lounge with a newspaper in her hands.
“You were asleep when I left for the Temple of Magicians and still asleep when I got back,” she said. “You must have been exhausted. Did the newsboy wake you?”
“Yes. Murder?”
“Yarvis Thayne. He was found outside his home. It appears that someone attacked him with a sword and shattered his shell. His internal organs were spread across the pavement. A ghastly business.”
I staggered and caught at a chair to support myself. I croaked, “Were you here when I returned from training?”
“Yes. You were all done in and went straight to bed. You didn’t even eat. You must be famished. I’ll ring for Kata—she’ll prepare you some breakfast.”
She reached for a small handbell but hesitated when I cried out, “Wait! Stop! Tell me—tell me, was I—was I—?”
“Covered in blood? No, Aiden, you weren’t. Neither was your sword. I know what you’re thinking and you can get it out of your head immediately. You didn’t kill Yarvis Thayne.”
She rang the bell.
“But what if I left the house while you were out?” I said.
“Do you remember doing so?”
“No.”
“Your sword was in exactly the same place by the door when I returned and Kata said you hadn’t stirred. If you’d got up, dressed, taken your weapon, and left the house, don’t you think she’d have noticed? Even if she failed to see or hear you depart, she’d have realised the blade was missing. No—you were asleep the entire time, there’s no doubt about it.”
I flopped into a chair, weak with relief.
“Murdered,” I mumbled. “Murdered!”
“It puts us in an awkward position. He was a figurehead for those who oppose the changes our presence has brought about. No doubt he, like Father Yissil Froon, wanted me banished to the Shelf Lands.”
I grunted a response.
“If the Yatsill knew how to investigate a murder,” Clarissa went on, “which they probably don’t, they’d have to place us on their list of suspects.”
Kata entered and bobbed a curtsey. Clarissa asked her to brew a pot of tea and grill a couple of Kula’at—a species of fish that tasted remarkably similar to smoked mackerel. As our housekeeper headed for the kitchen, my companion said, “Yarvis Thayne’s death isn’t the only bad news. Mademoiselle Clattersmash’s ailment appears to be spreading. According to the Trumpet there are four hundred and fifty-six reported cases so far. Like murder, sickness is a new phenomenon for the Yatsill.” She rustled the newspaper. “This reports the two events as if they’re nothing more than intriguing novelties. You and I should take them rather more seriously.”
“If we are to investigate, where should we start?”
“I shall ask Yissil Froon whether he or his supporters have been in any way threatened. You, meanwhile, should try to educate Colonel Spearjab in matters of policing the city. Let’s make the City Guard live up to its name, else what’s it for? I’ve not even seen it using the watchtowers!”
“I know,” I replied. “I’ve asked Spearjab and my fellow trainees again and again what the city is defending itself against but all I receive by way of response is evasiveness and the phrase ‘the Saviour’s Eyes are not always upon us.’ The same as when I’ve asked about being ‘taken.’”
“I’ve experienced the same evasiveness from the Magicians. Apparently these are taboo subjects during the light of day—perhaps we’ll learn more when night finally arrives. Keep pressing the subject, Aiden. In the meantime, if you don’t mind, I’m going to turn one of our rooms into a laboratory. I want to take blood samples and see if I can get to the bottom of this outbreak.”
° °
Guardswoman Lily Wheelturner emitted a squeal of pain and staggered backward, hopping on three legs.
“By the Suns!” Colonel Momentous Spearjab shouted. “Good move, lad! Good move, I say! Ha ha! What!”
Time had passed. I’d lost count of how many training sessions I’d endured since the death of Yarvis Thayne—maybe twelve, perhaps fifteen. The two suns were now sinking toward the ocean.
I couldn’t by any stretch be regarded as proficient with the sword, but during that long period, I had at least acquired skills enough to defend myself against Wheelturner’s attack. She’d made a clumsy thrust at my stomach that I’d evaded by turning sideways, allowing her blade to skim across the tough padding around my torso while I used my momentum to spin and swing my weapon against one of her upper thighs.
I lowered my sword and flexed my shoulders, trying to work the stiffness out of them.
“No slacking!” Spearjab bellowed.
Wheelturner lunged