He started into the third verse, the crowd silent, muffling their laughter so that they wouldn’t miss a word. Even with such a fine instrument, it was difficult to get the volume he needed before this many people. With his encouragement, they joined in the final chorus, making the stage vibrate with the sheer volume.

He ended it with a flourish. He could sense the wizards moving forward, but he decided to end the performance without them.

“Now,” he said with a deliberately engaging grin. “Come join me for the feast and drink or two—and I’ll do my best to be entertaining.” Lute in hand, he jumped off the high stage, away from the wizards, and led the horde to an invasion of the bar in the back of the room.

CHAPTER 10

It was almost dark when Jes got back to the farm.

Gura greeted him from the porch and Jes ruffled his fingers through the wiry hair. The Guardian had been demanding today; Jes was tired and his head hurt. He tried not noticing that there was something wrong because he didn’t know if he could keep the Guardian under control this time if there was.

Rinnie hadn’t come out when Gura barked.

The Guardian also knew he was tired, and he was willing to wait until they knew for certain. So it was Jes who walked to the back of the cabin and saw that Rinnie had done a few hours’ worth of work before putting her tools away where they belonged.

Had Rinnie grown impatient and set out after Mother and Lehr? He didn’t think so, especially since she’d left Gura here. He followed Mother and Lehr’s tracks to the woods, but he couldn’t see anything that indicated Rinnie had come here today. The ground around the cabin was too packed-down for him to follow a trail there.

Reluctantly he gave way to the Guardian.

He shouldn’t have stayed so long watching the new temple, thought the Guardian unhappily. But he’d never seen anything like the taint that spread from the temple through Redern. He’d been worried about Hennea; the forest king had made him responsible for her safety, and there was nothing safe about the temple. The geas that bound her made it impossible for him to stop her from going in, but he’d stayed and fretted over it until Jes had convinced him that Mother would know what to do about it.

In wolf form, the Guardian looked for Rinnie’s scent along the edge of the forest, but Jes had been right. She hadn’t followed Mother.

He went back to the cabin. Gura flattened himself submissively, but the Guardian ignored him. Gura shouldn’t have let Rinnie go off alone. Dogs did not make good guards—they were taught to obey the commands of the people they guarded.

Rinnie’s scent was here, but it was difficult to pick out one trail from another. He needed Lehr for this kind of job. He lifted his head from the porch step and cast an irritated glance toward the forest; judging by the time Hennea had taken to get from the village to the place where something had happened to Papa, Mother and Lehr should have been back by now. As he turned his head he caught a whiff of an odd scent.

What had Bandor been doing at the farm?

He seldom visited his aunt—both the Guardian and Jes found the village distressful. There were too many people for Jes, and he got confused by their unguarded emotions. To the Guardian, there were too many possible threats. Even so, he knew Bandor’s scent of yeast, salt, and soap.

The sound of rapid footsteps made him blend into the side of the porch so that he remained unseen. The wind was coming from the wrong direction, so he couldn’t tell who it was until Hennea came out in the open.

One sleeve was burned away and blisters started at her fingertips and trailed up fire-blackened flesh to her shoulder. She slowed to a walk, staggering slightly as she came in sight of the cabin.

“Seraph,” she said. “Jes, are you here?”

The Guardian shook with the implied violence of her condition, even though Jes tried to soothe him with the observation that she might have done the damage to herself because the hurt was concentrated on the wrist the geas band had been on. Hennea smelled of anger, fear, and pain, and Jes was tired. The beast snarled silently.

Hennea gasped slightly, and the Guardian knew that she felt the dread of his anger.

“Jes,” she said, closing in on the cabin. “Jes, I need to talk to you. There’s none here to harm anyone. Please. I need to talk to you.”

A tear slid down her face, and she wiped it away impatiently. “Please. I need your help.”

If the forest king hadn’t given her to him, the Guardian could have ignored her; but she was one of his now. So he slunk away from the porch and let her see him clearly, though Jes would rather have resumed his usual form because he didn’t want to frighten her anymore than she already was. Jes liked Hennea.

“Jes,” she said, unfazed by the monstrous wolf that stalked toward her. “Guardian. I’m so sorry. I’ve betrayed you all. I don’t know what he’s planned, but it’s my fault.”

It was difficult to get human speech out of his wolf throat, but the Guardian managed. “Who?”

“He planned it,” she said, holding her burnt arm awkwardly away from her body. “I thought I was so clever, figuring out that he was playing a game with your family—but his game was more subtle than I expected. He set me up, all but sent me out to find Seraph and tell her that I thought your father hadn’t been killed. He knew that she’d go and take Lehr. He knew Rinnie would be left here unprotected. He didn’t care about you, he doesn’t know what you are. But he wants Rinnie.”

Jes helped the Guardian cool his rage, and the beast welcomed the calm that would allow him to accomplish what was necessary.

“He has her?” he asked.

“Not when I left—I thought I might beat him here—but she’s gone, isn’t she? That’s why you’re here and not Jes.”

“My uncle was here,” the Guardian said. “Bandor, the village baker.”

“Lark take them all,” she whispered. “Bandor is one of Volis’s favorites. Would he turn your sister over to Volis?”

“He wouldn’t hurt her knowingly,” said the Guardian after a moment. “But his intentions are not important.” Since Jes controlled his savagery, the Guardian was able to think clearly again and focus his purpose. “We need to find them. Can you run?”

Lehr was right, it was late when they reached Redern, and Seraph was exhausted, both emotionally and physically. Only her obsessive need to force answers out of the solsenti priest gave her the fortitude to start up the steep street of Redern.

She almost walked right past the bakery. If there hadn’t been a light in Alinath’s room, she might have been able to do it. Alinath loved Tier, too. Seraph hesitated outside the door.

“She won’t believe you, Mother,” offered Lehr.

“Yes,” said Seraph, “she will—because she needs to believe it as much as I did.” She gave Lehr a tired smile. “She’ll still think it is my fault—but at least she won’t think he’s dead. She has the right to know.”

Seraph knocked briskly at the door. “Alinath, it’s Seraph, open up.” She waited, and then knocked again. “Alinath? Bandor?”

Lehr tested the air, “I smell blood. Is the door locked?”

Seraph tried the latch and the door swung open easily. There was no light in the front room, nor the bakery, but Lehr didn’t need light and she followed him to Alinath’s room. The door was ajar and Lehr opened it cautiously.

“Aunt Alinath?” he said, and the concern in his voice sent Seraph ducking under the arm he held the door open with.

Alinath was gagged and bound hand and foot on her bed. Her face was bruised; someone had hit her cheek and split the skin, which had bled copiously all over the bedding. When she saw them she began struggling furiously.

“Shh,” said Seraph, sitting beside Alinath. She took out her knife and carefully slid it around swollen flesh to cut the ropes. “I’ll have you free in a moment.”