Chapter 11: The Library

     The Wizards College of Sol sat, rightly enough, in the College District, which was on the other side of the River Ayrst from the Wall Street District. This meant a long walk for Frayg, but it gave him time to mull things over in his mind. Ever since he'd first examined Nodge Prayner's body, he'd been asking himself why anyone would want to take his eyes and brain. His first thought had been that perhaps the boy had fallen afoul of one of the criminal guilds that were known to operate in Ayrst. Perhaps the boy had witnessed something, and the taking of the eyes was meant to be a warning not to examine things too closely. But then, why take the brain, too? His next idea had been that an underground heretical group might want them for some sort of unholy ritual. He hadn't gone as far as to speak with anyone in from the Temple about that possibility yet. Asking around about Dark Rituals was the sort of activity that might arouse the wrong sort of suspicion. Only very specific Temple Authorities would have such knowledge anyway – those being the Inquisitors. If nothing else panned out, he'd have to try to talk to one of them. Frayg shuddered at the thought of their involvement in his investigation.

     Frayg had followed the High Street over the bridge, through the Docks District and along the Heights until he finally reached the tightly-packed College District. This was one of the oldest parts of the city. The grounds of the college itself had originally been a fortress. It sat on a promontory overlooking the River Ayrst and the grounds of the new Palace in the Royal district directly opposite.

     The High Street passed through the district to the Wizard's Square. Frayg crossed the square and arrived at the gatehouse of the college. He showed the gate guard his Watchman's Seal, and was granted access and directions to the Main Library. There were several libraries in Ayrst – some of them even open to the public – but the Main Library of the Wizards College of Sol had the most extensive collection not only in the city, but the whole kingdom. It was also the most likely to hold books on mythical and legendary creatures.

     The Main Library was housed in an enormous marble building called the Capitolein. According to legend the building served as the headquarters of an ancient Orgish kingdom just after the collapse of the Great Empire. Frayg had his doubts that a bunch of Orgs could ever been so coordinated. The only experience he'd ever had with Orgs was in defending a small caravan from Orgish attack nearly twenty years ago. He'd barely been more than a boy at the time, but the memories were still fresh enough to remind him that it was all the experience he'd ever needed with Orgs, and he'd dearly hoped from that day forward that he'd never encounter one again.

     The Watchman climbed the wide marble stairs of the library and opened one of the huge double doors at the top. On the opposite side of a great foyer was a long desk, behind which sat a pair of students in dark blue robes. One was a bald-shaven boy of about seventeen, the other was a raven-haired girl who's age he'd put at around fifteen. They were talking quietly to one another and laughing. Their sibilant voices echoed throughout the chamber, but the reverberation made it impossible to make out any actual words.

     Frayg approached the desk and the two youth went silent. The boy gave him a quizzical look, as if he'd never seen another person in the library before. The girl addressed him: "May I help you, sir?"

     "I hope so," began Frayg. "I'm Captain Frayg of the City Watch."

     The two students looked at one another and then back to him. This time the boy asked, "What's a Watchman want in the library?"

     "I'm here to do some research, and I hear this is the best place in all of Palonias to do it."

     "Depends what you want to research."

     "I'm interested in any information you have about legendary creatures – particularly folk myths."

     "Any particular creature got your interest?"

     "As a matter of fact, yes. I'm looking for anything that some people call an Eye Reaper."

     The girl's mouth dropped open. She said, "That's very curious, I must say."

     "How's that?"

     "Well, it's been a few weeks ago now, but there was someone else here looking up information about that very topic – only he knew the right name of it."

     "What name is that?"

     "Teuthanurae. Although the books have many names for them, depending on when and where they were written."

     "Tooth-an-yur-ay." The word felt strange in Frayg's mouth. "So who was asking about it – wait, did you say them?"

     "Yes. There was supposed to be a whole race of them, with a kingdom and everything – until they were conquered by the Great Empire, that is."

     "All right." It took Frayg a moment to process this information. "So does anyone believe they were actually real?"

     "There's some debate about that in academic circles. There's been very little physical evidence of them. There is quite a bit of writing – and some of that dates back to the Empire itself. I don't suppose anyone alive today really knows, though."

     The boy looked at the girl as if she'd suddenly grown horns. "How do you know all this stuff?"

     "Well, Dranil, you'd know some of it , too, if you ever paid attention in Imperial History! Plus I did a little reading myself after that weird fellow came in asking about them."

     Frayg broke in: "This was a few weeks ago, you say?"

     "Yes."

     "Do you remember anything about the man?"

     "Are you really a Watchman?"

     "Yes, I am." Frayg produced his seal and allowed the girl to examine it. She looked closely at it and bent it in her hands and then smelled it. Finally, she pulled a small pinch of powder out of a belt pouch, mumbled a few unintelligible words and sprinkled the dust on the seal. There was a small flash of blue-white light and a puff of smoke which dissipated almost immediately.

     The boy next to her hissed, "What are you doing? You know you're not supposed to be doing spells out of class!"

     "Oh, hush," she replied. "The good captain here isn't going to tell, is he? Besides, I had to make sure the seal was legitimate." She handed the seal back to Frayg. "And it is."

     She stood up and offered her hand with a small curtsy. "I'm Zaria, and this is Dranil. In case you hadn't guessed, we're students here, and to help pay our tuition we're working at the library."

     "Pleased to meet you both. So does this mean you'll help me?"

     "Dranil, you keep the desk. I'm going to take Captain Frayg to the books he needs." She turned back to Frayg. "I'll tell you about the other researcher on the way."

     Zaria led Frayg through a door in the wall behind and to the left of the desk and into an even larger room that was full of tables and chairs. The walls were covered with bookshelves. Frayg hadn't realized there were this many books in all the world, much less in one room.

     "I see by the look on your face that this is your first time here." Zaria smiled. "It's quite all right. I imagine my expression was much the same my first time, too. Most peoples' are."

     She paused a moment to let Frayg take it all in, before asking, "Isn't it wonderful?"

     "I … it's so … that is, I mean to say ... Yes. Yes it's wonderful."

     "And this room isn't half of it." With that she led him to the center of the room and made a left turn towards the south wall, where a hallway led off the main room. "Upstairs in the south wing is where we want to go."

     Zaria fairly bounced her way down the hall. She clearly enjoyed showing off the library to newcomers. She was short in stature, but very pretty. Her dark hair fell about her face in loose curls, creating an oval shape that accented her large brown eyes and the bright smile she wore.

     "Now, you want to know about the other researcher. Normally, I wouldn't talk about any of our patrons to anyone else, but as you're a Watchman, I expect you have a good reason for asking after him."

     "Yes, I do."

     "Well, he was a Dvergar, to start. That ought to interest you. We don't see many of them this far south, even in a city as large as Ayrst. Of the six hundred students here at the college, only fourteen are Dvergar. They don't tend to go in for human magicks, but a few of them come to study history and yes, occasionally folklore."

     "Can you describe him any further than that?"

     "Yes. He was a grubby-looking fellow, tall for a Dvergar, but short for human – I'd say about five feet even – right about my height, actually. He wore a short brown beard and long mustaches. He had a northern accent, but I guess most Dvergar do, don't they? Their original homeland is in what is now called Rivvenland, though many of them now live around Rndak and Bergheim."

     "But this one in particular: did he give a name?"

     "No. The library is open to the public except during exam periods when we students need priority, so we generally don't ask people's names. I did introduce myself to him when he asked me for help – out of politeness, you see – but he only shook my hand and didn't give a name."

     They turned right and climbed a set of stairs. Up here there were mostly rows and rows of bookshelves and very few tables. They climbed to the very top of the stairs which ended in a large landing on the fourth floor. Here was another long hall lined with shelves.

     "What, specifically, did he ask about?"

     "The same thing you did, only he used the correct term, as I said."

     "Did you help him long, or did you just point him to the right books?"

     "Well, I tried to help him. I even brought him up here personally as I'm doing for you right now. Once he found what he was looking for, though, he didn't seem to want my help any more."

     "But you came back to do some more research on your own?"

     "Yes, well the little man had piqued my curiosity, you see. Magicks are all very well, and I'm pretty good at them if I do say so myself, but my true interest is in history – especially the stuff surrounding the Empire."

     They continued their progress until they reached about halfway down the hall, where Zaria pointed into an area between two large shelves. "Back there is the stuff on Teuthanurae."

     Frayg went ahead, scanning the shelves. There were so many books: great leather-bound tomes and scrolls and some leaves of parchment held together with wood and string. He didn't know where to even begin. He turned to look at Zaria, who was standing at the end of the little opening created by the shelves. The other end of the passage was against the wall. Frayg suddenly realized he was sort of trapped here.

     Zaria spread her arms and took in a deep breath through her nostrils."Ah! Don't you just love the smell of these old books? It's the smell of history!"

     "I suppose it is." Frayg reached under his cloak, where he wore a small club on his belt. Could this be her, he wondered. She matches the description, but isn't she too young?

     "Right there, on the top shelf. Folk Tales of Rivvenland. That's probably the best place to start." She pointed to a large volume. "I'd get it for you, but I doubt I could reach it."

     Frayg looked up at the shelf while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on the girl. He spotted the book and pulled it down off the shelf. Zaria stepped a little closer to him and took the book from him.

     "Here. We'll take it over to a table where we can get some light. It gets so dark in the stacks, it's a wonder anyone can read up here." She led the way to the middle of the hall.

     I must be losing my mind, thought Frayg. I could have sworn she was going to attack me. He followed her to a table near a window. She dropped the book on the table, plopped herself in a chair and began leafing through the pages.

     "Let's see ... here's the chapter on the Grey Mountain Affe – he's like a big hairy Org, but even less intelligent – and there's the Noekin –the Dweller in Ice, who lures children to their deaths in winter – " Frayg took a seat opposite Zaria as she continued scanning the pages. "Ah! Here we are: the Eye Reaper."

     She turned the book towards him and pointed at a paragraph with the heading Teuthanurae. He began to read.

          Teuthanurae (also known as Feasters on Souls) were vicious creatures 

     which used the Darkest Powers. They tended to live in moist caverns and

     other underground locales. According to some legends, they were even

     known to have created small subterranean cites, though during the 

     Great Empire they ventured above ground in great numbers. They 

     believed themselves superior to all other races, and used other intelligent 

     creatures as slaves - even going so far as to hold groups of humans and 

     Aelwyn like cattle.

          Most, if not all Teuthanurae in the Southern Colonnade Region were 

     hunted down and destroyed by the Holy Crusaders during the reign of 

     Queen Eustace (70 - 177 UC).

     "Wait a minute. This makes it sound as though they really were real."

     Zaria smiled. "Yes, but as I said, there is some debate about them. Most scholars believe they were real creatures, or that there were some real creatures at the heart of the legends. Of course, legends always grow with the telling, so there's a great deal of doubt about their Dark Powers or whether they were numerous enough to found a kingdom or capture humans and Aelwyn as slaves."

     "Aelwyn?"

     "Oh, the Aelwyn were the ancient race of Aelfin. They were nearly wiped out during the Great Empire period, and little is known about them now. It's believed that some of them fled into the Endless Marsh. Supposedly they intermarried with the Marshmen and that's how they fathered the race we call Aelfin today."

     "And these Teuthanurae were powerful enough to take these Aelwyn and humans as slaves ... and for ... food?"

     "And evil enough. Or so many legends say."

     "This mentions Queen Eustace ... so these things were supposed to have lived in Palonias?"

     "They were supposed to have lived all over the region."

     Frayg turned back to the book.

          The Teuthanurae live on in Rivvenlander folklore as the Eye Reaper. 

     According to these tales the Eye Reaper awaits children who wander 

     too far from home or disobey their parents or engage in whatever behavior 

     the parents wish to curtail – even if they cry too often. It is said that the Eye 

     Reaper eats the children's eyes and finds the eyes of a crying child to 

     be a particular delicacy.

          There are varying descriptions of Teuthanurae. Some accounts refer 

     to them as larger than humans, others as small as Pixies. They are 

     usually said to have green or grey-green skin like a frog or a toad, and 

     long frog-like fingers. The only feature that all accounts do share in 

     common is the Teuthanurae's lack of eyes, though some say they have 

     empty sockets where eyes would be on a human and others describe 

     sucker-like appendages or tentacles, instead.

     Frayg sat back in his chair, bewildered. "If it has no eyes, then how does it see?"

     "That's all that book has to say on them," replied Zaria. "But we have others. I remember one of them said something about them screeching like bats and that they used the echoes off of their surroundings to see. They're supposed to have quite keen hearing. Some other book said something about using Dark Magicks in place of vision. If they were able to use those sorts of powers, it's no wonder the Crusaders hunted them down."

     "All right, then. Let's see what else there is. I especially want to see the books the Dvergar saw, if you can remember which ones they were."

     "Sure thing. Just wait here and I'll be back." Zaria left him alone with his thoughts.

     He wondered if would be possible for one of these things to have somehow managed to live in the city. In the sewers, perhaps? Surely it couldn't have been here long, or something like this would have been reported before. And why would it have come into an inn rather than go after someone in some back alley somewhere? And what had the girl to do with any of it? Could she be its slave? That made no sense at all. Why wouldn't she just run when she had the chance, or get help from the Watch?

     He suddenly realized that his hunch had been a foolish one and that he was wasting his time. Zaria returned with a small stack of books and some scrolls.

     She said, "Some of these are older – closer in time to the source of the legends."

     Frayg rose from his seat. "I'm sorry to have wasted your time, but I really don't think any of this information is going to help me."

     Zaria frowned. "Really? That's too bad. Some of this stuff is really creepy – like the book that describes how they eat people's brains."

     Frayg sat down again. "Wait. On second thought, I think I'd like to see that one."

Chapter 10: The Bakers

     The couple sitting at the Watch House regarded Frayg with a frantic desperation. They'd been waiting for him for nearly an hour, and they could tell by the way the other watchmen behaved that there was something they weren't being told. Frayg sat himself across the table from them. He looked over a piece of parchment in his hands.

     "Mr. and Mrs. Prayner?"

     "Yea," said the man. He was tall and rotund, but had a look of strength about him. His light brown hair was closely cropped and he was clean-shaven. His wife was similarly built, but softer. Her blonde hair was tied in a tight bun at the back of her neck. They both wore long white aprons and smelled of fresh bread.

     "I'm Captain Frayg. This report says you're looking for your son ... Nodge?"

     "Yea. 'E joined the navy, y'see ..." Mr. Prayner had an odd accent that Frayg couldn't quite place.

     "Have you checked down at the docks?"

     "No sir, 'e never went to the docks."

     "Are you sure?"

     "Yea. A navy cap'n come up t' our bakery this mornin' an' tole us Nodge never showed up f'r duty yest'day,"

     "Do you think he got cold feet and fled?"

     "Nay. 'E was bound an' determined, in spite o' the fact that 'is mother an' me didn't approve."

     "So, when did he sign up?"

     "Day 'fore yest'day. An' then we 'ad a fight o'er it that night. We kicked 'im -"

     "You kicked him out of the house, Novril," interjected his wife. "I was upstairs crying at the time."

     "I see. So you wanted him to stay and run the family bakery, but he wanted to run off and see the world, yes?"

     "So 'e says, yea."

     "Tell me, Mr. Prayner. Did your son say anything about where he was going?"

     "Nay." Novril sullenly lowered his head. "I tole 'im I never wanted t' see 'im again. Didn't give 'im time t' tell me what 'e were about. I were too angry, y'see."

     "But he was due to report to the Yard yesterday morning. Tell me, did he have much money on him?"

     "Yea. 'E waited 'til after I paid 'im 'is wages t' tell me 'is plans."

     "Would you describe him for me please? Also what he was wearing."

     Just as Frayg had both hoped and feared, the description matched that of the boy from the Carter's Rest. Well, he had to be someone, I suppose. He just hated to be the one to break the news.

     "Mr. Prayner, would you mind coming with me for a moment? Mrs. Prayner, you can wait here. We'll be back in less than half an hour, I expect."

     "Mr. Prayner, I'm afraid I have some bad news for you." The two men walked up Lyons' Wist – the central bisecting road of the Wall Street District of Ayrst – towards the temple where the victim's body was currently housed.

     "I expect you do, Cap'n Frayg, else you'd not 'ave left my wife behind."

     "The description you gave me of your son matches that of a, uh ... a body we found at the Carter's Rest Inn yesterday morning. I'd like you to identify him to be sure. We haven't had a clue as to his identity up to now."

     The man paused a moment, his face suffused with blood. He choked back his tears before asking, "'Ow? 'Ow did 'e Pass? Did 'e drink 'imself Over on account of our fight?"

     "No, sir. Someone sent him."

     They walked the rest of the way to the temple in silence. Novril Prayner did recognize his son.

     "But 'is eyes ... what's 'appened to 'is eyes?"

     "We don't know, Mr. Prayner. We are pretty sure he was Passed before that happened, though," Frayg lied.

     "Please, Cap'n ... don't tell Ella about th' eyes. She'll not know 'ow t' take it." Novril's tears began to flow.

     "As you say, Mr. Prayner. We'll tell her simply that he was robbed and that he Passed quickly. There's no need to add detail. We shouldn't keep her waiting, though."

     After a few minutes, Novril composed himself and the two men left the temple. The walk back to the Watch House was a slow one. Every few steps Mr. Prayner would begin weeping again.

     "'S my own fault y'know. If'n I hadn't yelled at 'im so ... 'e might o' stayed at home that night. An' 'e would've 'ad a quiet place t' sleep, 'stead o' spendin' 'is coin on ale an' a room."

     "Mr. Prayner, listen to me. This is not your fault. There is no way you could have known what would happen to Nodge."

     As they approached the Watch House, Mrs. Prayner stepped through the doorway. Looking up the street, she caught sight of the two men walking and talking together. As soon as Mrs. Prayner perceived the look on her husband's face she dropped to her knees. An otherworldly wail issued from her throat. Mr. Prayner ran to her and joined her on the ground and held her to him. They rocked there back and forth, the inhuman wailing seeming as though it would never stop.

     Frayg turned away from the couple, unable to control his own tears. Up to now it was just a body, he thought. Now it's a person. He knew his chances of finding the responsible party were slim, but he determined he would exhaust every possibility.

     The Prayner's weeping slowed after several minutes. They sat there on the ground, holding one another.

     "I'm so sorry, Ellie, I'm so sorry," began Novril. "'S my own fault. I shoulda never let 'im leave. I were so angry an' now it's my fault 'e's gone an' I dunno what t' do ..."

     Ellie put a finger on her husband's lips. "Hush now, you fool. You couldn't have known. It's not your fault. I should have -"

     "That's right," interjected Frayg. "It's not your fault – either of you. We're not sure who's fault it is, but we have a few clues, and I promise you I will do my very best to find them and see them brought to the King's Justice."

     Frayg helped the grieving couple up from the ground and brought them inside, away from the crowd of onlookers that was beginning to form around them in the street. He got them both a glass of cool water and found chairs for them.

     "Shall I call a priest from the Temple? Or from another church?"

     "We've always worshipped at the Church of the Earth," said Mrs. Prayner. "My husband's family came to Ayrst from Bergheim when he was a boy. The only things they brought with them were their profession and their faith."

     Mr. Prayner nodded agreement. "But there's no need for you t' call a priest. I think we'll collect Nodge's sister an' go to the church together."

     "Very well. I'll contact the priests at the Temple of the Light  and make arrangements for your son to be handed over to the Church of Earth. Do you need any other help with arrangements for the Rite of Passing Over?"

     The Prayners' eyes welled up with tears again. "No thank you, Cap'n. We'll take care of ever'thin' else. 'S our fam'ly duty." 

     They rose from their chair and turned to go. Frayg accompanied them to the door.     

     "If you need anything at all, please let me know. You can always reach me through the Watch House, even when I'm not here."

     They thanked him and walked out, whispering to one another. After a moment, Mr. Prayner returned - alone.

     "Y'know, though ... reminds me of a tale me mam used t' tell us children of an evenin' ..." He trailed off.

     "What sort of tale was that?"

     "One o' them stories folks used t' tell their young'ns to get 'em to behave. She used t' warn us all t' stay close t' home an' always do as we were tol' on account o' the Eye Reaper. They used t' say he'd come and steal th' eyes of children what wouldn't listen, or if'n they cried too much."

     "Is that so? Did you ever tell such tales to your son?"

     "Nay. 'S one o' them things we left behind in Bergheim. But I used t' have this neighbor, y'see ... 'e always said them old stories was based on real creatures what used to live a'fore the collapse of th' Old Empire. 'E used t' say that not all of 'em was gone, either – that some of 'em lived on. 'S probably nothin' t' do wit' ... this ... wit' our case, I mean. But after thinkin' on it a minute, I were reminded o' them old stories."

     "Any little thing you can think of might be helpful, Mr Prayner, no matter how unrelated it may seem. Thank you."

     With that, Novril rejoined his wife in the street and they left for home. Frayg, meanwhile, sent one of the pages to the temple with a message to make arrangements with the Church of Earth.

     The Eye Reaper, he thought to himself. Could such a thing really be true? Monsters from legends had been seen now and again, but in a city of close to half a million people? Surely someone would have reported seeing something like that.

     "Billi," Frayg said to the House Captain, "When Commander Brylle comes back, tell him about the Prayners. At least we know who that poor boy was, now. Oh, and let him know I'll be at the library for a while."

     "The library?" Billi was nonplussed. "What in All the Hells are you going to be doing in the library?"

     "Following a clue. Not a very good one, mind you ... but I just had one of those peculiar ideas put in my head, and until I do something about it, it's just going to keep bothering me."

Chapter 9: The Dreamer

     The company remained in the dining hall for a little while after the Countess left. They discussed their plans for the next day, but only briefly. The Dreamer would do as was expected, and search for answers in his sleep. After that, he would stay with the Countess. Nandliss would begin searching the grounds and talking with the foresters as soon as the sun rose. Elinge and Mr. Insel would start with searching the house and talking to the servants. Once their roles were determined, they retired to their rooms for the night.

     When the sun rose, they were each greeted by one of the twins, and told to come to the back terrace after washing. Once they arrived, Nansi informed them that the countess would be taking her breakfast alone in her parlour, but that she and Rikard had been instructed to give them any aid and answer any questions they might have. She then brought out fruit and cream and fresh bread for their morning meal.

     The face of Sol shone over the terrace, offering a beautiful view of the gardens. In the distance beyond, the roof of the garden house could be seen, as well as a plume of smoke, as from a camp fire. There was some noise of men talking from that direction, as well. The company sat at a wrought iron table covered by a fine linen cloth with a matching set of chairs. 

     Further on, to the north and west, the company could see the edge of the Willow Wood. The trees grew thick there – their foliage was just beginning to change – though there was some evidence of destruction where the trees had come closest to the gardens. The foresters had clearly been at their work for at least a few days.

     "So, Master Trammer. Were your dreams informative?" asked Mr. Insel.

     "I'm afraid they were not." The Dreamer frowned at the nearly untouched plate before him. "I felt no Connection last night. Perhaps it was the trip here. I may need more rest before I can truly Dream. I may also need more contact with the Countess. I'll spend a quiet day with her today, and perhaps nap in the afternoon when she does. I should be better able to prepare myself tonight."

     Elinge grinned at the Dreamer. "So you need some proper rest before you can sleep?"

     "Drolly put, but essentially correct. In order to truly Dream, one's mind and spirit must be rested and prepared appropriately. This is difficult to achieve, as time spent True Dreaming is never so restful as time spent merely dreaming in the conventional sense."

     "Well, I slept like a babe," put in Owerst Nandliss. "The Countess's beds are quite comfortable. Of course, when you've spent as many nights camped outdoors as I have, any bed indoors is a comfort."

     "Yes," said Elinge. "I imagine you've known enough sleepless nights for all of us."

     "Indeed," he replied, and then rose. "But if you'll excuse me, I think I shall begin my investigations. The foresters begin early, and I shouldn't like to interrupt their work too much once they've begun. Ms. Froske. Gentlemen." He bowed to them in turn, and pulling a green rucksack over his left shoulder, made his way straight to the garden house.

     The remaining three ate quietly for a few minutes, until the Dreamer, too, took his leave. "I had best check on Countess Amelia," he said. "Perhaps she's had another of her ... Dreams."

     Once Nansi had finished cleaning up the table she brought them kaffea. They sat side by side, looking out over the garden. The gardens must have received attention that the rest of the estate did not, for they were still in a lovely condition.

     "So, Mr. Insel, what do you think?" Elinge took a sip of her kaffea, and stared into her cup.

     "I think the Countess is hiding something."

     "You always think everyone is hiding something."

     "Everyone usually is." Mr. Insel grinned crookedly.

     "I suppose you're right, at that. But what, specifically, do you suppose our Amelia is hiding?"

     "I'm not sure yet, Miss. But I'd bet you have some ideas already."

     "You know me too well, Mr. Insel. What else have you got on your mind?"

     "Well, this Rikard fellow. She seems to be of mixed mind about him. One minute she's insulting his honor, and the next she's talking about his loyalty."

     "Very good, Mr. Insel. I think that bears some investigation, don't you?"

     "As you say, Ms. Froske."

     "And what did you think of the portraits in the dining hall?"

     "Aside from the obvious, you mean?"

     "Yes. Aside from the resemblance to the Count."

     "Well, in the Countess's portrait, she appears to be of an age with what the Count is in his."

     "And why do you find that strange, Mr. Insel?"

     "Well, because he was twelve years her junior, of course. When he'd have had that portrait made she'd have already been nearly fifty. But she looks to be in her mid-thirties, at most. And she would have been … let's see … she was forty-eight when he Passed, and that was in 768. They were married in 758, so they were only married ten years. So she'd have been thirty eight and him only twenty-six when they were wed. She looks younger than that in the portrait."

     "Yes. Now that does seem a bit odd, doesn't it? What possible reason could there be for this discrepancy in age?"

     "Well, I suppose she could age as slowly as those kids seem to do."

     "Yes, there is that, I suppose. But I expect the answer is far more mundane than that."

     "How do you mean, Miss?"

     "Portraits are usually made to project an image for posterity."

     "And you expect she doesn't want posterity to remember the age difference between her and the Count?"

     "Precisely, Mr. Insel. It's not common for people to marry someone so far from their age."

     "But nobles are hardly common, are they?"

     "Indeed they are not. Nobility often marries for reasons other than love."

     "You expect their marriage was an arranged one, then?"

     "Most probably, yes. And as the Countess was born an Astra, a marriage to her would have been quite a step up for the Count. Men usually arrange for their wives to be younger, but in this case there would have been something else at stake: power and connections."

     "The Countess seems convinced that the Count loved her."

     "She seems too convinced, though, don't you think, Mr. Insel?"

     "And there's posterity, again."

     Elinge nodded. "And why do you think it would be so important to her that her husband be depicted, for posterity, to be such a loving, caring, and devoted man?"

     "Well, Miss Froske ... generally when someone tries so hard to foster a particular image for posterity, it's because they're trying to hide something."

     "And we're back at square one again, Mr. Insel: the more obvious thing about the portraits."

     "Yes. The resemblance between the Count and Rikard."

     "And the fact that Rikard's mother, the young maid Livinia, came here with Amelia all those years ago."

     "So you're thinking that the Count is Rikard's proper father. You reckon the Count may have married Amelia Astra, but that it was Livinia he loved?"

     "It's quite possible. Amelia surely does what she can to dishonor the woman's memory. She can say what she likes about not standing on ceremony, but I've met few people who would dishonor the memory of those who've Passed in such a way."

     "Fewer still among the nobility, wouldn't you say, Miss Froske?"

     "Oh, they do it, but never so directly, Mr. Insel. Nobles rarely say anything directly."

     "On account of posterity?"

     "Something like that, yes."

     Mr. Insel and Elinge Froske finished their kaffea and took their cups and saucers to the kitchen where Nansi was cleaning and beginning preparations for the midday meal. Jessa took their dishes from them and added them to the pile she was already washing. She gave them a sullen look as if to say, I didn't have to do so much work when we didn't have guests, you know. They startled Nansi by thanking her for the meal, and then left to explore the house.

     They began with the Library, where they were surprised to find Merrik Trammer. He was quietly perusing the titles on the shelves.

     "Master Dreamer," said Elinge, "I expected you to be upstairs."

     "I would be, Ms. Froske, but I was informed by Rikard that she wasn't up to receiving anyone this morning. It seems she slept unsoundly and awoke with a touch of a cough. I, myself am unable to sleep so early, and so I decided to spend some time meditating."

     "But you found yourself here?"

     "Libraries often have the most comfortable chairs, you see."  He indicated the overstuffed chairs placed about the room. "This one is no exception to that rule."

     "Looking for heresies, are we?"

     "Of course, not. I have no desire to put that poor woman in danger, no matter what unusual beliefs she's taken with in her old age."

     "Yes, well, you and she both seemed to indicate that you may not hold the most orthodox philosophies yourself."

     "Surely I have no idea what you mean."

     "Did you hear that, Mr. Insel? He has no idea what I'm talking about. Do you find that odd?"

     "I certainly do, Miss Froske."

     "And why would you find that odd?" asked the Dreamer.

     "Well, Master Dreamer" began Elinge. "It's because of Mr. Insel's unique gift."

     "And what is that?"

     "Won't you please tell him, Mr. Insel?"

     Mr Insel's voice took on a flat tone: "Surely, Countess, you know what you speak could be construed as heresy? Yes, I know, but there is no Hierophant here to scold me. Surely you have no interest in running to the Temple? Though I've little doubt they'd love to hear the tale."

     The Dreamer tilted his head to the right, his eyes narrowing. "What is this?"

     "Continue, please, Mr. Insel," said Elinge.

     "So say you and your former brethren." He hesitated a moment before beginning again in the same flat tone, "Some of this will make you uncomfortable, Dreamer, but it is truth I speak. And it was not so long ago that your very brethren would not have been so edgy around such talk. I've read my history. I should be careful discussing any books with that sort of knowledge so openly. The Temple has issued strict orders that the ecclesiastical histories of the Old Gods are to be removed."

     A look of consternation passed across the Dreamer's face as Mr. Insel continued. "Calm yourself, Master Trammer. I think the Countess is quite safe here in her own home. She's hand picked her company for this evening, and I suspect she wouldn't risk such talk if she believed any of us were the type to go running to the Temple of The Invincible Light with tales of heresy. Quite so. As my Count used to say: 'Faith has its place, but it is not in restricting thought or reason. They must have their places too.'"

     "Stop this."

     "Not just yet, Master Trammer. He's very nearly finished."

     "Well, I have my own reasons for being cautious. I expect you know my history, Countess? Indeed, I do. This is why you were among those chosen."

     "I see," said the Dreamer. "But what is the point of this little parlor trick?"

     Elinge smiled. "The point is that we are quite aware that you have fallen afoul of Temple authorities yourself. I expect you recanted heresies you may have uttered, or you would not be here rather than in a dungeon, or in The Dream already."

     "Yes, I recanted. And it is my duty to see that others do not fall into the same trap."

     "Which trap would that be? The trap of false belief? Or the trap of having to answer for those beliefs? Perhaps on threat of pain of torture?"

     The Dreamer sat in the nearest chair. "I do not wish to speak of this matter."

     "And I do not wish to hear of it. I merely wish for you to know that I am believer in facts – verifiable facts. Whatever philosophies or religious names one wants to put to them hold little interest for me. As a result, I want you to know that you are safe discussing any matter with us. During this investigation facts may appear. And if those facts do not jibe with some predetermined notions of what is or isn't acceptable, I will follow the facts, heresy or no."

     A look of relief crossed the Dreamer's face. "You really do mean that, don't you?"

     "I do, Master Trammer. On that you may rely. In the meantime, Mr. Insel and I will take our leave. We've much to do before Old Sol sets himself down for the night."

Chapter 8: The Carters

     The common room at the Carter's Rest Inn was once again beginning to gather a crowd. At least half a dozen patrons sat at the bar, and another dozen were scattered about at tables. The band was on the dais, tuning their instruments and setting out hats for donations. Ena Welman was tending the bar while a young man brought out plates of food from the kitchen. Tania milled about the room serving guests, though her mind clearly wasn't on her work.

     Jaik and Ham entered through the kitchen doorway from behind the bar, talking together. Jaik had been dismayed at the state of the body: missing eyes were bad enough, but a missing brain was disturbing beyond his understanding.

     "Well, it took you two long enough," said Ena.

     "Sorry, dear. Ham had some more questions for me, and the priests were being uncooperative."

     "We're plenty busy, as you can see, so here's your apron." She tossed it to her husband before giving him a wink and a smile. "It's back to the kitchen for me. They're falling behind in there already!"

     Jaik gave his wife a quick kiss on the cheek as she passed him and headed through the doorway. He put on the apron and started taking orders for drinks immediately. "You can go on up and check on the couple in twenty-two, if you want, Ham."

     Frayg thanked the innkeeper and made for the stairs. On his way he made a quick scan of the room, looking for a short woman with dark hair. If she's the one who murdered the boy, it's unlikely she'll return, he thought. And if she didn't do it, she's probably Passed herself, or else she's been captured by those who committed the deed. No one in the room matched the description Tania had given him, so he continued up the stairs.

     He reached the third floor and walked down the hallway. He knocked on the door to room twenty-two. There was a shuffling sound from inside, followed by a thump and what sounded like footsteps. After a minute or so, Frayg knocked again. There were more hurried footsteps and then a man's voice responded: "Just a moment, please!"

     After a few more seconds the door opened to reveal a man of about fifty. "What do you want?" The voice was the same as Frayg had heard through the door.

     "I'm sorry to disturb you," he began. "I'm Captain Hambelton Frayg of the City Watch. I'd like to ask you a few questions, if you wouldn't mind. May I come in, please?"

     The man turned away from the door and yelled. "It's a man here who says he's from the watch. Have you been up to no good again, love?"

     Another voice came from inside the room – this time a woman's. "Oh yes, dear. Didn't I tell you about the horses I've been stealing in the evenings? The watch is bound to be interested in that."

     Laughing, the old man turned back to Frayg. "Well come in, if you're going to." He opened the door.

     The room was furnished the same as room nineteen had been, with the added benefit of a small bar and a dressing screen. The woman's voice came from behind the screen: "Well, let him in, dear-heart. I may as well turn myself in now and save the watchman the trouble of a chase."

     Frayg was nonplussed. He stepped into the room and eyed the old man. He was tall and muscular for his age, with short-cropped gray hair and long mustaches. His well-tailored, knee-length black coat was unbuttoned.

     "Sorry Captain ... Frayg, was it?"

     "Er, yes."

     "Sorry, Captain Frayg. My wife and I have a little running joke between us. You see, after a long life of working hard and always living by society's rules we like to joke with one another that we're going to become dangerous bandits ... or perhaps pirates or horse thieves." He cocked his head to one side and gave Frayg a curious look.

     "I don't suppose a man of the City Watch finds such jokes to be funny, though. Please forgive a couple of old people their eccentricities." He reached a hand out to Frayg.

     "Oh, it's quite all right. I just wasn't expecting it, is all."

     "The name's Ignacious Carter – like the Inn. That's another little joke that Valsinna and I share. We Carters come to the Carter's Rest to rest, you see." 

     Soft laughter came from behind the screen, followed by Valsinna Carter. Her hair was gray like her husband's, but with a bit more white in it. She wore a fine gown of blue silk and a white lace shawl. She, too, was tall, and looked very well for her age, which appeared to be about the same as her husband's. She curtsied before Frayg.

     "Do forgive us, good Captain. You caught us dressing after our teatime nap."

     "No, it's er ..." Frayg stammered. "It's quite all right, Madam."

     "So what sort of questions does a fine, upstanding officer of the King's Justice such as yourself have for the likes of us?" asked Mr. Carter. "Does the watch need some goods hauled, or do you need help in acquiring some supplies? I've always had a fondness for government contracts. They do tend to pay well, if not always on time."

     "No, Mr. Carter. I'm afraid I'm here investigating a different matter. You are aware one of the other guests at this inn Passed into The Dream last night?"

     The Carters looked at one another with concern on their faces. "Yes. The young man down the hall. Someone Sent him, or so the rumor was. And there was a guard there this morning when we left."

     "Yes. That's what happened. Tell me, did either of you see the victim last night? Or hear anything?"

     "Well, we're not sure who the, er … victim was, so we may have seen him. As for hearing anything, I think everyone on the floor probably heard them."

     "Heard them, you say?"

     "Yes, well … there was quite a bit of noise coming from that room. We assumed either a young couple was having a fight, or they were getting very frisky, so to speak. You know … young people these days: you never know what they're getting up to."

     "I see. Then you didn't see anyone enter or leave the room?"

     "No. We retired early. The noise down the hall actually woke us from our sleep. I was going to go ask them to quiet down, but by the time I put my dressing gown on, the ruckus had subsided, so I just went back to bed."

     "Did you have dinner in the common room? Earlier in the evening, I mean?"

     "Yes, we did. We're getting on in years, but we still enjoy music and the occasional dance. When we're too tired to dance ourselves, we enjoy watching the younger people."

     "What he means to say," broke in Valsinna, "is that he still enjoys watching the young ladies dance." She laughed again. "He just doesn't think I notice."

     "Well, of course I know you notice. I'm just trying to make you jealous, dear." Mr. Carter winked at his wife and took her hand. They both sat on the bed. Mr. Carter motioned to the chair: "Please have a seat, Captain."

     Frayg turned the chair around and sat. He asked, "Do you mind if I have a bit of a smoke?"

     "Not at all, sir. In fact, I'll join you." He fished a briarwood pipe out of his pocket. "In fact I have some Borland Gold Leaf here, if you'd like a pinch?"

     "Thank you, Mr. Carter. I'd love some." After taking a pinch of the tobacco Frayg rose and lit a piece of tinder at the lamp which sat on he bed stand. After they'd both lit their pipes – Frayg had picked up another cheap clay pipe somewhere during the day – he seated himself again.

     "While you were in the common room, did you notice anything unusual? Did anyone stand out to you?"

     "After we ate, I was mostly enjoying the music and the drink. I didn't watch the crowd too closely."

     Mrs. Carter jabbed her husband playfully with her elbow. "You certainly paid enough mind to the serving girls."

     "Now, dear, you know it always pays to be polite to the help."

     "And what about that little thing with the tight green corset? How, exactly, did she help you?"

     "Now hush. I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about. Why, if I had half the roving eye you think I do, I'd have left you years ago."

     "As if anyone else would have you!"

     Frayg interrupted their playful argument. "A green corset, you say? A Very short woman with dark hair?"

     "Why, yes," replied Valsinna. "A very pretty girl, and well-dressed, too."

     "Was she with a young man?"

     "She was. She was dancing with him for most of the night. At least until we came to bed. After that, I don't know."

     "Can you describe the man?"

     "Well, he was rather tall and kind of lanky. I remember when he first came in – he had the air of an angry young man about him. I assumed he was upset about something and came in to drown his sorrows, or pick a fight. You know how men can be."

     Mr. Carter chided, "You certainly seemed to take notice of that young man. Now who's got a wandering eye, hmm?"

     "Did you notice anything else about him, Mrs. Carter?"

     "He had straw-colored hair and was dressed reasonably well – not as well as the girl he was dancing with, mind. They both seemed to drink a lot, too."

     "What were they drinking?"

     "Well, the young man drank from mugs, so I assume he was drinking ale. The girl was drinking wine. At one point they each had two drinks at once, so I guess they both had their something to forget."

     "Two at once?"

     "Yes. I think it was from a misunderstanding. He brought two mugs over to her, but she must have asked for wine, because he sat them down on the bench next to her and then brought back two wine glasses."

     "Did you hear what they were talking about?"

     "Oh, no. It was far to noisy for that. They sat in the back corner under the gallery, so I couldn't see them that well, either. I only noticed the boy because he seemed so angry before." She grabbed her husbands pipe from his hand and took a couple of puffs. "I was glad for him that he'd found a young lady to take his mind off his troubles. Otherwise, he'd have been in a fight as sure as I'm sitting here smoking."

     Mr. Carter said, "You seem pretty interested in that couple. Are they the ones from down the hall? Was the girl Sent into The Dream, too?"

     "No – at least, not as far as we know. Only the young man's remains were in the room."

     "So it was him then?" Mrs. Carter asked.

     "Yes, it sounds like it was him. He and the girl you describe went into the room together last night. But there's no sign of her now. Either she left late in the night, or some harm has come to her, as well, or ..." Frayg trailed off.

     "Do you think she was the one who did it, then?" She was surprisingly less scandalized at the prospect than Mrs. Welman had been.

     "I don't know. But I do want to find her. If either of you see her, please contact Mr. Welman immediately - or find a Watchman. Don't approach her yourself."

     "Do you think she's dangerous, then?"

     "I have my doubts. But if she is responsible for this, it wouldn't do to let her know we suspect her. We might never find her then."

     The Carters both nodded their agreement.

     "I take it you're staying through the festival?"

     "Yes, we are," said Mr. Carter.

     "And where are you coming from?"

     "Oh, we live out in a little village near Wollenstone. You've probably never heard of it. It's called Flaxford."

     "I can't say I have. That's a bit of a trip, though, isn't it? What makes you travel all this way for the Festival? Borland's a big city, and it would be much closer."

     "Oh, yes, well we've been to Borland many times. But, you see, Val is originally from around here. We first met thirty years ago during the Changeling Festival here in Ayrst. We're here for our anniversary as much as the festival."

     "Oh, I see." Frayg stood up. He shook both their hands and thanked Mr. Carter for the smoke. "Well, enjoy your celebration. I hope you don't mind if I return with more questions. I doubt that I will, but just in case?"

     "Oh, please do, Captain Frayg. We really do hope you find out who's responsible."

     After the Carter's door was closed behind him, Frayg went down the hall to room twenty. It was unlocked, so he went inside. This room, too, matched the  others for the most part. He went to the large windows, opened them, and stepped out onto the balcony. The balconies on this side of the inn overlooked the back alley and a smokehouse, as well as small terraces behind dwelling places. The nearby Cathedral Square was mostly blocked by the inn itself, but the third floor was high enough to see where the High Street looped around from the northeast corner of the Square. The River Ayrst could also be seen with the masts of the taller ships sticking up to show where the docks were on the other side of the High Street Bridge. 

     Frayg looked to his right. Yes, it would be easy for someone to climb from here to the balcony outside nineteen. He stepped over the railing and did just that. The windows to room nineteen still stood open. He examined the railings before he suddenly had another thought. He climbed back to room twenty's balcony and examined the railings. Then he climbed to room twenty-one's balcony and found what he was looking for. The wood on one of the railings was damaged here. Someone probably threw a climbing hook up here from the alleyway, and then climbed across. That means they wanted room nineteen specifically. Did they know who was there? Were they after a specific target, or would just any occupied room have done? Or did the girl use a hook and rope to make her escape? If she'd acted alone, then she would have had to have stashed the gear here ahead of time.

     Frayg went through room twenty-one and back into the inn. He headed downstairs and through the back kitchen door. The alleyway was dry – there hadn't been any rain for days. There were footprints, hoof prints, and wagon tracks everywhere. There's no way I'll be able to sort anything out of that mess, thought Frayg. Looking up at the balconies he could see that a strong enough man could probably throw a small hook high enough to reach them. He couldn't rule out either possibility, then. He sighed in frustration.

     He was about to go back inside, when he spotted something. There ... by the drainpipe. What is that? There, on one of the nails in one of the brackets holding the drainpipe in place were a few green fibers. He grabbed one of the crates and pushed it against the wall. Standing on that, he could just reach: there! He pulled the fibers down and examined them. Silk fibers, by the look of them. He went back inside.

     "Whatever are you doing back there?" Ena stood before him, hands on her hips. "Jaik said you ran past him and through here without a word, and when I didn't see you ..."

     "Where's Tania?" He cut her off.

     "She's out serving tables."

     "Good. I think I found something."

     He went into the common room, Ena in his wake. He spotted Tania serving mugs of ale to what looked to be a table of teamsters. As soon as she was finished, Ena motioned for her to come to the bar.

     "Hello again, Tania."

     "Captain Ham, sir."

     "The girl that went upstairs with the boy we were discussing earlier. You said she was wearing a very nice green corset?"

     "Yes. It was very pretty."

     "Do you think you'd remember the color, if you saw it again?"

     "I think so, yes."

     Frayg held the torn fibers before her. "Was it this color?"

     "Yes. That, or very close to it."

     "Thank you, Tania."

     Jaik and Ena looked at the fibers in Frayg's hands and then at each other.

     Ena swallowed, a sick look growing over her face. "Did you find the ... the girl?"

     "No," replied Frayg. "But, I think this proves she left through the window. I just don't know for sure whether she went on her own, or whether someone carried her down. It looks like someone used a hook and rope on the balcony outside room twenty-one, and then climbed over to nineteen. Either that, or she simply used that method of egress."

     "Well, if someone used a hook to climb out, wouldn't it still be there?"

     "If it were an ordinary hook, yes. But some ingenious burglars have created devices, using springs and such, that will unhook themselves." 

     Jaik and Ena looked at him in surprise.

     "I've seen a few of them down at the Watch House. They're not as strong as regular hooks, but they'll do the job ... and the woman in question was described as being small. I expect that means she climbed out on her own. Which means it's looking like she may have committed the crime herself. The only question is why? A simple robbery I could understand, but what would this young woman want with ... the other things?"

Chapter 7: The Note

     "I believe someone means to murder me," said the Countess.

     At this statement, Elinge raised an eyebrow. "What ever would make you believe that?"

     "I received a warning message." She drew a small paper from the folds of her dress. "This arrived for me two days after I had my dream. It was marked by the Post in Ayrst, so it must have been written before the dream, yet the note seems to have anticipated the dream."

     "How so? May I have a look?" Amelia handed the brief to Elinge.

     "Please, read it aloud. The others may as well hear it."

     Elinge read:

     They are not to be trusted. They will send you to The Dream. 

     Your only hope is in your Count's blood. Do not forsake the blood. 

     Beware the Willow and the Ash. They will be your End.

     "To whom have you spoken of your dream?" asked Elinge, furrowing her brows.

     "Before tonight, only to Nansi. Though in this house, I suppose Rikard or the twins may have overheard. One can never be sure one is alone in LaDuce Manor. The place is riddled with secrets, passages and spider-holes. There's really no telling what the children may have uncovered."

     "So you've brought us here to investigate, and to protect you."

     "Precisely. And I've already arranged for your fees to be paid two weeks in advance."

     "What if I don't want the job?" asked Mr. Insel.

     "Nonsense. You'll take the job. It's clear that Ms. Froske is intrigued, and I know where she goes, you'll follow."

     Mr. Insel pursed his lips. Elinge put a hand on his shoulder and whispered something in his ear, after which he sighed and crossed his muscular arms. "All right. We're here. We may as well see what we can find. But what about those two?" He nodded towards the hunter and the Dreamer.

     Amelia smiled. "Owerst Nandliss will help out of a sense of duty, as much as adventure. I suspect Master Trammer would remain for the sake of learning of the nature of my dreams. It's only you and Mistress Froske that I expect I would have to pay. However, I will pay you all the same. I think the four of you will do as well or better than any four people could."

     "If I'm to investigate," began Elinge, "I'll need full run of the house and grounds. And I'll need to be able to question anyone and expect truthful answers without reservation."

     "You will have all of those, with one exception. I need my rest. You are welcome into my personal chambers, should you need access, but you will make arrangements beforehand."

     "You do realize, Amelia, that such a condition immediately puts you in a suspicious light."

     "Of course I do, but you surely don't expect me to plan my own murder, do you? Besides, I am the Mistress of this Estate, and when I wish to rest, I simply will not be disturbed."

     "Then I don't suppose you'd mind if I examined your chambers now, as you're clearly not using them for rest at the present moment."

     "Please feel free." Amelia waved a dismissive hand. "We can all adjourn to my chambers now, if you wish." She began to rise, before Elinge stopped her.

     "That won't be necessary, Amelia. But I want you to know that once you've engaged my services, I won't be called off, no matter what I find."

     "That is why I chose you, Ms. Froske."

     "Well, that's settled then. We're in. And please, Amelia. If we're to be friends as you say, call me Elli."

     Owerst Nandliss rose and bowed to the Countess. "I am humbly at your service, Madam Countess. I consider it an honor to assist you."

     "Thank you, Owerst."

     He took his seat again.

     "And you, Merrik Trammer ... will you assist me, as well?"

     "Of course I will." The dreamer bowed his head where he sat.

     "Very well. Now, I expect you'll have some questions for me. I'll answer what I can tonight, and you can begin your investigations properly in the morning."

     Merrik Trammer began by stating that he hoped to find his first answers in sleep. Aerik Nandliss claimed that his answers would be found in examining the grounds by the light of day. Mr. Insel, as was his way, kept quiet. Only Elinge felt the need to ask questions immediately.

     "Tell me, Amelia, do you travel the grounds very much any more? Or, more to the point, when was the last time you went outside?"

     "Well, no, I don't really travel the grounds much. I doubt I could sit a horse for more than fifteen or twenty minutes without paying dearly for it later. I do spend evenings on the back terrace when the weather allows it. In fact, I spent an evening out there just last week. I'd like to get a few more evenings out there before the weather turns. I sometimes walk the gardens, though slowly. Other than that, I do not see the grounds, except at a distance or through a window."

     "Who else do you have working here, aside from Nansi and Rikard?"

     "No one, in the ordinary course of things. Many of the rooms are now shut up, as I have no use for them. The twins have the run of the place, except for the servants' quarters. We have some workers currently staying out at the garden house, but they're here only for as long as it takes to clear the wood, and they don't come up to the manor house."

     "Who hired them?"

     "I had Rikard do the hiring. He deals with the grounds. And Nansi takes care of the cooking and cleaning. The children help her when she can catch them."

     "I notice you refer to the twins as children. They are small, I admit, but I understand they're in their twenties."

     "Yes, well at my age you almost seem a child, Elli!" The old woman laughed. "But you are right. I suppose they are adults now. I've raised them as my own, however, and see them almost as my own children – especially since Elinora's Passing."

     "What about Rikard?"

     "What about him?"

     "He was of an age with your daughter. And you say his mother Passed into The Dream near the same time as she did. Do you not see him as your own, as well?"

     "No, I do not. He knew his true mother, if not his father. What has any of this to do with anything?"

     "Probably nothing, Amelia. But I like to get to know an environment very well – most especially the people in it and their relationships to one another – before I begin an investigation."

     "Yes, well Rikard has served me well enough since he's grown, I suppose, but as I said earlier, he needs minding, or he'd probably only lie about and get drunk every day."

     "And what about Nansi? How long has she been in your service?"

     "She's been here for … oh, I suppose seventeen or eighteen years. She was here during the Uprising, I remember that."

     "How old is she?"

     "Thirty-four."

     "So she's older than Rikard by, what? Six years?"

     "Yes, that's about right. She would have been about sixteen when she came to work here … Rikard would have been ten and Elinora nine."

     "So Nansi would have known Rikard's mother … what did you say her name was?"

     "Livinia. And yes, they would have worked together for about four years before Livinia Passed."

     "And what was the cause of Livinia's passing?"

     "The Doctor said it was failure of her heart."

     "And she was how old?"

     Amelia sighed with exasperation. "She was thirty-eight, I believe. What does it matter? Must you continue with these pointless questions?"

     "Please pardon me Countess, but I must reiterate that if I'm to conduct this investigation I must be able to expect answers – honest answers, mind you – to any questions I care to pose, no matter how irrelevant they may seem."

     "Fine then. How many more will there be?"

     "Many, many more. But, I'm nearly done for tonight. Just a few more, if you'd be so kind?"

     "Go on, then!"

     "And when Livinia had passed, how long had it been since the Count had Passed into The Dream?"

     "Six years."

     "So she was thirty-two then. Rikard was eight. And the Count … what? Thirty-six?"

     "Yes. You are correct on all their ages. And Elinora was seven, as I'm sure you'll ask that next. Jens and Jessa would have been about four or five, though, as I said, we're somewhat uncertain of their age."

     "And you, Countess. How old were you when your Count Passed?"

     "I was forty-eight. I was twelve years his senior. I'm now sixty-seven. Now is there or is there not a point to these incessant questions?"

     "Just background, Countess. It's all just background."

     "Well, I hope it helps, because it's quite tiresome, if you ask me."

     "My apologies, Amelia. One last question about Livinia, if you would be so kind … you made mention of her practice of visiting the village. Do you believe she had a specific gentleman she called on there? Or do you think her dalliances were of a more … diverse nature?"

     "I wouldn't know, I'm sure. I never asked her about what she did in her own time. I just know that it wasn't too long after she started visiting there that she discovered she was with child – and less than a year from then that he was born."

     "I see. Well, thank you for your patience, Amelia. I'm sorry to have burdened you. I assure you I wouldn't have done so if it weren't necessary."

     "I wouldn't go so far as to call it a burden, Elinge. I just don't understand the point. If you're quite finished?"

     "Yes well, for tonight, at least."

     "Of course. What about the rest of you? Do any of you feel like pestering a tired old woman with questions about her painful past?"

     The others all looked sullen. Elinge sat back in her chair, lost in thought.

     "Very well, then. If you don't mind, I wish to retire. You can all see yourselves to your rooms, I trust?"
     With that she rose and left her guests in the dining hall.