simply caught something, sickened, and died of it.'
Kethry shrugged. 'That explains what happened to the horses, but what does that have to do-'
'Don't you see?' Tarma exclaimed. 'That's exactly the same symptoms the Master has! He's put on weight, I'll bet he's hungry all the time, he obviously feels lethargic and vaguely ill -- his skin and hair are oily--'
Kethry remained silent for a moment. 'What are we supposed to do about it?' she asked slowly. 'It's not our Guild. It's not our fight-'
Perversely, Tarma now found herself on the side of the argument Kethry-impelled by her bond with Need- usually took. Taking the part of the stranger. 'How can you say it's not our fight?' she asked, trying to keep her voice down, and surprising herself with the ferocity of her reaction. 'It's our world, isn't it? Do you want more people like Lenne in charge? Or more like that so-called 'Master' Karden out there?'
It was the poisoning of the land that had decided her; no Shin'a'in could see land ruined without reacting strongly. When Master Lenne died -- as he would, probably within the year -- this Karden fellow would be free to poison the entire area.
And if he succeeded in bringing high profits to the Guild, the practices he espoused would spread elsewhere.
It wasn't going to happen; not if Tarma could help it.
As she saw Kethry's indifference starting to waver, she continued. 'You know who has to be behind it, too! All we have to do is find out how Lenne is being poisoned, and link it to him!'
Kethry laughed, mockingly. 'All? You have a high opinion of our abilities!'
'Yes,' Tarma said firmly. 'I do. So you agree?'
Kethry thought for a moment, then sighed, and shook her head. 'Gods help me, but yes. I do.' Then she smiled. 'After all, you've indulged me often enough.'
Tarma returned the smile. 'Thanks, she'enedra. It'll be worth it. You'll see.'
By the time dinner was over, however, Tarma's certainty that the task would be an easy one was gone. For one thing, both questioning and close observation had shown no way in which poison could have been slipped to Master Lenne without also poisoning the rest of the Guild. They ate and drank in common, using common utensils, serving themselves from common dishes, like one big family. Tarma and Kethry ate with them, seated at the table in the middle of the hall, and they saw that the Master ate exactly what everyone else ate; his wine was poured from the same pitchers of rough red wine as the rest of them shared.
Each member took it in turn to cook for the rest, eliminating the possibility that the poisoning could be taking place in the kitchen. Not unless every Guild member here hated the Master -- and there was no sign of that.
It could be done by magic, of course. But Kethry was adamant that there was no sign of any magic whatsoever being performed in or around the Guild House.
'In fact,' she whispered, as the Guild members gathered beside the fire with their cups and the rest of the wine, to socialize before seeking their beds, 'there's a spell of some kind on the Guild House that blocks magic; low-level magic, at least.' The fire crackled, and the Guild members laughed at some joke, covering her words. 'I've seen this before, in other Guild Houses. It's a basic precaution against stealing Guild secrets by magic. I could break it, but it would be very obvious to another mage, if that's what we're dealing with. That spell is why I've had a headache ever since we came in the door.'
But Tarma hadn't been Kethry's partner all this time without learning a few things. 'Maybe it blocks real magic, but what about mind-magic? Isn't there a mind-magic you can use to move things around?'
Kethry added her nod to Warrl's words.
'Ladies, gentlemen,' Master Lenne said at just that moment, calling their attention to him. He stood up, winecup in hand, a lovely silver piece he had with him all through dinner. The glow of the firelight gave him a false flush of health, and he smiled as he stood, reinforcing the illusion. 'I am an old man, and can't keep the late hours I used to, so I'll take my leave -- and my usual nightcap.'
One of the 'prentices filled his cup from the common pitcher of wine, and he moved off into the shadows, in the direction of the living quarters.
'Keep talking, and keep them from noticing we're gone,' Tarma hissed to her partner, signaling Warrl to stay where he was. 'I'm going to see if anything happens when he gets to his room.'
