Ghosts in the Snow Read online

  He turned his attention to Dubric. "I'm innocent; I know it in my heart, but what if my heart is lying? For Goddess's sake, you saw what I did to that pitcher this afternoon, and I don't even remember doing it."

  "Risley—" Dubric started.

  Risley shook his head. "Even if you won't admit it, I'm a suspect, at least in your mind. You and Albin Darril were good friends, so you probably know that the sword can make someone dim. Not invisible, but hard to see."

  Dubric hoped his face did not pale.

  "It also can make them fast, very fast, and help them hear. Heartbeats, even, although I've never been able to hear those myself. I understand Albin was an amazing thief."

  Dubric nodded. "He specialized in information and item retrieval."

  "And assassination."

  "Yes. He was very good at what he did." Under the dead of night, Albin had seemed to be little more than a ghost, a shadow. Fast, quiet, and deadly. Much like the killer stalking the castle.

  Risley picked his sword off Dubric's desk and pulled it from the scabbard. The blade was shining and silver as if it glowed with light of its own. "And this blade is not always what it seems." Risley glided his fingers over a bluish gem at the side of the pommel and the blade wavered, then shrank. Smaller and smaller it became, until it disappeared into the hilt completely. Behind Risley, Lars, Otlee, and Dien gasped. Dubric alone nodded.

  "All of Nuobir's swords do that, Risley. Even mine. It made them easier to conceal."

  Risley twirled the hilt in his hands. "I'd heard that." He glanced at Lars and returned his attention to Dubric. "If I am doing this, somehow, and not remembering, someone needs to watch me. Hells, sometimes I don't trust myself these days. I can't sleep, my head pounds incessantly… But I need to protect Nella. Whether it's me or not."

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Dien said with a grin, "The solution's easy. We lock you up for a couple of days."

  "No. I can't protect her if I'm locked up."

  Dubric sat in his chair and rubbed his eyes. The ghosts wandered around the room, not the least bit concerned with either Risley or his sword, but that didn't surprise him. They hadn't been interested in, or afraid of, anyone. "Is this why you've made such a public spectacle of yourself?"

  Risley nodded. "If everyone is watching me, I'm not going to hurt anyone."

  "I do not know what you expect me to do about it."

  Risley dropped the hilt on Dubric's desk and leaned forward. "I want her safety guaranteed."

  "I cannot guarantee anyone's—"

  "Bull piss. I'll turn in this sword, right here and now, if you can guarantee me she'll be watched all night by someone you trust. Like the big bully behind me, perhaps?"

  Dien growled. "Watch the insults. I outweigh you by a good three stone and can snap you in two without breaking a sweat."

  Dubric glanced a warning at Dien. "I do not have the manpower to dedicate to one girl. We are stretched thin already and can barely cover the castle as it is."

  "Either I sit outside her door or someone you consider trustworthy does. This is not negotiable."

  "How about we lock both you and your little whore up?" Dien asked. "That should satisfy your frigging demands."

  Risley spun with staggering speed. Before Dubric could stand, before Otlee had burst from his chair or Lars had turned and drawn his sword, Risley had grabbed and slammed Dien against the back wall. "You can say what you want about me, but never, ever, about her," Risley said, his voice low and even.

  Dien looked at Risley, and his puffy lip curled in a sneer. Even held against the wall he loomed immense and threatening, dwarfing the man holding him. "Your rank means squat to me. Your family even less. You hear?"

  "Perfectly."

  Dubric hurried around his desk. "Risley, release him!"

  Risley loosened his grip and Dien dropped to his feet and straightened his tunic. "Uppity bastard. Think you can—"

  "Dien! That is enough." Dubric stood between them and glared at Dien before turning his attention to Risley. "Fine. You could indeed be a suspect and I can agree to protect Nella. I will personally guarantee her safety and I will keep the sword. Now get out of here before you cause more trouble."

  Risley bowed slightly. "And I get full use of Lars during the day."

  Dien stepped forward, but the movement of Dubric's hand stopped him. "He is all yours for the next few days."

  Risley nodded his agreement to the terms, then said to Lars, "Nella's shift starts at six bell. I expect to see you around five so we can escort them to breakfast."

  Sheathing his sword, Lars mumbled, "I'll be there."

  Risley left the office, closing the door behind him.

  "Excuse me, sir," Dien said as he raked his hands through his short hair, "but what in the Seven Hells of Vartek just happened?"

  Dubric frowned at the door. "He is the King's grandson; you have to remember that."

  Dien grumbled low in his throat. "A spoiled pain-in-the-ass pup is what he is. Threatening to cause trouble and prancing around with his nose in the air."

  Dubric ignored the last comment. "He is also the Lord Apparent of Haenpar. Personally, I would rather stay on the good side of both King Tunkek and Lord Romlin, if it is all the same to you. I certainly do not want to go to war over the safety of a linen maid."

  Dien grumbled again and fell into his chair. "But, sir, we can't have folks boss us around like that. Besides, even though Lord Risley's an oozing pustule on a goat's ass, surely he wouldn't start a war over—"

  "It's doubtful, but not impossible," Lars said and looked between the two men. "His father almost sent the whole country into a civil war to marry Lady Heather, remember? If he's serious about Nella, there's no telling what he might do."

  "She is just the infatuation of the phase," Dubric said to reassure himself as he sat on the edge of his desk, "and he is jealously guarding her, like any spoiled child with a new toy."

  "But this child has the ear of the King," Lars said.

  He looked at Dien as he sat again. "And the Haenparan Army winters at the manor. Nearly a thousand men. He could have them here in a couple of days if we angered him enough."

  Dien grimaced. "All right, I see your point. But dammit all, we can't let the bastard come in here and give orders."

  Otlee cleared his throat. "I don't understand all the politics involved, but didn't Lord Risley say someone should watch him? He is still a suspect. I know his name's on the list. And since the murders seem to be happening at night, shouldn't someone watch him all night?" He looked at Lars as if seeking approval. "Whether he's causing trouble or not. Right?"

  Lars laughed and stood. "Find someone else for that one. I'm already following him starting at five bell."

  Dien rolled his eyes and leaned back, rocking the chair onto two legs. "Great. Just great."

  "Who are we going to assign to guard Nella?" Dubric asked.

  "How about Flavin?" Lars offered.

  Dubric shook his head. "An unmarried man alone in the female servants' hall? I am not willing to upset half the staff just to appease Risley."

  "I could do it," Otlee said.

  "What about Bacstair or Meiks?" Dien offered. "Or maybe Werian?"

  "Any of the three would be fine, but with you on the third floor, that only leaves five men besides myself to watch over the whole castle and assure the trustworthiness of tonight's volunteers."

  "Aw, dammit all to the seven hells," Dien said, crossing his arms over his wide chest. "You're sticking me with the bastard."

  "I could do it," Otlee said again.

  Lars said, "If it's going to be someone we trust, it has to be one of the five, and only Bacstair, Meiks, and Werian are married."

  Dubric grabbed the night's assignment list. "All right. If we move Bacstair to Nella's room and have Werian—"

  Otlee put his narrow hands on Dubric's desk and said, "I can do it and you won't have to rearrange anything."

  Dubric sighed. "Otlee, I know you wan
t to help, but you have never served guard duty before."

  "Neither did my father until last night. I've passed all my weapons classes, none of the girls are going to be upset with me hanging around, and besides, you've got guards assigned for both servants' entrances in case I have trouble."

  "He's got a point," Lars said.

  "You do not need to help," Dubric said.

  Lars ruffled Otlee's hair. "C'mon, Dubric. It's not like he's gonna be in any danger or anything. Nella's not exactly a troublemaker or prone to wandering around the castle late at night, so he'll just be bored out of his mind and have sore feet."

  Dien leaned his chair forward again. "Might be good for the boy to serve a duty shift, and it's not going to get much safer than guarding a roomful of sleeping girls. He'll be fine."

  Dubric looked at Otlee's eagerness and thought of Bacstair's hope for his son. Despite the worry clenching his insides, he said, "Grab yourself a blanket and be sure and take your sword. You are guarding Miss Nella's door until dawn."

  "Thanks!"

  Dubric smiled at Otlee's exuberance. "Let us see how excited you are in the morning, after the long night ahead of you. It is almost midnight and the girls will sleep until five bell or so. You should be quite bored. Just stay awake and do not let anyone through their door. No books. Pay attention." He rubbed his aching eyes. "Lars, go get some sleep. If today was any indication, Risley will keep you busy all day tomorrow.

  "And you," he said to Dien, "pick a name off our roster for tonight and take him with you. If Risley wants to be watched, then watched he will be. Wake him at least four times, more if you are up to it, and search his entire suite at least twice. Seize any potentially incriminating evidence you find. Just try not to break him, all right?"

  "Yeah, yeah," Dien grumbled as he took the sheet of names from Otlee.

  "Maybe we could add Risley to tonight's roster instead of guarding him," Lars said.

  Dien coughed. "If you think I'm going to stand for that arrogant bastard taking control and pretending he's in charge, you got your brains scrambled."

  Dubric stood straight and stretched. "Risley causes enough problems on his own without us giving him explicit permission to throw his weight around. Even if he is innocent, he is not likely to follow orders and patrol his assigned area. We would spend half the night dragging him from the servants' wing."

  Lars nodded reluctantly. "I see what you mean, but one night on patrol would exonerate him."

  "Maybe," Dien said. "If he played nice and followed the rules. More frigging likely, though, he'd cause trouble or not be where he was assigned. We'd be no better off than we are now."

  The midnight bell rang and Dubric walked around his desk. "We have kicked a dead horse enough and it is time to get to work. Let us try to not let anyone get killed tonight, shall we?"

  Everyone in the room nodded and a few moments later they hurried to their assigned posts.

  As Dubric strode to his scheduled meeting with his partner, he tried to smile. One dozen men had been assigned to guard the castle and its people. Perhaps the night would pass without incident. Surely constant patrols would make any sane man think.

  But Dubric doubted the killer was sane, and he doubted he would last the night without adding another damned ghost.

  * * *

  "Looks like Lord Sweetie isn't so sweet," Stef sniggered, yanking the tangles from her hair.

  Dari snatched Stef's comb. "You complained, didn't you? Just can't leave anything alone, you jealous witch."

  Stef shoved Dari, retrieving her comb. "Didn't you notice how he watched us all day? It's creepy."

  "She's right," Plien said. She sat on her bed and smoothed herbal ointment on her face. "Not that I mind men hanging around, but with all that's going on, I'd rather not have some strange man lurking right outside my door."

  "He's not strange or creepy," Nella said, pacing. "He's trying to protect us." She glanced at the door and chewed her lip. "I hope everything's all right."

  Stef rolled her eyes and resumed combing. "He did it. He killed those girls. That's why Dubric's squire hauled him away."

  Mirri lay curled on her bed with her pillow clutched to her chest. "I don't wanna think Lord Risley hurt anyone. He followed us most of the day and if it's him…" She shuddered.

  "Someone did it," Stef snapped. "I bet it's Lord Sweetie."

  Dari yanked off her shoes and tossed them into the corner. "This morning you thought it was Dubric."

  Nella stopped pacing and her hands clenched. "It's not Risley!"

  Their door creaked open and all five girls gasped. Ker slipped in with her face flushed and her hair disheveled. "Hey," she said, hurrying to her bed.

  Stef tossed aside her comb. "Where have you been?"

  Ker shrugged and pulled off her uniform. "Nowhere."

  Plien regarded her with an appraising smile. "You naughty girl."

  "Who was it?" Stef asked. "Anyone we'd know? You put out?"

  Ker blushed and shook her head, climbing into bed.

  On the bunk below her, Mirri sighed and rolled over. "Now Ker has a suitor. Why can't anyone notice me? I'm going to die a spinster!"

  While Stef teased and taunted Ker, Nella sat on her bed and stared at the door, worrying about Risley and wondering why he had been dragged away.

  * * *

  "That's the three bell. Let's go," Dien said to a coppersmith as he pushed away from the wall. Risley's door had not moved during the past half bell and it was time to spread some good cheer.

  The coppersmith fidgeted with his sword, but Dien didn't care. He stomped across the hall to Risley's door and banged on it with the side of his fist. "Rise and shine!"

  A groan, a thud, and footsteps before Risley yanked the door open. "Didn't you just leave?" he asked, yawning. Barefoot and nearly nude, he blinked blearily and trudged down the hall, shucking up his undershorts as he walked.

  "It's time for another complete inspection," Dien said, walking through the open door.

  Risley waved a hand in agreement. "Fine. Inspect away. I'm going to converse with my pillow, if you don't mind."

  Dien heard a fwupp and looked through the open bedchamber door to see Risley lying facedown on the bed. "You, too. Full inspection."

  Risley groaned and rolled to his feet, then stood beside the bed with his arms held wide. "When I volunteered to be guarded, I assumed I'd be asleep."

  "Never assume anything. Let's see the teeth," Dien said.

  Risley yawned, widely opening his mouth. Dien peered inside. Standard set of teeth with a few bits of pricey repairs. Sleepy breath with a hint of pipe smoke.

  Dien stepped back and Risley asked, "You're not going to ask to look inside my shorts, are you?"

  "Not if I have anything to say about it. Let's see the bottom of your feet." Dien saw nothing noteworthy there, either, so he turned Risley around. The same silvery scars marked Risley's back and arms, two his abdomen, and some were long enough to have warranted urgent medical attention.

  Dien sighed and stepped away. Soles clean, scars healed, not a mark on him other than the last shadow of a shaving cut. Hands and fingernails clean. Damn, how much more innocent could he look?

  "Can I go back to bed now?"

  Dien glanced at his assistant, who strode forward to search the bed as he had five times before. "Nothing but sheets and blankets, sir."

  "Enjoy your beauty sleep," Dien said. He checked Risley's closet and dressers—same stuff, different time of night—and left the bedchamber.

  He and the coppersmith searched the remainder of the suite, the sitting room, library, bath chamber, and office. All rooms were cluttered but clean and he saw no blood or evidence of trouble. Dien sat at Risley's desk and looked through the drawers, again finding nothing unusual or suspect, but when the breeze from the open window blew a small pile of papers off the desk, he grinned.

  On the doodle-covered blotter, partially hidden beneath loose sheets of parchment, lay a slim, leatherbound book
. He opened the book and scanned the contents before handing it to the coppersmith. Risley's ledger should prove interesting reading. "This goes in the evidence bag," he said. "Go ahead and fetch a cup of tea. We'll do this again at four bell."

  The coppersmith nodded and left the suite. Dien made a final circuit, then resumed his vigil across from the entrance door.

  * * *

  We might make it after all, Dubric thought. He walked through the courtyard in the quiet of predawn with a sleepy leather worker named Shartte. His ghosts still numbered five. There had been no alarms from the castle and few unauthorized people in the courtyard. All patrols and guards had kept to their schedule. Otlee had been awake at each check and Dien had reported no trouble from Risley. It had been a quiet and cold night, like it was supposed to be, and Dubric was thankful for the relief.

  The five bell had not yet rung when the first lights in the castle flickered. Dubric smiled. People were rising, getting ready for work, and it had been a quiet night. A wonderfully quiet night. Praise the King.

  * * *

  "I don't care what Dubric told you, I have to go to work!" a raven-haired girl said, high color on her cheeks. Beside her, a plain, freckle-faced girl nodded. Both had darkly stained hands, and filthy, dye-covered aprons.

  The guards, Bacstair and a yawning weaver, both glanced at the sheet of instructions Dubric had given them. "Miss… uh…" Bacstair said, his tongue fumbling.

  "'Miss? That's right. Miss one more day and I'm fired," she said with a flick of her black hair. "I've been sick fer a phase, women trouble, you see, and if I don't get the dye vats ready before Glis gets there I'm outta work!"

  "Glis don't put up with no dingling," the freckled girl said earnestly.

  "Only certain folks are allowed to leave the servants' wing before five bell," Bacstair said and pointed to the paper. "I have my orders."

  "We're just going over there!" the black-haired girl whined as she pointed down the back hall. "We work with the weavers. Dyeing cloth. And if I don't have those vats ready by the time Glis gets there—"