Jarl Skotha’s attention landed on King Ivar. “My King,” he said. “I would ask for your ear. My hounds have found a lead on the thief.”
“Oh?” The king looked up with great interest, pushing to his feet without hesitation. “Fetch Magnus. Bjorn, with me.”
As the king and Bjorn disappeared through a doorway and Skotha went to fetch Magnus, Saga glanced at Rurik. Completely unconcerned, he’d reverted to his far-too-jovial self, spoon waving in the air as he regaled two of Signe’s bondswomen with a tale.
Saga waved over her cupbearer to refill her goblet.
It was going to be a long night.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Shortly before the eleventh chime, Saga picked her way along the narrow corridor in the northern wing’s old defensive walls. Torch held in one hand, a satchel with her supplies in the other, she stepped over a pile of crumbled stone and ducked under a dangling cobweb.
Celebrations continued in the great hall, with skald tales and drumbeats and plenty of ale, making it all too easy for Saga to slip out unnoticed. Now, taking the stairs to Asla Tower two at a time, she wondered what information the letters might hold and whether she and Ana would be able todosomething this time.
Having stowed her torch at the bottom of the tower, Saga climbed in darkness. As Saga pushed into the tower room, moonlight revealed Ana at once. With her knees drawn up, head tipped back against the wall, the woman’s face was etched with exhaustion.
“Good evening, Your Majesty,” said Ana, climbing to her feet and dipping into a curtsey.
“Ana, please…” Saga sighed, then held out a linen-wrapped lump. “I thought you might want a sweet roll.”
“My thanks!” said Ana, taking the linen eagerly. “With feast preparations, there’s been little left for the help.”
Saga frowned as they settled to the floor, unease prickling her stomach. She knew there was a grain shortage—knew starvation was a very real threat to the lower class—but she’d been so insulated from it in Askaborg, andnow she felt like a muttonhead. She should have brought the woman a whole trencher of breads.
“We’ve had word from Svaldrin,” said Ana, after swallowing the last bite. “The Shadow Hounds tracked Maester Lekka to an old fort at the edge of town, but I fear they were too late.”
“Late?”
“The place was abandoned—rows of beds left behind in one room and something akin to a kitchen in the other. But it was filled with curious instruments—crucibles and small cauldrons, phials whole and shattered. And they say the place had a horrid smell—sulfuric, like rotten eggs.”
Saga’s brows drew together. “What does it mean?”
“We haven’t a clue, Your Highness,” sighed Ana wearily. “Our Weaver searches for answers, and our people have remained in Svaldrin to search for clues to Maester Lekka’s whereabouts.”
“This fort…it must be the location they discussed in the letter,” said Saga. “She’s stolen our most vigorous stock, Lekka had written. What does this mean,stock?”
Ana shook her head. “Stock…goods…wares…livestock…”
“Some sort of herbal remedy, perhaps?”
They exchanged a silent look. “Was there any evidence linking the missing Galdra to those beds?”
Ana chewed her lip. “It was clear someone recently occupied the beds based on the blood and urine stains, but there was nothing to reveal their identities. And I regret there is more.” Ana’s jaw hardened. “The Shadow Hounds dug up the yard behind the fort. Corpses were discovered.”
Saga’s stomach twisted. She reached for Ana’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Near two dozen bodies, crammed into a single pit. Just…piled atop one another. No dignity. No ceremony. No provisions for the afterlife.” Ana’s gaze grew distant. “They were several weeks old, at the least. And based on the bloodstains, it appears whoever had lain in the beds were taken when Lekka fled.”
“Taken,” repeated Saga numbly.
“I tell you this against the Uppreisna’s wishes,” said Ana bitterly. “Because you deserve to know. But also because you alone are in a position to find answers. We believe the Black Cloak orchestrates the removal of Galdra from Klaernar custody and delivery to Maester Lekka. But now that Lekka has fled Svaldrin, we must determine where he’s gone. And we still do not know the identity of the Black Cloak.”
“Skotha,” suggested Saga, fire igniting in her stomach. “Hisdaughter’s husband is Kommandor Hilja of Svaldrin. I’m told he’s their youngest kommandor ever.”
She watched Ana, waiting for a look of conviction…for any sort of reaction. But Ana merely stared at her hands.
“Skotha betrayed my father,” continued Saga vehemently. “I’m certain he wouldn’t hesitate to betray King Ivar if the price were right.”
