Soul of the Fire

When Dalton returned to the feast, he found Teresa, sitting in his chair, engaged in an intense conversation with the Minister. Her lilting laugh chimed above, while Bertrand's chuckle rumbled below, the middling drone of the feast. Hildemara, Stein, and the merchants at the other end of the table were engrossed in their own whispered discussion.

Smiling, Teresa reached out and took Dalton's hand. "There you are, darling. Can you stay now, please? Bertrand, tell Dalton he works too hard. He has to eat."

"Why, yes, Dalton, you do work harder than any man I've known. Your wife is frightfully lonely without you. I've been trying to keep her entertained, but she isn't interested in my stories. She is quite polite about it, even though she only wishes to tell me what a good man you are when I already know it."

Bertrand and Teresa encouraged him to return to his seat as she moved back to hers. Dalton held a finger up to his wife, imploring patience for just a moment longer. He moved around and put one hand on the Minister's shoulder and the other on Hildemara's as he leaned down between them. They both tipped their heads in.

"I have just now received new information that confirms my suspicions. As it turns out, the first reports of the crime were sensationalized. Claudine Winthrop was in reality murdered by just two men." He handed the Minister a folded piece of paper secured with a wax seal. "Here are their names."

Bertrand took the paper as a smile spread on his wife's face.

"Now, please listen carefully," Dalton added. "I was on to them, but before I was able to arrest them they stole a great deal of money from the kitchen account and escaped. An intensive search is already under way."

He lifted a questioning eyebrow as he looked to each face to make sure they understood he was fabricating a story for a reason. Their own expressions told him they grasped the unspoken meaning between his words.

"Tomorrow, when it pleases you, announce the names of the men on that piece of paper. They worked in the kitchen. They raped and killed Claudine Winthrop. They raped a Haken girl who works for the butcher, Inger. And now they have robbed the kitchen account and run."

"But won't the Haken girl have something to say?" Bertrand asked, worried she might deny they were the ones and turn the finger to him, if forced to talk.

"Unfortunately, the ordeal was too much for her, and she ran off. We don't know where she went, probably to live with distant family, but she won't be back. The city guard has her name; should she ever try to return, I will know about it first and personally see to her interrogation."

"Then she isn't here to contradict the conviction of the murderers." A scowl returned to Hildemara's face. "Why should we give them the night to escape? That's foolish. The people will want an execution. A public execution. We could give them quite the show of it. Nothing like a good public execution to satisfy people."

Dalton took a patient breath. "The people want to know who did it. Bertrand is going to give them the names. That will show everyone the Minister's office discovered the killers. That they ran before the names were even announced proves them guilty."

Dalton drew down his own brow. "Anything more than that could bring trouble in the form of the Mother Confessor. That is trouble beyond our ability to control.

"An execution would serve no purpose and bring great risk. The people will be satisfied with knowing we have solved the crime and the killers are no longer among them. To do more would risk everything as we stand in the doorway to the Sovereign's chamber."

Hildemara began to object.

"The man is right," Bertrand said with authority.

She relented. "1 suppose."

"I will make an announcement tomorrow, with Edwin Winthrop at my side, if he is well enough," Bertrand said. "Very good, Dalton. Very good indeed. You've earned yourself a reward for this one."

Dalton smiled at last. "Oh, I have that all planned out, too, Minister."

Bertrand's sly chuckle returned. "No doubt, Dalton. No doubt." The laugh turned to a belly laugh that even infected his wife.

Fitch had to wipe tears from his eyes as he and Morley rushed down the halls of the estate. They went as fast as they could without running, remembering what Dalton Campbell told them about trying to act normal. When they saw guards, they quickly changed their route to avoid being seen up close. From a distance, Fitch was just a messenger and Morley an estate worker.

But if they saw any guards, and the guards tried to stop them, then they would have to bolt. Fortunately, the ruckus of the feast covered the sound of their feet on the wood floors.

Fitch had an idea that might help them escape. Without explaining, he pulled Morley's sleeve, urging him to follow.

Fitch turned them to the stairwell. They took the steps two at a time down to the lower floor.