'Your Highness?' Rodian asked.
'The royal family would be grateful for your good faith.'
The captain fell silent. With a long side glance at Premin Sykion, he finally dropped his eyes and nodded deeply.
Duchess Reine returned a nod of lesser depth. 'Thank you, Siweard… you have my faith as well—in your abilities. Baron Twynam will join us at dinner on the next full moon. I understand he is a friend of yours. We would be most pleased if you could attend as well.'
Rodian lifted his eyes and nodded again.
Ghassan had not missed the duchess's slip. She had called the captain by his first name, something far too familiar for the public venue and their disparate social ranks.
Duchess Reine turned back to Premin Sykion. 'Lady Tärtgyth, would you and Domin High-Tower favor me with a tour of the new library's improvement's imprts? I have meant to come for so long, but… time has simply passed too quickly.'
Premin Sykion tilted her head politely to the captain and then led Duchess Reine's entire entourage toward the northeastern passage. High-Tower was the last to follow, with a derisive grunt at Rodian.
Ghassan watched them leave—with a long study of the tall elf walking close in the duchess's wake. The cut of that one's robe was the same, or nearly so, as that of a sage. But white was not the color of any guild order. And the notion of interference with his spell from that source was preposterous. As much as his art was little known among humans, it was less likely to be found among the Lhoin'na—those 'of the Glade.'
Guild domins and premins would go to great lengths to restrict specific knowledge of translations from the texts. But royal intervention had come too quickly. Had Sykion asked the monarchy for help? And if not, did Duchess Reine or the royal family know something of the text's content, wishing to keep it hidden, even from the captain of the Shyldfälches?
Ghassan exhaled in frustration. One of the royal family had appeared at precisely the right moment, referred to a premin by a noble title, and betrayed a connection to the one man digging too deeply into guild affairs.
And Captain Rodian came straight at Ghassan's table, his jaw clenched. He was obviously unaccustomed to having his leash jerked in, no matter how politely done by such a gentle hand.
'Journeyor Hygeorht,' Rodian said through his teeth. 'Would you be good enough to walk me to my horse?'
It was not a request, and Ghassan stood up. While considering these new tangles, he had almost forgotten Wynn sitting right across from him.
'You cannot find your horse alone?' he challenged.
'It's all right, domin,' Wynn said, swinging her legs over the bench to rise beside the captain. 'I'll walk out with him.'
Glowing lines and marks flashed across Ghassan's sight, and he reached for her thoughts.
A wave of anxiety flooded Ghassan. What had Nikolas to do with anything? He tried reaching deeper.
Wynn put a hand to her temple and looked around the hall.
Ghassan immediately severed contact. Had she felt him? No, not possible; she had no training or experience. He watched carefully as Wynn followed Rodian out the wide archway.
Perhaps too many spells, cast too quickly, with lost attempts due to new random pieces he had just gathered. For whatever reason, Ghassan felt a twinge building in his own head.
'You know the duchess?' Wynn asked, taking two steps for Rodian's one.
His position as captain was well respected. But even so, members of the Shyldfälches didn't have dinner with the royal family—certainly not at the invite of the wife of a prince, even a deceased one.
'I assisted her once,' he said bluntly, but he stared ahead, focusing on nothing.
Wynn didn't press further. She suddenly realized that she knew part of this story. Even in self-imposed seclusion, rumors reached her. The higher they came from, the more momentum they gathered as they rolled downward through all levels of society.
About two years ago Prince Freädherich of the Âreskynna had died, and his body was never found.
The tale was that he and his wife, Duchess Reine, had gone out in a small sailboat one evening. Not even members of the Weardas had accompanied them. The boat was found adrift late the next morning with only the hysterical Duchess Reine aboard.
As a Faunier, she knew nothing of sailing and had been unable to bring the small boat ashore. It was said that when she was found she was half-mad with grief, and couldn't—or wouldn't—explain what had become of her husband. Strangely, not one of the royal family raised charges against her, but just the same, an inquest was required by law.
A young captain of the Shyldfälches, newly promoted when his predecessor retired, investigated the disappearance. The inquest was held privately in the royal court. No one ever learned what the young captain had uncovered.
Though the duchess was never proven wholly innocent in the eyes of the people, neither was she charged in any way. The king and queen still held her dear, as if she were one of their own children by blood rather than marriage. Prince Freädherich's death was officially cited as accidental. And all because of a report presented by the newly appointed captain of the Shyldfälches.
Wynn glanced up at Rodian.
She'd never cared enough about the rumor to put a face to the city captain who accomplished this feat. No wonder Duchess Reine had invited him to dinner.
'Was anyone hurt during the break-in?' she asked.
'No.' He glanced down at her. 'It happened after closing.'
The captain hesitated, and his brows gathered as he scrutinized her, perhaps judging whether to say more.
'Whoever did it,' he finally went on, 'got into the shop and then broke
Wynn was confused by the captain's brief explanation. So many of Calm Seatt's citizens viewed sages as possessing arcane knowledge rather than just as hardworking scholars.
'I don't think so.'
Then she mulled Rodian's words more carefully. The thief managed to gain access, but then had to break out?
'You might ask Domin il'Sänke,' she added.
'Why?'
'He is a master of methe'master aology, metaphysics and the like, which includes the scholarly study of magic.'
When they reached the courtyard, Rodian's white mare stood waiting near the open inner gate, not even tied to a post. She nickered at the sight of the captain.
'A pretty thing,' Wynn said as they approached, and she reached up to stroke the animal's velvet nose. 'And so gentle.'
'Unless I'm threatened,' Rodian said, and then his voice softened as he patted the horse's neck. 'Then she is fierce. Her name is Snowbird. I trained her myself.'
'Do your people raise horses?'
His expression closed up, as if he'd given away something private. Wynn knew he hadn't asked her out here to discuss Duchess Reine or his horse. She waited quietly.
'What was your real reason for going to Master a'Seatt's scriptorium?' he asked.
Flustered, she wasn't certain how to answer. She'd kept stoutly to her lie of seeking out a grief-stricken Imaret. But the captain had certainly heard too much when he caught up to her.
'To learn what truly happened to Jeremy and Elias,' she finally answered.
'So, then you would believe their deaths and the break-in are tied… to this project of your guild?'
'Yes,' Wynn answered.
'Then help me,' he said. 'Even if you don't know what was in those folios, what did you bring back from the
