Soul of the Fire

Fitch hurried along the dimly lit corridor. Rowley had told him it 'was important. Morley's bare feet thumped against the wood floor. It sounded odd to Fitch, now. Having never worn boots, it had taken Fitch time to get used to the way they sounded. Now bare feet sounded odd to him. Beyond odd, it was a sound that reminded him of being a shoeless scullion, and he didn't like to be reminded of that part of his life.

Being a messenger was like a dream come true.

Through the open windows the sounds of the music at the feast drifted in. The woman with the harp was playing and singing. Fitch loved the pure sound of her voice as she sang along with her harp.

"Got any idea what this is about?"

"No," Fitch said. "But I wouldn't think we would have messages to take this time of night. Especially when there's a feast going on."

"I hope it doesn't take long."

Fitch knew what Morley meant. They'd only just settled down to get drunk. Morley had found a nearly full bottle of rum and they were looking forward to getting drunk out of their minds. Not only that, but Morley had a washgirl he knew who said she'd like to get drunk with them. Morley told Fitch that they should let her get drunk first. Fitch was panting at the implications.

Besides that, and just plain liking to get drunk, he wanted to forget his talk with Beata.

The outer office was empty and had a hollow quiet to it. Rowley hadn't returned with them, so there was just the two of them. Dalton Campbell, pacing slowly with his hands clasped behind his back, saw them and waved them in.

"There you both are. Good."

"What can we do for you, Master Campbell?" Fitch asked.

The inner office was lit by lamps, giving it a warm feeling. The window was open and the light drapes glided to and fro in a light breeze. The battle flags rustled a little in the breeze.

Dalton Campbell let out a sigh. "We have trouble. Trouble about the murder of Claudine Winthrop."

"What sort of trouble?" Fitch asked. "Is there anything we can do to fix it?"

The Minister's aide wiped a hand across his chin.

"You were seen."

Fitch felt an icy wave of dread tingle up his back. "Seen? What do you mean?"

"Well, you remember you told me you heard a coach stop, and then you all ran off to that pond to dunk yourselves."

Fitch gulped air. "Yes, sir?"

Dalton Campbell sighed again. He tapped a finger against the desk as he seemed to consider how to put it into words.

"Well, the coach driver was the one who found the body. He turned back to get the city guard."

"You told us that already, Master Campbell," Morley said.

"Yes, well, I have only just learned that before he left, he had his assistant remain behind. The man followed your trail through the wheat. He followed you to the pond."

"Dear spirits," Fitch breathed. "You mean he saw all of us swimming and washing ourselves clean?"

"He saw you two. He's just now named your names. Fitch and Morley, he said-from the kitchen at the estate."

Fitch's heart was hammering out of control. He tried to think, but panic was welling up around his ears faster than he could tread it.

Good reason or not, they would still put him to death.

"But why didn't this man say something before, if he saw us?"

"What? Oh. I guess he was in shock over the sight of the body, and all, so he-" Dalton Campbell waggled a hand. "Look, there's no time to discuss what's already happened. We can't do anything about that, now."

The tall Ander pulled open a drawer. "I feel terrible about this. I know you two have done good work for me-for Anderith. But the fact remains, you were seen."

He took a heavy leather pouch from the drawer and plunked it down on the desk.

"What's going to happen to us?" Morley asked. His eyes were the size of gold sovereigns. Fitch knew how his friend felt. His own knees were trembling as he tried to imagine how they would execute him.

A new terror rose up inside his throat, almost pushing out a scream. He recalled Franca telling him how that mob put a rope around her neck and pulled her up to build a fire under her while she was strangling and her feet were kicking in the air. Except Fitch didn't have any magic to help him get away. He reached up and felt the coarse rope around his neck.

Dalton Campbell slid the leather pouch across the desk. "I want you two to take this."

Fitch had to concentrate to understand what Dalton Campbell had said. "What is it?"

"It's mostly silver. There is some gold in there, too. Like I said, I feel terrible about this. You two have been a big help and have shown me you are to be trusted. Now, though, with someone having seen you and able to identify you as being the ones… you would be put to death for killing Claudine Winthrop."

"But you could tell them-"

"I can tell them nothing. My first responsibility is to Bertrand Chanboor and the future of Anderith. The Sovereign is ill. Bertrand Chanboor could be called upon to become the new Sovereign any day. I can't throw the whole land into chaos over Claudine Winthrop. You two are like soldiers in war. In war, good people are lost.