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CHAPTER 4
City guards encourage the crowd to disperse. Most people obey, but the Montcuir siblings stay, and I’m not leaving if there’s a chance of learning whether Oudin knows Perrete went to see the architect. A cluster of women also wait nearby, some holding hands. Their bare shoulders and painted faces make their reason for staying obvious—Perrete is one of their own.
The last watchman shifts his feet and eyes Simon, who hasn’t moved a muscle in two minutes. Finally, the guard coughs for attention. “Venatre…”
Simon jumps. “What did you call me?”
“Venatre,” the guard replies uneasily. I’ve never heard of Mesanus, but Simon must not be from Gallia if he doesn’t know the word. “That is the title of one who investigates a crime.”
Emeline nods as she pushes a soggy clump of flame-colored hair from her face. “As venatre, you have the authority of the provost himself.”
“I see.” Simon’s mouth twists up on one side. “I don’t suppose either of you knows whatvenatoraemeans in the tongue of the Old Empire?”
Personally, I’d be surprised if either Emeline or the watchmancould read. And while the ancient language is still used in holy rituals,venatoraeis not a word I recognize.
“It means ‘hunter,’” says Juliane from behind her brothers. “Or, more precisely, ‘one who tracks an animal to its lair.’”
Simon meets her glance and they share some secret communication. Whatever it is causes him to relax slightly.
Oudin rolls his eyes. “May I leave then,Venatre?” He coats the word with sarcasm. “I’d like to go home.”
His callous attitude makes me ill. Even if he’s truly unaware of what was done to Perrete, a woman he knew is dead.
Simon frowns. “We need to discuss your movements and actions tonight.”
I hold my breath, hoping to witness the conversation. Next to Juliane, Lambert stares into the alley like most of the people who gathered earlier. I want to tell him he’s better off not seeing what lies within.
“Cousin,” Simon calls out to him, “would you please escort your brother home and keep him there until I can question him?”
My heart sinks, but of course I cannot voice my protest.
Lambert shakes himself out of his reverie and nods, reaching for Juliane’s elbow rather than Oudin’s. “Come along, Sister. Simon was right, I never should have brought you along.”
Juliane sidesteps his grasp. “I would stay and assist,” she says. “I can record Simon’s observations.” Her eyes meet Simon’s again and silently beg for him to agree.Please, she mouths.I’ll be good.
To my surprise, he sighs and nods, motioning her to join him.
Lambert scowls. “These are not things she should see, Cousin.”
“It’s not your decision,” Juliane says, moving away from him.
Simon holds up a hand before Lambert can protest again. “She’ll be safe, Lambert. And you’re the only one I can trust with Oudin.”
With obvious reluctance, Lambert grabs his brother’s arm and urges him up the street. “I’ll sober him up, too.”
“Thank you. Hopefully this won’t take long.” Simon turns to address Madame Emeline. “After I’m finished here, will you take—” He stops, embarrassed.
“Perrete,” Juliane supplies.
“Yes, Perrete.” Simon nods his gratitude. “Will you carry her away?”
Emeline glances at the group of women off to the side. Most are weeping openly. “Yes, Venatre,” the madam says. “We will tend to her.”
They know no one else will care enough to bury Perrete properly.
Simon looks down on Emeline. “I’ll need to examine her before she’s redressed, in as much light as you can provide.”
The idea of poking and prodding the body of a naked dead woman turns my stomach, but the madam nods eagerly. “If it will help.”
