“What about the merchanter guards?”
“I have thought about that, ser. They were different. They were not the guards that had been with Lord Mykel’s friend every time in the two years before.”
“Was there anything else different about them?”
“I did not see anything different. They were guards. They had blades. They watched. They did not eat when the others did. Neither did two Afritan Guards. That was the way it always was.”
“What happened after they ate?”
“The heir and his friend sat here and talked. Then they went upstairs.”
“What about the guards?”
“Most of them went to their rooms. One guarded the upstairs, and another guarded the front door. That was the way it always was.”
“What about you and your consort?”
“She was tired. She went to bed early. I went upstairs to wait for Jahib. I fell asleep in the chair. When I woke it was light, and she was screaming that Jahib was missing. We began looking everywhere for him. Ottar found him at the bottom of the well.”
Although Lerial continues to question the innkeeper for another half glass, he learns little more. Finally, he says, “I’d like to speak to your consort.”
“Ser … I beg of you. Do not be cruel. Jahib was our only child. She mourns. She will mourn always.”
“I do need to speak to her.”
“I will find her and bring her here.”
“Thank you.”
After the innkeeper leaves, Lerial reviews what Immar had said, but he can find no inconsistencies. We’ll see what his consort has to say.
“Ser…” At the sound of the innkeeper’s voice, Lerial rises from the small table and turns.
The woman who approaches from the entry hall archway wears a heavy black and white mourning head scarf, swirled around her head so that Lerial can see little except her eyes. She stops short of the table. Lerial gestures for her to sit, and she does. She does not speak, even after Lerial seats himself.
“Your son is dead,” he says quietly. “I cannot restore him to you. I would ask your help in finding the sons of other mothers.”
The woman still does not speak.
Lerial reaches out, his hand just short of the woman’s forehead, then extends the smallest trace of order, along with what he hopes is a feeling of comfort. He lowers his hand.
Her eyes widen, then brighten, as if with unshed tears. After a moment, she says, “You are a magus from the south, are you not?”
“From the south and of the Magi’i,” he replies, for he does not consider himself a magus.
“You can tell the truth of my words?”
Lerial smiles, wryly. “I can tell if you do not believe your own words.”
“They killed my Jahib. He was but twelve, and they killed him.”
“I heard he was found in the well.”
“They wanted me to think my son was stupid and careless. My son. He was dutiful and the most careful of boys.”
“Who wanted you to think that?”
“Those who killed him.”
“Do you know who killed him? Or how? When?”
“Someone with the heir. It could have been no one else.”
“How do you know he was killed?”
“His belt was caught in the bucket strap. He never stood that way in lifting water. He always set the bucket on the well wall. The wall is chest high. Immar built it that high so no one would ever fall in.”
“Why didn’t you know that something had happened to him?”
“I was so … tired. I didn’t know why. I asked Quiela to make sure that Jahib came upstairs after he swept the kitchen. That was his chore. When I woke the next morning, it was light. I never sleep past dawn.”
“Why did you then?”
“Someone must have put something in the lager. We all slept late, except Quiela.” Her eyes brighten once more. “The Afritan Guard—the mean one who beat Immar—he told me she was dead. She was a sweet girl. She hurt no one. She was not pretty, but she was so sweet.”
“How could anyone have put anything in the lager?” asks Lerial.
“When the heir comes, a guard always watches the kitchen and the food. It is true when a merchanter comes also.”
“Were there two men in the kitchen, then?”
She frowns, trying to remember. “No. There was only the merchanter guard.”
Lerial wants to nod. “Were you in the kitchen all the time?”
“No. I watched Ottar when he prepared the food. I watched Quiela and helped her serve the food.”
“Did the heir drink your lager?”
“The heir always brings casks of his own wine. He drank that. So did his friends. The guards drank our lager.”
“Did you or Immar drink any of the wine?”
“The heir offered some to Immar. He always does. Immar does not like wine, but he always drinks some. He would not wish to offend the heir.”
“You only drank the lager?”
“That was all. Our water is better than most, but the lager is always clean.”
“Did Jahib drink lager?”
“We made him water his lager.”
“What about Quiela?”
“She watered her lager. She said it was better that way.”