She had shouted at Chane to run and interfered with an attempt to catch a murderer. Even if a charge of complicity were dismissed, fouling the captain's investigation wouldn't be taken lightly. The high advocate of the people wouldn't have much trouble proving her guilt.
"Your superiors are waiting," Rodian said, and the words seemed to stick in his throat. "I'm releasing you to them."
He pushed open the cell door. It banged against the outer wall, and he just stood there, waiting.
Wynn rose slowly off the bunk, watching him in bafflement, even as she stepped into the dim corridor with its line of other heavy cell doors, all closed and silent. Rodian followed and led the way to the far stairwell in silence. Wynn kept quiet as well.
They climbed to where two regular soldiers stood in the alcove at the top. One unlocked the outer door as they approached. Wynn stepped out with the captain and followed closely as they crossed the paved courtyard to an old two-level barracks. They entered through a side door at the near end.
"My office," he said quietly, pointing.
Down the corridor, Wynn walked into a large room furnished with little more than a desk and two chairs. Premin Sykion and Domin High-Tower were waiting inside.
The latter ceased his heavy pacing, and his thudding footsteps were nothing compared to the weight of his glower.
"My dear," Premin Sykion said, closing on Wynn. "We are thankful you are unharmed. You must not go wandering off without telling someone."
The premin placed her slender, wrinkled hand on Wynn's shoulder, patting it twice before turning to Rodian.
"Thank you for looking after her, Captain."
Wynn's heart sank. Wandering off? Looking after? They painted her as a half-wit again, so no one might give her any credence.
"I'm sorry tonight's endeavor was not successful," Sykion went on to Rodian, but she cast a dark glance at High-Tower.
Wynn realized the premin hadn't known of the scheme hatched between the domin, the captain, and Master a'Seatt.
Rodian only looked at Sykion with a hint of distaste. Then he glanced sidelong down at Wynn, not even bothering to face her directly.
"You are free to go," he said.
Just like that. First he arrested her, locked her up, and questioned her concerning mostly obvious answers he never let her finish—almost none of which had anything to do with what mattered. And with a few condescending words from Sykion, she was being sent home to bed.
Wynn suddenly wondered what Magiere might say in this moment. Probably nothing, but both the captain and the premin would be bleeding by now. Magiere never backed down from anything. Beneath her derisive disinterest, always wishing to be left alone, she was furious when something got in her way or threatened those she cared for. And Leesil could be coldly vicious beneath his outer warmth and wit when it came to protecting his own. And Chap…
He'd always been manipulative, though usually for the best of reasons. He wasn't above putting people in a hard place to save them from themselves.
Wynn began to see that a bit of all of her wayward friends' attributes would be necessary here. She straightened.
"I apologize if I sound dense," she said. "But are we still embroiled in a murder investigation?"
"That was never your concern," High-Tower warned.
Premin Sykion reached for Wynn's arm. "Come, dear. You've been through enough, and none of us wishes you burdened any further."
Wynn pulled away, backing toward the office door.
"The captain failed tonight, and more people are dead… over the contents of a folio. I want access to the translation work, to see which passages are being sought."
"Not this again!" High-Tower growled in disbelief. "You have mucked things up enough!"
Wynn dropped her own voice to a low threat. "Perhaps you can't stomach that a mere journeyor discovered a treasure of history on her own. Are seven lives worth a little damage to your pride?"
Premin cize wo Sykion went pale, losing any crafted display of sympathy, and High-Tower flushed with rage.
But Rodian watched this exchange intently, his eyes shifting quickly among them.
"Wynn!" High-Tower rumbled. "This is no time or place for your nonsense. Tighten up your cloak. We are going home."
"Yes, my dear," Sykion added. "It is time to leave."
Wynn didn't budge. She'd heard all this before, and she no longer cared if they thought her addle-minded or even mad. There was only one option left, though it could end in her permanent dismissal from the guild.
"I want my journals from the Farlands returned," she said, not even acknowledging their evasions. "I want my property back…
No one said a word. Even High-Tower's blusters faltered, but Premin Sykion's expression grew sterner than Wynn thought possible.
Rodian turned his eyes on Wynn, but he wasn't glaring or scowling anymore.
"You are a cathologer of the guild—" Sykion began, and the edge in her voice belied her dignified manner.
