While the pack was still eating, the pack leader broke away from the melee, licked his jowls, his paws, shook himself, came over where she was standing, cocked his head. She held out her hand. He sniffed it, made a sound in his throat. The female came over, sniffed in her turn, and was followed by every member of the pack, the big-eared young one last. There were two other young ones. Nine adults and the lead female’s latest litter of three. This was probably the pack that had disposed of Jenger, if, as she suspected, either Abasio or someone else had killed him. She hadn’t found a body, the archers hadn’t found a body. The only bones were scraps that could have been any kind of bone, pig, deer, no nice bulbous skull to identify a human. The archers had supposed Jenger to have ridden away, but the absence of a horse was meaningless. If a horse had been here, Abasio would have taken it when he left.
The following morning she returned to the abbey. All the way there, she saw shadowy forms inside the trees, keeping pace with her. They wanted to know where she was, where she might come from again. Meals didn’t usually come that easily; human friends seldom came at all.
When Precious Wind returned to the abbey, she went first to Wordswell, laying before him everything she had found at the tower. They opened the four message tubes and read the contents. Jenger, with the help of “our friend at the abbey,” was directed to abduct Xulai by any means possible. Jenger was directed to kill Bear or have him killed. Jenger was directed to kill any Tingawan he could lay hands on, with the help of “our friend at the abbey.” The last message, the one that had not been sent, they read together. “The Tingawan child has gone to Elsmere. I have one of her servants, not the driver we met. What do you want me to do with her?”
Precious Wind said, “The first three of these are in one hand, that of the duchess: they were sent from Altamont to Jenger. The last one was no doubt to be sent from Jenger to Altamont. He didn’t send it. It may have been too late in the day. He may have intended to wait until morning, but something else happened. Obviously Xulai lied to him about who she was. When Jenger first saw her, she appeared to be a child.”
“A child? That explains it! That first night when I saw her, it was like looking at two people in the same body. I’ve seen that illusion before, but rarely.”
Precious Wind smiled, shaking her head. “She has always been . . . changeable. More so recently. Now, Elder Brother, if the prior has been sending messages to this Vulture Tower and to the Old Dark House, which Solo Winger can testify he has done, I think these messages from the Old Dark House make it clear the friend in the abbey referred to was the prior himself. These make it clear he was conspiring with the duchess to kill various members of the Tingawan group entrusted to the abbey by Justinian. Just as a matter of interest, Justinian recently sent funds here for the keep of his people. Did they come to you?”
“They were taken by Justinian’s messenger to our treasury, which is kept by an elder sister who is completely trustworthy. Receipts were given to the messenger, and copies of them were given to me.”
“I rejoice at hearing this. Now, some time ago Justinian sent three men carrying a substantial amount that was to be given to me and to Bear when we left here for Merhaven. Justinian did this because he did not want Bear to receive his reward much before he left, lest it be diminished in the intervening time. Do you know about this?”
“I do not. Our treasurer does not. Your friend, Bear, was inquiring about it.”
Precious Wind took out the little bag that held her valuables and retrieved the receipt Justinian had given her. Wordswell stared at it, teeth clenched.
“I never thought . . . the prior was that interested in . . . treasure. I thought he was most interested in power.”
“Money is a good way of creating power, Elder Brother. Your prior finds money useful. I can testify to the fact that the prior paid three men to follow me when I left a few days ago. Their instructions were to kill me.”
Wordswell’s face became drawn and gray in an instant, as though someone had knifed him and his blood had drained away. “He paid to have you killed.”
She nodded.
The old man sighed, shrank as though in pain, murmured beneath his breath before saying, “His position would not allow him ample funds to pay for something like that without his taking money from some unauthorized source. I presume you . . . evaded the men.”
Precious Wind thought it wisest to say very little about the incident. She shrugged. “People who do that sort of thing are violent by nature and tend to be quarrelsome. I thought their actions upon the road were somewhat suspicious. I hid myself and my horse where I could overhear them. They began to fight among themselves, and in their argument they mentioned the prior, the payment, and the fact that they would kill me. They also disputed as to who would have that pleasure, attacking one another violently. Having heard this, I simply avoided them and went in a different direction. However, I did see that they were wearing the livery of the abbey, and I haven’t seen them since I returned. It may be they are still out there looking for me, but it would be wise to find out what other men in the abbey might be accustomed to being sent on such errands.”
She waited until some color returned to
