They spent the rest of the afternoon going through Zane’s records, but there was little for them to find. Zane had kept plenty of notes, but they appeared to be aids for his memory more than explanations. Without the core set of knowledge that Zane had possessed, the notes were nothing but vague hints.
Brandt hadn’t learned as much as he had hoped, but perhaps it would be enough.
Zane had suspected somebody wealthy or noble. He had been so certain of his belief that he had hidden his family in town, rather than permitting them the privileges they were due.
But the most useful clue he possessed when he left was the one that Niles himself had given. The night he died, Zane had already killed someone else.
18
Family dinners were always a boisterous affair.
Alena blamed Jace. For all his faults, her younger brother was a never-ending fountain of energy, and even though no one in the family could match her brother’s outgoing spirit or joyful attitude, there was something about him that rubbed off on the rest of them. They were happiest when Jace entertained them all.
No one in the family was a slouch. Jace and Alena’s studies occupied many of their waking hours, and their father hammered away in the smithy almost all day, every day. But at least twice a week, suppers were considered sacrosanct, and nothing short of the gates themselves was permitted as an excuse for missing those meals. Even Father took the time to join, no matter how pressing the projects at the smithy were.
Of the four of them, Alena sometimes thought that her mother was the hardest worker. It wasn’t as obvious as with her father and his long absences, but she often ran deliveries for the smithy while maintaining the household. She was an excellent cook, and there were few experiences as pleasant as stepping through the front door and smelling the warm aromas of that day’s culinary efforts.
Their meals tended to pass by quickly. Only Jace didn’t pile food into his face, and that was because he was usually too busy regaling them all with some dramatic tale from the academy.
In the past few days, Alena had developed a much deeper appreciation for family meals. She had been reminded, in the most brutal way possible, that life was not an activity that went on forever. In her usual day-to-day, obsessed with her studies and her work out of Bayt’s shop, it was sometimes easy to forget that the only resource that mattered was time.
Alena swore she would never take her time for granted again.
She drank deeply of these moments of relaxed and unrestrained pleasure with her family. Some part of her knew that as much as Jace’s antics might frustrate her on occasion, if she ever had to live without them her life would be much bleaker.
So she threw herself into meals, laughing at Jace and soaking in her father’s stories from the smithy. The apprentices that worked under her father were a fascinating collection of individuals, and Alena was in turn impressed by their skill and horrified by their incompetence, at least as told by her father.
She learned something about her father, though, as she paid more attention to him. He was a demanding man, who asked for nothing less than the best metalwork in town. Even though his apprentices were a source of unending grief, she didn’t miss the affectionate smile that he flashed after telling a story. The apprentices failed or succeeded on their own merits, as was their father’s way, but he loved them like children.
After one particular meal ended, Alena noticed a silent signal pass between her mother and father. Her mother nodded briefly and asked Jace to help with the cleanup.
Alena saw her father’s gaze, and she realized that Mother’s request had been planned since before the beginning of the meal. The corner of her father’s mouth turned up in a smile. He saw that she noticed. “Let’s go to the other room.”
Alena followed her father, sitting on the floor as her father took the giant rocking chair that was his own. Her father’s father had made it by hand, many decades ago.
“Sometimes you are so observant that it frightens me,” her father began.
Alena smiled at that, flush with pride. “Why?”
“Because parents are supposed to know more than their children, and with the way you study the world, I’m afraid it won’t be long before you know more than I do.”
“Maybe I already do.”
Her father laughed at that, a deep-throated chuckle that warmed Alena’s heart. “I’m not sure about that, but your wits may very well be quicker.”
The smile faded from his face and he leaned forward. Alena knew they were about to dive into whatever was worrying him.”
“How are you, Alena, truly?”
She’d finally had to break the news about Bayt. She told them her former master was found dead in his shop. No doubt they had heard more from local gossip, but she couldn’t be sure. Between the resignations of so many officials and the demise of the wolfblade unit, perhaps the news had never become public.
Either way, she pretended that all she knew was that Bayt had died.
Since then, they had been worried about her, even though she reassured them that she would simply spend more time studying for the upcoming exams. But that didn’t stop their fretting, or such meetings with her father.
Alena knew that she couldn’t just tell him that everything was fine. His eyes were too sharp, and clearly both he and her mother had sensed something. She didn’t know exactly what her father had observed, so she wasn’t sure how to ease his mind. “It’s been a struggle,” she admitted.
Her father waited silently, giving her the space to tell him more.
And how could she not, under that close but loving gaze?
“I think that I’ve made
