Ghosts in the Snow Read online

  He sighed and toyed with his pie. "I should have told you about my mission to Pyrinn before, but I'm not supposed to talk about such things. I'm sorry about that, too. You've every right and reason to know how we came to be in this position, and how I hope we can get past it."

  "You don't need to tell me. I mean, I don't want you to get in trouble with either of your grandfathers, and your missions are really none of my business. It's all right."

  "No, it's not all right," he said. "I dragged you all the way here without telling you hardly anything at all beyond my name and that my father is the King's son. I not only frightened you, but placed you in debt to me. The very least I can do is offer an explanation and answer your questions. I'll tell you what I can."

  He paused and looked earnestly into her eyes. "I was supposed to go to Pyrinn with my brother Aswin, but higher duty called him away and I had to go alone."

  "Aswin's older than you, right?"

  Risley nodded. "Almost two summers older."

  Nella set her fork on her plate. She had so many questions, but one had been tugging especially hard. "You're Lord Apparent for Haenpar. Why you instead of him?"

  Risley ate a bite of pie and smiled. "When my parents married they had to make certain… shall we say, sacrifices to appease my grandfathers. One was that their firstborn, Aswin, would inherit Faldorrah. Haenpar fell to me."

  " 'Sacrifices'?"

  He glanced toward the hall and leaned closer as his voice softened. "This castle was my mother's childhood home, and my Grandda Brushgar was less than thrilled when his only daughter wanted to marry a Romlin. You see, my mother was the sole heir to Faldorrah, my father was the Crown Prince for all of Lagiern, and my grandfathers hated each other. I hear the argument between them became quite heated, nearly leading to a war. But my parents were determined to marry. The best solution they found, the one that appeased the most protests and kept my grandfathers from slaying each other, was to give their firstborn Faldorrah, and the second Haenpar. After my father gave up the crown, of course."

  "What about your sister?"

  "Torrent?" He chuckled and shook his head. "She gets all the good stuff. My gram's dishes, my other gram's lyre, the secret recipe for my da's wine, her own life to live, her own choices to make. Things like that."

  "So you don't want Haenpar?" Nella asked, her voice sounding timid in her ears.

  "I want Haenpar," he said. "It's a beautiful place, hills and trees and clear sparkling streams. But I'm not in a hurry to get it. My da's still got plenty of time left to rule before the burden falls to me."

  "'Burden'?"

  He shrugged. "It's a good deal of work to run a province properly, and not as simple as tax the poor and beat the life out of them. There's a delicate balance between the needs of the people and the needs of the government, and when that balance tips, it must tip toward the people, not away from them. My father works very hard to ensure our people live without fear or poverty and have a chance to improve their lives. When the harvests are meager or the winter runs long, it weighs heavily on my father's soul, as it should. Lord Egeslic has it all wrong, Nella. What he does to the people of Pyrinn is incomprehensible to me."

  His words tugged at her heart, the impossibility of them, the hope. "But you went there anyway, to Pyrinn. Why?"

  He turned his whole body to face her and sat cross-legged on the cushions. "It started out as just another mission. I'd never been to Pyrinn before, and I wasn't prepared for what I ran into."

  "What happened?"

  "The King had heard rumors Lord Egeslic sought illegal items in an effort to increase his power. Aswin and I were sent to meet with a spy my grandfather had established there summers ago. We were supposed to find out how much power Egeslic had acquired and what his true intentions were."

  He sighed harshly. "I didn't know anything about Pyrinn, not a damn thing, and that was entirely my fault. I should have researched the customs before I left, but I didn't. I expected Pyrinn to be like most any other province where I could move around essentially unnoticed. But before I knew what happened, I had broken some law, Goddess only knows what one. All I did was try to pay a bridge toll with a gold crown. I mean, dangit, Nella, everyone takes crowns! The toll cost a scepter and I had no smaller change on me, but I had to pay the exact toll or be arrested, and the toll man could not give me change."

  She sipped her tea. "The toll boxes are locked and only the retainers have the keys. Toll roads are horrible. They're an excuse to capture people for the work camps. Even nobles."

  "Exactly. It was ludicrous. The toll man rang a bell and a handful of soldiers came to arrest me. They took my sword and started to drag me off! Since I was on a mission, I couldn't tell them who I was, but they probably wouldn't have cared anyway. All for a lousy scepter I would have gladly paid."

  It all made perfect sense to her, but she knew Risley found Pyrinnian money laws difficult to understand.

  "I escaped from them, but I was late for my meeting with the spy and he had gone. Soldiers were after me and I got on the first coach I saw to get as far away from there as possible."

  "And when you got in the coach, you met me."

  "Yes. I had ruined the whole meeting, lost my horse and my sword, and then the coach was attacked! Never had I failed a mission so badly. In many, many ways it was one of the worst days of my life."

  He paused as she lowered her head. "But it was one of the best, too," he said, reaching for her hand. "If I had paid the correct toll, if I had not been arrested, then sought shelter on that particular coach, I never would have met you."

  She raised her eyes and smiled. "Really? Do you mean that?"

  He grinned. "Of course I mean it. Now I'm not saying that our flight from Pyrinn was an especially enjoyable experience. I hope to never fight bandits unarmed or charge a terrified horse down a collapsing gully ever again. But I wouldn't trade those five days with you for anything in the world. We should have discussed this before. I shouldn't have left you wondering."

  He looked deep into her eyes and said, "I'm not going anywhere, and you'll likely see a lot more of me once the debt is paid. It doesn't matter to me if you're a commoner or a princess. I swear on my life that is the Goddess's truth, and I hope with all of my heart it doesn't matter to you that I'm a noble. I want to spend time with you. As much as you'll allow me."

  She blushed and took another bite of the pie.

  * * *

  "Sir?" Otlee called from near the door.

  "What is it?" Dubric replied. He stood between head physician Rolle and Halld, and Fytte's opened corpse lay exposed before him. They tallied measurements while the ghosts looked on. No wound cut deeper than a finger length and every slice was precise and measured, the damage minimal. What kind of weapon would do such a thing?

  "Dien's back," Otlee said. "He's handling the crowd while Lars questions witnesses. We've got thirty-two left. Can we send some to bed?"

  Dubric turned to look at him. "What time is it?"

  "Almost nine bell," Otlee replied. The lad looked pale and tired, almost gaunt. Had he taken time to eat? Ink spots stained his worn, secondhand uniform, ruining it. Dubric wondered how the boy's family would ever afford another.

  Where did the time go? "Have Dien or Lars list who is left and we will track them down tomorrow. No reason to have them stand around all day again. And get something to eat. Lars, too."

  Otlee nodded and was gone.

  "So, what do we have?" Dubric asked as he reviewed his notes. "Blade a finger length long. Also thin and light. Single-edged."

  Halld and Rolle examined the collection of cut marks inside Fytte.

  "Still no ideas?"

  "I'm certain it's too small for a dagger or a dirk," Rolle said. He lifted a cut piece of intestine; the curved slash on it was delicate and crisp, made when the killer twisted his hand inside her. "It fit completely in his hand, Dubric. I'm sure of it."

  "And the back of the blade is blunt." Halld pointed to a scrape o
n the back of her liver. A scrape they had measured time and time again. Flat and no thicker than half a dozen pieces of parchment. The blade had bumped the liver when the killer pulled his hand away from the kidney. Bumped it hard, but not cut it.

  Dubric rubbed his eyes. "But what kind of blade fits this description? Small and single-edged? A ladies' knife? A page's first dagger? Why the kidneys?" He needed a real clue, something to follow, to look for. Something stronger than speculation.

  Both physicians shook their heads and Dubric frowned. The killer had wanted only her kidneys and her hair, and he had taken nothing more, barely damaging anything else. But why? And how?

  "All right," Dubric said for the millionth time that evening, "let us suppose he has a weapon, a blade of some sort, about a finger length long. Let us also suppose, for the sake of argument, he only needed kidneys. How could he see them well enough to remove just them, especially through that small hole, not to mention in the dead of night? I would have assumed he would cause massive damage to her insides getting the blasted things out. Tell me why I am wrong."

  Halld stammered and Rolle looked at the floor and frowned. Fytte's ghost leaned forward to scream in her corpse's ear. Dubric rubbed his eyes and she flickered and disappeared. Elli, however, remained.

  "We can't," Halld said, his eyes no longer eager. "It makes no sense."

  "No sense at all," Rolle whispered.

  It was long after midnight when Dubric gave up and headed to bed.

  * * *

  Risley felt rather pleased with himself as he walked back to his suite. He had enjoyed a whole bell of Nella's company—she had even forgotten the button—and it had only cost him a pie.

  Well, a pie and a teapot and some tea, but the rewards were worth far more than the insignificant expense. He smiled and wondered if he should have bought candles.

  "No," he mumbled to himself as he balanced the box of leftover pie and dishes with one hand and opened his suite door with the other. "Candles would have been too obvious. They would have made her suspicious."

  He set the box on a table near the door and kicked off his boots. Had he ever seen her eyes in candlelight? He stopped for a moment, lost in his thoughts. He decided he hadn't and wondered how long he would have to wait. He shrugged. It would happen when it happened.

  But the pie had worked, praise the Goddess!

  Smiling, he padded down the carpeted hall to the bath chamber. Ah, what a lovely night!

  "Nella, Nella," he whispered as he washed his face and prepared for bed. He sighed happily as he tossed ideas around in his head. Tea and pie tonight. Maybe he could convince her to take a walk tomorrow, just a little stroll, or perhaps they could ride down to the village and see the minstrels performing at the alehouse. She'd be hesitant, of course, but would there be any harm in an innocent stroll?

  Nothing serious, nothing to raise too many eyebrows. Just two friends enjoying each other's company. He sighed her name again as he finished in the bath chamber. He'd be on his absolute best behavior, the consummate gentleman, and not even try to kiss her. Not until the debt was done, at least.

  He stopped in the middle of the hallway and closed his eyes. "Goddess," he whispered, "give me the strength to control myself. Just another phase or so." He opened his eyes again. "I think I can manage after that."

  He stepped into his office. As he blew out the lamp, he noticed the doodles dancing across the blotter between the scorch marks and tools. Small flowing sketches of the face that had been haunting his dreams these past couple of moons graced the surface. Work had proven difficult, but daydreaming had come easy, and he smiled before he turned away. Nella, Nella, he thought as he moved through the suite blowing out lamps and lights. Only another phase or so and I can start courting her!

  As he opened the door to his bedroom, he thought about the sound of her laugh, the shine of torchlight on her hair, and how the perfect curve of her hips would feel beneath his hands—

  "Julianne! Perri! What are you doing here?" Risley came to an abrupt stop in the doorway.

  Two ladies, one short and plump, the other tall and sleek, lay on their bellies on his bed, their heads toward the door. Both were not-quite naked.

  "We've been waiting a long time, Risley," Julianne, the plump one, said. She rolled onto her back, wiggled, and grinned at him.

  "Rather late for you to be heading in, isn't it?" Perri asked. She stretched and held out a long manicured hand.

  Risley stumbled back as his hopeful imaginings faded. "Wh-what are you doing here?" he asked again.

  Perri raised onto her knees. "Is that all you can say?"

  "Now, Risley," Julianne added, "you've been in Faldorrah all this time and have never stopped by to visit."

  He took a breath and shook his head, yanking his gaze away from their more desirable assets. "I'm not interested," he choked. "You need to leave."

  "Uh-huh, sure you're not," one of them said. He thought it might have been Perri. "You haven't visited any of us since you came back this last time."

  The bed creaked and he stumbled back another step. He felt trapped. Ensnared. He knew Perri was exceptionally limber and energetic, while Julianne had an extremely talented tongue. The pair together would be nothing short of exhausting, and he groaned as he felt a familiar tightening in his groin. He heard the whisper of fabric falling to the floor.

  "We checked," Julianne added with a giggle. "Not us or Ellianne, or Danne, or Suphpe."

  "No one," Perri said. "And you always come to one of us."

  "Oh, you might miss a night now and then," Julianne purred, "but since you haven't visited us, we thought we'd visit you."

  He ignored the urgent pleas from his lower regions. He had more important things to worry about now, and only a phase or so to wait. "Thanks for the offer, really, but I'm afraid I must—"

  One of them touched him, traced her fingers over his belly, and his eyes bolted open.

  Both stood close before him, as bare as the day the Goddess gave them life. Perri reached for the buttons of his jerkin and started to undo them.

  "Now, Risley," Perri said, "this playing hard to get is so unlike you."

  "We've missed you so much," Julianne said, her eyes growing dark and smoky.

  "Since you've turned shy on us, we thought maybe it would take something special to pique your interest." Perri leaned forward, her bare chest brushing against him, and she licked his chin. Her hand slipped downward and she said, "We want to have you back again. Let's play. All three of us."

  He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath, even as he gently pushed her away. "I don't do that anymore," he muttered and opened his eyes again.

  Julianne pouted and crossed her arms under her ample breasts. "Now, Risley, if you're not careful, folks are going to start confusing you with Aswin."

  Perri nodded gravely and reached for him again. "Aswin never wants to play." She hooked her fingers in the front of his pants and tried to pull him forward, but he stood his ground.

  Anger simmered in his forehead and he clenched his jaw. He had said "no," dammit. In all his summers, with all his women, he had never, ever persisted past a "no." The eager flex in his groin faded to nothing as he tasted disgust in the back of his mouth. "I told you I don't do that anymore." He shoved Perri away and she stumbled back, slamming against the wall. "I'm not interested."

  "Oh, that tears it!" she snapped. "What more can we do? Did you go off and get gelded or something?"

  "C'mon, Risley," Julianne coaxed as she moved closer. "We only want to have a little fun, that's all. Whatever the problem is, we'll work around it. You're not the first guy to have—"

  He rolled his eyes. "There is nothing wrong with me. I work fine."

  Perri glanced at Julianne. "We could probably talk Ellianne into joining us. Do you think that would help?"

  He ground his teeth and snapped, "No. I'm not interested. Get your stuff and go. Now."

  Julianne cocked her wide hip to the side. "Yep, he's gelded."
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  He threw his hands in the air, walked toward the entry door, and yanked it open. "Fine. I'm gelded. Now get out."

  Both girls stared at him. "It's that little servant you're slobbering after, isn't it?" Julianne asked.

  Perri threw her head back and laughed, her breasts jiggling fetchingly, but Risley was not the least bit fetched. "She makes my bed, Risley. The same one you've crawled into so many times. She's not worth your time. We all know you've lain with commoners, but a servant? Surely even you have some standards."

  He said nothing, only tilted his head toward the door.

  Perri walked up to him and asked, "So what happens when you tire of her? Are we going to be your seconds? Is that it? Seconds to a filthy servant?"

  He wanted to rip the smirk from her face, but he held his temper in check despite the pounding in his head. "Get out. And don't come back."

  Julianne tossed her head and retreated to the bedroom while Perri stared at him. "You stupid son of a bitch," she whispered, then she, too, stomped off.

  When they finally left, Risley slumped onto a divan and tried to control his shaking hands and knees. He had just turned down two naked and willing women, both of whom were well versed in the more pleasurable aspects of life. Three moons ago—Malanna's blood, a bell ago—he wouldn't have thought it possible.

  His delightful evening forgotten, he looked out into the night and wished the throbbing pain in his head would fade so he could sleep.

  * * *

  Long before dawn, Dubric hurried down the main stairs, yawning as he clipped on his cloak. As he strode into the great hall he paused and smiled despite himself. Dien and Lars waited near the outer doors, sipping from steaming mugs.

  "I thought I told both of you to get some sleep," Dubric said, approaching them.

  Lars shrugged and Dien grumbled, "After all these summers I just can't sleep without Sarea beside me."

  He pressed a warm mug into Dubric's hand. "What's the plan?"

  Dubric sipped the tea and choked back a cough. "Brandy? For King's sake, it is early morning!"