“They’re beautiful.”
“Yes.”
And so they ate, and drank, and talked, and for the first time in many, many days Annaig felt like a real person again.
When Slyr finally curled up to sleep with her blanket, she opened her locket again.
There wasn’t anything there, which meant Coo wasn’t with Attrebus. She waited, hoping he would answer, but after an hour or so she fell asleep, and her dreams were troubled.
FIVE
To Colin, the corpses looked like broken dolls flung down by a child in a tantrum. He couldn’t imagine any of them ever having been alive, breathing, talking, feeling. He couldn’t find any empathy even for the worst of the lot —those burnt to char—and he knew he ought to. He should at least feel sick or repelled, filled with the fear of such a thing happening to him, but he just couldn’t find anything like that in him.
Well, Prince, he thought, congratulations. Well done.
“Stay away from the bodies,” he told the royal guardsmen. He didn’t have to tell his own people; they were professionals. “Put sentinels on the road and in the woods. Stop any wagons and route foot and horse traffic well around this. Tell them a bunch of ogres have set up camp and we have to clear ’em out.
“Gerring, you start the search for witnesses. Every house, every shack in the area. Hand, you go to Ione and Pell’s Gate. Guilliam—you take Sweetwater and Eastbridge. Be discreet. See who’s saying what in the taverns. You know what to do.”
He nodded at a flurry of “Yes, inspector” but kept his gaze on the scene.
Most had been struck by arrows and had either died of that or of having their throats very professionally slit later. A sizable fraction had been immolated, presumably by sorcery. The attackers, interestingly, either hadn’t had any casualties or—if they had—didn’t leave them behind.
The arrows he recognized as belonging to an insurgent faction from County Skingrad that called themselves the “Natives.” A number of the bodies had been beheaded, a practice also in keeping with that same nasty bunch of thugs.
He stopped in front of one body that was burnt but not incinerated. Bits of clothing and jewelry still clung to it and a notably large ring. The head was missing.
“Too convenient,” he murmured as he took a closer look at the ring. As he suspected, it was the signet ring of Crown Prince Attrebus.
Of course, if it had been the Natives, they would certainly have singled out Attrebus’s head as the best trophy. But then, why leave the ring?
“Oh, sweet gods,” someone gasped. “It’s the prince.”
Irritated, Colin turned to find Captain Pundus dismounted and standing a few feet away.
“Captain, I asked you to stay clear of the bodies.”
Pundus reddened. “See here, I’m the leader of this expedition. Who do you imagine you are, shouting orders at me and my men?”
“You were the leader of this expedition until we found
“On whose authority?”
Colin removed a scroll from his haversack and handed it to the captain.
“You know the Emperor’s signature, I assume?”
Pundus’s eyes were trying to pop out of his head. He nodded rapidly.
“Good. Then set your men to divert traffic, as I requested, and advise them not to speak of anything they’ve seen here. I advise you the same.”
“Yes, sir,” the captain said.
“After I’m done, we’ll need wagons, enough to hold the bodies. We’ll want them covered, as well. See if you can locate some in the nearby towns. And again, not a word.”
“Sir.” The captain nodded, remounted, and rode off.
He looked around a few more moments, then took a deep breath. He found the spark in himself that belonged not to the world, but to Aetherius, to the realm of pure and complete possibility.
He was lucky—this was easy for him. If he’d needed to start a fire or walk on water, it would require training, a mental sequence worked out by someone else to convince him that such things could be done. But for what he was doing, he need only focus and pay attention, look beneath the rock that everyone else didn’t notice.
The scene darkened and blurred, and for a moment he thought there was nothing left, but then he saw two spectral forms. One, a woman, was staring down at her body. The other, a man, was crouched into the roots of a large tree.
The man was closer, so he took the few steps necessary. He was already starting to feel himself weakening, the spark fading, so he knew he should hurry.
“You,” he said. “Listen to me.”
Vacant eyes turned to him. “Help me,” the ghost said. “I’m hurt.”
“Help is on the way,” Colin lied. “You need to tell me what happened here.”
“It hurts,” the specter said. “Please.”
“You came here with Prince Attrebus,” Colin pursued.
The man laughed harshly. “Help me up. I just want to go home. If I can get home, I’ll be fine.”
“Who hurt you? Tell me!”
“Gods!” He breathed raggedly, then stopped. His head dropped against the tree.
A moment later it rose again.
“Help me,” he said. “I’m hurt.”
Colin felt a sudden surge of anger at the pitiful thing.
“You’re dead,” he snapped. “Have some dignity about it.”
Almost shaking with fury, he went over to the other spirit.
“What about you?” he asked. “Anything left of you?”
“What you see,” the woman murmured. “Your accent—you’re Colovian, like me.”
“Yes,” he replied. “Where are you from?”
“I was born near Mortal, down on the river.”
“That’s a nice place,” he said, feeling his anger leave him. “Peaceful, with all of those willows.”
“There were willows all around my house,” she replied. “I won’t see them again.”
“No,” he said softly. “I’m sorry, you won’t.”
She nodded.
“Listen,” Colin said, “I need your help.”
“If I can.”
“Do you remember what happened here? Who attacked you? Anything?”
She closed her eyes. “I do,” she said. “We were with the prince, off following some half-cocked scheme of his. Headed for Black Marsh, of all places. We were ambushed.” She sighed. “Attrebus. I knew he would get me killed someday. Is he dead, too?”
“I don’t know. I was hoping you did.”
“I didn’t see. First there was fire, and then something hit me, hard. I didn’t even get to fight.”
“Why were you going to Black Marsh?”
“Something about a flying city and an army of undead. I didn’t listen that closely. His quests were usually pretty safe, well in hand before we even arrived, if you know what I mean.”
“The Emperor forbade him to go. He disobeyed.”
“We weren’t sure what to believe,” she said. “Might’ve been part of the game. There were other times like that.” She shook her head. “I wish I could help you more.”
“I think you’ve helped me quite a lot,” Colin said. He looked around at the carnage. “Are you staying here, do you think?”
“I don’t know much about being dead,” she said, “but it doesn’t feel that way. I feel something tugging at me, and it’s stronger all the time.” She smiled. “Maybe I only stayed to talk to you.”
