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  It was not a full explanation – Lauren certainly wasn't the only person in Montmoth able to make himself understood in Firuven – but Ash could readily picture this extremely proud girl caught between need and distrust, struggling to find answers in a completely strange place.

  Telat had had no Genevieve. Would Ash, who had thought Genevieve's intervention a great blessing, but not critical, have really done so well without her? Tonight she was finding doubt in every corner, and the more she second-guessed herself, the less able she felt.

  "Why did you stop coming to the bakery?" Bitty asked.

  "Because of the Cold Man," Telat said, after Lauren had translated, and then frowned mightily because Lauren, Heran and Ash all reacted as if stuck with a pin.

  "Coincidence?" Lauren wondered, then asked Telat: "What do you mean by 'Cold Man'?"

  Made suspicious by their reactions, Telat searched his expression, then gestured at Larkin and Bitty: "I go to a place of theirs for food, but the last time a man, all ice, came to me after I left and looked at me and...spelled me in some way. There was no understanding it. He looked at me and I followed him, though I did not want to, and he put me in the room of a house even colder than him. There were bars on the window. But I came back to myself and opened a way out, and slipped free. That is where I did this." She gestured at her leg. "After that, twice I came to their place for food, but I could feel the cold man near, waiting. And later I could feel him where I usually sleep, so I came away."

  Astonished, Ash took a quick sip of water, then said: "Lark, have you noticed anyone watching the bakery lately?"

  "Why?"

  Lauren answered. "We believe – it's possible the man who attacked our coach this afternoon has been lying in wait for Sera Telat there. She must be a particularly desirable target. Sera, what did he look like?"

  A moment's quiet consideration. "Shorter than him." She indicated Larkin with a faint motion of her chin. "Pale. White hair. White eyes."

  Lauren translated crisply. "Have you seen anyone like that?"

  "No," Larkin said, as Bitty said: "Yes."

  "A rich man," Bitty continued. "Came in a few days ago. Didn't seem interested in what he bought. Did seem interested in the back of the shop. I thought he might have been one of Sonia's relatives."

  Larkin was on his feet. "We've got to–"

  "Wait," Ash whispered, then added to Telat: "Can you–"

  "Sera Telat, can you lead us to where he took you?" Lauren put in quietly.

  Telat wavered, caught between self-preservation and the important discovery of people who could speak her language.

  "We'll be going in numbers," Ash managed to say, then gave up on talking in favour of finding bits of paper she could write on. Lauren was more than capable, anyway, and soon had established that the house was in the Rockways – a part of the Commons northwest of Mids – and that Telat could definitely remember the rough location, and probably identify the exact house if she went there.

  Even narrowing the search down to the Rockways was more than enough information to warrant a response in force, and by the time Ash had finished writing, Lauren had succeeded in ensuring Telat would not bolt off into the night. Probably.

  It helped Ash enormously to have a definite goal, to set out a plan of action and make arrangements. It helped even more when Melar opted to stay, so she could allow herself to be shooed off to sleep rather than be concerned with keeping watch or herding Luinsel.

  Curled on one of the mat piles, she studied her hand, turning it so that she could glimpse the lines of light below the skin. Ash still did not in any way regret marrying Thornaster, but it had taken her less than half a day to nearly kill him.

  Had it been knowledge of the consequences that had slowed her blow that evening? How could she prevent herself from hesitating in future? She had as usual used disabling rather than killing blows and, low as those two scuts had been, she was still glad not to have their deaths weighing on her.

  Genevieve hadn't hesitated. She had killed Eward Carlyon, and given Ash years of happiness free from the threat he posed. Ash knew part of her reluctance to kill had come from the ease with which Genevieve had done so – and much of the rest from the horror of damnation, hanging for so many years over her guardian's head.

  Sighing, Ash tried to dismiss thoughts of death altogether, and think back instead to taking Thornaster's clothes off, and the heady sensation that had come from kissing him. But her throat was in no condition to be easily forgotten.

  So much for her wedding day.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  "Any better?"

  Ash, sitting on the broad stone wall surrounding the Mids Watch House, turned in slight surprise to Lauren. It was the first non-essential word he'd offered her since the well.

  "Better in that I'm at least half audible. It was hard to sleep. You seem...more centred today."

  "I suppose you could say events have overtaken my self-pity."

  "Ha." Ash shifted on the wall, checking that none of the rest of her group had strayed from the shelter of a nearby roof during the wait for the Guard. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry I didn't tell you who I was when we were talking."

  "Sun, I'm not. I don't think I could have–" Lauren took a slow breath. "I'm taking a lesson from that Firuvari child. Wearing rags, starving, and yet still the heir to one of Firuvar's great houses. She knows who she is, unequivocally, despite all evidence to the contrary. Surely I can still be Lauren, no matter who my father might be."

  He didn't quite sound like he believed it, but Ash let that pass. "It's a lot easier to be positive when you're not stuck down a well in the dark."

  "How is it you are still alive?" he asked, the words careful. "There was a body in that fire."

  "Yes, and I'd love to know how anyone could believe a leg of pork was me, once they'd put the fire out."

  "What?!"

  "I thought it a delaying tactic at the time. It occurs to me that someone might have intervened for me – saw that it wasn't a human body but told my father it was me because they disapproved of what had happened. Or maybe they were just really stupid. Who knows?"

  His mouth worked, but he couldn't quite find the situation funny. Ash looked him over, knowing she couldn't just fix him, but always ready with helpful suggestions.

  "The other day I asked Investigator Verel why she stayed in Montmoth, despite having to work twice as hard for half the respect. She told me it was for the money, which is reason enough I guess. But why do you stay around being the Black Carlyon's son?"

  "I don't know that hiding from myself is a better solution."

  "Who said anything about hiding? 'Carlyon' is just a name anywhere but Montmoth. Go to this Collegium place in Aremal – I'm sure they can produce endless lectures on sewers too."

  This produced a small cough of laughter, but then a thoughtful pause. "It would be something to see your – your husband compete seriously. If, that is, I can ever adjust to the idea of him being your husband."

  "You and me both." She slid off the wall. "They're nearly here."

  "I don't see them."

  "No." Ash lifted her hand, considering the gleam of criss-crossing lines. "I think I can tell where he is, now that he's closer."

  She turned and gestured to Sim and Melar to bring Telat down. Being 'prentices, most of the Huntsmen had a great deal of difficulty taking unexpected days off, and she had refused to allow the bulk of them to risk their positions, knowing she could divide her reduced numbers between guarding Heran back at headquarters and providing an escort for Telat because the Guard would supply the lack.

  Farpatten had delivered beyond anticipation, supplementing his Guardsmen with troops from Montmoth's small army. After the previous day's ambush, he had clearly decided there was little advantage in trying to get about quietly. They were all mounted, and the noise of so many horses drew the residents from their breakfasts to stare, and Captain Garton out of the Watch House for a brief reunion. But then Thornaster
was there, riding double with Bitty and leading an out-of-temper Cloud Cat, highly unimpressed by Larkin's efforts to stay on her back.

  Because this was not an occasion to hug her new husband, Ash wrapped her arms briefly around the mare's neck instead. Thornaster's gaze fixed inevitably on her livid throat, but all he said was: "The rest of your knives are in her saddlebags."

  "The Veirhoi?" Farpatten asked.

  "Safe. Guarded." Lauren accepted the reins of his blood bay from the Guardsman. "This is Sera Telat deas Docent. Will you take us there now, Sera?"

  Telat nodded once, firming her jaw, but then eagerly scrambled onto the blood bay's back. Horses made up for a great many trials.

  Farpatten wasted no time – perhaps hoping to regain through speed what they lost to noise. With a grand clatter of hoofs, they headed to the Rockways at a brisk trot, Ash's Huntsmen doubling with several of the Guard, and Captain Garton hurrying to collect and meet them with a Watchman from the Rockways District.

  There was no difficulty at all in locating the place. Thornaster reacted before they even reached the street, and Ash – another side effect of the soul bond? – was shivering by the time their target came into sight.

  An unremarkable house. It even reminded Daere a little of Genevieve's – a single-level construction of wood with a fenced-off garden. There were peach trees. Windows shuttered, no smoke rising from the chimney, nor any hint of activity.

  They paused several houses away to dismount and break into groups. A half-dozen quickly circled to the back to watch for anyone trying to flee, and a handful more spread among the neighbouring buildings, knocking on doors. While Farpatten and Thornaster conferred, Ash gestured to her Huntsmen, and gathered them well back with those assigned to looking after the horses, seeing no advantage in tangling with the initial rush. Lauren brought Telat to join them.

  "Odd."

  Ash, retrieving her spare knives, glanced up at Melar. "What?"

  "If this circus turned up in Mids, there'd be doors wide, heads out every window, curtains twitching. This place has only a few passers-by. It's like all the houses are abandoned."

  "No, there's someone," Larkin said, as one of the doors a Guard was knocking on was opened by a frazzled man in a nightrobe.

  Frowning, Ash passed Cloud Cat's reins to Melar, and crossed to stand at Thornaster's elbow as the Guardsman returned to Farpatten.

  "It's been empty this past year, Captain, after the merchant who owned it died. The Landhold there thinks there's been someone coming and going since last autumn, tidying the garden and keeping the building maintained, but not daily. We're sending for details of the new owner."

  "Take care – if the description matches our 'Cold Man', do not approach."

  "They're sick," Ash said, peering about at the slow responses to other knocking Guards. "Everyone in these houses – they're all sick."

  Farpatten looked at her, then Thornaster. "Odds are good this isn't where the Vicardies are hiding, that there mightn't be anyone here at all. Any objections to going in?"

  It was rare to see Thornaster hesitate. Ash couldn't be certain what the building felt like to him, but the closer she came to it, the more she became aware of an icy pulse, like a deep-set toothache. Farpatten seemed to feel it too, but most of those around them were merely wary, not oppressed by that relentless throbbing.

  "I'll take point," Thornaster said at last. "I don't think there's anyone in there, but the place itself is inimical. Bring a small group." He glanced at Ash. "Stay close behind me."

  As they broke down the door, Ash wondered at herself, because even though she'd replaced her knives she hadn't been planning to go inside, and that again was unlike her. Though perhaps a natural reaction to the place, where even the most stolid of the Guards flinched as they crossed the threshold. Breath misting, they crowded into a bare kitchen, seeing nothing but empty rooms and gloom.

  "Take down the shutters. Don't touch anything else." Thornaster, hand on the hilt of his rapier, padded forward, and Ash followed, ready to protect his back, keeping the possibility of invisible people firmly in mind.

  "Frost on this door," one of the Guard said.

  Thornaster drew his rapier and used the tip to prod the door open, revealing stairs descending into blackness. The Guard was sent for a lantern, Farpatten began a soft murmur intended to make his hand glow blue, and Ash, shivering, stood a little closer to Thornaster, who was by far the warmest thing in the building.

  "You're going to be useful in winter," she murmured.

  His frown eased, and he ruffled her hair, and then grinned when she pulled a face. "Was it your unique diplomacy which led to the strangulation?"

  Ash blinked. "Talking may have been the better option," she said. "Need to act outran me, I think."

  She slid her hand into his, which brought an entirely different expression to his face and she smiled, feeling much warmer, and then let go as the Guardsman returned.

  They moved in a tight cluster down to a large, square cellar. The walls were crusted with flowers of frost, and icicles speared from the ceiling. At first Ash thought it otherwise completely empty, but then she realised Thornaster had stopped several stairs from the bottom, and that the lower steps were covered by what she had thought to be the floor. Deep blue and viscous, it...rippled.

  "There's another well under that," Farpatten said, through chattering teeth. "See – you can just make out the circle of the well cover."

  Behind him, the lantern swayed.

  "Back up," Thornaster said sharply, and more or less hauled the Guardsman away from the cellar. He didn't stop at the top of the stair, but looked around and led them through the now-open back door into the walled rear garden, ordering the other Guards out as he did so.

  It was still unnaturally cold there, but nowhere near as bad as indoors. The Guardsman dropped his lantern and collapsed to his knees, shuddering, while Ash found the warmest spot of sunlight she could and stood with hands in armpits near some rows of chest-high plants. Even Farpatten sat down, stone face cracking in favour of open shock. But only for a few deep breaths, and then he climbed back to his feet.

  "If you have recommendations I'd be glad to hear them. I've not seen anything remotely like that before."

  "Nor I," Thornaster replied, less than happily. "Though I can guess at what it is, since it began to function on your man here, drawing his life out. It's the soul-stuff of sacrifices, shaped to become the vehicle of sacrifice. The souls it draws will be delivered up to Karaelsur. And it's sitting over a well."

  "What can we do?"

  "Take the roof off and rip up the main level's floor, to begin with. Expose it to sunlight. After that–" Thornaster looked back into the now-empty building. "It's vastly more powerful than I am," he said, bluntly. "And I doubt setting a bonfire on top of it will do more than risk damaging the well cover. Finding the instigator, whoever created this, may be the way forward."

  "We're having the owner of record traced. And there's this Firuvari witness – if I could have your assistance interviewing her, Ser Visel? We may get a better description."

  "Of course. Ash–"

  Ash was walking along the nearest row of plants. The leaf form and structure was much like a poppy, but the petals were fleshier, more like a rose. White, with blue stamens.

  "Kismollen," she said, glancing back at the men. "So much of it."

  It had been planted in such a strange way. Widely-space, the far rows the tallest, and the nearest decreasing in size from right to left, with the left most little more than a seedling. She bent to examine it, and then shifted uncomfortably, a chill rising through the leather of her boot. Stepping back, she glanced down.

  "Captain."

  Ash tried to be calm, but could not stop herself from backing away, staring in nauseated horror. It was as if someone was standing right below her, on the wrong side of Luin. Through the dirt she could see the heel, the unmistakable curve of the arch, and each pale toe outlined separately.

&n
bsp; The underside of a foot.

  Farpatten strode over, bending to scrape dirt away. "Fresh-turned," he murmured. "Sun, why upside-down?"

  "There'll be others," Thornaster said, and surveyed the long rows of plants, then looked sharply at Ash as she exclaimed, leaned forward, then backed away further. "What is it?"

  "Frog-shaped birthmark," she whispered. "That's Frog."

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  No neighbourhood would overlook dozens of men working to tear down a house as swiftly as possible, even without the frozen corpses being unearthed in its garden. Soon Farpatten had to put some of his resources to crowd control, keeping back a growing stream of gawpers. There was no way to prevent word from spreading, but no one could anticipate whether the 'Cold Man' would flee or attack.

  A Smallholder at the top of the street opened his house to the Guard, providing a base of operations, a steady supply of food, and a place to retreat to when the chill set too deep. Farpatten settled Telat in a second story room overlooking the street, asking her to alert them if the Cold Man should appear.

  Unable to face the increasing collection of corpses any longer, Ash soon joined her Huntsmen there, and found Lauren assisting in an impromptu lesson in Firuven. Telat, in a dress Bitty had brought down from the palace, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying pointing out objects in the street below and naming them.

  "Have they established how many?" Melar asked, turning to Ash.

  "One under every plant," she replied wearily. "Tied with their hands beneath their knees and buried upside-down, all looking like they were just buried. Frozen solid, and showing no signs of thawing out."

  The whole of the Vicardie family had been there, but the Guard had chosen not to share that information, and Ash was glad of their reticence because she could hardly bear to think about them. Just tools, used and discarded, and she would never be able to ask Frog why.

  "You're losing your voice again," Bitty observed.