Laurel and I checked our paws and feet, and heaved a sigh of relief when we saw they were clean. Javes looked smug, as he was wearing slippers that matched his robe.
“Rabbit probably called them—” Ryson tried again.
“Look,” Javes said, pointing.
I turned my head and stared. In the strengthening morning light I could see three more in the corners of the ceiling.
“Eleven, twelve, thirteen,” Jeff counted.
“Fourteen and fifteen,” Laurel rumbled, also pointing up over the bunk beds.
“It makes one think, doesn’t it, fifteen Pale Deaths descending upon this room, after everything else that has happened to Rabbit,” Javes said.
It didn’t make me think, it made me angry and scared. I shivered, watching one spider crawl leisurely down the wall.
“We don’t give a sodding damn about all that!” Ryson shouted, still trying to work the mob. “We were just turned into animals—” His voice trailed off as Suiden turned. The sun had just begun to weakly shine through the hall windows, and the troopers gasped and shifted, opening a path directly from the captain to him.
“They’re green, Rabbit,” Jeff whispered, staring at Suiden’s eyes, “and they’re glowing.” I didn’t respond to Jeff’s seeing what I had seen all along, as Ryson succeeded once more in turning everyone’s attention back to the translations, and a space cleared around me also.
“No spell either,” Laurel said. He turned to the physician who was still trying to get Esclaur to relinquish his blanket. “What should be done, honored healer, about this infestation?”
“Fumigation. Close everything up and use braziers to burn—”
“The hell it isn’t a spell,” Ryson said, finding a new target.
“No,” Laurel said. “No spell, no hex, no curse. Nothing anyone has done has caused you to change. You just became what you’ve always been.”
“Yeah,” I said. “A flea-bitten weasel who’s Slevoic’s stooge. Tell me, did you and the Vicious go spider hunting yesterday?”
Ryson jumped. He then put on a frown. “No, of course not!”
“Not to interrupt, sirs,” a royal guard said, “but the spiders are moving this way.” One weaver was hanging by a silk thread over the door opening. Laurel knocked it to the floor, once more bringing his staff end down on it, growling.
“I would point out, honored folk, that although the experience this morning may have been upsetting, you are still alive and well.” Laurel gestured at the dead spider. “But I make this the fourth try to kill Lord Rabbit, and you can’t recover from dead. At least not in a form most people would want to assume.” Laurel shut the door and disappeared into the neighboring room. He returned with a blanket that he stuffed under the door. “And whoever is behind this has no thought as to who else might be killed. Who knows how many of these weavers escaped in the night and are now throughout the embassy. Maybe even in your own sleeping chambers.”
“He’s right,” Javes said, frowning. “I think we should all get dressed and evacuate—”
“I don’t care,” Groskin blurted out, cutting the captain off. He had been standing silent, but now he gave me a tortured look, his face pale. “I don’t care about spiders, assassins, poison, and broken swords. I’m a man, not a beast, and I won’t stay where I’m being magicked.” He took a deep breath and faced the troopers. “I will take anyone who wants to go to the Royal Garrison. I’m sure Commander Loel will understand.”
“I just bet he will,” muttered Lord Esclaur.
“As I said, Rabbit,” Captain Javes said before the lieutenant could respond. “Anyone can be suborned. Even an officer in the Royal Army.” Groskin jerked around at the captain. “I have not been suborned! Witchcraft—”
“No witchcraft,” Laurel said. “Do you understand? No incantations, rituals, or potions.” He gestured with his staff and the troopers ducked. “This is my embassy. A little bit of the fae right here. You were for a moment as you would be in the Border. What you already have become, living here in Iversterre where the Border once was.” He rumbled in annoyance. “ ‘Magic’ cannot change what is into something it’s not.” He waved his staff again. We ducked again. “As well try to turn a stone into a horse or a wagon into a fish. It. Can. Not. Be. Done.” He brought his staff down and each word was punctuated by a thump on the floor.
Groskin stared at the Faena for a moment, men looked away. “I don’t care,” he repeated as he turned to go down the stairs, but Captain Suiden had moved and was blocking his way.
“What do you know of broken swords and assassins, Lieutenant?” the captain asked. “You weren’t there when Lieutenant Rabbit told of his adventures.” Suiden’s eyes were lit again, flames leaping in the emerald green. “How did you find out?”
Groskin backed up a step, everyone behind him moving away to give him room. They also saw Suiden’s eyes. “Lieutenant Slevoic—”
“Lieutenant Slevoic had nothing to do with the attack on Rabbit last night…” Ryson started out shouting, but his voice trailed off as wolf, dragon and panther focused hard on him.
“Oh?” Javes asked. “And how do you know what happened to Rabbit last night?”
“Lieutenant Groskin told me—”
The lieutenant’s mouth closed with a click of his teeth and the old Groskin emerged. “The bloody hell I did.” He turned to Captain Suiden. “Slevoic told me this morning that Rabbit claimed there was an attempt against him at his cousin’s house.”
Claimed. I glared at Groskin as I opened my mouth, but Suiden waved me to silence as he considered Ryson.
“The lieutenant says it wasn’t him and I tend to believe him. At least over you.” The captain’s eyes narrowed. “Did you have anything to do with sabotaging Lieutenant Rabbit’s sword?”
A murmur—well, more of a growl—swept through the other soldiers at the mention of sabotage and weapons in the same sentence. They pressed closer to Ryson, and it wasn’t a show of support. Then they got a strong whiff and moved away again.
“No, sir, I didn’t—”
“But you know who did, don’t you?”
“Lieutenant Groskin—”
Groskin made a rumble in his throat just like Laurel’s and his own eyes shone gold in the dim hallway.
Captain Suiden ignored him, still focused on Ryson. “No, not Lieutenant Groskin.” He stepped closer, not caring about Ryson’s aromas. “What do you know and who told you?” The problem with weasels is that, well, they’re weasels. Leave one twisting in the wind and it would deliver up its own mother for the hint of a chance at a safe landing.
“Lieutenant Slevoic told me last night sir after evening meal that Rabbit claimed five attacked him and that his sword shattered because someone weakened it and that it was a lie as how could anyone fight off that many without a cut or bruise and assassins dressed as pantomime villains is plain stupid and the tongueless part was too much in his cousin’s house no less it is a noble house and the puke dishonors it and the Border freak must’ve made up the attack to cover up him poisoning Lord Esclaur because instead of taking Esclaur to a real physician Rabbit is bringing him here to the witch cat to make sure Lord Esclaur is dead or possessed by demons so that the mutants in the Border can overrun the kingdom,” Ryson said.
No one said anything for a moment as they parsed the sentence.
“My goodness,” Javes finally said. “All that right after supper? Before Lieutenant Rabbit returned?”
“Siryessir!” Ryson saluted. “He said that someone brought him word, sir!”
“Why did you lie and say Groskin told you?” Javes asked.
“Slevoic told me to, sir, if I were ever asked, sir! He said that Groskin was Suiden’s bootlicking spy, sir! He wouldn’t set up Rabbit, sir!” Ryson’s eyes started out of his head as he realized what else he’d just let slip. “Uh, I mean, sir, he wouldn’t gather evidence—”
“I know what you mean, trooper,” Suiden said.
Groskin rumbled again, h
is eyes narrowing.
“Not so nice to be falsely accused, is it?” I said. Groskin glanced at me and then looked away. I turned to Captain Suiden. “Slevoic was also shocked out of his gourd when he saw Lord Esclaur alive and well this morning, Captain.”
There was a pause as everyone stopped to consider that.
“Perhaps I sent the lieutenant away too soon,” Suiden said. He motioned to a trooper who had on more clothes than the rest. “Bring Slevoic back up here.” He turned again to Groskin as the soldier pounded down the stairs. “As Sro Laurel has pointed out, Rabbit has had several attempts on his life and all you can natter about is hexes and what’s unnatural. Murder is unnatural.” His green glare swept the hallway and everyone in it. “You shriek at a hair in your soup while you dine sitting on a muckheap.”
“But sir—” Groskin tried.
The flames leapt up again in Suiden’s eyes. “You disobey a direct order and leak restricted information. You incite the men against Rabbit and are neck-deep, unwitting or not, in a plot to murder him. You encourage insubordination.” He took a steadying breath but roared anyway, the windows rattling. “And because of your gross stupidity and willful blindness you are made the House of Dru’s dupe!”
“Sir,” Groskin tried again.
“Don’t bloody ‘sir’ me. I took you on, Lieutenant, when no one else would—”
Groskin’s head went down.
“—but I’ll be damned if I’ll wink at subversion by my lieutenant.” A faint cry came from the first floor and heads turned. Suiden stopped in midtirade and frowned, moving over to the banister. We caught the sound of running feet, growing louder until the trooper skidded into the bottom step. “Sirs, come quick! It’s—Come quick!”
Thoughts of hexes and subversion (along with blankets, clothes and women healers) were forgotten as we all rushed downstairs. Slevoic’s guard lay on the floor of the room, a lump swelling on the side of his head, his knife and sword gone. The royal physician pushed past the crowd at the door and knelt down beside him.
Suiden turned and shoved us all out of the room. “Quick, search the embassy. I want Slevoic found—not you, Rabbit.” I skidded to a stop as the rest of the men scattered in different directions, Jeff barely missing crashing into me. “I’m not chancing you and Slevoic being alone, even for a few moments. With me.”
He started down the hallway towards the front door, Jeff and I behind him. But we didn’t get very far before another shout went up from the courtyard. We spun around and ran out an open side door, sprinting past the fountain to the gathering crowd in the vegetable garden—and came to a slamming halt. A moment later Javes arrived, pushing to the front, his eyes wild as he stared down.
“Who—” Javes began. He turned to me. “Who is it, Rabbit?” I shook my head as I felt my hands start to tremble again. “I don’t know, sir.” Javes looked over at the troopers who had come out after us. “Who’s missing?” They also shook their heads, their eyes wide in horror, and Javes snarled, “Well, bloody do a count!”
There was a quick count as more men poured into the garden, and then someone called out, “Basel, sir. Basel’s missing.” He must have been gathering his herbs for breakfast when he translated.
“Sixteen points,” Jeff said, goosebumps all over his skin although the new day was already hot. “Back home I would’ve hunted him and mounted his head on my wall for all to see.”
The white stag’s antler spread was impressive.
“To us his kind are sacred,” Laurel said from behind me, “and we would have revered him.” The Faena walked over and crouched down beside the deer but it was obvious that there was nothing he could do, as Basel’s eyes were already filming over. Flies buzzed both at the gaping slit in his throat and the blood-soaked ground. “Bringers of Spring,” the cat said, his voice soft. “They leap down from the heights, Lady Gaia riding on their horns.”
“Lady Gaia?” Javes asked.
“The fertile earth,” Laurel replied.
I noted footprints leading out the garden gate that led to a throughway between the embassy and its next-door neighbor. I then looked back at Basel’s body crumpled in the small space, and measured distance. “But why kill him? He couldn’t have given any sort of fight at all. There wasn’t room.”
“Oh so innocent Rabbit,” Javes said. “Why did Slevoic do his best to torture you for three years? Because it gave him pleasure.” The captain also looked at the tracks going out of the garden gate, his face tired. “I suppose he escaped through there.” He sighed and started herding us back into the embassy, but stopped as he caught sight of Suiden. Behind the captain was Groskin, his eyes fixed on Basel, and next to them was Esclaur (still blanket draped) flanked by the two royal guards and the healer. She came up to Basel’s body and stared down at it, then shook her head, her eyes sad.
“It’s not your fault,” Javes said to Suiden. “No one would have guessed this.”
“Something to tell Basel’s family,” Suiden said.
The gate opened and we all turned, but it was only a couple of the lads supporting the throughway’s duty guard between them. “Found him in there, sirs,” one said. “Slevoic hit him from behind good and proper.” They pulled up short when they saw the dead stag.
As the captains and physician moved to check on the guard, I knelt down beside Laurel. The Faena softly sang a lament and I closed my eyes to pray, only to have them fly open as a gasp ran through the troops. Basel, in man form, stood next to his deer corpse, the early morning sun shining through him, the full moon a pale shadow in the sky. The wind blew softly and I smelled sweet grass and rich loam, as if I were once more behind a plow. Pushing my hair out of my face, I looked down and watched as green shoots pushed through the dirt where the stag’s blood had run into the ground.
“Lady Gaia mourns as the moon season is come,” Laurel murmured.
Chapter Thirty-seven
It finally dawned on Ryson that hitching his wagon to the lieutenant’s star hadn’t been very bright and for once he didn’t make a bad situation worse by his chronic stupidity. He was helped by Captain Suiden placing him under guard—this time with four soldiers, armed to the teeth.
“I don’t want to see you, hear you, or smell you. Is that clear, trooper?” the captain asked Ryson, who nodded frantically.
“Yes, sir. Basel saw us, sir,” he said, anxious to redeem himself, and maybe distance himself from the cook’s murder.
“Saw what?”
“He was in the garden last night when Lieutenant Slevoic and I got the spiders. The ones that were in Rabbit’s room. Basel asked us about it later.” He flinched away from the captain’s face. “Slevoic told me it was a joke, sir. To remind Rabbit that he was nothing but a puking—uh, a farm boy from the Border, no matter what the king called him. I didn’t know they were so poisonous.”
“Venomous, soldier,” the healer said, watching Ryson with a fascinated eye. “Poisonous is what you bite, venomous is what bites you—and you would’ve found out quickly how venomous they were if one had.”
“Was Groskin there, trooper?” Suiden asked.
Ryson shook his head hard. “No, sir. Though Lieutenant Slevoic said to say he was.” He slid a look at Groskin. “He said to say that Groskin was involved from the beginning …” Ryson’s voice faded again as his brain once more informed his mouth that maybe he should shut up.
“They’ve both got porridge for brains,” I said. “Groskin for trusting Slevoic, and Slevoic for thinking Ryson could keep a secret.” My mind skittered over the possibility that Basel had been killed because of Slevoic’s animus towards me.
“Oh, I don’t know, Rabbit. Ryson did all right until today,” Javes said. He eyed the weasel. “What do you mean, ‘from the beginning’? What beginning?”
“Later, Javes,” Suiden said. “We have to get the ambassador to his audience with the king.” But he also gave Ryson the eye. “Afterwards, though, we will chat.”
It being so hot, putrefaction h
ad already started on Basel’s body, so Suiden had us move it into the cold storage room. Laurel Faena placed wards around it to help slow decay, but, as the cat told the two captains, “Nature will have her way, honored sirs.”
“Just as long as we can delay her for a few hours, Sro Cat,” Suiden said. “I wish to present Basel before the king, along with your spritewood and dragon skin.” Instead of putting Lieutenant Groskin under guard with Ryson, the captain assigned him vigil over Basel’s body while the rest of us prepared to escort Laurel to the royal compound. The lieutenant stood at the cold storage room door, wearing his parade uniform. Suiden made the lieutenant give up his knives (all six of them) and his scabbard hung empty as he stared at the wall opposite him, his eyes haunted.
Basel’s shade made the men very edgy at first, but as it was Basel, and he did none of the traditional ghostly things like bleeding rivers of blood through his slit throat or giving quick demonstrations of decomposition, they calmed down somewhat. What really helped, however, was that instead of roaming the embassy wailing and clanking chains, Basel attached himself to me.
Having mounted an expedition into our quarters to liberate our clothes and accoutrements from the spiders, Jeff, Esclaur and I retired to the captains’ office to prepare for Laurel’s audience with the king. As we dressed, Jeff looked sideways at the haunt who stood next to me. “Why is Basel following you about?”
My hair flopped down into my eyes and I pushed it back. “The moon season started with last night’s full moon. In the Border this is the time when the betrayed and murdered”—I too looked sideways at Basel, transparent in the light coming from the courtyard doors—”and I guess he’s both, seek justice.”
“But we’re not in the Border, Rabbit,” Jeff pointed out.
“Tell him that,” I said.
“Besides, you had nothing to do with Basel’s death.” Jeff paused. “Did you?”
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