Daja got up and went over to the window, leaning her face against its icy panes. People passed by on Blyth Street outside the open gates, laughing and talking. “He keeps mementoes,” she said, hating herself for the betrayal. “In his study, at home, behind his desk. He said he took them from fires where he accomplished something. I believed him, except… ” Daja hesitated.

“Except?” Heluda prodded.

“I’m almost positive three are from the fires I know of,” Daja said. The pane on which she leaned had gone warm. She shifted to another, taking comfort from the chill of the glass on her skin.

Heluda got up and began to pace, dodging furniture and knickknacks. “I didn’t know that. We have him. We have him. We’ll need time to work the proper spells-“

“He’s gone for two weeks,” Daja told her. “More, he said, if the weather isn’t good.”

“I know he’s gone,” Heluda said. “I’m using the time to build the case against him.” She rewrapped the iron bar and placed it in her leather satchel, then straightened and looked at Daja. “You may discuss this with Frostpine, if you like, but please, no one else. You know how gossip spreads.”

Daja nodded.

“Should I have you swear-?” Heluda asked, then shook her head. “You’ll hold your tongue. I’ve left messages at the southern gates and Ladradun House, that I would like a word when he comes back. All very ordinary, nothing to worry about. If you see him beforehand, don’t say anything. His mother is a powerful and wealthy woman. I wouldn’t put it past her to help him escape, if only to preserve the family name. We must be very careful.”

“I will,” Daja whispered.

Heluda came over to rest a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Talk it out with Frostpine, but make sure no one else hears.” She lifted her satchel with a grimace. “I’ll get you word as I can.” She left without saying goodbye.

Chapter 15

It was the most ridiculous thing. Ben and his escort reached the first inn on the imperial road shortly after dusk. They set out at dawn the next day, only to encounter their caravan an hour’s ride from the waystation.

“You wouldn’t believe it,” the foreman told Ben as they all headed back to Kugisko. “The roads to the west are nearly wide open-the mildest winter anyone can remember. We only had to dig ourselves out once, at that turn near Thistledown, where the wind’s so bad.”

“I can’t say I’m heartbroken,” Ben forced himself to reply casually. “You saved me a trip.” And the chance to experiment in Izmolka, where he didn’t need to be so careful. He fumed about that, but he also considered his next Kugisko lesson. Shipquarter Island appealed to him, but there were other places as good, if not better.

He wondered how many had died in the bathhouse fire. Without him to direct the firefighters, he knew they would have lost plenty of the surrounding buildings and their residents as well. The excitement of that spout of flame and smoke had faded so quickly, and he hadn’t seen any of the results up close. He’d stop by the remains in a day or so, but it wouldn’t be the same. He needed something else. Something where he could show them all what he was made of.

They spent the night in the waystation outside Kugisko’s walls. None of the Ladradun riders mentioned it, but all of them looked forward to a last night of quiet before they dealt with Morrachane. At Suroth Gate the next morning they waved to the guards and would have ridden on through-there was no line, today being Watersday-but for the sergeant who ran up to Ben waving a paper. “Viymese Heluda Salt asked me to give you this when you returned,” she said, offering it to Ben. “It was left just yesterday. If she’d waited a day, she could have spoken to you herself!” She waved them on cheerfully.

Heluda Salt. Something cold blew across the back of Ben’s neck as he opened the unsealed note. Its contents were innocent enough:

Ravvot Ladradun, I have one or two questions with regard to your observations of the boardinghouse fire and the fire at Jossaryk House. I would appreciate it if you would contact me upon your return, when it is convenient. The governor has asked me to attend to these matters, and I will be your eternal servant if you could help me handle the governor. -Heluda Salt

Well! he thought, pleased. A mage who didn’t think her spells would show her everything she had to know, that was unusual in his book. She had also given him an opportunity, the chance to lead her investigation in the wrong direction.

Half distracted by his plans, Ben escorted the caravan to the warehouse and watched them unload until he got bored. He tossed the key to his foreman with orders to lock up and return it the next day, then rode home. It was only mid-morning; not only were the streets fairly empty still, but his mother would be at temple, leaving him rare time alone.

Once he reached Ladradun House, he tended his horse, cursing his mother’s refusal to keep even one servant there on Watersday. Inside the house was dark and silent. Morrachane never left so much as a single lamp lit when they were out. Ben stopped in the kitchen to gather a few coals in a carry-dish, so he could light his office lamps and build a fire in his stove.

As careful as he was, with only some orange coals for light, he banged into a hallway table. He cursed: the edge had struck his hip, sending a bolt of pain through his leg.

A slight rustle and thud greeted his curse.

“Who’s there?” he called.