Ghosts in the Snow (22 page)

Tilting his head toward Mirri, Otlee said, "She's sick. So they're
all
going to the privy."

"Third group tonight," the other guard muttered.

The first guard glanced at Nella before looking back at Otlee. "Your group, eh? Want one of us to go with you?"

"I can handle this," Otlee said. "The privies aren't far away and the patrols are out. Shouldn't take more than a minute or two."

One guard said, "All right. The other two groups did fine all on their own. Stay together. Okay?"

The girls all set off, trembling, with Otlee guarding the rear. The night was black and swirling with blowing, falling snow. Nella wished it were Risley watching over them instead of Otlee, but at least he was armed and they weren't alone.

"I bet it's one of them," Stef whispered. "We're better off on our own out here."

"They're Dubric's guards," Nella said. "It's not one of them."

From behind her, Otlee said, "That was Olibe Meiks and Caley Kirklan. Olibe's been on guard duty for days. You can trust him. And Caley—"

"Trust him, my ass. You can't trust anybody," Stef interrupted, squinting into the dark.

"I trust Risley. And Dubric. They're trying to protect us," Nella said. "You, too, Otlee."

Plien laughed. "Lord Risley isn't protecting us. He's tracking us. Like prey."

"No, he's not," Nella muttered.

"Yes, he is," Plien said. "He had his cheek scratched up, remember? Dubric knows he's guilty but is too old to do anything about it. I'll bet next wage day's money that your Lord Risley is a suspect. I heard they had him under guard last night. Tonight, too. Isn't that right, Otlee?"

Otlee said, "I'm not allowed to discuss who is and who is not on the suspect list. Or who is being guarded."

Nella refused to hear such nonsense. "Well,
I'm
sure he's innocent. Risley would never—"

Stef snickered. "I don't know why you insist on defending him. Even if he's not the killer, which I still think he is, he'll use you and toss you aside once he tires of you. It's what he does, Nella. Any idiot can see that. I mean, it's not like he's buying you anything or taking you anywhere."

Despite her anger, Nella held her tongue.

They reached the bank of new and half-built privies and selected one. Otlee checked it before letting Mirri go inside. The rest of the girls huddled together outside the door and tried their best not to hear Mirri's poor belly release its pain. Otlee stood before them, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

After a few minutes they heard someone approach from the castle. "You all right?" a rumbling male voice asked. To Nella it sounded like the guard with the polearm.

Otlee answered. "We're fine, Olibe. Thanks."

"Just checking," Olibe said, then moved toward the castle.

"He's gonna get himself thrown in gaol if Dubric catches him away from his post," Otlee muttered.

"At least he could have brought us a light," Stef grumbled.

Otlee sighed. "I've already told you. We're nearing the end of winter and the oil supplies are low. We're using what little we have for patrols. There are no extra lights. Not for anyone."

"I bet Lord Sweetie could get us a damned light," Stef said. "I hate the dark."

Nella sighed. All she needed was to add the price of a lantern and oil to her debt.

Beside Nella, Plien squinted into the darkness. "What was that?" she asked, her body and voice shaking.

"Stay calm. We'll be fine." Nella reached out to calm her, but Plien leapt away, terrified.

"What?" the others asked, pressing together. Otlee grasped his sword.

"Musta been nothing. My imagination," Plien said, her voice cracking.

And the girls got very quiet.

Moments later a squeal rang through the courtyard from somewhere to the south, followed by the call of a trumpet. They heard the metallic clank of men with weapons move toward it.

"This is bad," Plien said.

"Real bad," Stef agreed.

Otlee backed toward them, his feet wide apart. "I think it's time we headed back."

A strange, terrified squeal fluttered in Plien's throat.

Oh, Goddess, she's going to run
! "We'll be fine, stay calm—" Nella started.

"I can't take this," Plien gasped, then bolted.

"Plien!" they all called out. Otlee tried to grab her, but she slipped past and disappeared into the swirling dark.

"Get back here," Nella whispered, as loud as she dared. Her heart leapt from her chest, landing somewhere in her throat.

Otlee took a single step forward. "I order you to get back here this instant!"

Nella was sure she saw a shadow move through the darkness. Beside her, Ker whimpered.

Plien's voice drifted back, "Uh-uh. I'm going back to the cas—"

And then silence.

"Plien!" the girls cried.

Nella strained to hear and caught on the wind, "No, please, let me—"

Otlee backed toward them again and pulled his sword. "Stay here. Stay behind me."

"Oh, Goddess," Nella said, scrambling to the snowy pile of lumber for a new privy. Frantic, she rummaged through the scraps.

"What are you doing?" Dari asked, tugging on Nella's cloak hard enough to knock her off balance.

Otlee glanced at them and said, "Miss Nella, you need to stay with the group."

"I'm getting Plien," she said, lifting a sword-sized chunk of wood and yanking her cloak from Dari's grasp.

"You can't," Dari cried. "We have to stick together, we have—"

"Stay here with Otlee. Until the guards get here. No matter what."

"Are you crazy? You'll die out there!"

Otlee tried to herd them toward Mirri's privy. "Miss Nella, you have to stay here. I've been ordered to—"

She shook her head and slipped past him. "No. Watch them, and do not follow me. I'll be right back. I promise."

Otlee tried to grab her but she was quick and determined. "Miss Nella, you can't! You have to stay here."

But she was already gone.

She ran forward, through the frigid dark, while the girls behind her begged Otlee not to follow. Ahead, someone gasped for air. "Please, please," she heard.

"Plien?" Nella called out, slowing her blind dash. She saw something move through-the snow, like an eddy through the flakes, directly in front of her. She froze. The eddy moved through the dark, moved away, and her heart stopped.

The gasping continued.

Slower, Nella moved forward, stumbling over something warm as her eyes searched the dark snow-filled air around her. She reached through the dark and touched Plien's head.

Behind her, the voices jumbled in their urgency. Otlee hollered for her to come back. Dari screeched that they needed to go and get her. From inside the privy, Mini screamed, "Don't leave me here alone!"

Plien gasped, reaching for Nella. "Oh, dammit, it hurts."

"What? Oh, Goddess!" Nella cried, dropping to her knees, dropping the wood.

She reached for Plien and found warm repulsive wetness where her back should have been. Nella almost snatched her hands back, but didn't. "Are you hurt bad? Can you walk?"

"Cut my back. Oh, Nella." Her voice was no louder than the wind.

"Guards!" Nella called out to the dark. "I need help. Please. She's hurt!"

The other girls whimpered but stayed at the privy. Otlee, too, called for help.

Nella pulled off her cloak, wadded it up, and tried to stop the bleeding, but Plien's whole back was so dark, so wet. Nella stroked Plien's head and tried not to cry. Flakes swirled around her, threatening to find an opening, a weakness, but she saw no one. Nothing but the sparkling menace of the snow.

"It's going to be all right," Nella whispered, smoothing Plien's hair, her own heart hammering as her eyes searched the dark. "Shh. You're going to be all right."

Abruptly, the snow stopped swirling around her. It fell softly, gentle on her face like a cool caress, and clear terror entered her heart.

"We have to get back," she whispered before her voice failed her. "Right now. We have to—"

From behind her, someone snatched at Nella's hair hard enough to send white pain down her spine. She sucked in her breath and stiffened as something cold and sharp and stinking of blood pressed against her throat.

"You're where you don't belong, little girl," a harsh voice rasped in her ear. Hot breath burned her cheek and smelled like onions and blood and old ale. Rancid.

"Are you going to kill me?" Nella asked, her voice quivering as she stroked Plien's hair. Far behind her, Otlee still screamed for help. Her heart slammed in her chest. And the lovely, deadly snow fell and melted on her upturned face.

Whatever held her laughed, hot breath on her cool skin, and worked its fingers through her braided hair like snakes crawling through weeds. "You're not on my list, little girl. Not yet. But you will be, oh yes, you will be."

The cold sharp thing at her throat—
Goddess, please don't let it be a knife
! she prayed, but she knew it was— slid lower, its hard tip gliding along her collar bone. "You're on Risley's list, for now," the voice said, scalding her cheek with each word.

"'Risley's list'?" she asked as she screamed silent prayers with her mind and stared into the falling snow.

He—Nella was sure it was a man—yanked on her hair, making her whimper. "He thinks he loves you," the horrid voice rasped, "but I know better." Dry lips kissed her ear, a hot wet tongue flicked out as if to taste her, and the knife traced up her throat, to just below her jaw. "Do you love him?"

She shivered in revulsion, whimpering. She wanted to scream, but suddenly she thought of Risley. His face, his eyes. The feel of his fingers on her skin. Calm flowed into her heart and she blinked once. If she were to die, she would die thinking of Risley, no matter how the monster cut her.

"Do you love him, bitch?" The voice snarled, impatient, and he yanked on her hair yet again, hard, lifting her chin toward the black, endless, snow-filled sky. The blade pressed against her throat, almost choking her. "Do you?"

"Yes," she said clearly, tears streaming down her face. "Yes, I love him."
Please, Goddess
, she prayed,
let him know I love him
.

Like a gift, the pressure at her throat disappeared and everything went blank.

Dien burst into Dubric's office without knocking. His nose bled freely, one eye had swollen shut, and his puffy lip had split completely open. Otlee gasped, looking up from the witness chair. Dien barely paused before saying, "We've had an incident in the servants' wing. I've got three men down, one is unconscious. Every woman in the place is screaming. He got away from us, sir."

"Son of a buck!" Dubric snarled as he stood and slammed his fists on his desk. "You had four men. Where in the seven hells did he go?"

Dien wiped at the blood on his face and looked at it, astounded. "The mouthy one, Darli or some such, told him the bodies had been taken to the phy—"

Dubric shoved past him and ran to the hall.

* * *

Dubric burst through the physicians' door to find Halld clinging to a rack of shelving and struggling to stand. Muttering a low curse, Dien skidded to a stop beside Dubric. Two bodies lay on the examination tables. They were naked and partly covered by sheets; their backs had been opened and slashed. The third victim was gone, with only a smear of blood remaining on her table.

"He wouldn't listen," Halld said as his knees buckled and he slumped to the floor again. He wiped his hand across his mouth and shook his head as if to clear his vision. "I tried to stop him but he wouldn't listen." He climbed up the shelving again and rolls of bandages tumbled onto the floor.

Dubric screamed a curse. He turned away and stomped back through the door, snarling, "I don't give a peg who he is! He can't steal my only Goddess-cursed witness!"

* * *

Nella believed for a moment she was floating. The ceiling above her had been painted frothy blue and white to resemble clouds, and whatever she lay upon was soft and comfortable. Her face felt cool and clean. She blinked, and with dizzying surreal clarity realized she lay in a finely furnished room she had never seen before.

Beyond the door, Dubric stared out of a tall sunny window with his hands clasped behind him, while Risley sat beside her on the bed with a cool rag in his hand. Worry left his eyes in an instant, replaced with relief, as he lifted her into his arms.

The back of her head throbbed mercilessly, but in his embrace she felt safe.

At the sound of her movement, Dubric turned and entered the bedchamber. He looked very tired. "Tell me what happened," he said.

"No," Risley said, his voice flat and commanding. "She needs to rest."

Where am I
? she thought.
Is this a dream
? Risley held her closer, gently cradling her throbbing head. He was warm. Wonderfully warm. She sighed and relaxed against him.

Dubric's hand fell to the hilt of his sword. "I have to speak with her. She is the only real witness I have."

Nella's brow furrowed as her mind began to clear.
Witness? I didn't die? But he had a knife. And Plien. She was hurt. She… What happened to Plien
?

"You can talk to her later," Risley said and drew up a blanket to cover her.

"What about Plien?" Nella asked, her voice soft, muffled against Risley's shirt. "Is she all right?" She looked up at Risley. "Where am I?"

"I've brought you to my suite to keep you safe," he said, his hand gentle and warm on her head and back. "No one will come near you. No one. Never, ever again."

Despite Risley's arms around her, she suddenly felt very cold and started shaking. Her hands raked through her hair and came up short. Her hair was missing. Most of the length of it, anyway.

Panic edged into her voice. She pulled away and sat shakily beside him. "What happened to my hair? Where's Plien?"

"Enough of this. Let me talk to my witness."

Nella looked at Dubric, then back to Risley. She felt light-headed, and did not trust her voice. But she had to know. "What's going on?"

Risley grasped her hand. "You were supposed to be protected." He shot an angry glare at Dubric. "I was
assured
you'd be protected, but they found you and Plien last night in the courtyard. You were unconscious."

She shuddered. "And Plien?"

He lowered his eyes and shook his head.

Tears welled in her eyes and she shook as Risley eased her back into his arms. "No," Nella whispered, "she was still alive. She was hurt, but…"
Oh, Goddess, what happened
?

"I am sorry, Miss Nella, that we failed you." Dubric rubbed his eyes and sighed.

Her shaking intensified and Risley held her close, pulling a blanket up to cover her, to help her get warm again. His voice was hard. "Express your sympathies later. She needs to rest."

Dubric nodded reluctantly. "All right. But she does not leave this room until I have talked to her."

"Don't worry. She's not going anywhere."

Dubric left as Risley held her. She lay upon what she assumed was his bed and he held her close until she finished shaking. No matter how many blankets he piled on, she couldn't get warm. She thought at one time she might have fallen asleep, and she knew she cried, but Risley never left her, not for a moment. He was constant, unflinching, a steady force for her to hold on to.

When the shaking finally subsided to shivers, Risley sent a servant to fetch her some hot soup. From the nobles' table.

She curled in his arms, wrapped and bundled in the blankets. "He cut off my hair?" she asked, her voice cracking. She was still half numb, and they were the first words she had spoken since Dubric left.

"Shh. Don't worry about that now." He stroked her brow, his touch tingling and warm on her skin.

"I have to know what happened," she whispered as she buried her face against his chest.

"You should rest. Get your strength back."

"I have to know." She held herself close to him, close to his warmth. "Please."

A long pause later, he said, "I don't know much and Dubric's not talking. Before they found you, they'd found another. Daughter of a peddler. She wasn't quite dead and had crawled out of the barn. While they were trying to save her, the guards heard screams from the privy area. That's when they found your friends and Otlee. They're all right. Scared, but all right."

"All but Plien."

"They found you beside her. She was… like the others. You were unconscious, praise the Goddess."

"She was alive," she said, clutching at his chest. "Her back was bleeding, but she was alive."

She felt his grip tighten. "Yes. You were covered with her blood."

"But why didn't he kill me, too? Why did he cut off my hair?"

"I don't know. Maybe he's cut hair off all the girls. I don't know why."

"Risley," she asked, her voice small and trembling, "do you have a list?"

His hands on her back paused and she thought she . felt a startled tremor. " 'A list'? A list of what?"

"I don't know. Before I blacked out, he told me I was on your list. "

"My list?"

She nodded.

"I don't have a list, at least not one that I know of."

The food arrived, brought by a kitchen boy with a tureen of soup and platter of sandwiches. Risley ate a venison sandwich, Nella ate her soup, and he never left her side. Not for a moment.

They were still eating when Dubric entered without bothering to knock. Dubric stared at her. "If she can eat, she can talk."

"Are you ready?" Risley asked. His arm slid around her shoulders.

Nella nodded and lowered her spoon, her hand shaking.

Dubric pulled a battered leather-bound book from his jerkin pocket and licked a pencil. "Start at the beginning."

Nella told her tale, but when she reached the last moments in the snow, her mouth fell dry and she wished she had a drink of water. "When I found her, she was still alive, but her back was bleeding."

"Where was she cut? How badly?" Dubric asked.

Nella's stomach clenched.
Goddess, she was cut more than once
? "I don't know," she said finally. "It was dark. She seemed to have trouble breathing or talking. I… I could barely hear her."

He scribbled some notes. "Go on."

"I tried to stop the bleeding but couldn't. Maybe if I could have seen…" She wiped at her eyes. "I held her, and called for help. That's when he grabbed me."

She started to shake again, and Risley drew her close despite her fingers clutching and digging into his thigh. "He grabbed my hair, pulled it, and he held a knife to my throat."

She paused, winced, and forced herself to remember. "He… he… he said I wasn't where I belonged."

"He talked to you?" Dubric's eyes lit up. "Did you recognize his voice?"

"Not exactly." She paused for a moment, trying to remember. "I think he was trying to change it, make it deeper, rougher. But it was still familiar." She frowned. "Not someone I knew, not like you or Risley, but…" she shrugged.

"But it was a voice you had heard before." Dubric stared into her eyes. "You are certain of that?"

"Yes. Familiar, but not real familiar. Does that make sense?"

He made a few notes in his book. "Did you notice anything else?"

"Yes. His breath was bad, like rotten meat. Just horrible. And he was hot."

"What happened after he said you were not where you belonged?"

"He called me a child… no, a little girl. Yes, that's right. A little girl. I asked if he was going to kill me."

"What happened then?"

"He said I wasn't on his list."

Dubric's attention flashed to her with such abruptness she jumped. " 'His list'?"

She nodded, glancing at Risley. "He said I wasn't on his list, I was on Risley's. The knife was moving over my throat and I was so scared, but he said… he said that Risley thinks he loves me, and he asked me if I loved Risley, too."

"Oh, Nella," Risley whispered, still holding her close.

She looked up at Risley, tried to smile, and almost succeeded. "I didn't know what to do. What answer he wanted to hear. I finally realized that all I could do was tell the truth." She reached up to squeeze Risley's hand on her shoulder. "So I said 'Yes, I love him.'" She lowered her eyes as he kissed her forehead, then she turned back to Dubric. "Next thing I knew, I woke up in here."

Dubric's pencil paused. "Did you see anything? His clothes, his hands?"

"No. It was too dark. I didn't see anything at all but the snow. He was behind me."

Dubric sighed, wearily rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. For a moment Nella thought he might slump to the floor, but he reached for a chair and fell into it. He took a long time adding to his notes, then he drew a breath and looked into her eyes. "I need to understand the dead girls. How many of them did you know?"

"Plien," she said, her fingers digging into Risley's thigh again. "She was the only one I knew, I guess, but I'd met Celese…" she shrugged. "I think I talked to the egg maid—Rianne, is that right?—a couple of times. We're just all so separate, Dubric, grouped together by job, we don't have much time to meet new people or make friends. At least, I don't. For the most part, we know who one another is, but beyond that… I'm sorry, but I didn't really talk to any of them, except for Plien."

"Please," he said, "surely someone in the servants' wing knows these girls. Someone gossips, someone has an opinion, a hunch, a fear." He glanced at Risley, then returned his attention to her. "No one likes to speak ill of the dead, but there has to be a connection between them, a reason why they were killed and you were not."

She shivered, chewing her lip, as worry skittered across her belly. "All right. I don't know how much help I'll be. I truthfully don't know much about the others, but Plien… well, she tended to make up excuses to get out of work, and she liked to spread rumors. Sometimes she teased people, but otherwise she was nice enough. Friendly, for the most part, willing to help."

Nella's eyes rolled up as she thought, gazing into the clouds painted above Risley's bed. "Dari told me right after I came here to always write my name on my things because, if I didn't, Plien might steal them. But, honestly, I never knew her to take anything." She returned her attention to Dubric and said, "Plien and I always got along. We weren't good friends or confidantes, but she was all right, all things considered."

"Did she ever mention anyone special that she met with? Who was her closest friend? Did she owe anyone money? Did she complain about her job?"

Nella shook her head and cringed. "No, not really. Stef is the complainer. Plien, mostly, never asked for anything or offered anything. She just…" Nella shrugged. "She just kept to herself, I guess. I don't think she had any really close friends, no one that she giggled with or anything."

"Did she see a lot of men? Lay with them, perhaps?"

Nella blushed, fidgeting. "I guess so. I don't think she cared who she bedded."

"Are there rumors about particular men? Whispers that all the murdered girls met this fellow or that one? Were there any men you often saw in the women's quarters?"

"Lots of us have male friends. Some are honestly courting, some not, and after a while the faces become familiar, so we stop noticing them. At least, until this started." She felt a blush creep onto her cheeks. "Some of the men are married, and we all know it, but we never talk about it. I guess it just wasn't our business."

Dubric's pencil paused as he looked at her. "Did Plien see married men?"

Risley's arm around her shoulders felt warm and comforting. "Yes," she replied, her throat clenching. "Sometimes."

"Is there any chance that the voice you heard came from one of Plien's lovers?"

"Maybe. I guess it's possible."

"What about the other murdered girls? From what you know, and what you have heard, did they have many male companions?"

Her belly burned in shame and embarrassment. "I think so. Some of them, their morals weren't the best, I guess."

"Married
and
unmarried men?"

"Yes, I suppose so. I didn't know them, though. Really. I can't say for certain, but the rumors…"

She looked at Risley and swallowed the bitter lump burning in her throat.
There are rumors about me, about us
.

Dubric's question turned her attention back to him. "What sort of rumors, Miss Nella?"