Cathrynne patted her stomach. “I promise to save room for it, but think I’ll go for a stroll first. Walk off those fried oysters.”
He glanced at the window. The crow had vanished. “It’s raining,” he pointed out.
“I don’t mind.” She dried her hands on a towel. “It reminds me of Kirith.”
“Just have a care.” Yarl eyed her with grandfatherly concern. “The streets of Kota Gelangi can be dangerous after dark.”
“I’m a cypher,” she tossed over her shoulder. “The streets should be afraid of me.”
As she left the kitchen, Cathrynne heard him laugh. The warmth of it followed her down the hall as she gathered her whip and cudgel and stepped into the rain. No bats tonight. The weather had taken a turn and it was cold enough to see her own breath pluming white in the misty drizzle.
She knew the way to the Red House by now. It was lit up at night, the notorious spire glowing against the clouds. She paused, trying to imagine how one might hoist a body onto it, then retraced the route Mercy had taken her the day they first arrived at the forcing ground.
A twenty-minute walk brought her to the chapter house. Welcoming yellow lights burned in its windows. She told her business to the witch on duty and was escorted to the Morag’s chambers.
Isbail Rosach sat on the carpet deep in conversation with another woman, rangy and dark, with more scars than Cathrynne had ever seen. Not stellate scars. These were burns. She had fought the Sinn.
“This is Marvel Yew,” the Morag said by way of greeting. “Head of the cyphers in Satu Jos.”
“Mum,” Cathrynne said with a respectful nod.
Marvel Yew gave no acknowledgment. She wore a uniform similar to Cathrynne’s, but instead of the starburst symbol of Kirith, hers had a flame rising from a forge.
“Your presence is overdue,” the Morag said tartly. “I told you to report to me yesterday.”
“I’m sorry, mum. We’ve been busy.”
She did not extend an invitation to sit. “What progress has Morningstar made in the investigation?”
Cathrynne knew it was possible that she was speaking to the woman who had ordered Casolaba’s death and maybe even that morning’s attack, but she wasn’t about to deceive the most powerful witch in Sion—especially since she was such a poor liar.
“Casolaba’s mistress told us that he discovered a new kind of gem. He said it was priceless.”
The Morag’s head cocked. “A new gemstone?”
“That’s what she claimed. But she didn’t know what it was, or who he was meeting about it.”
“Go on.”
“Lord Morningstar believes the consul’s death is connected to the boy found in the river. Durian Padulski.”
Her silver eyes gave nothing away. “Connected how?”
“Padulski is from a mining town in the Zamir Hills. If he was murdered, it’s quite a coincidence.”
“Was he murdered?”
“We can’t say for sure,” Cathrynne admitted. “Mercy Blackthorn saw the body. She said the burns could have been caused by a projective spell.”
“Could have been.” The Morag looked skeptical. “And he died before Casolaba?”
“Yes, by about four days.”
“So what’s the theory of the crime?”
“If Morningstar has one, he hasn’t shared it with me.”
“What is your theory, then?”
