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Fordham stooped down near a pile of refuse and prodded it around.
She wrinkled her nose and came over to look. “Anything?”
He pointed to the left. “Blood. From what I can see, he was stabbed here.” He pointed at a footprint that she’d missed completely. One foot had landed in the dirt. It was mostly gone already. “And fell backward into the garbage, where he bled out.”
Kerrigan shivered at the thought. “They left him in the garbage?”
“Appears so.” Fordham rummaged through the trash and came out with a small gold chain. “This look familiar?”
Kerrigan’s jaw dropped. “That’s Lyam’s compass.”
“Looks like he might have had it out or was fiddling with it when it happened. Dropped it into the garbage before… whoever did this could get to him.”
He passed it to Kerrigan, and she held it reverently.
“So… do you think it was a robbery?” she asked, eyes wide.
He stood from where he had been digging through the dirt. “I’m not sure. If it was done quickly in the middle of the night, a robber might have seen the glint of his compass and come after him.”
“But then why wouldn’t they have taken it?”
“Why indeed?”
Kerrigan sighed in frustration. More questions. No answers. “This feels like a dead end.”
“At least you got his compass back.”
She bit her lip. “Yes, thank you for that.”
He nodded but remained silent as she turned away from him and pressed the compass against her chest. Lyam was really gone. He was gone, and she would never know who had killed him. Never know if her hunch was correct because this was a dead end and she had no more moves. And gods, she shouldn’t even be worrying about this right now. She had to figure out what to do about a tribe. She only had three weeks now before this was all over, and then she would have to give up on the life she had always wanted.
She loosed a breath and turned back to Fordham. “Why are you helping me?”
“I already told you,” he said stiffly.
“Yeah, a favor for a favor. But you’ve been nothing but cruel to me since you arrived. I wouldn’t think you’d want to sully yourself with my presence.”
“You helped me despite my behavior toward you,” he said coolly. “Why shouldn’t I help you?”
“I don’t know. I can’t figure you out.”
“Perhaps you should cease trying.”
Kerrigan huffed. “Fine. Do we have time for one more stop?”
“After you,” he offered.
* * *
“Breaking and entering was not on my list of things to do today,” Fordham growled low behind her.
“Mine either,” Kerrigan said as she twisted the handle and heard it open with a satisfying click.
“Remind me again why you’re doing this.”
“Ellerby was supposed to pick me for his tribe. We’d had it worked out for months,” she explained, pushing the door open slightly. Then, she waved him in behind her. “He was there the day of my ceremony, and then right before my turn, he just left.”
“So?”
“So, it’s suspicious. And I want to ask him why.”
“So, you’re breaking into his home?” he asked in dismay.
“Someone should be here. Why didn’t anyone answer?”
“Maybe he’s out?” Fordham suggested reasonably.
Kerrigan rolled her eyes. “Ellerby?” she called into the house from the small foyer.
He lived just off the Row in a sprawling townhouse that she had visited before and adored. She’d thought very fondly about taking up residence within this place at one point.
“Hello, Ellerby. Are you home? It’s me, Kerrigan.”
No one answered. In fact, it was eerily quiet.
“Kerrigan,” Fordham said softly. He pointed to a side table by the front door. A stack of letters sat unopened, tied together with a bow, as if they were all going to have to be sent on elsewhere. “I don’t think anyone is home… at all.”
She frowned. That made no sense. Had Ellerby gone back to Elsiande? He’d talked fondly of his home, but he’d never made it seem like he preferred the stuffy anti-magic south to a life in the city. He only went back on rare occasions. She could count the number of times in the last year on one hand. Without a dragon, travel was perilous. Most people only did it for large events or trade.
“You seem good with clues,” she told Fordham. “Could you…” She waved her hand at the letters.
“You want me to go through his mail?”
“Does that offend your princeling sensibilities?”
He scoffed, “You are a wicked little thing.”
She couldn’t help herself, she smiled.
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to look around.” And then Kerrigan tiptoed through Ellerby’s house.
The tiptoeing ended up being pointless. It was truly deserted. Not a soul in sight. It didn’t look like anyone had even been inside to clean or tend to anything, except the mail. There were even dirty plates in the kitchen. Ashes in the fireplaces. The beds were unmade. The dressers had been thrown open, all the clothes were gone, and it looked like someone had left in a serious hurry.
