"No," Garrogh answered. "Take him to the guild. They'll know what to do more than some healer at a city ward. Remember my sister's cough? I took her to the sages."
Rodian almost barked a denial. The last thing he wanted was for the sages to hide away the only witness he had. He reached out and closed the young sage's blank eyes so they wouldn't dry out. A life to save mattered more than anything else.
"What's happened?" someone called.
Rodian raised his head and saw Master Calisus with his pony and cart at the alley's mouth.
"Stay there!" he ordered, and then looked to Garrogh. "I'll take this one to the guild. Make certain no one comes into the alley until it's thoroughly searched for any clues. Lúcan, you and the others find a way to take the other bodies back to the barracks."
The young guardsman didn't move or speak. His eyes shifted to the mangled face of the victim in the dark blue robe.
"Now!" Rodian snapped.
Lúcan jolted into motion and ran down the alley.
"Who would do this, and how?" Garrogh whispered softly.
Rodian found his second staring over one shoulder at the dead girl.
"What did…?" Rodian began, and then faltered.
He doubted his own senses and the memory of what he'd seen.
"What did you see?" he finally asked. "When you came in behind me?"
"A man," Garrogh answered, his brows gathering. "A tall man in a black cloak. Why?"
Rodian quickly hefted the surviving young sage. Holding his charge carefully, he strode down the alley toward the cart. His anger flared as he stepped over the girl's body.
The royal family valued its misguided sages. Now two more were dead, and another might soon follow. But no matter who had done this, High-Tower and Sykion were responsible. They'd refused to acknowledge the danger and sent more of their own out in the night.
This time Rodian would drag the truth from them.
Wynn still waited in the common hall, but too much time had passed. Only a few others were still about, either reading or writing or chatting softly. She fretted over some way to look occupied.
If she just sat doing nothing, and Domin High-Tower or Premin Sykion came by, either would surely comment. They never missed an opportunity to note any odd behavior on her part. But she dared not leave even long enough to fetch a journal or book from her room.
Supper was finished, and still the messengers hadn't returned. What was taking them so long?
Wynn's dilemma ended as a slam from the keep's front doors echoed down the outer passage into the common hall. She lunged off the bench, racing to the main archway to meet Nikolas, Miriam, and Dâgmund.
But instead, Domin il'Sänke appeared, pulling back his cowl.
"Wynn," he said, and his slight smile seemed forced. "You look disappointed to see me."
"Where have you been?" she asked bluntly.
His smile faded. "I ate supper early in the kitchens, perhaps too much. At my age, one needs to walk off such a meal before turning to other matters."
"Sorry," she said, feeling foolish for her urgency. "Nikolas, Miriam, and Dâgmund have not returned. After what happened last night…"
She trailed off as his expression changed again. His left eye twitched, and he licked his lips.
"The folios are not your concern," he said, barely above a whisper.
Wynn clenched her jaw so tightly her teeth ached. Now il'Sänke reminded her the texts were no longer her business—as if she needed to be told that again. And she'd thought he was her only ally in this place.
"Pardon," he muttered, and his gaze suddenly fixed elsewhere in the hall. "It has been a long day, and I have one more thing to K modon attend to."
Wynn turned her head.
Domin High-Tower stood in the narrower side archway, not looking at her but beyond her, perhaps at il'Sänke. He seemed expectant, even in his usually dour state, but his expression suddenly changed.
High-Tower's wide features slackened in some shock.
Wynn saw his chest expand in a deep breath and one exhale. Then he sagged. By the time Wynn looked back to il'Sänke, the elder Suman was stone-faced. She was left wondering what had just passed silently between these two, who had always been plain regarding their irritation with each other.
And a thunderous boom echoed down the main passage beyond the archway.
Wynn heard one of the keep's front doors recoil sharply off a wall. She made for the archway to go see who forced such a hurried entrance.
Il'Sänke raised an arm in her way.
She barely glanced up, finding his gaze turned toward the outer passage, and then Captain Rodian came around the turn.
His face tight with anger, he carried the limp form of Nikolas Columsarn.
Rodian's hard gaze settled on il'Sänke as the first sage of rank in his sight.
"Get one of your physicians," he barked over heavy, exhausted breaths.
Il'Sänke was already reaching out. "Here, Captain, let me take him."
The tall Suman lifted Nikolas from the captain's arms and headed for the nearest table.
"Where are Miriam and Dâgmund?" Wynn asked.
Rodian ignored her, looking about the hall. "Where's High-Tower… and Sykion?"
