“Good. Have a good evening.” He went off toward the river.
“Now what?” Jerinne asked.
“You should probably get back to the chapterhouse for supper,” Dayne said. “They’ll be expecting you.”
“And you?”
Dayne looked down the street. “One more stop.”
“Saint Limarre’s?” she asked.
He nodded. “I’ll leave word for Welling and Rainey, maybe they know something we don’t, and maybe we can do something they can’t. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He went off toward the church, and Jerinne decided he was right about one thing: Inspector Rainey needed to know what they were looking into. One more reason to go to her house. Not that Jerinne didn’t already have a very good reason to visit.
Satrine had finished her shift having accomplished very little. Two new murder cases, neither one very elucidating. Theft in East Maradaine, where the victim had been evasive about what exactly was stolen. They were very interested in finding the thieves and reclaiming their property, though balked when Satrine and Kellman pointed out that identifying the property was the best way to find the thieves. There wasn’t much to go on.
Still, that was the case that stayed in her head as she came home, looking forward to having a hot meal, and falling into her bed. She was pleasantly surprised to hear warm laughter as she opened the door to her apartment.
“What’s going on?” she asked as she came in. Down the hallway to the sitting room, where her daughters, Rian and Caribet, were cackling with Jerinne Fendall, the young Tarian warrior.
“Mother,” Rian said, catching her breath and looking slightly guilty, like she had just been caught in something inappropriate. “Jerinne was telling us about her day.”
“Must be a good story,” Satrine said, sitting at the table where they were all drinking tea. “Your day had to have been better than mine.”
“It started at the Royal Gardens,” Caribet said. “She saw the king!”
“And that was funny? Could I get a cup? And is there supper?”
Rian grabbed a cup out of the cabinet. “Missus Abnernath stewed some lamb ribs with root vegetables, and there’s bread.”
“Lovely, yes,” Satrine said. As annoying as her new partnership with Kellman was, the promotion to Inspector Second Class, compounded with Rian’s work at the Majestic, meant they had more money, and the meals had been far more satisfying of late.
“I don’t want to impose,” Jerinne said.
“Nonsense,” Satrine replied. “We love having you visit.” She wanted Jerinne and Rian to be close. She wanted to know Rian would have a friend, a protector, in case anything ever happened to her. “So, what was the funny thing?”
“She told a crime boss that his beloved painting was a fake,” Rian said.
That was intriguing. “How did you know?”
“I don’t,” Jerinne said. “I made it up. But his face was priceless.”
“Girls, why don’t you serve supper,” Satrine said, looking to her daughters. Rian and Caribet both sighed, but got up from the table. Satrine looked to Jerinne. “Crime boss?”
“Fenmere?” Jerinne said. “Pompous git, but he’s apparently protected from on high.”
Satrine scowled. “I know the Dentonhill office won’t touch him, but on high?”
“He has diplomatic value, or something,” Jerinne said.
Satrine found herself laughing. “Of course a sewage crime lord has ‘diplomatic value.’ I swear, this country is run by feral pigs.”
“The kids you rescued. What did you know about who was taking them, where they were going?”
“Some were put on a boat,” Satrine said. That boat had made it to sea, probably with Corrie Welling on it. “And the rest, in crates on the cart with me. I heard them saying we were going to someone named ‘Senek.’ He needed children and mothers.”
“Mothers?” Rian asked, coming back over with bowls. “As in, people who are mothers, or people to be mothers?”
“That’s a disturbing question,” Jerinne said with a shudder. “But you never found out more about this ‘Senek’?”
“Just the name,” Satrine said. “Maybe that’ll help.” She ground her teeth for a moment, unsure if she should even say the next part, burden Jerinne with it. The girl was so young, and constantly took on more than she ever should.
You were the same age in Waisholm, literally shaping the direction that kingdom would go.
“There is something else. Chief Quoyell was assassinated by a mage that night, so we couldn’t question him further.”
Jerinne nodded. “I think Dayne mentioned that.”
“I found out later the assassination may have been ordered by a member of Intelligence.” She leaned in to whisper, as if even the name reaching Rian’s ears would put her in danger. Rian took the cue and went back into the kitchen with Caribet. “It was Colonel Altarn. You know who that is?”
Jerinne took that in, but if it gave her further clarity, Satrine didn’t see it on her face.
Rian came back with a bottle of wine, pouring a glass and putting it in front of Satrine. “You look like it’s been that sort of day.”
“It has been that sort of day,” Satrine said. She still hadn’t yet told the girls about Mother. She didn’t know how to tell them, what to tell them, about that awful woman who was now back in Satrine’s life. Or that they now had an uncle who was only a little older than Rian. She knew she needed to tell them that before Rian accidentally started kissing him.
But seeing how Rian and Jerinne looked at each other as they started eating, it occurred to Satrine that Rian kissing boys wasn’t a thing she should be worried too much about.
A young blond woman, in a cloistress habit and with a serious face, sat on the steps of Saint Limarre’s with a valise next to her as Dayne approached. She seemed lost in thought when Dayne went up the steps, her eyes locking on him.
“A champion!” she said. “I’ve been here waiting for my champions. They . . .” She looked around in confusion for a moment. “They didn’t . . . is this the wrong church?”
Dayne wasn’t sure how to take that. “Miss, can I help you with something?”
“You’re not
