Rodian's ire began to spread across his face again.
"There's more," she said.
She wasn't certain how to begin, as Duchess Reine had mentioned one of the parties involved.
"Do you know Baron Twynam's son, Jason?"
"Why?" he asked cautiously, which implied «yes» to her question.
"He and Elias were courting the same girl, a merchant's daughter named Elvina. Jason caught Elias one night and threatened to kill him if he didn't stay away from her. I think Elias was going to meet her the night he died."
Rodian's blue eyes widened, and his voice rose. "Where did you hear that?"
She shook her head. "I'm not even certain it'll be helpful," she replied. "What you do next is your own business, but remember discretion… if you expect anything more from me."
Wynn got up and headed across the courtyard, and the captain didn't try to stop her.
Rodian had to investigate all possible leads, but he'd been «royally» warned off of pressing the sages—at least for now.
Wynn fought to remain rational. She had to at least entertain the possibility that Jeremy and Elias had died for some reason other than the folio they'd carried. And the burglary at Master Shilwise's was just a coincidence. But a feeling in the pit of her stomach said otherwise.
Entering the common hall, she found Domin High-Tower and Premin Sykion speaking quietly by the great hearth. Whatever tour they were giving Duchess Reine seemed to have been interrupted, and il'Sänke was nowhere in sight. Wynn willed herself calm as she went to her superiors.
"Thank you for seeing the captain out," Premin Sykion said. "A bit of air has done you good."
Wynn bit down again at this condescension. Treating her like a child was just another way of undermining her. Although she didn't care for High-Tower's cold looks and lectures, at least he was openly hostile.
"Thank you," she answered politely. "I understand that we must keep the translations away from general citizens, like the captain… but you both know someone may be seeking the contents of our folios."
High-Tower grumbled under his breath with a snort, but said nothing discernible.
"If I had access to my journals," she continued, "and translations, and the codex of all recent work, I might help find what this…
"Wynn!" High-Tower growled, trying to silence her.
"I didn't just carry back those texts!" Wynn snapped, and it came out too loud, echoing around the empty hall. "I handpicked every one the best that I could! I know what I chose and why."
She took a long breath, grasping for calm once more, and appealed directly to the premin.
"Please… I can help stop these thefts, or at least offer a motivation for them."
Premin Sykion raised a hand at High-Tower's impending barrage.
"Wynn, do you truly believe you would understand the texts better than the masters of our order, or even those of the other orders helping us? Is that not rather prideful and assumptive?"
Wynn clenched her hands so tightly that her fingernails bit into her palms.
"Please… Premin," she repeated. "What harm could there be in giving me access?"
The slightest flicker of anger crossed Sykion's narrow, serene face. "Your place here, as well as your soundness of mind, has been in question for some time. You will keep away from what does not concern you."
Premin Sykion and Domin High-Tower walked away together.
Wynn stared after the pair until they vanished out of the north archway. She turned to the fireplace and crossed her arms, clutching herself tightly, as if it were the only way to hold herself in one piece.
Why hadn't she presented a more reasoned argument? Someone or something was willing to kill for the secrets of the texts—someone who could read the Begaine syllabary. And none of her superiors seemed the slightest bit willing to acknowledge that truth.
She leaned forward until her forehead touched the hearth's warm headstones.
"Oh, Chap," she whispered. "What would you do?"
He'd rebelled against his kin, the Fay, not only to save her life, but to do what he knew was right for those he watched over. In becoming an outcast among his kind, even an enemy to them, he found the courage to bear that sacrifice.
Wynn gazed into the hearth's low embers.
If—when—she ever saw Chap again, how could she look him in the eyes unless she found the same in herself?
At midmorning Rodian stepped from the city ministry hall overlooking the bay with two addresses in hand: one for Selwyn Midton's shop and the other for the man's home. He'd heard of charges filed against an illicit moneylender but never connected this to either deceased sage.
Once mounted upon Snowbird, Rodian turned eastward through thr city.
