A Question of Balance - Chapter 4

Sorry for the delay in putting up a new chapter. My SAD hit me a little harder than usual this winter. Couple that with a consistent Vitamin D deficiency, and I've been a little under the weather for the last couple of months. It's been all I can do to get new pages written, much less blog posts edited..

Also, I finally came up with a title I like! Yay!

***
I walked across the street when bells at the Temple of the Mother tolled first evening. The one grace was that the rain had stopped, but the thick, heavy air said more was on its way.

Tyra accompanied me, but she had the foresight not to take my arm. Since my trial for Samael DiRoy’s murder last summer, everyone knew I was sighted even if my staff occasionally forgot out of sheer habit. Besides, traffic on the main thoroughfare had died down for the day. Not that it had been as congested as normal between the rain and rest day.

After my encounter with my mother this afternoon, I could understand my wardens insistence that I have an escort in the city.

Goddess, I missed having Luc around from sunrise to sunrise. I could trust him to watch my back.

Was it my own stubbornness that prevented better relations with my staff? They seemed so eager to please. Or were they terrified I would blame them for hiding my predecessor’s instability? To be released from temple service would be the ultimate disgrace.

On the other hand, I couldn’t get myself disgraced no matter how hard I tried.

I was escorted to the chief priest’s private dining room. It hadn’t change a bit since Luc had taken over from Kam, and I said as much to the two men.

Luc laughed. “I wish had the time or inclination to redecorate, but Kam here has been keeping me quite busy. I think he saved his entire workload from last spring for me.”

The elderly priest chuckled. “Running a temple is a young person’s game.”

“And cooking a fine dinner takes an experienced hand,” I remarked.

“Just so, my lady.” Kam took my hand looped it around his arm. The gesture was sheer graciousness, not a suggestion that I was helpless, and he did it every time I came to the Temple of Truth for dinner long before I was condemned to the Orrin temple seat.

“And at the rate he’s going, I won’t fit in my smallclothes by next winter,” Luc grumbled good-naturedly. To Tyra’s shock, he copied Kam and took the warden’s arm in his.

Even after half a year, it was odd to see Luc at the head of chief priest’s private table, instead of Kam. He kept with Kam’s tradition that business was not to be discussed until after the sweets course. Tonight’s specialty was mountain ice mixed with cream and flavored with honey and dried blackberries.

I licked the last bits from my spoon before I said, “You’re right, Luc. You’re going to end up fatter than a bear before hibernation at this rate.

“After the day we’ve had, I told Kam we deserved a treat.” Luc dropped his own spoon into the bowl with a clatter. “I hope your day was more productive than mine.”

“Nothing from any of the duke’s household?”

“Not a damn thing.” He raked his hands through his hair. “In fact, the only quirk was Lady Alessa.”

I sat up straighter. “What do you mean?”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was fighting my spell, but the idea is ridiculous. According to our records, none of the DiMaras have ever shown a flicker of magical ability.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“No.” He speared a piece of cheese from the platter in front of him. “She was one of the last people I questioned, and I could have imagined it.”

A shiver ran up my spine. The last thing I wanted was to drop more trouble in Marco’s lap. Other than Luc, he was the only person who’d ever defended me against an attacker in every sense of the word.

I relayed what Master Healer Devin had said about the attacker having small hands. That story spilled into events at the Temple of Death, and my encounter with my mother.

Luc and I exchanged looks, old habits falling into place. He had the same feeling that we were missing a major piece of this puzzle.

“Maybe we’re looking at this from the wrong angle.” Kam poured more wine into his goblet.

“How so?” I asked.

“It could have been a jealous worshipper who viewed Sister Gretchen as his. When she refused to run away with him, he became enraged. If he couldn’t have her, no one else could.”

I turned to Tyra. “What’s your analysis, Warden?”

She stammered a couple of times before she said, “I’m happy Sister Gretchen wasn’t found in one of our temple’s wine barrels, Justice.”

Kam promptly released the neck of the decanter he was reaching for. “Oh, my.”

The same worry had plagued to me, but I folded my fingers and rested my chin on them. “Why so?”

More stammering. I waited patiently, Little Bear’s assessment of Penelope’s behavior foremost in my mind. If I wanted the Balance staff to trust me, and vice versa, I needed to extend the offer.

“W-w-well, given that Duke Marco swore for your conduct at your own t-t-trial for murder, if the body had been discovered at our temple, people would blame you without evidence, and the duke’s enemies would use it against him.

“Magistrate DiCook would claim Orrin’s Temple of Balance was corrupt, and jurisdiction would fall to him. Given his assumption of guilty until proven innocent and his lack of investigative skills, both His Grace and you would be executed.” Her green lashes fluttered with her nervous energy.

“Very good, Warden. My thoughts as well. Which means someone is specifically targeting the duke for scandal—”

“Or it was still a method of killing two quail with the same arrow,” Luc added.

“Katarina,” I said.

“She knows a lot of Gerd’s secrets, and with Marco’s father imprisoned for life for kidnapping and attempted memory alteration, Gerd doesn’t have the nobility completely under her thumb.”

“But most of the local lords aren’t happy with His Grace either,” Tyra offered. At least, the girl no longer stuttered.

“Which brings us back to the original problem.” I fished the vial out of my pocket. “I’m hoping this will help.”

“What’s this?” Luc asked as he took the stoppered glass from my hand. He held the vial up to the nearest oil lamp to examine the contents.

“I’m praying it is skin scrapings from Gretchen’s attacker. Master Devin pointed out all her nails were packed with this substance.”

Luc met my gaze. “That’s assuming the wine didn’t overwhelm his essence.”

“Or hers.” I frowned. “At this point, I’m not ruling anyone or anything out. I know it’s not much to start with, but on the chance, Gretchen tore her attacker’s skin, and he’s still alive.”

“I’ll have to do a little research for this fine of a tracking spell. Otherwise, we may end up finding the grapevines that were the source of the wine. Do you have a problem with me consulting the Wildling chief priest—”

His recitation was interrupted by Tyra yawning, a wide, jaw-cracking one. Blood rushed to her face as she realized what she’d done. “I beg forgiveness, Brothers, Lady Justice.”

“Pish,” Kam said as he waved his hand. “Anthea and Luc are simply more adept at hiding theirs while listening to an old man ramble.”

“Because we’ve had far too much practice,” I said into my cup.

“There’s nothing wrong with my hearing, young lady.” He waggled a finger at me.

“You were meant to hear, old man,” I shot back.

“Well, it’s about time you two experience the other side.”

Luc leaned closer to Tyra. “It’s permissible to laugh at them, Warden. I do all the time.”

“You were on last night’s watch, weren’t you?” I said.

“Yes, m’lady.”

“Go back to the temple and get some sleep.”

“But I can’t leave you—”

“I’ll escort her home, Warden,” Luc said.

Warmth filled me. It had been weeks since we’d had any time alone.

“But—” she tried one more time.

“That’s a direct order, Warden. I don’t need my staff nodding off in the middle of court tomorrow morning.”

She tried to hide her relief as she stood. “Thank you, m’lady. Good eventide, Brothers.”

Once she left, Kam rested his chubby arms on the table service. “Anthea, be careful with Gerd. Don’t take power in this city, her wrath or her ego for granted.”

“She interfered with an investigation.” Damn, now I sounded like the sullen, petulant child.

“If you’re expecting any type of maternal consideration—”

I snorted. “Oh, believe me, I am not.”

“I’m too old and too tired to argue with a mule-headed justice.” He climbed to his feet with a great deal of puffing. “Do something with her before she does something stupid, Luc. Good eventide.”

For an elderly, overweight man, Kam did a remarkable job of stomping out of the dining room in a huff. The door slammed behind him, and the dishes and utensils vibrated in response.

“You’re poking everyone with a stick tonight, Justice.” Luc’s amused tone irritated me.

“This would all be so much easier if I didn’t have half the city playing idiotic games.”

“That means you have to play the game better than anyone else.”

“I can think of games I’d rather play.” I smiled at him.

He was out of his chair and pulling me into his arms before my next heartbeat. Our lips met, and I felt as if I’d been trapped in the Salt Desert for days, and finally taking a sip of fresh, sweet water.

The kiss was far too short. Or so I thought until I realized he pressed me against the wall and my legs were wrapped around his waist.

“Goddess, I miss you,” I whispered.

Luc leaned his forehead against mine. “Not as much as I miss you.” His breath was warm against my skin, reminding of all those mornings he’d woken me with sweet kisses.

His hands slid from my buttocks. “But we can’t. Not here. Not now.”

“When?” I hated that the single word sounded like a sob, that I sounded like a lovestruck fool.

“I don’t know.” He pulled my arms from his neck. “You need to go back before anyone starts rumors. We have enough trouble on our tables, my love.” His words were followed by a light kiss on my neck, the tender spot where I was most sensitive.

When he stepped away, I felt as shaky as if I’d been sword training during a severe ground quake. And I wished I’d argued harder that we run away to Cant six months ago.

* * *
The thought of escaping my duties crawled through my mind long after the temple and outbuildings had quieted for the night. But amid the desire to saddle Nassa and gallop south to the border, the mutilated body of Sister Gretchen taunted me. Maybe if Luc could trace who, then we would know why.

Which brought me back full circle to Luc and abandoning the temple again.

I sighed, sat up and punched at the down pillows. I still hadn’t gotten used to the finery afforded my new position. Luc and I had slept on the ground more often than not as we traveled the circuit of villages and towns between Orrin and the mountains. I threw myself back down on the bed.

This whole situation was ridiculous. I was fretting about things I had no control over. Without sleep, I’d be crankier than usual during court tomorrow morning.

The faint scrape of stone on stone cut my self-pity off at the knees. I froze and scanned the room through slitted eyes. My hand reached between the mattress and the bed frame for my dagger.

There. A small section wall to the left of my wardrobe separated from the rest of the blue-green marble. The brilliant yellow of a living being appeared. It stepped through the opening and straightened. A man.

My fingers tightened around the dagger handle. Fool. I could see in the dark. He couldn’t.

Despite the chill in the air, I had kicked up my blankets long before. It was a simple matter of rolling off the bed and crouching on the icy floor.

He crept unerringly to my bedside. This was someone who knew the lay of my chambers or had been in here before. Neither boded well.

When he reached for the spot where my head would have been, I grabbed his collar and yanked. He lost his balance and landed on my mattress with a whoof. The tip of my dagger rested along the pulse point of throat.

The feel of his skin and his scent registered a heartbeat before Luc said, “Is this how you greet all your lovers?”

“You scared the piss out of me,” I hissed. “By our gods, what are you doing here? How did you…” I glanced at the opening he’d slipped through.

“If you put away the dagger, I’ll tell you.”

“I’m glad you find this amusing,” I muttered, but I released him.

He rearranged himself to lie lengthwise on my mattress. I set my weapon on the lamp table and circled the room, laying wards so we wouldn’t be interrupted.

When I returned to the bed, he snagged my hand and pulled me on top of him. My body heated as his hands roamed and his arousal pressed against me.

“How?”

“Apparently, we are not the first of our temples to have an illegal tryst.”

I waited for him to continue, but it was growing more difficult to think with the things he was doing to me. Finally, I tore my mouth from his. “The secret passage?” I prompted.

“Kam was waiting in my bedchamber when I returned.” His chest rumbled beneath me. “Would you believe he lectured me on taking the edge off your irritability?”

“He didn’t.”

“Um-hmmm…” Luc flipped me so I was underneath him. Little kisses followed the hem of my nightshirt upward.

“That’s rather audacious of him.” A disturbing thought hit me. “Wait a moment. Kam and…Penelope?”

Luc buried his face against my inner thigh to stifle his laughter. “Light, no. Thalia.”

The legendary justice had been Penelope’s predecessor. She died defending the city from a pirate attack nearly a generation ago. Her sacrifice hadn’t been in vain. The battle had broken the marauders power on the Peaceful Sea.

“Incredible,” I whispered. “I didn’t realize Kam had been here that long.”

“Nearly fifty years.”

I wove my fingers through Luc’s hair as he layered more licks and kisses along my skin. “But the tunnel?”

“Was built long before either Thalia or Kam were assigned here. They’re part of the original structures. There’s another tunnel between Light and Father. He believes they were escape routes during the demon wars.” His breath brushed my flesh, shooting prickles all over my body. “Now will you be quiet and let me love you, or do I have to gag you?”

I sighed. “I suppose. If you must for my mental health…”

Thankfully, my wards blocked the rest of the temple from hearing my shrieks as Luc showed me how much he missed me.

Sword of Justice - Chapter 3

The extraordinary wait for the chief healer was due to his insistence on bringing an apprentice plus his team of horses and his wagon. Therefore, my cloak and robes were dry and my toes quite toasty by the time he arrived.

And I didn’t have to send Little Bear back to the Temple of Death for additional transportation.

“Nice that one of us could get out of the cold,” Luc muttered in my ear as I joined the men and Lady Alessa in the courtyard.

“It was necessary,” I murmured. “Lady Katarina didn’t need to be on her feet. Would you and Brother Kam be available for dinner tonight?”

Her information was that good? his voice whispered in my mind.

I didn’t look at him as we followed the chief healer down to the wine cellar once more, but Luc’s grunt indicated he caught my slight nod.

Orrin’s chief healer, a man named Aaron, pushed back his hood and crouched next to the corpse. Despite the red pulsing in his knuckles and garrulous quality of his voice, he acted like a man closer to my age of thirty summers than a grandfather.

He flipped back the sheet Lady Alessa had brought to cover the murdered priestess. His apprentice whirled and ran out through the doorway. Everyone politely ignored the sounds of the poor youth retching onto the sawdust in the hallway.

“I believe you called me a little too late, Justice,” Aaron said dryly.

It took all my will not to laugh at his black humor. “I wanted your opinion on her wounds, Master Aaron.”

He stroked his mustache and short beard that had become popular with men in Issura over the last few years. His countenance shifted from yellow to orange as he regarded the corpse. Good to know even he wasn’t immune to the brutality perpetrated on the priestess.

“The stab wounds to her birth canal wouldn’t have been sufficient to kill her.” He pointed to her neck. “I agree with Brother Luc that whoever strangled her caused the actual death.”

Master Aaron glanced at DiCook who stood fuming on the opposite side of the cellar. As far away from Luc as he could get while still part of the conversation. However, Aaron’s question was addressed to me. “I have a new healer in my employ. Would you mind if we take the body back to my estate and allow him a look before we deliver it to the Temple of Death?”

“Hasn’t the poor woman been through enough?” the magistrate snapped.< br/>
I waved a hand toward the late priestess. “I thought you were concerned about finding whoever did this to her.”

“I am. But there is decency and tradition to be observed.” His tone was a bit more deflated.

“Are you saying there is something I have not done according to tradition?” My voice was as cold as the steel at my shoulder.

“No, Justice.” He forced the words between his clenched jaws.

Time to change tactics with DiCook. I gave him a gracious smile. At least, I hoped it appeared gracious. “Thank you for your assistance, Magistrate, but there’s nothing more either of us can do here to assist Brother Luc in questioning the rest of Duke Marco’s household.”

“If you don’t mind, Justice, I’d like to leave my peacekeepers here to help your wardens make sure everyone is questioned.” Amazing how he could turn my title into an insult.

I shrugged. “That is Brother Luc’s discretion, not mine.”

Thanks, came Luc’s sarcastic reply.

I ignored him. “In the meantime, I will escort Sister Gretchen’s body to Healer Aaron’s for his colleagues’ opinion, then to the Temple of Death.”

“What about informing Sister Gerd?”

I should have known DiCook wouldn’t let this go, not that I was looking forward to dealing with my mother. “I think this type of news would best come from another priestess, don’t you think?” I tilted my head to include Luc in my next statement. “My clerk will have copies of everyone’s statements to both of you within two days.”

“Thank you, Justice.” Luc smiled.

The magistrate said nothing. I didn’t need to read his thoughts to know he was plotting some kind of mischief.

I pulled Little Bear and Tyra aside. “I need one of you to stay as an escort for the clerk. The other one will accompany me.”

The two wardens looked at each other. I detected a distinctive aura of confusion.

Little Bear cleared his throat. “M’lady, your authority is paramount here.”

I sighed. “Neither are going to be pleasant jobs, so I don’t want either of you thinking the other got the better assignment. This is me delegating my authority.”

They looked at each other. Tyra shrugged. “Rocks and sticks?”

Little Bear nodded.

Somehow, it seemed appropriate that my wardens would use a children’s game to decide.

Once we loaded the corpse onto the wagon, Little Bear and I escorted the healer’s wagon down the bluffs back into the city proper. The drizzle hadn’t stopped since we’d left the temple this morning. I couldn’t even tell what hour it might be, though my stomach insisted it was first afternoon.

“Justice Anthea, if I may?” Little Bear’s voice could barely be heard over the wet clopping of the horses’ hooves and the rattle of the wagon wheels.

“Yes?”

He was silent, as if reconsidering whatever he wanted to ask.

“Spit it out, Warden. It’s too damn miserable and wet for me to even want to whip you for impertinence.”

“My lady, we need some guidance at times. Your method of commanding is…”

“Unorthodox?” I offered.

“Quite different than Justice Penelope, Balance rest her soul.”

“Are my methods that disturbing?”

“No, m’lady, it’s only…”

I waited for a heartbeat. Two. A glance over my shoulder showed Healer Aaron in a deep discussion with his apprentice. “Why didn’t any of you notify the Reverend Mother that Penelope’s mental faculties were questionable at best near the end?”

He blew out a deep lungful of air. For a moment, his face was obscured in a yellowish-green cloud. The temperature was dropping quickly if I could see his breath. “We did. How did you know?”

“The change in her records over the last year, as if someone was mimicking her style, but there were certain words used differently. What was the response from the Reverend Mother?”

“We never received one.” His voice was tight, strained.

Rage simmered in my blood. Not at Little Bear and the rest of our brothers and sisters at the temple. The bitch had known there were problems long before she forced me into Orrin’s justice seat. What kind of demon-spawned game was she playing at?

Thanks to my own crime, I was forbidden from leaving the city, else I would tear up the National Road to the main temple in the capital and demand answers. Any letter I sent regarding Penelope would be ignored as surely as the staff’s had been.

For the love of the Mother, Sivan, Little Bear and the rest had been running temple business for well over a year. It’s a wonder they didn’t resent me. Actually, it was a wonder they didn’t hate me.

I swallowed the acid at the back of my throat. “Let me think on the matter. I’ve ridden circuit for a decade. I’m rather used to doing everything myself. My apologies for not taking your feelings and experience into account. I didn’t realize...”

“May I speak freely, Justice?”

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

“We don’t blame you.” A soft burr vibrated under his words, and what I could see of his face under hood glowed a fierce scarlet. I wasn’t the only one furious with the home temple’s games. “We simply want to understand your needs. Justice Penelope never allowed us the amount of…autonomy that you have.”

“Until she became senile, you mean.”

“Yes, m’lady.”

I nodded to myself. “Very well, Warden. Here’s the first rule for my regime. I want honesty at all times. Discretely when the situation calls for it. I believe you and the rest of staff have discretion mastered.”

He turned and stared at me. “Thank you, Justice.”

* * *
Journeymen and women poured out into the rain to help us carry the late Sister Gretchen inside. On Chief Healer Aaron’s estate, the living quarters were in a separate building than his treatment and training rooms. Once inside, I could immediately understand why. No amount of lemon oil soap or herbs could totally disguise the odors of infection, illness and death.

Apprentices lit a multitude of lamps around the room. Between the heat from the burning wicks and the sheer amount of bodies, I soon had to squint. I pulled my hood tight around my face, but it didn’t help much as the room grew warmer.

Five master healers entered. There was quite a bit of tension due to the presence of Little Bear and me, but their curiosity overwhelmed whatever reticence they had over a priestess and her warden observing.

The healers had fought for their independence from the Temples after the Demon War. They’d formed their own guild as any other craft would. After a century, there were still those in Temples who thought allowing any magic of such power outside of priestly control was a mistake.

The people in this room would never believe me if I told them I envied their freedom.

“Where’s Davin?” Aaron shouted over the general hubbub.

“Here. Now what’s the fuss about?” The man who entered stood a head shorter than the chief healer. His accent was one of the eastern kingdoms, but indistinct enough I couldn’t name which one. The metallic thread in the embroidery at his shoulders indicated he was also a master healer, but his attitude was irreverent compared to every guild master I’d ever met.

I immediately liked him.

Davin’s attention was drawn to the white-shrouded figure on the table. “How’s you manage to get a hold of a corpse before those vultures at the Temple?”

One of the journeymen nudged him with an elbow. Davin finally noticed Little Bear and me in the corner. “My apologies, Justice.”

He didn’t sound very apologetic.

I stepped to the table and the two journeywomen made room for me, and not from politeness. “Master Aaron says you may have insights concerning my murder victim.”

“Murder victim?” Devin grunted and pushed two of the other masters out of the way. He uncovered the corpse. “She looks like someone soaked her in a wine vat.”

“She was found in a wine barrel when the servants tapped it,” Aaron explained.

“Ruined a barrel of decent Pana red,” I added.

Devin chuckled before he peered closely at her neck. “Strangled, but you already knew that, didn’t you, Justice? Possibly a small man or a woman.”

“A woman?”

He looked up at me. “Yes, those of you who have been trained in fighting, a tumbler, anyone with sufficient strength in the arms. The fairer sex is just as capable of murder. You’re usually more subtle about it.”

Interesting observation. I was even more curious about his history.

Devin shifted and checked the wrists of the corpse. “She wasn’t restrained.” He lifted the hands. “As you can see, there’s quite of bit of debris under the nails.”

“No, I can’t.” I smiled to take the sting from my words.

“Forgive me, Justice. I forgot that you were sightless.”

“Oh, I can see.” I flipped back my hood, though the brightness bordered on painful. “Just not the way everybody else can.”

“Oh.” The confident Devin seemed to search for words. “I don’t suppose you would let me examine you.”

“Not right now, Master Healer.” I waved at the body. “I have a more pressing matter. Could the material under her nails be skin? If someone was choking the life out of me, I would be fighting back.”

“I surmise so.”

Excitement trilled along my skin. “Could you collect it? Master Aaron, if I may impose on you for a bottle and a stopper.” Luc make not be able to trace Sister Gretchen’s path, but if her assailant was still alive…

“Of course, Justice,” Aaron answered. In moments, I had the bottle secreted in my pocket.

“Justice, if you are tracking the culprit.” Davin’s tone turned deadly serious. “The dagger wounds to this woman’s birth canal…”

“I don’t need a healer to tell me I’m dealing with someone insane.”

“Yes.” He hesitated before he said, “With your permission, I wish to confirm that strangulation was the cause of her death.”

“I don’t understand, Master Healer.” I pointed at the neck of the corpse. You said that the bruising—”

“Her attacker may have choked her until she lost consciousness in order to stab her with the dagger.” He ran his palms along the corpse’s inner thighs. “No other cuts. No other marks on her. Also, notice there are no cuts on her arms or hands.”

“So you’re saying she was unconscious or dead when that was done to her.”

“As you pointed out, Justice, I wouldn’t meekly let someone chop off my manhood.”

“Do what you need to, Master Healer. You won’t mind if I watch?”

He stiffened and for the first time, his cheeks and ears flared crimson. “So you can report me back to your Reverend Mother?”

“No, because your reasoning and methods fascinate me.”

“I apologize, Justice. I’ve become quite used to the Temple of Death questioning everything I do.”

I grinned. “The Healers Guild is just pissing everyone off, aren’t they?”

He laughed. “Even so.”

“You have nothing to fear from me, Master Healer. If anything, I am in your debt for your assistance in helping my track the bastard who did this to Sister Gretchen.”

* * *
A little over a candlemark later, Little Bear and I escorted the healer’s wagon down the boulevard to the Temple of Death. Almost as if the gods knew our purpose, the skies opened up, and we were thoroughly drenched upon our arrival.

I explained the situation to the records clerk, who nodded and scribbled things on his parchment I couldn’t read. What the frigid rain didn’t soak, the air chilled. For me, the world blurred into a morass of blue, purple and gray with occasional spots of brightness. It was one of the things I hated about winter.

“Did Sister Gretchen DiLove file a statement of last wishes?” I asked.

The clerk finally looked at me. “I would have to research our library, but most of the priesthood keep copies with their own temples.”

I frowned. “That is not protocol established by the reverend mothers and fathers.”

He shrugged “Procedure has been rather…lax with your predecessor, Justice.”

“I see.” My voice was as cold as the nasty weather. “I suppose I need to rectify certain matters during the equinox meeting.” The temples dealt with formal matters the week before the Spring Rituals, clearing the slates before the new year. This year’s meeting would be entertaining to say the least.

“If we have the declaration, I’m sure Sister Bertrice will have it sent to you.”

“My thanks.” I nodded to the clerk. I had no illusions I would be seeing the head priestess of the Temple of Death sooner rather than later once her people saw Sister Gretchen remains.

I pivoted and stalked out of the black marble receiving room, Little Bear on my heels.

“Home, m’lady?”

“Unfortunately, no. I have one more stop to make.”

His exhalation mirrored my own feelings. In fact, I’d rather suffer the lash again than what I had to do next.

The twelve temples lined the south end of Orrin’s main thoroughfare, six on one side and their counterpart facing them. The ride from Death to Love was far too short.

The torches in the courtyard flared and sizzled under the downpour. Laughter and music hummed past the expensive glass panes inset in the temples windows.

A eunuch ran up to take our reins. “Good tidings, sirs. Looking for warmth and care on this miserable winter day?”

“No,” I said as I dismounted. “Please inform High Sister Gerd that Chief Justice Anthea requests an audience on a matter of utmost importance.”

Stutters issued from the eunuch’s mouth before he called for a groom to take our horses. His deep bow was almost humorous. He raced through the main doors.

Little Bear looked at me and gave a sad shake of his head.

“I take it Penlope didn’t often call on Gerd,” I whispered.

“Never,” he whispered back. “They hated each other’s guts.”

Interesting. I would have to ask him why once we were safely ensconced back in out own abode with dry clothes and hot wine.

We entered the temple, and a priestess fluttered up, the bells of her robe tinkling. The lowest ranking priestess from her total lack of composure. “Forgive us, Justice. We hadn’t expected such an august presence on the day of rest.”

I crossed my arms, well aware of the stares from the worshippers and the servants in the reception area. “I don’t need my ass kissed by you or any other priestess of Love. I need to speak with Sister Gerd now.”

“She, um, she is, um…”

“If he’s fucking a worshipper, just say so.”

I couldn’t see her face because of her veil, but the junior priestess’ hands exploded with heat. “If you’re willing to wait, Justice?”

“Do I have a choice?” I growled. “You do understand that there are other things in life than spreading your legs, don’t you?”

She gave a little squeak of dismay before she whirled and raced off.

I turned to a different eunuch who was desperately trying to hide behind a pillar. “I don’t suppose you could fetch Sister Gretchen as an alternative.”

Little Bear’s dismay rolled across my psyche. “Um, Justice—”

I held up my hand to stop him. Thank Balance, he shut up. No doubt he feared for my sanity after dealing with a senile priestess for so long.

However, the eunuch’s skin remained the same yellow with nervous splotches of orange. “I’ll see if she’s available, m’lady.”

“Interesting,” I murmured. “And what does that tell us, Warden?”

His jaw shifted as he considered my question, then grinned as the pieces slid into place. The Temple of Love knew the whereabouts of its priestesses at all times. Little Bear wisely remained silent.

More bells as another priestess approached, but she was over a head taller than the previous girl. “If you’ll follow me, Justice. Sister Gerd will be with you momentarily.”

The deep voice. The height. Berda.

I dropped my arms. Now we were getting someplace. “And you are?”

“Sister Dragonfly.” She bowed. “I am Sister Gerd’s second. I apologize for the inexcusable rudeness you encountered here in our Goddess’ home.”

My mother having a berda as her second made sense in a warped sort of way. Even though the men who serviced both males and females were full priestesses and wore the accoutrements of such, they were never allowed to hold a city’s seat, much less become a reverend mother. Gerd would view Dragonfly as less of a threat to her power.

“It is I who should apologize, Sister Dragonfly. I would have sent a formal request for a meeting if the message I bring to her weren’t so important.”

“I assure you I would deliver any message you need to relay, Justice.”

“I do not disparage your abilities as second, Sister. The matter is best dealt with myself.”

“And yet, it is my understanding you requested Sister Gretchen.”

“Yes, I did.”

She regarded me for a moment. When I didn’t add anything, she pivoted and headed across the reception area. The door she led us to opened into the back hallway.

The receiving rooms.

Moans, grunts and laughter echoed against the wood paneled walls. The musk of lovemaking mixed with expensive perfumes and oils. If either Dragonfly or my mother expected to discomfit me, they needed something better than sex.

After a pack of demons, not too much else bothered me any more.

A quick glance showed Little Bear face had turned scarlet. I prayed he saved he desire for Sivan once we return to the temple. My support staff was not bound by my vows, thank the Goddess.

Dragonfly finally delivered us to an audience room. The fireplace was dark. No personal effects decorated the place. It was as heartless as the woman who ran this temple. Without a word, the berda closed the door behind her.

They let us stew in the cold for who knew how long since we had no sun and no candles to mark time. Little Bear maintained his silence. Good. No doubt the eunuchs or a priestess or two were watching us through spy holes.

But we were both pacing to keep warm when Sister Gerd deigned to join us.

“Justice Anthea, how nice of you to visit.” No bells tinkled as she entered the room, nor did she bother with the traditional veil. At least, she bothered to cover her body.

I swallowed a sigh. There was a time, eons ago, when that lyrical voice brought comfort to a small girl.

Now, I recognized it for the posturing it was. “I apologize for the need for my visit. It’s about Sister Gretchen.”

“So you decided you would tell me about her death. A half day after she had been discovered at that.” As she drifted past me, under the musk of her duties laid the scent of licorice.

“I pray that Magister DiCook is better in bed than he is an investigator.”

She sauntered over to Little Bear. “If your warden here is better than the magistrate, you’ll have my full cooperation, Justice.”

“Really, Mother, he has more taste than DiCook’s leftovers.”

She whirled so fast I automatically reached for my dagger concealed inside my robes. “Don’t call me that,” she hissed. “Don’t you dare call me that ever again.”

Little Bear’s cheeks flushed orange.

“So you do remember me. Good. I won’t tell everyone in the city your birth canal has been stretched as long as you answer my questions.”

Her chin lifted a notch. “You dare threaten me in my own temple?”

My temple, not my goddess’ temple. There a certain surety in the immutability of a corrupt human personality.

I pushed back my hood and met her glare.

Her gaze quickly dropped. “Ask your damn questions,” she said, her voice sullen.

I folded my arms over my chest once again. “How long has she been missing?”

“I’m not sure. Her handmaid only mentioned her bed hadn’t been slept in two nights ago.” No change in the pulse beating at her throat.

“I know she’s been missing at least four. Care to correct your answer?”

She flicked her hand in dismissal. “It’s not unusual for some of the women to share beds. Dragonfly deals with the daily duties.”

I didn’t believe for an instance that Dragonfly wouldn’t report every little happening and piece of gossip to her mistress. By the same token, I could definitely envision my mother hanging out the berda as her dupe. “Are you saying your second didn’t inform you that Sister Gretchen wasn’t reporting for her duties?”

“I don’t remember every little thing every priestess tells me.”

“I didn’t ask about every priestess in your temple. I specifically asked about Dragonfly reporting Gretchen’s absence,” I said.

“I don’t remember.” Her pulse jumped. I really hadn’t expected otherwise.

“I’m sure you don’t.”

“You can truthspell me if you’d like, Justice.” She spat out my title like a bad piece of fish.

Time to try another tack. “I would think you’d be worried about the drop in income to the temple. I hear Gretchen was one of your more popular priestesses.”

“Then it’s a good thing she didn’t have a declaration of last wishes.”

“Really?” I said dryly. “You’re sure about that, Sister?”

“Quite sure.” She couldn’t keep the purr of satisfaction.

“You do realize your admission makes you the most likely candidate for her murder, don’t you, Sister?” I drawled out her title.

“This interview is over,” she snapped.

“Fine, but you better pray to your goddess that the Temple of Death has a declaration on file. Otherwise, I will return.” I grinned. “And with a priest of Light.”

I waved at Little Bear, and he followed me out of the room. I could literally feel the psychic residue of my mother fuming behind me.

My warden didn’t say a word until we were mounted and past the Temple of the Vintner. At least, the rain had slowed back down to a drizzle. “I don’t mean to pry, Justice—”

“But you’re going to do it anyway.”

“Maybe we should have handle Sister Gerd more gently.”

“We,” not “you.” I faced him. “Are you saying you’d be willing to lay with her?”

“No! Balance, no.” He blew out a cleansing breath. “It’s that Justice Penelope didn’t take Sister Gerd’s influence seriously.”

“What influence?”

“Duke Marco’s father was one of her regulars.”

I didn’t countenance gossip, but I had to ask. “What priests or priestesses from the other temples?”

Little Bear’s laughter was choked. “It would be easier to give you a list of who didn’t frequent her bed.”

“Let me guess,” I said sourly. “Besides Penelope, Brother Kam?”

He nodded. “And Sister Bertrice.”

I muttered a few choice curses.

We were nearly to our own stables when he said, “I understand there’s bad blood between the two of you, and I can imagine why, but as Chief Justice of Orrin, you need to rein in your resentment, m’lady. This city hasn’t been balanced in a very long time, and it’s something we desperately need.”

“Do you presume to lecture me on my duties, Little Bear?”

He met my gaze squarely. “You said you wanted discretion and honesty, Justice.”

He was right. It didn’t make swallowing my pride any easier. “And you’ve acted appropriately as I wished, Warden. I’ll keep your wise words in mind.”

A deeper question bothered me. As much as I would have liked to blame my mother for Sister Gretchen’s murder, my gut said she was only taking advantage of her younger rival’s death. So who by the Twelve had a reason to throttle and mutilate a priestess?

Sword of Justice - Chapter 2

I see y'all stopping by to read stuff, but if no one leaves a comment, I'll stop and make you watch kitty videos.

* * *
My breakfast twisted in my stomach and not from the gruesome discovery in Duke Marco’s wine cellar.

“She was dead before she was put in the barrel,” Luc said. He shifted closer. “There’s bruising along her neck.” He reached out, his hands matching to contusions I could not see, but the rest did. “She was strangled.”

Now that the dead priestess was out of the wine, slight temperature variances registered with my odd sight. My attention was drawn to the area between her legs.

Like all of the priestesses of Love, her body hair was shorn, but that wasn’t what concerned me. “Luc.”

He examined the slashes in the flesh. His voice was grim when he said, “That was not caused by rough loveplay.”

I inclined my head in the magistrate’s direction.

Luc rose to his feet. “Let’s get the official questioning of everyone present out of the way. If you don’t mind, Magistrate…”

“You can start with whoever on earth you wish,” DiCook snapped.

“I mean, I will question you first.” Luc grinned.

“Me? You have the audacity—”

“You were the one who said she was murdered, Magistrate.” I glared at the idiot. Part of me hoped he was involved. “In front of witnesses, I might add, before the brother and I pulled her body from the barrel. You have the right to decline questioning, but I suggest you allow Brother Luc to clear you now, if you are innocent.”

“How do I know you’re not incriminating me to remove me from my position?” A barely controlled tremor shook his voice.

I climbed to my feet. “I have no reason to, and in case your brilliant powers of deduction have missed the obvious, both the crown and the temples are keeping a very close eye on events in Orrin after last summer.”

“You should have been executed for what you did last summer,” he spat.

“Yes, I should have been,” I said dryly. “Again, if you have a dispute with the Reverend Mother of Balance, I suggest you take it up with her.”

His face turned a red so dark it bordered on purple. At least, he understood his position was as precarious as my own. He turned to Luc. “Very well. Ask your questions.”

“Thank you for your cooperation, Magistrate.” That was Luc, ever the epitome of tact. “Is there another room I may use, Your Grace?”

“The granary is on the other side of the ramp. It will be more comfortable than the cold rooms.” Marco’s voice as smooth, but I had a feeling he’d just as soon shove DiCook into one of the meat or vegetable lockers.

As Luc’s warden followed him and the magistrate, I turned to the female Balance warden who had accompanied us. One day I was going to get all their names straight.

“Go upstairs. Have Little Bear ride to the Temple of Balance. I’m going to need a clerk to record statements. Then have him collect the Master Healer. I want him here to examine the corpse.”

“Yes, m’lady.” The woman saluted before she pivoted smartly on her heels and marched out the door.

I faced the duke’s party for the next order of business. “Lady Alessa, may I impose on you for a bedsheet to cover our unfortunate sister?”

“Of course, Justice.” She curtsied before scurrying out the door.

The three city peacekeepers stared at me, unsure of what to do with their leader not so obliquely accused of knowledge of a murder and me issuing orders.

“Have any of you three dealt with Sister Gretchen?”

“No,” they chorused, but the one on my far right blushed bright orange.

I sighed. “You do realize that if you lie to me now, then admit to knowing her under Brother Luc’s truth spell, things will not go well with you.”
<> “I—I—” The peacekeeper sounded like he was choking on a harvest ham. “I have, m’lady. At the Spring Rituals three years ago.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and stared at him.

“And a few times since then,” he mumbled.

I sighed again. “Your wife doesn’t know about the other times.”

He bowed his head. “No, m’lady.”

The Spring Rituals were one of the many reasons I had preferred being a circuit justice as opposed to a permanent position in a temple. Not because the three-day orgy of food, drink and sex itself disgusted me.

Because I wanted to be a part of it.

And Justices weren’t allowed.

On the other hand, a priestess of Love was required to service any man or woman who came to their temple for succor. I wasn’t sure if my mother doomed me or saved me when she sold me to the Temple of Balance as a toddler.

But the unspoken rule was that the priestesses only provided sexual release for those who were not in committed relationships. The Spring Rituals were the one exception.

I crossed to the peacekeeper. He flinched and the other two eased away from him. It almost made me feel sorry for the man.

“When was the last time you visited Sister Gretchen?”

“I-I tried to four night ago, but I was told she was indisposed. Th-the head sister offered to entertain me herself, but I went home instead.” And Sister Gretchen had been dead since the barrel was unloaded in the cellar three days ago.

“So you didn’t see her at all when you went to the Temple of Love?”

“No.” He shook his head vehemently.

“When was the last time you saw her alive?”

He bowed his head and played with the edges of his cloak, plucking at the embroidery. “Winter Solstice, m’lady,” he murmured.

“And?” I prompted.

“She was alive and asleep when I left her bedchambers.”

“Does your wife know about your other visits to the temple?”

“No—” He stopped himself. While I couldn’t truth-spell worth a copper, my unusual sight could detect the change in body heat when most people lied. The peacekeeper realized how much trouble he could be in after my little confrontation with his boss. “I don’t believe she does. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”

If you didn’t want to hurt her feelings, you should have gone home and made love to her instead of going to the goddess-damned temple. But I didn’t give voice to that thought.

Instead, I said, “Thank you for your cooperation, Peacekeeper…”

“Dante, m’lady.”

“Thank you, Dante.” I glared at the other two. “Anything you gentlemen care to add?”

“No,” they chorused. Their skin remained yellow with flickers of orange. Nervous because of me, but not obviously hiding anything.

I circled around the body and approached the duke and his party. The acid of the wine had kept the smell and decay to a minimum. But now, the odor was starting to overpower the little room. The corpse would need to be disposed of very soon.

“How well did you know Sister Gretchen?” I said, focusing on Lady Katarina.

“We were fast friends until our thirteenth summer.” Wistfulness coated her voice. “She decided to formally join the temple.”

“While your mother encouraged you to find an apprenticeship,” I added. Katarina’s healing gift had saved my life. Part of me was grateful, but another part cursed her. I had prayed that death from my demon-inflicted injuries would free me from the Temple of Balance<.

But I never had such luck any other time I tried to escape. I don’t know why I thought the goddess would release me during that night when she kept her grip tight on me every other time.

Katarina rubbed her swollen belly. “Yes.”

“Did you ever hear of problems between her and any of the other priestesses?”

The noblewoman gave a sad laugh. “Only the usual manure. Backbiting and currying the head priestess’ favor.”

“What about supplicants?”

Katarina sighed. “Same thing. There were always fights between the sisters over the richer patrons, but I never heard of a problem between her and a patron.”

My muscles tightened. Once a priestess of Love lost her looks, she was demoted to handmaid. Oh, she could request a transfer to another temple, but few thought ahead enough to acquire skills that might be useful, and it still resulted in a demotion of sorts.

The smart priestesses enticed jewelry, gold and other material favors from their supplicants, hoarding their wealth so they may retire in the luxury to which they had become accustomed.

“And Gretchen?”

Katarina’s gaze flicked to the peacekeepers and back. “If you wish a formal statement, Lady Justice, may we please do this inside? Standing for such a long period is not good for the baby.”

“Of course.” I inclined my head. “Perhaps in your audience chamber, then? I do not wish to put any more strain on the duke’s heir than necessary.” I smiled at Marco. “If you will inform Brother Luc of my whereabouts?”

“I would be happy to, Justice Anthea.” He was having trouble containing his laughter at his wife’s subterfuge. “And my apologies for interrupting your morning meal.”

“Please try not to do it again, Your Grace.” The peacekeepers took my mocking for real anger from the way the three of them jumped.

I held out my elbow for Katarina. She seemed relieved as we left the wine cellar. At the top of the ramp, the female warden stood vigil with the warden from Truth. She fell in step with me, but I held up my free hand.

“Stay here.  No one is to leave without Bother Luc’s authorization. I’m escorting the lady to her audience chamber. Should the Master Healer arrive before I return, come fetch me.”

“Yes, Justice.” She saluted again.

I blew out an annoyed breath. “What’s your name again?”

“Tyra, my lady.” No need for an origin name. We all adopted DiBalance when we entered our goddess’ service.

“I’m sorry for forgetting again, Tyra.”

She shrugged. “Things have been rather chaotic since you arrived.”

I leaned close the warden. In a conspiratorial fake whisper, I said, “I blame Lady Katarina for everything.”

The warden froze until the noblewoman started laughing.

Katarina slapped my shoulder. “Really, Anthea. You are incorrigible.” Behind us the Truth warden snorted as he tried to stifle his own humor.

We left the startled Tyra behind and headed through the gray drizzle for the great house.

* * *

Once we shed our damp cloaks, our feet were propped in front of the fireplace, and we had been served hot tea and biscuits, Katarina dismissed the maid. She sipped her tea for a moment before she said, “Could you please ward the room?”

That simple request spoke volumes.

I set aside my cup and rose. The spell was basic enough. Every priest and priestess, no matter the temple, knew it.

Unlike Luc’s nearly impenetrable wall, mine was fluid, elastic. It wouldn’t stop the maid from barging into the room, but it would prevent her from hearing or harming us.

Which really made no sense, considering our personalities. A spell reflected the traits of the caster, and I would be the first to admit I was rather rigid when it came to certain matters.

I hummed under my breath as I shielded our conversation from the servants or anyone else. A silvery shimmer surrounded us for an instant before the spell settled into the walls, ceiling and floor of the reception room.

I sat back down, enjoyed the delicious heat on my toes, and waited for Katarina to begin.

“Gretchen began amassing a fortune as soon as she was confirmed by the Reverend Mother of Love.” She sipped her tea.

“She’s your age, correct?” At the noblewoman’s quiet affirmation, I added, “How much could she have amassed in only three years?”

“That’s what the chief priestess here in Orrin wanted to know.” Katarina blew out a sharp breath. “When I refused to spy on Gretchen, the bitch spread the word I had spied on Gretchen.”

“And Gretchen refused to speak to you after that.”

“Yes.”

The sad part was I knew how ambitious my birth mother was. I may have only been three summers, but I understood the price she asked for me from the contingent of Balance when they came to claim me. Mother had gotten the power she wanted, but had she desired more than the temple seat here in Orrin?

And sadly, I understood why Katarina had stayed even though my mother was making her life miserable. It would have been around the time her mother contracted the wasting sickness.

“You had to have known that you couldn’t heal your mother,” I murmured.

She swiped at her cheek. “I had to try.”

I coughed to cover my own discomfiture. I was alive; her mother wasn’t. The failure must sting her soul. “Was there any significant patron in particular who she entertained?” I reached for my cup.

Katarina laughed, an ugly, bitter thing. Six months ago, I wouldn’t have believed the sweet woman could make such a sound. “Would you believe one of them was Samael DiRoy?”

I choked. My mouthful of tea sprayed over my shirt and leggings. Once I could catch my breath, I glared at her. “You did that on purpose.”

“Only to see the imperturbable Justice Anthea spit all over herself.” Her humor quickly faded. “If I had known then…”

Samael DiRoy. The great nephew of a cousin of our current queen, which made him thirty-sixth, or was that sixty-third, in line for the throne. Traitor. Demon summoner. The main reason I had been condemned to the Justice seat in Orrin.

As the Reverend Mother had surmised, being trapped in the city of my birth was a far worse punishment for illegally executing the idiot prince than having my own head chopped off.

Politics didn’t give a whit that I had stopped a demon invasion in the process.

I took another drink of tea that I actually managed to swallow. “Do you think she knew about Samael’s predilections?”

“I don’t know.” Katarina pulled her shawl tight around her shoulders. “It would explain where all of his money went.”

“Any interactions with Marco’s parents?”

“Not that I know of. Lady DiMara thought the Spring Rituals were beneath her. She was—”

“A controlling shrew with a thirst for power?” I offered.

Katarina smiled. “I keep forgetting that you met her.”

I snorted in disgust. “Yes, the day we were both tried.” I shoved the thoughts of that dark day aside. I had been sure I wouldn’t see the sunset. “Anyone else of rank that she entertained on a regular basis?”

“The ambassador of Jing. The crown prince of Cant. The youngest son of the king of the Sea Peoples. An admiral of the Fire Islands. The chief priest of Light from Tandor.”

I froze. “Please tell me you are joking.”

“You did not learn that last from me,” she countered.

The Temples of Balance and Truth were the only two orders that required chastity of their members. Luc and I would be executed in a heartbeat if anyone learned of our affair.

But for a chief priest of Truth to blatantly strut into any Temple of Love…

Potential suspects in Gretchen’s murder were piling up faster than fallen leaves in the winter storms.

“Do you know what she did with her tokens from these patrons?”

“The jewelry she had replicas made before she sold it. According to the gossip mill, she invested her gains. Mostly in trade ships. Some in the summer caravans heading east. She owns a few of the businesses here in the city. A couple of farms on the outskirts.”

I could feel my eyebrows climb toward my scalp at Katarina’s recitation. This was not a typical priestess planning for her retirement. Did my mother view her as political rival? Had she learned something she shouldn’t have from one of her patrons?

Yet, the method of Gretchen’s death and her horrible wounds, not to mention where she was found, indicated something else entirely.

“Who would receive her estate in the event of her death?”

Katarina shrugged. “I have no idea. If she named someone, it would be in the temple records.”

We both knew if Gretchen hadn’t, her possessions would go to her temple’s treasury. In other words, right into my mother’s lap.

Sword of Justice - Chapter 1

First off, this will NOT be the title I use when this book is published. Frankly, it sucks, but I need a title while I work to make it feel like a real story to me.

Also, what you're seeing is the raw first draft of my 2013 NaNoWriMo project. No doubt things will change as it goes through editing.

This novel picks up six months after the end of the short story "Justice" from Sword and Sorceress 28. It's essentially a S&S version of CSI.

I am rather curious to hear what y'all think. I hope you'll leave a comment or two.

***
I was still in my bedclothes and breaking my fast when Duke Marco’s messenger arrived. Setting aside the rich cinnamon bread, I glared at both the nervous young man and my personal assistant Sivan. “Tell me, is there a chance His Grace, his lady wife or his retainers might let me finish one morning meal in peace?”

“When the stars fall from the skies, Justice?” Humor edged Sivan’s response.

My displeasure settled on the messenger. His bright scarlet face and hands quivered.

I smiled sweetly, but the boy wasn’t comforted by my demeanor. My appearance discomfited nearly everyone the first time they saw me, my lover being the sole exception. “What is so important that your master could not wait for a reasonable hour?”

“He respectfully requests your presence, L-Lady Justice. A-a body was found in one of the keep’s wine barrels.” His voice cracked on the last syllable.

Orrin was the third largest city in Issura and had the largest seaport. While crime wasn’t rampant, the city’s largest problem was disorderly conduct from sailors on shore leave. Or it was until I was assigned as the resident justice last summer. Even then, it wasn’t normal offenses like theft or smuggling. It was things like this.

I shoved my plate away, wiped my mouth with my napkin and stood. “Thank you so very much for destroying my appetite.”

The boy whimpered. Surely from his voice and his manner, he was the highest ranking page available. No matter if he had heard the rumors many times over, my red eyes had made more than a few grown men wet their smallclothes.

“Run across the street, and request a truth-speller to accompany me.”

“Y-yes, ma’am.” He fled as if I’d summon demons to eat his scrawny hide.

Sivan didn’t bother to hide her laughter any longer.

“You did that on purpose,” I accused.

“He said he was instructed to only deliver the message to you, m’lady. Far be it for me to interfere with his duty.”

I stalked over to the wardrobe in the corner of my private chamber. Inside were several sets of formal cloaks. To any one else, they looked identical, the black of the Temple of Balance from hood to ankle. But for me, I could still see the blood stains on all of them.

The laundress’s best efforts not withstanding.

Out of some sense of perversity, I chose the set that still carried the mark of the sorcerer Samael, a distant member of the royal family whom I’d illegally executed to save Duke Marco.

And the world.
Once I’d donned leggings, boots and a silk undershirt, I added my sword to the ensemble. In the half year since Marco’s parents had been found guilty of treason, little incidents had been occurring. Small challenges to his authority. Carefully crafted insults.

So far, the young man had been holding his own. But a body found on his estate would only escalate the problems even if the young lord and his retinue were innocent. Nothing like a good scandal to stir the masses.

I reached the stables to find Brother Luc, head priest of Orrin’s Temple of Truth, already mounted, waiting for me with two of his wardens. Cold raindrops trickled dark purple tracks down his cloak.

I had to hide my delight that he came. “Brother, please don’t bother on such an ugly day. Either of your junior priests would do in this circumstance. Surely as the head of your temple, you have more important duties.”
“Considering where the body was found, it seemed that our best truth-speller should accompany you, Justice.” Amusement flavored his tone. Now that we were permanently assigned to Orrin, we went through this dance of words every time we met in public since we could not often meet privately without arousing suspicions.

By the Twelve, I missed sleeping with him.

I inclined my head. “Thank you for your assistance, Brother.”

Little Bear, one of my own wardens, moved to assist me on my horse. I glared at him, my foul mood spilling over once again. Luc muffled his laugh, and the warden had the grace to say sheepishly, “My apologies, Justice. I forgot.”

Reigning in my temper, I said, “I understand, but this behavior must stop.”

“Before she knocks someone’s teeth out,” Luc added. Like Sivan earlier, he didn’t bother hiding his laughter.

“Yes, m’lady.” Little Bear bowed and turned to his own horse. It was habit on the warden’s part, I knew. Every priestess in my order was blind.

Every single one except me.

The wardens and clerks acted as the justice’s eyes. None of the staff at Orrin knew what to do with a sighted justice. Not that I saw the world as they saw it, but enough that I wasn’t helpless by any means.

I climbed on my precious Nassa and patted her neck. “Shall we discover what’s troubling Duke DiMara today?”

Luc snorted. “I’d say it was his ruined wine.”

I couldn’t be angry with the page for spreading unnecessary gossip. Luc could charm the knowledge out of anyone without the need of a spell.

We guided our mounts through the postern gate, down the alley that separated my goddess’s temple from that of the Mother, and up the main thoroughfare of the city. The business district gave way to small shops and eateries. Orrin was rich enough that the streets were cobblestoned, but the winter rains kept most of the citizens indoors despite the absence of mud.

Small homes appeared between the merchant buildings. Gradually the shops disappeared, and the houses grew larger as we climbed the bluffs on the north side.

The DiMara estate overlooked the city and harbor, an imposing stone building that still bore signs of its originally purpose as a fortress. A guardsman swung open the ornate wrought iron gate, a show of the family’s wealth, as we approached. The duke controlled most of the harbor trade, and those ships they didn’t own out right, they had invested in over the years.

Two stableboys took our horses while the guardsman led us on foot to a warehouse on the left. The dry interior was welcome after our short, wet ride.

Magistrate Malven DiCook was not.

“‘Bout time his lordship’s pet priestess got here.” He coughed and spat on the floor, close enough to me to be thoroughly disgusting but intentionally missing my boot. Duke Marco wasn’t the only one dealing with insults, but the ones aimed at me weren’t so carefully crafted.

If I had the evidence that Malven was involved in the former lord and lady’s treason, I’d behead the bastard without blinking. But I didn’t, which meant I had to tread lightly around the duly elected city magistrate.

And tolerate the scent of the damn licorice-scented dye he used to disguise the effects of age in his hair and beard.

He hooked his thumbs in his belt and rocked back on his heels. “His lordship wouldn’t let me examine the body until you arrived.”

I brushed back the hood of my cloak and stepped closer. Being a tall woman was handy at times. I met the magistrate’s glare before he turned his attention toward the floor. Sometimes, my idiotic attempt to give myself sight came in handy for unnerving my antagonist.

He muttered the Cantish word for “freak.”

“No,” I answered in the same language. “I was chosen by the Goddess. If you have an issue with her selection, I’m sure the Reverend Mother could arrange an audience for you.” I didn’t add my personal opinion of his hygiene habits.

He jerked and shuffled a step backward. I didn’t know whether it was due to my knowledge of Cantish or my not-so-subtle threat. Nor did I wish to probe his thoughts to find out. Mucking out Duke Marco’s horse stalls would be a far more pleasant task.

Luc’s amusement at the magistrate’s reaction tickled my mind, but he said nothing.

“This way m’lady.” The guardsman beckoned us to follow. He marched for the opening that yawned in the floor of the storage room. Luc faced our wardens. “Two up. Two down with us.” Without a word, one of his and one of mine moved to a position where they could watch both the main door and the passage to the underground storage rooms.

Marco’s guardsman lit an oil lamp and led our retinue and the magistrate down a wide wooden ramp. The air was terribly dry for such a miserable, wet day. Small bowls sat in alcoves along the wall. The calcium in them absorbed the moisture in the air to prevent mold and rot.

At the bottom of the ramp, my desiccated airways itched from the sawdust coating the floor. Despite the sweet scent of mountain pine, another sickly smell met me. The guardsman gestured to the wide double doorway to our right.

I strode past the guardsmen to find Duke Marco, his wife and sister, his steward and another household servant on one side. Facing them were three of the city’s peacekeepers. A wine barrel stood upright between the two sets of observers. The tension in the wine room was more suffocating than the odor of death.

“You and your household seem rather intent on disturbing my morning meals, Your Grace.” I nodded to the women. “Lady Katarina, Lady Alessa.”

“Truly, I would prefer not to.” Marco’s grim humor matched mine. “However, the circumstances warranted your curious mind.”

“Would it make you more comfortable if I provided you a knife to threaten someone with, Justice Anthea?” Lady Katarina offered with the same amusement as her husband. She rested a bright red hand over her prominent stomach.

Sometimes, the odd eyesight I’d given myself let me see things that others couldn’t. Like the rise in the lady’s body temperature. Knowing she was with child before she did had been entertaining.

An odd sort of friendship had sprung between the noblewoman and myself over the last six months. Probably because we were both products of the Temple of Love’s Spring Rituals. Definitely because I had saved her and her husband’s lives from his deranged mother and the demons her pet sorcerer had summoned.

“That will be unnecessary, m’lady,” I replied and brushed the pommel of my sword at my shoulder. “I’ve learned to carry bigger weapons when you two are involved.”

“If you’re going to do nothing but joke with His Grace, maybe you should leave.” The magistrate’s irritation felt like steel scraped across slate.

I turned my gaze on DiCook. “I didn’t realize you had been named the Reverend Mother of Balance.”

“Your predecessor had a sense of decorum in these matters,” he shot back.

Sometimes, I wondered of the elderly sister who held the temple seat here was willfully, as well as literally blind. But that wasn’t fair of me. None of the priest or priestesses of the eleven other temples detected so much as a whiff of trouble with Marco’s parents before it was too late.

I had gotten lucky, and I knew it. Otherwise, we’d be neck-deep in another demon war now.

“Really, Sir Magistrate? In reviewing her records, I did not come across any accounts of bodies in wine barrels. Care to enlighten me?”

He muttered another obscenity under his breath, but otherwise remained silent.

The duke and his party wisely said nothing as well while I crossed to the source of the odor and peered inside. I couldn’t distinguish much in the deep green mass because the body had cooled to the same temperature as liquid she floated in, so I inhaled deeply.

I looked up at Luc who had joined me. “He or she didn’t loose their bowels in there.”

“She,” he corrected. At my quizzical expression, he added, “Too much hair floating at the top of the barrel.”

“Could be Pagonian.” I shrugged. Both men and women of Issura’s neighbor to the north only cut their locks during a period of family grieving.

“Hair’s too pale even soaked in dark red wine.”

I sighed. “I suppose I should examine the timeline before we pull whoever it is out of the barrel.”

Luc grunted and looked over his shoulder. “Duke Marco, when was this barrel brought onto your estate?”

The nobleman’s sister Alessa was the one who answered. “Three days ago, Brother.”

Luc turned back to me. “If she was dead when she was brought into the estate, I won’t be able to track her.”

I grinned at him. “Afraid the Wilding priest will show you up?”

DiCook stomped over to the barrel. “If you two are finished making light of someone’s murder, maybe you’ll get around to finding the culprit.”

“Murder? Who said anything about murder?” I couldn’t resist needling the magistrate.

“So this poor woman decided to take a swim in a barrel of his lordship’s wine?” His face turned a brilliant scarlet.

“We cannot assume anything at this point.” My Luc, ever the voice of reason. “What do you need, Anthea?” His question was for the benefit of everyone else in the room.

“Just some quiet,” I murmured. I pulled off my gloves and settled cross-legged on the cold flagstone floor. With one hand on the barrel and one on a shard of decorative onyx embedded next to the slate, I concentrated.

The stone quivered beneath my palm, eager to tell its story. It paid more attention to the vagaries of the mobile beings than its slate brothers.

I tugged the strings of time with the stone’s assistance, unwinding back to four days ago. Luc and the rest would see transparent figures moving faster than usual. I could only see gray ghosts drifting around and through the colored figures of the living in the storage room. Two men rolled a barrel out of the room.

“Hold.” Luc’s bass rumbled through the air.

I paused the release of the time thread.

“Names,” he demanded.

“That’s William and me,” squeaked the retainer standing with the steward.

“Name,” Luc snapped.

“Bartholomew, m’lord,” the retainer squeaked again.

“I told them to bring up a barrel of the local rose for dinner the night before the delivery,” the steward offered.

“Luc,” I said through gritted teeth.

“My apologies. Continue.” At least he actually sounded sorry, but I don’t think he truly understood the strain of what I was doing. I let the string of time the onyx showed me slide forward. Several men rolled barrels down the ramp.

Luc folded his arms. “Where did the shipment come from?”

“The Pana Valley,” Lady Alessa and the steward answered at the same time.
“Lord Aleister DiVinter’s estate,” the lady added.

Luc’s concern matched my own. If this turned out to be a power play within the nobility, things could turn very ugly very fast. I let the rest of the timeline slid through my grip. But once the barrel in question was stored, it remained in place until Bartholomew and the man he named as William tapped it this morning.

“Well, that wasn’t a damn bit helpful,” Luc murmured.

I thanked the onyx before I shook the feeling back into my fingers and rose to my feet. “Let’s drain the barrel and get her out.”

“Shame about the wine.” Luc stepped out of the way.

I could hear DiCook’s teeth grind, but he kept silent.

The steward and Bartholomew set buckets under the tap to drain the ruined red while the guardsman went off to fetch an old blanket. Once a sufficient amount had been removed that we wouldn’t flood the cellar, Luc and I peered in the barrel once more.

I pulled on my gloves. “Ready?”

“We can do it if her ladyship can’t.”

I didn’t have to look at DiCook to hear the sneer in his voice. “My thanks, Magistrate, but I can’t have you or your men vomit on the body and contaminate it.” I hooked my arm under the corpse’s shoulder. “Ready”

Together, Luc and I lifted the deceased out of the barrel. She was heavier than she should have been, having absorbed a great deal of wine. We carefully settled the nude body on the blanket.

I brushed the soaked locks away from the face. A sharp gasp came from Lady Katarina. I looked at noblewoman. “You recognize her?”

She gave a sharp nod. “Sister Gretchen from the Temple of Love. She was my playmate when we were children.”

I could feel Luc watching me, which was understandable. For the six months since my assignment to Orrin, I’d managed to avoid the chief priestess of the Temple of Love, but I couldn’t any longer. With one of her people dead, I was going to have to face my mother.