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I roll my eyes. “I think I can manage to restrain myself.”
The godlen Inganne presides over creativity and play. She’s generally depicted as childlike, with round cheeks and bouncing curls. It’s hard to imagine her taking out vengeance on me even if she happens to look down on her devouts and notice my illicit power among them.
I can hope, anyway.
I should be glad we’re not heading to a temple of Sabrelle, the combative godlen whose sigil Stavros bears, or of Creaden, given the royal godlen’s hard-on for justice and authority.
When Toast takes a mind to investigate the tufts of clover off in the field we’re passing, I give him a firm tap. “You said more than one of the orphans Ster. Torstem took an interest in have dedicated themselves there?”
“Yes, three of them. Two girls, who I know you were particularly concerned about, and one of the boys.”
“How long ago?”
“The boy was nine years ago, the girls six and two.”
A good range of time, then, in case Torstem’s intentions have changed over the years.
The thought of all that time passed gives me pause. “If the orphans are tangled up with the scourge sorcerers somehow… that would probably mean they’ve been experimenting for quite a while, wouldn’t it? Torstem sponsored the ‘institute’ more than a decade ago. I thought the daimon only began acting up recently.”
The former general grimaces. “That’s true. If the conspiracy has been underway for years, they’ve either mostly kept their experiments away from the college before now, or they’ve started escalating their magical practice in the past few months.”
I suppress a shiver. “Maybe for those plans Torstem was talking about.”
Stavros glances over at me, swaying so easily with his stallion’s even gait that I want to jab my heel againsthisside. “We’ll obviously confirm that the devouts are who we expected and question them about Ster. Torstem’s involvement in their lives. Do you have some test in mind to determine if they snuck off to whore themselves out at his bidding?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I think questioning should cover that too. If he was taking other girls to stash them at brothels for whatever reason, there’d have been talk among the kids.” I pause. “But I suppose we’ll know as soon as we see these ones whether he’s roped them into the conspiracy.”
Stavros’s face darkens with a momentarily serious cast. “Any major sacrifices would be immediate cause for concern. Devouts don’t usually offer up that much of their bodies when they’re already dedicating their whole lives to serving their godlen.”
“Do you think scourge sorcerers would still be able to draw on someone’s gift if they were living far outside of town?”
He lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “Who could say? It’s not as if we’ve got a plethora of accounts to go by. Torstem could have stashed them away to call on them later.”
“Later as in now, it seems like.” Another shudder ripples through me with the memory of what the law professor said to his “ladies” in the brothel attic. “I’d hope the clerics would notify the royal family if they had a spat of new devotees with unusually intense sacrifices.”
Stavros’s tone turns droll again. “I’d hope no one teaching at the royal college would get involved in world-shattering magic, but we don’t always get what we want.”
I remember the agony that wrenched through me a few days ago and bite back a wince. No, indeed we don’t.
The distant ringing of the city bells is echoed by equally distant town clock towers around us, marking the first hour of our trek. Not long after, the vegetation along the road becomes unrulier until it’s sprouted up into the forestland I saw from a distance.
The horses clop along, Stavros’s stallion keeping the same steady pace and Toast huffing at the shadows of breeze-tossed leaves. I click my tongue at him and pat his neck, and he settles a little.
Stavros eyes the two of us but makes no further comment on my choice of steed. He reaches down as we pass a bush dense with small, dark green leaves and snaps off a twig.
I can’t stop myself from staring when he pops one of the leaves into his mouth. “Do you take up a horse diet when you’re out riding?”
He laughs. “It’s kindlebrush. Excellent wood for starting fires when dry, good for a snack when green. They have a nice flavor and keep your energy up. You can take a leaf if you’d like. We wouldn’t want that beast to tire you out.”
I wrinkle my nose at him but pick a leaf off the twig he holds out to me. The waxy oval breaks apart under my teeth with a burst of tartly sweet juice and a peppy tickle through my nerves.
“Never heard of it before,” I say, studying the twig he’s now tucked partway into his saddle bag. “Is that a soldier’s trick?”
“Something like that. My parents taught me a lot of strategies for getting by if you’ve got nothing but the landscape to survive off.” Stavros aims a grimmer smile at me. “My mother and her squadron were once stuck in an ambush in the woods near the Seafell Channel for a full week without supplies.”
“Ah.” I give the vegetation around us a more appraising look. Edible leaves would seem a lot more appealing if it’s that or starvation.
I shift my attention back to the former general, turning another question over in my mind but unsure if I should pry.
