The House Of Gaian

went upstairs to wash up and indulge in an hour’s rest. Toddlers, really.
    Old enough to scamper off in pursuit of a butterfly in a meadow or a fawn glimpsed in the woods. Caitlin had done it to her once. Had wandered off during a moment when her attention had been required elsewhere. She and the Clan had searched for a frantic day before she’d found her girl in a fox’s den, sound asleep with the kits snuggled around her, all of them being guarded by a very confused vixen.
    She could wish for something that simple. Hope for something so screamingly normal. But she knew in her gut it wasn’t simple or normal. So she was left with the question of what had happened to two small children—just as she was left with the question of what had happened to Jean.

 

     
     

Chapter 44

 

     
     

     
    waning moon
     
    Hearing the guard captain call a halt, Adolfo pushed aside the cloth covering the carriage window and waited. No further orders were given. He’d heard no urgency to indicate a company from the enemy’s army was approaching. So he waited until the guard captain rode back to the carriage and bent low in the saddle to look at the Master Inquisitor.
    “What is the delay?” Adolfo asked.
    “One of the Sylvalan brats who were sent out with carts has returned. Says he’s found what you’re looking for,” the guard captain replied.
    The Wolfram captain knew better than to let anything in his voice imply criticism of a decision made by the Master Inquisitor, but Adolfo knew the man hadn’t been pleased to have a choice assignment given to unknown, untried, unwanted bastards who came from the enemy’s land. After all, what man wouldn’t want to be the one to supply the tools the Witch’s Hammer needed to hamstring the enemy?
    Adolfo leaned forward, but the guard captain dismounted quickly enough to open the door for him.
    A good man, Adolfo thought approvingly. He had the proper balance of subservience and authority, and his ambitions didn’t outstrip his common sense. “Where is the Sylvalan boy?”
    “Just up ahead. He was stopped by our outriders. I can have him brought to you, Master Adolfo. There’
    s no need for you to walk.”
    Adolfo raised his right hand in a gesture that was dismissive but not slighting. “I welcome the opportunity to stretch my legs,” he said mildly as he walked toward the head of the column of men. The column split, men stepping to the sides of the road to leave the center clear for him and the guard captain, who handed his horse’s reins to one of the men.
    The boy stood to one side of the road, flanked by two guards. Two others flanked the cart, while the fifth held the horse.
    Catching sight of him, the boy brightened and took a daring step away from the guards. “I succeeded, Master Adolfo. I found what you were looking for.”
    Adolfo moved a few steps closer, then stopped to give the boy that mild stare that had shattered the nerves of Wolfram barons when the Master Inquisitor showed up at their estates unexpectedly.
    “I am the only one who decides if you succeed, boy,” Adolfo said softly.
    The boy paled and looked at the ground. “Yes, Master. I— My apologies for speaking out of turn.”
    Adolfo smiled. “We’ll see if your success is reason enough for a loss of manners.” He walked over to the cart and frowned. Then a scent wafted up from the cart, and his heart began to race. He pointed to the smaller sacks. “Show me.”
    The guards flanking the cart moved to one side, reached in, and untied the tops of the sacks.

    Perfect, Adolfo thought. Of the eight carts he’d sent out, only three others had returned with anything he could use. When added to these ... Five tools weren’t as many as he’d hoped for, but they would be enough to distract the enemy leaders. Now all he needed ...
    Tipping his head to indicate the large sack, he looked at the guard captain. “Show me.” Sweat beaded on his forehead. His heart hammered in his chest as the captain opened the sack and pulled it down enough to show him what was inside.
    The girl’s terrified eyes stared at him as she made distressed sounds, muffled by the gag. She stank of fear and sweat. She also stank of magic.
    Adolfo turned away from the cart. He studied the boy, now watching him anxiously. “You were right, boy. You did succeed. Well done.”
    The boy sagged in relief, then recovered swiftly enough to ask, “Then I’ll become an apprentice? I’ll become an Inquisitor?”
    That