Orval started choking at Amari’s expression.
“No rats,” she said firmly.
“But—”
“No,” Amari said.
Roth was looking off into the distance, clearly trying not to laugh out loud.
Yfin looked so disappointed.
“It’s a good thought, Yfin.” Orval said. “Shows you are considering all the possibilities.”
Amari and Rosalind gave him horrified looks.
Orval bit his lip, trying not to laugh, but the truth was, if they had to, they would. Best to change the subject. “You haven’t killed the royal pigeons, have you?” he asked.
“Nay,” Yfin said. “Been feeding them and watering them, like you said.”
“Good,” Orval said. “I am tempted to send a message to Edenrich. ‘All’s well. No marble to be found. Yours, sincerely, Orval’.”
Rosalind snorted out a laugh, spewing crumbs, then covered her mouth, her eyes dancing. They all joined in, merriment with just a touch of hysteria.
Lara stirred in her basket.
Amari brushed the crumbs off her lap and reached for her. “Time to go back inside. We’ll need to build up the fire.” She arched an eyebrow. “And you gentlemen are overdue for a bath yourselves.”
“Really?” Yfin said with dismay.
“Yes, really.” Rosalind confirmed. “But before you do, help me hang the last of the tapestries. They do warm a room, and it’s better for them than lying heaped on the floor.”
“Will you tell me more of the stories?” Yfin asked. “The one about Uppor stealing the stars?”
“Of course,”
As they gathered the tray and the babes, Roth lowered his head again. “Our watchers are back, no, don’t look,” he said to Rosalind with a long-suffering sigh.
Orval hated the way that the light drained from Amari’s eyes as her sense of safety—false though it might be—disappeared.
“Higher in the Keep,” Yfin twisted to pull the bucket of water closer and offered the dipper around. “Not sure how they get up there.”
Orval looked at the Keep towering over them. “How much of it is sound, do you think?”
“Not sure,” Yfin said. “Some walls tumbled,” he explained. “I couldn’t get much higher than the second floor. Lots of moldy cloth and broken furniture and bats and pigeons. There’s a weird room with a lot of pillars. There are stars painted on the ceiling.”
“An old shrine to the Lady of Laughter,” Orval said. “I’d like to see that.”
“There’s stairs,” Yfin warned him, then added, “They’re fairly clear. I can take ya.”
“No,” Orval shook his head and brushed crumbs from his own lap. His stomach was in knots but he could see no other path forward. Needs must when the snows come. “Let’s get you all inside. I was just telling Roth I hoped they’d come to us, but I don’t want to wait any longer. If they won’t come to us, the Lord High Baron must go to them. Alone.”
Roth glared at him and stood, looking around. “We need to move inside for this argument. Now.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Orval found himself hustled inside. The others followed, and the door had barely closed behind them before Roth started yelling.
“Are you out of your gods-damned mind?” the Weaponsmaster asked, his face turning red. “Have you listened to anything I have been saying?”
