Chapter 155: Small Wrong Things

I woke because someone knocked on the door, which was already a poor start.

I opened one eye. Dream Haven had spread across most of the bed during the night, and I was comfortable enough that getting up had become a moral question. The knocking came again.

"Lord Vortex?"

Tessa. I closed the eye.

[You are awake.]

’Debatable.’

"You have morning cultivation in twenty-three minutes, my lord."

Even the household was against me. "Thank you."

Her footsteps went away. I stared at the ceiling.

[Twenty-two minutes.]

’You aren’t helping.’

[I am counting.]

’That’s the opposite of helping.’

I sat up. Eventually.

***

Instructor Sorel had found a room with a wooden floor and decided that made it suitable for cultivation. I suspected she considered comfort a weakness. The five of us sat in a loose circle while she walked between us, listening to our breathing and occasionally ruining someone’s morning. Mostly mine.

"Slower."

I opened one eye. "You didn’t even say my name."

"I didn’t need to."

I slowed the circulation through the final channel. Across from me, James was already moving at the reduced pace Sorel had set for him. He had become good at hiding how much he hated it. Not from me, but probably from everyone else.

Sophie finished first, then Elizabeth, and Daphne opened her eyes a little after. James kept going. So did I, sitting with my eyes closed, out of solidarity and because sitting was comfortable.

Sorel stopped beside me. "You’re finished."

"I know."

"Then get up."

"James is still cultivating."

"He has a separate cycle."

"I’m supporting him."

James didn’t open his eyes. "Please don’t."

Betrayal before breakfast. I got up.

***

Breakfast was less formal than dinner. There were only two forks, which I counted as progress.

Lord Merrow arrived halfway through it, and he wasn’t smiling. Not properly. His expression was controlled enough that I noticed the difference, and Elizabeth did too. She set her cup down.

"What’s happened?"

Merrow looked to Renn. "One of my western patrols came back before dawn."

Renn straightened a little. "Trouble?"

"Possible beastkin activity on the road."

Nobody spoke.

"Three riders found tracks near the western crossing," Merrow went on. "A freight cart abandoned beside the road. Blood nearby."

"What kind of tracks?" asked Renn.

"Several kinds."

"How many?"

"My captain estimates eight to twelve."

"Direction?"

"Southwest at first. Then they scattered."

Renn’s expression didn’t change. "Did your riders pursue?"

"No. I have standing orders not to chase unknown groups into the tree line."

That was sensible, and Renn nodded once. "Good."

Merrow turned to Elizabeth. "I don’t know whether this has anything to do with your party."

Her face stayed still. "But you’re concerned it might."

"I’d be negligent if I weren’t."

James had stopped eating. "How far?"

"Half a day’s ride west."

That was closer than I liked.

"Which faction?" asked Sophie.

Merrow shook his head. "Nobody got close enough to identify them."

"Then why call them beastkin?" said Elizabeth.

"The tracks." He glanced at her. "Clawed feet. One set with a heavy heel and deep impressions at the front. Another like a large cat’s. My patrol captain has experience with border incursions."

A large cat. Tigers were large cats. I thought of the mark scratched into the wall in Marrowfield, and kept eating.

Daphne was watching Merrow. So was Renn. Merrow didn’t seem to notice either of them.

"Could be animals," said James.

"Some could."

"But not all."

"No."

Renn wiped his hands and stood. "We aren’t moving until I know what’s on that road."

Merrow inclined his head. "My recommendation as well."

"For how long?" Elizabeth asked.

"Until my scouts come back."

"Yours?"

"Yes." Merrow’s eyes went to him, and Renn went on as though he hadn’t noticed. "I’ll send three Academy riders. Your people can provide a fourth to guide them as far as the site, my lord."

"Of course."

"Nobody follows tracks out of sight of the road. Nobody engages. They confirm the cart, the blood and the tracks, and they come back." He looked down the table at us. "You remain inside the estate grounds."

James leaned back. "All day?"

"Until I say otherwise."

"That sounds excessive."

"It is."

James frowned. Renn didn’t. Sophie looked out of the window toward the gardens.

"Can we go outside?"

"Inside the walls."

"The greenhouse?"

Renn stared at her, and Sophie waited.

"Inside the walls," he said.

She smiled. Daphne looked down at her plate with the air of someone regretting yesterday.

***

The scouts left before we had finished breakfast. Renn didn’t go with them. He watched from the courtyard until the gate closed, then spoke quietly with Sorel and two of his senior guards, and afterwards there were more of his people around the guest wing. Not enough to look dramatic, but enough to notice. Merrow’s people noticed too, and nobody complained.

I went back to my room intending to spend the morning productively. That lasted six minutes, and then Sophie knocked. I considered pretending to be asleep.

[She knows you are awake.]

’How?’

[You spoke to Tessa in the corridor thirty seconds ago.]

I disliked evidence.

"Alash."

I opened the door. Sophie stood there with Daphne beside her. I looked at Daphne.

"You agreed to this."

"I know."

"You can still escape."

"I tried."

Sophie looked offended. "Once."

Daphne’s face stayed perfectly flat. "Once was enough to establish intent."

I almost respected it.

Sophie pointed down the corridor. "Greenhouse."

"No."

"You aren’t doing anything."

"I’m resting."

"You just woke up."

"Exactly."

Daphne glanced at Dream Haven under my arm. "Bring it."

I stared at her. She had adapted much too quickly.

***

The greenhouse was larger than I had expected, glass walls on an iron frame, with rows of plants laid out so precisely that someone had probably threatened the gardeners with paperwork. Sophie disappeared at once between two rows of blue flowers. Daphne followed more slowly. I found a bench, and decided the trip was going well.

The air smelled of damp soil and herbs, though not healing herbs; most of it was decorative, with a few culinary plants along one wall. A gardener was working near the far end with a pair of shears, and two servants came through a side door carrying baskets.

One of them dropped something. Metal hit stone with a sharp crack, and the servant beside him flinched so hard he nearly lost his basket. It wasn’t surprise. He turned toward the sound before it had finished, his shoulders up and his head down, and only when he saw what had fallen, a watering hook, did his body slowly loosen.

Sophie had seen it. I knew because she had stopped touching the flowers.

"Careful," the gardener snapped.

"Yes, sir."

The servant bent quickly to pick up the hook. His hands were shaking.

Sophie looked at me, and I looked back, and neither of us said anything. A few minutes later, the same servant passed close to our bench just as someone shouted outside. It was only a stable hand calling for another bucket, but the servant flinched again. Less this time, but it was still there.

Sophie waited until he had gone back through the side door. "Did you see that?"

"Yes."

Daphne was looking at the door. "He reacts before he knows what the sound is."

Sophie frowned. "Meaning?"

"He’s expecting something."

I rested my chin on Dream Haven. "Maybe Merrow has loud guards."

"You don’t believe that," said Sophie.

"I believe several things are possible."

"That’s annoying."

"I learned it from old people."

"Theoran," said Daphne.

"And Valerian."

"Both?"

"Regrettably."

Sophie glanced back at the door. "Should we tell Renn?"

"Tell him what?"

"That the servants are scared."

Daphne answered before I could. "Of what?"

Sophie hesitated, and that was the whole problem. We had one nervous servant. Perhaps a strict household, or a violent steward, or something that had nothing to do with us at all. Evidence was being difficult.

"Not yet," I said.

Sophie didn’t look happy about it, but she nodded.

***

James found me after lunch, in the western gallery. I hadn’t gone there voluntarily. Merrow’s steward had told us the library was being cleaned, which left the gallery as one of the few places guests were encouraged to wander, so I had gone back to visit the offended portrait.

James stopped beside me. "You like this one?"

"He understands being somewhere against his will."

James studied the painting. "He’s dead."

"Exactly."

James looked at me, and then toward the corridor. "Come here."

"No."

His expression changed. "Alash."

That was unusual enough that I followed him. We stopped at the tall windows that overlooked the northern courtyard, and James pointed without lifting his hand.

"Guard posts."

Two of Merrow’s guards stood near the old north wing, and another pair further along the wall.

"So?"

"Look which way they’re facing."

The outer wall was behind them, and beyond it the fields and the road where the raiders supposedly were. The guards were facing the house, and more specifically, the north wing.

"Maybe they’re guarding the doors," I said.

"From what?"

"Guests."

James looked at me. "That isn’t normal."

"You are a guest."

"Exactly."

I looked again. The nearest guard had a clear view of the north wing’s side door. The second had a clean angle on the narrow service courtyard. Neither could see the western road at all. As I watched, one of them turned his head, not toward the wall but toward a servant carrying a crate from the north building to the kitchen passage, and his eyes followed her until she was gone.

James lowered his voice. "Those aren’t perimeter positions."

"No."

"They’re watching inside."

"Probably."

"You saw something last night."

I turned to look at him. He smiled slightly.

"You’ve looked north every time we’ve passed a window."

That was irritating. "I smelled medicine."

The smile went. "What kind?"

"Possibly for beastkin. A fur salve."

"Why would Merrow have that?"

"Horses. Dogs. Magical animals."

"Does he have any?"

"I don’t know."

James looked back down at the guards. "So: a wing closed to guests, guards watching inward, and medicine for fur."

"And a servant Sophie thinks is frightened."

He turned. "When did that happen?"

"In the greenhouse."

"You went to the greenhouse?"

"Daphne made me."

Daphne wasn’t there to defend herself, which was useful.

James rubbed his jaw. "Now do we tell Renn?"

"Tell him what?"

He frowned. "You’re enjoying saying that."

"No." I was, a little. "We have odd guards, a nervous servant, and medicine with several explanations."

"And beastkin turn up on the road the morning after we arrive."

That was better. I looked at him, and he saw it.

"Exactly," he said.

"It still isn’t proof."

"No. But it’s more annoying."

"Yes."

He looked toward the north wing again. "We keep looking."

Apparently that was a decision now. I wasn’t sure when I had agreed to it.

***

Elizabeth noticed numbers, which surprised nobody.

That afternoon, Merrow’s steward gave us a short tour of the estate’s relief stores while Merrow was busy with Renn. Western nobles were apparently expected to keep emergency grain, medicine, blankets and preserved food for the nearby villages, in case of raids or a bad winter. It was sensible, which made me distrust it slightly. The storeroom was impressive, row after row of sacks and barrels and shelves, and the steward did all the talking.

"We keep three months of household grain on site, and an additional reserve for the surrounding villages."

Elizabeth ran her fingers lightly along the edge of the ledger. "How many people does the estate support?"

"Household and permanent staff? One hundred and twenty-three."

"And guards?"

"Thirty-seven permanent. Seasonal men as needed."

"Families?"

"Included in the household count."

She turned a page. I wasn’t reading; numbers had started appearing, and numbers were Elizabeth’s territory. I considered leaving. Then she stopped, without any drama, one finger resting on the page.

"How often do you replenish preserved meat?"

The steward blinked. "Every ten days, Your Highness."

"These transfers to the household kitchens are weekly."

"Recently."

"Why?"

"The border situation."

"More guards?"

"A temporary increase."

"How many?"

The steward hesitated, very briefly. "Twelve at present."

Elizabeth looked up, very politely. "Thank you."

He relaxed, which was probably a mistake. She finished the tour without asking another odd question, and waited until the steward had gone and we were outside the storeroom before James leaned in.

"What did you find?"

"Even counting the temporary guards, the household is drawing enough food for fifteen to twenty more adults than it admits to."

Sophie frowned. "That’s a lot."

"Not enough for an army. Enough for a room full of people nobody mentions."

Nobody spoke. I remembered the tray from the night before, covered, meat and bread, going north. Daphne caught my expression.

"What?"

"The tray last night."

Elizabeth’s eyes sharpened, and I told them, briefly. She listened without interrupting, and when I was done she looked toward the north side of the house.

"So someone is being fed there."

"Probably."

"Fifteen to twenty people?"

"Maybe."

James crossed his arms. "That sounds closer to proof."

"No," said Elizabeth. "It sounds like a discrepancy."

"You’re impossible."

"So are accusations against territorial lords."

That shut him up. She was right, which was irritating.

Sophie folded her arms. "How many wrong things do we need before they’re allowed to be one big wrong thing?"

Nobody answered, because I had been wondering the same thing.