began gathering along the open side and the tops of the walls.
'I fear I can tell you nothing, Sword Sworn. I have only speculations, nothing more. But I pray your little partner is wiser than I.'
'Or I'm going to be cold meat by nightfall,' Tarma finished for him, watching as her first opponent emerged from the challenger's pavilion.
The priest winced at her choice of words, but did not contradict her.
* * *
Circles within circles....
Kethry had not been idle.
The sticky residue in the wineglass had been more than just the dregs of drink; there had been a powerful narcotic in it. Unfortunately, this just pointed back to Myria; she'd been using just such a potion to help her sleep since the birth of her son. Still, it wouldn't have been all that difficult to obtain, and Kethry had a trick up her sleeve, one the average mage wouldn't have known; one she would use if they could find the other bottle of potion.
More encouraging was what she had found perusing the ledgers. The seneschal had been siphoning off revenues; never much at a time, but steadily. By now it must amount to a tidy sum. What if he suspected Lord Corbie was likely to catch him at it?
Or even more -- what if Lady Myria was found guilty and executed? The estate would go to her infant son, and who would be the child's most likely guardian but his half-uncle, the seneschal?
And children die so very easily, and from so many natural causes.
Now that she had a likely suspect, Kethry decided it was time to begin investigating him.
The first place she checked was the barred door. And on the bar itself she found an odd little scratch, obvious in the paint. It looked new, her air-spirit confirmed that it was. She lifted the bar after examining it even more carefully, finding no other marks on it but those worn places where it rubbed against the brackets that held it.
She opened the door, and began examining every inch of the door and frame. And found, near the top, a tiny piece of hemp that looked as if it might have come from a piece of twine, caught in the wood of the door itself.
Further examination of the door yielded nothing, so she turned her attention to the room beyond.
It looked a great deal like the lord's room, with more books and a less ostentatious bedstead -- and a wooden floor, rather than one of stone. She called Warrl in and sent him sniffing about for any trace of magic. That potion required a tiny bit of magicking to have full potency, and if there were another bottle of it anywhere about, Warrl would find it.
She turned her own attention to the desk.
* * *
Tarma's first opponent had been good, and an honest fighter. It was with a great deal of relief -- especially after she'd seen an anxious-faced woman with three small children clinging to her skirt watching every move he made -- that she was able to disarm him and knock him flat on his rump without seriously injuring him.
The second had been a mere boy; he had no business being out here at all. Tarma had the shrewd notion he'd been talked into it just so she'd have one more live body to wear her out. Instead of exerting herself in any way, she lazed about, letting him wear himself into exhaustion, before giving him a little tap on the skull with the pommel of her knife that stretched him flat on his back, seeing stars.
The third opponent was another creature altogether.
He was slim and sleek, and Tarma smelled 'assassin' on him as plainly as if she'd had Warrl's clever nose. When he closed with her, his first few moves confirmed her guess. His fighting style was all feint and rush, never getting in too close. This was a real problem. If she stood her ground, she'd open herself to the poisoned dart or whatever other tricks he had secreted on his person. If she let him drive her all over the bloody practice ground he'd wear her down. Either way, she lost.
Of course, she might be able to outfox him --
So far she'd played an entirely defensive game, both with him and her first two opponents. If she took the offense when he least expected it, she might be able to catch him off his guard.
She let him begin to drive her, and saw at once that he was trying to work her around so that the sun was in her eyes. She snarled inwardly, let him think he was having his way, then turned the tables on him.
