Scarlett pointed at him with her bread. “Exactly. And the Nyphron Church would be the one building the pyre, proclaiming that evil comes from turning off Novron’s path. Around here, we look to Maribor and are granted his blessings for our steadfast faith.”
Hadrian tested the eggs with his fingers to see if they were too hot to pick up. They weren’t, and he found them rich and silky, with a nice smoked flavor from the pork’s fat. “What kind of blessings are we talking about?”
“Well, for one, it never rains here…not during the day at least. And the winters are mild. I’ve never seen anything like them.”
Royce smirked. “You realize you’re south, right? There’s this thing called climate. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”
She waved a hand in his direction. “And the blessing of Maddie? How do you explain her? Does the good weather make diseases flee from the body? Sure, people might not have as many colds in warm weather, but I’m talking about people who were stricken one day and fine the next.”
“If that’s true, I’d be more interested in the woman herself, not some god I’ve never seen lift his finger to help anyone. Where did Maddie come from and how did she get her so-called gift?”
“Don’t know. Not sure anyone does—Augustine might know more. An odd bird, Maddie was. Saved the lives of hundreds of people, but she wasn’t the least bit friendly.” Scarlett thought a minute, then pointed at Royce with her crust. “Come to think of it, she was a lot like you, only she saved lives.”
“Who is Augustine?” Hadrian licked his fingers. “In case we want to talk to him.”
“Augustine Gilcrest is the abbot of Brecken Moor.”
“Is he the one who ordered the tarring and feathering of Pastor Payne?”
Scarlett waved her bread this time, which Hadrian took a moment to realize meant no. “He’s a Monk of Maribor. While the Nyphron Church takes issue with the monks, the monks don’t feel the same way. Or maybe they do, but they would never act on it. The monks are a live-and-let-live sect.”
“They might feel differently if the Nyphron Church really does have plans to move in,” Royce said.
“No…no…it’s not possible—they’re…” Scarlett chewed for a while, swallowed, then stopped, still searching for words. “I don’t know how to explain. You’d have to meet them, I suppose. But no, neither he nor anyone at the monastery would have had anything to do with that.”
“Maybe we should talk to him.” Hadrian was still cleaning pork fat from his fingers one by one.
“You talk to him.” Royce took his foot off the stool and eyed his plate of food. “I’m not good with religious types. Besides, I need to get back and look around the castle some more.”
“This is really good, by the way.” Hadrian nodded at the plate.
“Thanks,” Scarlett said.
“Feeling sick yet?” Royce asked.
“Nope.”
Royce scratched his chin, then sighed and sat down, drawing his plate to him. He took a bite of pork and nodded. “Very good.”
“Thank you,” Scarlett said, but Hadrian couldn’t tell whether she was being genuine or sarcastic.
“Where is this monastery?” Hadrian asked.
“She’ll take you,” Royce replied.
“Whoa, wait a second.” Scarlett dropped the knife and bread and raised her hands. “Breakfast is one thing, but I do have a life.”
“While we’re here, you’re working for us. Consider it payment for what you did to Hadrian last night.”
“You can’t do that.”
Royce smiled at her and lifted the folded parchment from his pouch. “Amoral killer with a writ. I’m just about your worst nightmare. So what do you say you do it for your king? Oh, but just so we’re clear”—Royce pointed the tip of Alverstone at Hadrian—“if he suffers so much as a stubbed toe, I’m coming after you first.”
They finished breakfast, then Royce and Hadrian stepped outside while Scarlett cleaned. The sun was past midday, the shadows short, and the scent of magnolia hung in the air. Scarlett’s cottage didn’t have a yard. Her front steps led directly to the cobbles of the street.
“So you want to split up again?” Hadrian wasn’t sure this was such a good idea, given how things had gone the night before.
“Here.” Royce handed him his own piece of folded paper. “You have your steel, your credentials, and a guide. Even you should be okay given all that.”
Hadrian shot him a smirk. “I’m not worried about myself. You’re the one going into the lion’s den. If the church is trying to frame us, then Payne, Knox, and Fawkes are all in on it, and who knows how many others. That means the odds are stacked against you.”
“And how is that different from any other day of the week? Seriously, I’ll be fine.”
Hadrian had his doubts. Royce wasn’t so much a closed book as one that was chained shut, locked in a box, and thrown into the sea. Still, he was starting to sense moods, subtle shifts like a change in the wind. Hadrian had no idea whether a storm was coming or if the skies were clearing. What he did know was that something was off about Royce.
“What happened to you last night while I was being stupid?” Hadrian asked.
Royce wiped a hand over his face. “I certainly wasn’t being smart. I paid an uninvited visit to the lady’s bedroom. She caught me.”
“She caught you? How’d that happen?”
“I’m still trying to figure that out. Part of why I need to go back.” His face hardened.
Royce didn’t like privileged nobles as a general rule, but there was something about the look on his partner’s face that Hadrian couldn’t puzzle out. Royce seemed intent on hating Lady Dulgath for some reason, but Hadrian decided not to push.
“Okay, so while you’re stalking Lady Dulgath, I’ll investigate this monastery. What am I looking for exactly?”
“Don’t know.” Royce looked around. A two-wheeled wagon rested under the shade of an old oak across the street, flowers growing through its spokes. Scarlett Dodge lived on a lovely tree-lined lane that followed the curves of the little hills visible between the roofs of the houses. “Something strange about this place.”
“You mean like how everything is covered in ivy?” Hadrian said. “Or how the spring doesn’t uncover any new rocks?”
“Huh?” Royce asked.
“Rocks. You know, in the fields.”
“I can honestly say I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Each spring, farmers need to clear their fields of rocks brought up over the winter. Frost heaves them to the surface, where they ruin plow blades. So the farmers dig the stones up and make walls with them because there’s only so much material needed for building a house or well. Yesterday I rode by a dozen farms—you must have seen them, too. Had to have been here for centuries, but the rock walls are just little decorative things.”
“Easy winters. Not much frost.”
“Maybe. But what about it not raining here? And since when do the common people love their ruler so much?”
“So you have been paying attention.”
“I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”
“You have no idea how stupid I think you are, and honestly, we don’t have time for that conversation.”
Hadrian scowled.
“We’ll meet back in the room at Caldwell House tonight,” Royce said. “I might be late, so don’t wait up. And don’t turn your back on her again.”
“Scarlett?”
Royce rolled his eyes, sighed, and grimaced. “She’s not a pretty barmaid. She’s not a nice girl.”
“Seems like it to me.”
“Of course she does. She was in the Diamond. Her working name was Feldspar, and the nice-girl thing is part of her act. Cute and disarming, she dances, sings—”
“She sings, too?” Hadrian smiled.
“Pretty sure, and she does magic tricks. One of her favorites is making people’s coins disappear. She’s not innocent. She’s dangerous if you turn your back on her—so don’t.”
Hadrian recalled how deftly Scarlett had prepped the pork.
“And stay away from the pastor, too,” Royce said. “It would appear he was lying.”
“About what?”
“About there being no i in his name.”
Chapter Ten
Ghost in the Courtyard