Merrick took a bite from his food. “One more question, if you don’t mind. Have you seen anyone strange in town? Anyone new?”
Pepin shrugged. “There’s always people coming through. There’s a good bit of trade along the road, and Rockman’s Ford has the only inn within a day’s travel north or south.”
“But you haven’t seen anyone who put your hackles up?” D’Jenn said. “No one who seemed out of place?”
Pepin shook his head. “Apologies, fellows, but no. I’ve got to get back to work. My daughter will be angry enough to give my blood to Aastinor if I don’t get her food out of the kitchen.”
D’Jenn nodded and gave the man a smile. “Thank her again for us. The food was wonderful.”
“I will,” Pepin said. “And good luck with finding the killer. We don’t have murders in Rockman’s Ford, much less murders done with sorcery.”
With that, Pepin bustled away to his work.
Merrick returned to speaking with Loke, but D’Jenn had heard enough. He doubted the townsman would have much to add except his backwards opinions. D’Jenn reached into his clothing and pulled out the wooden figurine. He stared at it while finishing his ale, running his thumb along the details carved in its surface.
Loke leaned over to look at the toy. “That’s a nice piece. What is it, a Nelekan legionnaire?”
D’Jenn reached across Merrick and handed the figurine to Loke. “Looks that way. We found it at Rulon’s cottage. Ever seen anything like it?”
Loke smiled at the figurine and moved its arms and legs. “No, my mother always said such things were useless. I think she only said that so she didn’t have to buy me toys, though. My mother was very religious, you understand.”
D’Jenn smiled. “Who’d have guessed?”
Loke perked up. “You know who’s good at this sort of thing? Aram. He whittles now and then, as a hobby.” Loke turned from the bar and gestured at the table where the woodcutter sat in conversation with the tradesmen. “Aram! Come here, take a look at this!”
The woodcutter turned a scowl in their direction. Aram was a large man with wide shoulders and calloused hands. The rough homespun tunic he wore couldn’t hide the muscles of his torso, nor the thick belly he was carrying. He had short hair and a long beard, both turning from dark black to the gray of later middle years. He rose from the table and walked over, giving D’Jenn and Merrick suspicious glances. When Loke proffered the figurine and wiggled it in Aram’s direction, the man stopped in his tracks.
Aram scowled at the figurine. “What is that?”
“It’s a toy,” Loke said. “Look—it’s a Nelekan legionnaire. You do woodcarvings here and there, don’t you? I’ve seen some of your work. Come have a look.”
Aram’s eyes flicked to the figurine, then to D’Jenn and Merrick. “I haven’t done any carvings in years. I’m a woodcutter, Loke, not a bloody toymaker.”
Loke scowled at the big woodcutter. “Don’t be such a prick, Aram. I just wanted to show you is all. Thought you might like it.”
Aram scowled and turned to gather his cloak. “I’m sure it is, Loke. I’ve got important things to do. I’ve got to see to my daughter.”
“Speaking of which,” Merrick said, “my friend and I are bounty hunters. We’re looking for the one who killed your daughter’s husband. Would you mind if we asked her some questions about what happened?”
Aram paused on his way out the door. “My daughter has been through enough.”
D’Jenn offered the man a smile. “We’re not here to frighten the girl, I assure you.”
“We’ll make sure and call on her when you’re home,” Merrick said. “You can watch over her while we ask our questions. If you’re uncomfortable at any time, you can call it off.”
“They’re looking for Rulon’s killer, Aram.” Loke handed the figurine back to D’Jenn. “Don’t you want the murderer caught?”
Aram was silent for a moment, scowling at the three of them. “Of course I do. I’m just worried for my daughter. You can come by tomorrow afternoon.”
Before D’Jenn or Merrick could say more, Aram left the common room. The door slammed shut in his wake, drawing the eyes of a few patrons. D’Jenn shared a suspicious glance with Merrick, who raised an eyebrow in the direction of the departing woodcutter.
“He must be in a bad mood,” Loke said. “I probably would be, too. Poor Kira—she’s probably been a mess since this happened.”
“Probably.” Merrick gave D’Jenn a meaningful glance.
D’Jenn went back to staring at the figurine while Merrick talked with Loke. The innkeeper brought another round of ale and D’Jenn sank into his thoughts. Loke talked endlessly about his mother, the townspeople, Rulon, and anything else that came to his mind. D’Jenn stopped listening.
His thoughts returned to the woodcutter and his reaction to the figurine. Whatever the man said, the sight of the toy had affected him. Was he in a bad mood, as Loke said, or was there more to the story?
Whatever it is, we’ll find out on the morrow.
***
D’Jenn sat on a creaky wicker chair, puffing on a long-stemmed pipe. The night was balmy and filled with the song of a thousand chirping insects. Even Rockman’s Ford, which was far north of the swampy deltas near Shundovia’s capital city, was full of the hot closeness of humid summer air. The evening smelled of loamy earth and the quiet promise of a coming rainstorm, though there were no clouds in the sky.
“Do you boys need anything?”
D’Jenn smiled at the widow Jeravin as she tottered onto her porch to join Merrick and himself. She was short and thin in the way of elderly women, though her movements were spry and her eyes bright. She had an easy smile beneath her bun of graying hair, and she offered both D’Jenn and Merrick mugs of homemade wine. D’Jenn accepted the mug with a nod of thanks.
“Not at the moment, Lady Jeravin.” Merrick accepted his mug with a wide grin. “You’ve done too much for us already.”
Jeravin dismissed his comment with a wave of her wrinkled hand. “After what you did for my grandson, Wizard Merrick, you’re welcome here anytime. Is he doing well?”
“Coming right along in his studies, Lady.” Merrick took a long sip of the wine and gave the mug an appreciative look. “I haven’t been back to the Tower for two seasons, but last I spoke to him, he mentioned an interest in Infusion—making magical items.”
Jeravin smiled and sat in one of the wicker chairs on her porch. “Is he happy?”
“He seemed so, last I saw him. He’s a bright lad, Lady Jeravin. You should be proud.”
The widow Jeravin smiled and leaned back in her chair. “Oh, aye. I wish my husband were still around to hear that. The gods took his soul into the Void eight years ago. It would’ve made him happy to receive that news.”
“And how have you been, Lady? My duties have kept me on the road. Apologies for not checking up on you.”
Jeravin laughed. “Don’t you worry yourself about an old woman like me. I’m getting along just fine. It’ll be years before the gods call me into the Void.”
Merrick raised his mug at the old woman. “Here’s to your health, then. May the gods keep their attention elsewhere for years to come.”
D’Jenn joined the toast and was surprised at the flavor of the wine. It was sweet, with just the right amount of bite behind the flavor. D’Jenn raised his eyebrows and gave the widow Jeravin another appreciative nod.
Jeravin leaned out of her chair and looked across Merrick to regard D’Jenn. “And what of you, Sevenlander? Never see your type around these parts. I think you’re maybe the second westerner I’ve ever met.”
D’Jenn smiled. “Am I so obvious?”
“Oh, it’s easy to tell. With that long hair and those bright eyes, you might pass for a Lesmiran, but those tattoos on your arms would give you away in an instant. People don’t do that around here.”
“All you need is long hair and bright eyes to pass for Lesmiran?” Merrick gestured as his bald hea
d. “I am Lesmiran, and I’m failing your test already.”
Jeravin gave Merrick a flat look. “And what color was your hair before you shaved it off? Fair, I’d wager. Probably as blond as a Dannon.”
“Didn’t shave it.” Merrick took a drink from his wine. “It was as long and as fair as you say, though. I gave it to a balding old woman who needed it more than me.”
Jeravin snorted and slapped Merrick on the arm. “Drink your wine. It’ll keep more trouble from coming out of your teeth, boy.”
“It’s your town that has the trouble.” Merrick sighed, gazing into the night. “I just hope we can find it before something worse happens.”
D’Jenn raised an eyebrow at Merrick. “Worse than what we saw today?”
Jeravin sat her cup on a small table next to her chair. “So—what did you boys find? That’s my only condition for boarding the two of you. I want to hear all the juiciest parts of the story.”
Merrick smiled at the old woman. “That’s a bit dark, Lady Jeravin.”
She gave him a dismissive gesture. “I get so little excitement out here on my own. My husband’s dead, my grandson gone to the Mage Tower. Most of my relatives are far from this place. No one comes to see an old woman anymore. I have to get my excitement where I can find it.”
Merrick gave D’Jenn a sly smile. “I told you this would be better than staying at the inn. We’ve got good wine, comfortable beds, and better conversation than we’d find at The Lame Packhorse.”
“I can’t argue with that.” D’Jenn raised his glass again and the three of them shared a drink.
The widow Jeravin sat back in her chair. “It really is a shame what happened to poor Kira. She’s a sweet girl. Always went out of her way to say hello when she saw me in town. I was surprised when her father married her to Rulon.”
Merrick looked at the old woman. “That so?”
Jeravin nodded. “That boy used to sneak onto my property and pick my muscadines. He would throw them at my door just to be a spiteful little brat. I’m not saying he deserved to die, by all the gods, but I’m glad Kira is free of him now. He beat her, you know. Everyone in town knew about it.”
D’Jenn grunted. “That’s what we heard today.”
“You know what confused me?” Merrick took another drink and leaned toward D’Jenn. “Her father’s reaction today. Did you notice it?”
“Aye, I noticed.”
“He didn’t like the sight of that doll.” Merrick leaned back in his chair. “I think you were right to pick it up from the cottage. Do you think it means something?”
“Everything means something.” D’Jenn peered into his cup. “I still wonder why your target came to this place. Why here? Rulon’s cottage wasn’t in town. It’s not a place a traveler would stumble upon by accident.”
Jeravin nodded again. “You have to take two turns off the beaten path to find Rulon’s place. He made that poor girl walk to market down those forested trails, too. He wouldn’t leave her a buggy when he went droving. Not even a donkey.”
“It feels odd to call the boy a target.” Merrick gazed into the night. “I know you Warlocks are used to this sort of thing, but my mission is different. Tracking down children with the gift for magic is tough sometimes, but things rarely go as bad as they have with Raven.”
“In the Sevenlands, magic is accepted,” D’Jenn said. “The Conclave has a discipline equivalent to yours. Back home, though, they’re more like traveling teachers who gather up children and bring them back to the Conclave. They’re given free room and board wherever they go.”
Merrick grimaced. “Things are different in Alderak. Half the time I have to smuggle a kid away from vengeful townspeople, or their own bloody relatives, before they’re burned at the stake.”
“That’s just dreadful.” Jeravin shook her head. “People act as if sorcery makes a person evil when they manifest the gift. My husband always said you could always count on two things—meanness and stupidity. I’m glad you found my grandson before anything bad happened, Wizard Merrick. I can’t imagine what would’ve happened had those nattering fools in town realized what he was. My heart quails at the thought.”
Merrick gave Jeravin a sad smile. “That sort of thing happens all too often. Most children can’t control when magic decides to enter their lives. The gift awakens, and they have no idea what to do. People forget that when a child manifests the gift for magic, they’re just as frightened as everyone else.”
“What about our target—Raven, I mean.” D’Jenn corrected his words at a pained look from Merrick. “Tell me about him. Let’s figure out why he came to Rockman’s Ford.”
Merrick blew out a long breath and leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know much for certain. He’s the oldest son of a Nelekan farmer. His mother’s dead, but she died years back. He’s the oldest of five children—three girls, two boys. Raven is one of those rare children that manifest the gift at an older age. He’s sixteen springs, but his sister said he’s small for his age.”
D’Jenn took another drink. “Maybe he had Eindor’s Blessing a long while before he said anything. It was like that for me. I could hear magic singing through my Kai, but I kept the secret. I think it was the same for Raven.”
Merrick raised an eyebrow at D’Jenn. “Why?”
“Just a feeling I have,” D’Jenn said. “That spell he used to kill Rulon—there’s something odd about it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just the nature of the spell. You saw the body. That spell was instinctive, without clear purpose. Most children learn how to move things with their magic, or how to perform tricks here and there. Raven’s spell was powerful. It seemed—”
“Personal.” Merrick took another sip of wine. “I understand what you mean. If he had wanted to kill Rulon for practical reasons, he might have done something simple.”
D’Jenn nodded. “But he didn’t. Everything in the room turned against Rulon.”
Jeravin shook her head. “By the gods’ own teeth. That sounds terrible.”
Merrick smiled at her. “I thought you wanted all the juicy details.”
“I said it sounded terrible, not to stop talking.” Jeravin took another sip of wine and gestured for D’Jenn to go on. “I had three children in my day, Wizard Merrick. Don’t think I will shy from a gory tale.”
Merrick laughed. “Fair enough, Lady Jeravin.”
“What put you on Raven’s trail, anyway?” D’Jenn said. “Did his parents contact you, or did something else happen?”
Merrick grimaced. “Remember what I said about vengeful townspeople? Raven was discovered. I don’t know how, or what happened, but the locals formed a posse. They dragged the boy and his family from their home and hauled them to the town square. They hanged the boy’s father right there in front of the children.” Merrick’s eyes took on a dark cast. “Cold-hearted bastards.”
“What happened after that?”
“What do you think happened?” Merrick gazed into his wine cup and shook his head. “Raven turned his gift against the townspeople. He killed a few before he made his escape. His siblings were alone in their home when I found them. They were under the care of Raven’s oldest sister—a girl no more than twelve springs old. She can’t care for herself, much less three younger children.”
Jeravin sighed. “The poor dears.”
“I gave them money and set them up on a farm with some nice people in southern Lesmira. I promised the girl—Sara is her name—I would find her brother and bring him to the Mage Tower.”
D’Jenn grimaced. “The boy has killed with his gift. Even if we find him and you convince him to come with us, the Tower will punish him.”
Merrick nodded. “I know, but I’m not going to say that to a girl of twelve springs. If there was any justice in the world, this would never have happened.”
D’Jenn sighed. “In my experience, the gods don’t care much for justice.”
Jeravin snorted. “Ain’t that the bloody truth.”
“So why did he come to Rockman’s Ford?” D’Jenn said. “There must be something here he wants.”
“I keep thinking about the woodcutter.” Merrick finished his wine and tapped his finger on his chin in thought. “The way he reacted when he saw that toy—it means something.”
“I agree.”
“The woodcutter?” Jeravin looked at them askance. “Which one? Aram?”
Merrick nodded. “It might’ve been that he was distraught over his daughter, but—”
“That wouldn’t explain his reaction to the toy,” D’Jenn said.
Jeravin narrowed her eyes. “What sort of toy?”
D’Jenn fished the figurine from his clothing and passed it to Merrick. Merrick gave it to Lady Jeravin, who turned it over to examine it by moonlight. She smiled as she moved the arms and legs.
“This is nice. My grandson was given something like this when he was a baby. It was a Shundovian Cavalryman. The arms and legs moved just like this, and there was even a horse.”
“Who gave it to him?” Merrick said.
Jeravin looked up and tossed the figurine back to Merrick. “Aram, the woodcutter. He told me he didn’t make things like that often, but he has a soft spot for little children.”
D’Jenn and Merrick shared a meaningful look.
“We’ll find out more tomorrow.” Merrick handed the figurine back to D’Jenn. “We’ll head to Aram’s place before sundown.”
D’Jenn nodded, stuffing the figurine back into his things. “Agreed.”
Merrick slapped his knees and rose from his chair. “It’s been a long day and I’m exhausted from the ride. None of this talk has put me in a good mood.”
“Dark business, these days.” Jeravin gave Merrick a sympathetic smile. “I hope you two find the boy before something else happens.”
Merrick nodded. “As do I, widow Jeravin—before it happens to someone else, or to the boy himself.”
“I’ll take my leave as well.” D’Jenn rose and drained the last of the sweet homemade wine. “A good night’s rest will do me some good.”
Jeravin held up a hand. “Before you go, Sevenlander, can I have a bowl of your tobacco? I’ve heard the western stuff is better than what we get around here. Traders don’t bring it through town unless there’s a festival in the city.”
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