“Stay and keep watch over him,” she said to Mercy and marched down the stairs.
The Morag waited on the doorstep with an escort that included the enigmatic head of the cyphers, Marvel Yew, along with two White Foxes. Cathrynne felt sure she’d never met them before. One had rings in her lips, nose, and both eyebrows, each glittering with a small gem. The other was heavyset and unshaven. He had dark circles under his silver eyes and looked haggard. Cathrynne met their cold gazes, then addressed herself to the Morag.
“Please come in, mum,” Cathrynne said, steering the group into the library.
“Where is Lord Morningstar?” the Morag demanded before the door had even closed. “He hasn’t been seen at the Red House in over a week.”
“He’s indisposed at the moment, mum,” Cathrynne replied.
“Indisposed,” the Morag repeated. “Is he aware that the consul’s aide, Levi Bottas, has vanished?”
“Ah . . .”
“Either Bottas is another victim, or he is Casolaba’s killer and his guilty conscience has driven him to flee. But the man must be found. If Lord Morningstar is unfit to carry out his commission, we will appoint someone else to lead it.”
She knew Gavriel would rather die than give up his appointment, as ludicrous as that might be. “He’s not unfit, mum. Just suffering from a case of the flu.”
“Then let the Morag see him,” the female White Fox said. “Let Morningstar tell her himself that he is fit to continue.”
Her accent was hard to place, just vaguely southern. “And you are?” Cathrynne asked.
She scowled. “My name is Ash Razum.”
“How about you?” She turned to the other White Fox.
“My name is none of your business, cypher,” he growled, flashing a set of metal teeth. This time, Cathrynne caught a distinct Kievad Rus accent. It was the same as the ambassador Gavriel had interviewed.
The Morag raised a quelling hand. “I would like to see Morningstar myself,” she said. “To discuss these new developments.”
Cathrynne held her gaze steadily. “That won’t be possible, mum, as he is sleeping right now.”
The Morag shook her head in disgust. “At the least, you shall tell me what happened in Pota Pras.”
Cathrynne sensed the White Foxes pricking their ears up.
“We didn’t make much headway,” she said regretfully. “Lord Morningstar spoke with Durian Padulski’s mother. She said he’d found something unusual in the hills and planned to sell it in the city, but she didn’t know any more about it.”
“What about where he’d found it?” Ash Razum exclaimed.
Cathrynne answered to the Morag. “She knew nothing.”
“Perhaps the boy is a dead end.” The Morag’s lips pursed. “Lord Morningstar shall have one more day to rest. We shall return tomorrow for his response.”
The delegation left. Cathrynne bolted the door and made sure the White Foxes had disappeared down the street before dashing up the stairs to rejoin Mercy and Yarl in the sickroom.
“They’re gone,” she announced, catching her breath.
Gavriel nodded wearily. “Thank you.”
Cathrynne quickly related the encounter. It had given her an idea. “We need to go back to the beginning,” she said. “The boy was killed first. By lithomancy.”
Mercy nodded. “I saw the body. I’m certain of it.”
“Which makes Bottas more likely to be a third victim,” Yarl ventured.
“He must have known something,” Cathrynne said. “Maybe even who did it. And the killer decided he was too much of a risk.”
“So he was eliminated,” Mercy said. “But what about Durian? If a witch murdered him, how did they know what he’d found?”
