensorcelled.”
Kurmun grunted, showing no hint of surprise. “Is what happens when tha lives in a place consecrated to the Lady. Bad thing, that.”
She shook her head. “Now, that was taken care of long since. You know the family’s not been cursed by the Lady since the new temple was built. This is something quite different, and it may take a few days to discover what. I thought the burning of the farm might have something to do with it.”
The old man nodded slowly. “Hadn’t thought there was a connection, but there might, there might at that. Have a care here, then. Tha father, he took ill here.”
“I didn’t know that.” But she could have guessed.
Black magic had long carried a death penalty. A mage would avoid it as much as possible. It only made sense that the black magic Wolf felt here would belong to the spell on the Lyon.
“Aye, he come here tha day after it burned. Walked the fence line, he did. Got to the twisted pole over there and collapsed.”
“Now, that’s interesting,” said Aralorn thoughtfully. “Why didn’t anyone at the hold mention it?”
“Well,” replied Kurmun, though she hadn’t expected him to answer her question, “reckon they didn’t know. Just he and I here, and I tossed him on his horse and took him to the hold. They was in such a state that no one asked where it’d happened. Only asked what, so that’s all I told they. This is some young men’s mischief, thought I then.” He made a sweeping gesture that encompassed the burnt farm. “Tha father was felled by magic. Didn’t rightly think one had much to do with t’other myself. But if tha thinks it so, then so think I now.”
“I think it does,” she said. “Thank you. Did we lose any people?”
He shook his head. “Nary a one. Jervon’s oldest daughter come into her time. The missus and Jervon gathered they children and went up to attend the birth. Lost a brace of oxen, but they sheep was in lower pastures.”
“Lucky,” said Aralorn. “Or someone knew that they were gone.”
Kurmun grunted and scratched his nose. “The Lady’s new temple ha’ been cleaned and set to rights. Word is that there’s a priestess there now; I be thinking tha might want to be stopping in and talking to her. Happens she may help tha father. Happens not.” He shrugged.
“Ridane’s temple is being used?” There had been a lot more activity in the gods’ temples lately. She didn’t see how that could have any bearing on the Lyon’s condition, but she intended to check out anything unusual that had happened recently. “I’ll make certain to visit.”
“I’ll be on my way then,” he said, tipping his head. “Told my son’s wife I’d find a bit of salt for her out of the hold stores.” As he turned to go, his gaze met Wolf’s eyes. “By the Lady,” he exclaimed. “Tha beast’s a wolf.”
“Yes,” agreed Aralorn, adding hastily, “He doesn’t eat sheep.”
“Well,” said the old man, frowning, “see that he don’t. I’d keep him near tha so some shepherd doesn’t get too quick with his sling afore he has a chance to garner that tha wolf doesna eat sheep.”
“I intend to.”
“Right.” Kurmun nodded, and, with a last suspicious look at Wolf, he was on his way.
As soon as he was out of sight, Wolf said, “He called the death goddess the Lady?”
Aralorn smiled briefly. “Lest speaking her name call her attention to him, yes. The new temple is nearly five centuries old. ‘New,’ you understand, differentiates it from the ‘old’ temple that my long-dead ancestor had razed to build a hold. There wasn’t much left of the new temple when I last saw it; it’s been deserted for centuries. I wouldn’t think it would be possible to resurrect anything from the piles of stones. In any case, the temple is on the other side of the estate, so we’ll have to go there another day.”
She tapped her finger on a fence post. “This burned down before my father came here. Wouldn’t it have to happen at the same time?”
“There are ways to store power or even set spells to complete when certain conditions are met—like having your father come to this place.”
“It was a trap,” said Aralorn, “set for my father. The burning of the croft served both as bait and bane. Anyone who knew my father would know that he’d investigate if one of his people’s houses burned.” She shuffled snow around. “This farm is not too far from the shapeshifters’ territory. Other than knowing that it is possible for them to use blood magic, I don’t know what they would do with it or how. My uncle will know.”
“It could be a human mage,” said Wolf. “But any mage who came by here could tell that there was black magic done here. Why would they risk that? My father’s reign excepted, the ae’Magi’s job is to keep things like this from happening. They kill black mages, Aralorn. Only my father’s assurances and his power kept them from killing me—and they had no proof such as this. When we discover who did this, he will die. Why risk that merely to imprison the Lyon when killing would have been easier? What did he accomplish that was worth that?”
Silence gathered as Aralorn stared at the blood-splattered rock.
“Nevyn could do this,” said Wolf. “As long as no one knows I’m here, he will be the first one Kisrah ae’Magi will suspect. Nevyn first trained under old Santik.”
Aralorn frowned. She’d forgotten that as the ae’Magi’s son, Wolf would know a lot of the politics and doings of the mageborn. “Santik is someone Kisrah would associate with black magic?”
Wolf sighed. “His reputation wasn’t much better than mine—it wouldn’t surprise me or anyone else to find that he’d slipped into dark ways. Certainly, his library would have had the right books; nearly all the great mages have books they aren’t supposed to.”