The Overseer studied her in silence, over the tips of his steepled fingers, so long that Merrigan was ready to slap him, just to get him to blink. "You have been given a quest by someone magical, I presume? Other than the Fae who gifted the lad, Corby."
"Yes, I suppose you could call it that," she said.
"My assistant said she couldn't decipher all the layers, but it was applied with uncommon wisdom and purity of heart."
Merrigan swallowed hard, rather than release a thoroughly unladylike snort. She had enormous doubts about the "purity" of Clara's heart—or whether she had a heart at all.
"She believes much of the spell muffling you is to protect you. I agree."
"That's ... comforting."
For some reason, the Overseer found that amusing. He spent the next hour asking questions to bring out more details of the official complaint against Brimble and Swickle. He admitted that complaints had been registered against Swickle over several years, but no one had been able to bring him evidence. The knowledge that Brimble participated in the schemes explained the difficulty in finding any justice.
"A bitter truth that the whole countryside must learn," the Overseer said, as he stood and crossed the room to pick up a small copper bell, "is that the longer justice is delayed and lies replace truth, the heavier justice will strike when it finally does so." He rang the bell and returned to the desk, to offer his hand to help Merrigan rise. "I must presume you do not wish to return to Smilpotz."
"No, and there's no need. I finished my work and I have all I own in the world right here." She bent and picked up the bag with her few possessions, her new clothes, and the empty bag for carrying Bib.
"Forgive me, Mistress Mara, but I will need you to return, for the investigation. You will, of course, be housed at the expense of the tribunal, and a servant will guard you at all times, so there is nothing to fear. But I do need you to go back there."
"I understand."
Merrigan hoped the Overseer would understand when the spell of no return wouldn't let her retrace her steps to Smilpotz.
FOUR DAYS LATER, AFTER being housed in a nice, sedate inn, Merrigan climbed into a very large coach with the Overseer, four secretaries, six officers of the court, and massive boxes of documents and inkwells and ledgers. They were escorted by other court officials in open and closed carriages, and three dozen mounted soldiers. A good twenty people had been found to testify how they had been cheated out of gardens, horses, shops, or homes, and couldn't prove it wasn't entirely legal.
The coach rolled heavily and smoothly and slowly away from the Overseer's massive house, through the central square of Carnpotz, and toward the main road that cut the kingdom in half going north and south. Merrigan tucked herself as far into the corner as she could go without sliding between the cushions, and trembled in anticipation of what would happen next.
"Mistress Mara?" The Overseer looked up from the massive journal spread open on his lap, took the spectacles off his long nose, and frowned at her. "Are you feeling well?"
"Very well, sir. Why?"
"You look ..." His frown deepened. "You look rather ... transparent around the edges."
"It's started," Bib announced.
Most of the other people in the coach flinched at the voice coming from the bag sitting on Merrigan's lap. The Overseer had specifically requested she tell no one about Bib.
"What has started?" the Overseer asked.
"More dratted magic. I was hoping for a reprieve, for a worthy cause, but ..." Merrigan spread her hands in helplessness, and saw they were indeed turning transparent. She clutched the bag holding Bib with one hand and the nice, new, larger bag for her possessions, supplied by the Overseer. "It seems I'm not allowed to retrace my steps. Please be kind to Flora and Fauna and Cook and—"
The carriage turned upside down around her. A moment later Merrigan decided she had turned upside down, instead. She tumbled around for a few breaths, then landed in a loud rustling and an explosion of spicy green scent. When the world stopped tumbling, she opened her eyes, checked that both her bags were there, felt for her cap and her shoes, and looked around.
She sat in the middle of a candlespice bush, the feathery fronds dropping spicy-sweet powder all over her. More black powder rained around her, tossed upward by her landing.
"Mi'Lady? Are you all right?" Bib asked.
"That depends on your definition of 'all right.'" Merrigan turned carefully to get onto her knees, and from there to her feet.
She still felt somewhat wobbly and faintly dizzy, so she moved with caution and took deep breaths, fighting the hints of impending nausea. Then there were the tickly, feathery, long fronds of the candlespice bush that clung to her, tangling her legs, shifting when she took steps, so she couldn't be sure she could stay upright.
At last, she stumbled her way free of the bush, which had to be at least fifteen feet wide and high—on the small side, for a candlespice, actually. Merrigan's heart caught in her throat as she recognized the classic markings of a crossroads. From the broken bricks tossed into the ditches bracketing both roads, and the visible signs of patching with new bricks, she guessed this had to be a major roadway. What kingdom had she landed in?
"Bother," she muttered.
"What's wrong, Mi'Lady? Where are we?"
"You tell me." She dug Bib out of the bag and let both bags drop as she clasped the magic book in both hands and held him up, facing the tall stone pillar with mile markings and
