Page 69 of The Tainted Cup

I chose not to answer that.

Strovi strode up to Suberek’s front door, lantern raised high in his hand. As I followed, the mill’s stables rose into view. The shadows behind the fence posts flickered and shivered in Strovi’s light, making it feel like all the darkness was shifting there. Perhaps it was the clar-tea running through my blood, but I liked it not at all.

Strovi raised a hand to knock as I stared into the stables. Yet then I noticed something and snatched his hand before his knuckles struck the door.

“What is it?” he asked.

I nodded toward the stables, where the gate was standing slightly ajar. Then I gestured to the other mills, whose stable gates were firmly shut.

“Gate’s left open,” I whispered. “Doesn’t seem right.”

Strovi looked at them, then at me. He nodded, drew his sword, and together we approached the stables.

The little yard within was utterly abandoned, no pony or mule orhog to pull any cart. A few hints of manure, most of it soft from the rains. I touched the hay piled in the corner and found it soft and mildewed. Smelled it and caught the scent of fungus. Days old at least.

I gestured to Strovi to lower the lantern, and when he did I read the mud at our feet. There I saw the scars and shapes of many footprints, mostly boots, many larger than my own—but no hoofprints of any kind, no animals. And it had just rained today, as my wet clothes could testify.

I looked at the mill again, thinking. Studied the windows, wondering if I might spy some movement within.

Then the wind shifted, rose. I caught an aroma in the air, faint but powerful. As the wind died it vanished, but I recognized it: the scent of rot, and putrefaction.

I kept staring at the house. I felt my blood dancing in my ears, felt sweat trickling on my back, the wooden sword at my side heavy and sagging.

Strovi’s face was pale in the lantern light. “Something’s wrong,” he whispered.

It wasn’t a question, but I nodded. Then I crept to the side door, knelt, pressed my nose close to the bottom gap, and inhaled.

The aroma of death was overpowering—a familiar one, after Aristan’s house. My eyes watered, and it took all my effort not to cough or gag.

I withdrew from the door and crossed to the corner of the stables.

Strovi followed, lantern held high. “What is it?” he whispered.

“Something is dead inside,” I said softly.

His eyes grew wide. “Sanctum…You’re sure?”

“Yes, sir. And no animal’s been in these stables for days. Yet here, many boot prints. It rained mere hours ago. So they are very recent—but the death inside is not.”

Strovi turned to the house, head cocked. Then he placed the lantern on the ground and shut its chimney, killing its light.

“They’re still in there,” he whispered. “Aren’t they.”

I said nothing.

“I shall go and fetch a Legion patrol,” he said. “They’ll come and we can round them up.”

I looked down at the lantern at our feet, thinking. Panic began unspooling in my belly.

“Wait. Open the light back up,” I said.

“What? Damn it all, they’ll see the light!”

“They’ll havealreadyseen the light, from the front windows. They’d have seen us come.”

“So?”

“So if the light’s suddenly gone out, and they didn’t see it leave, then they’ll worry, and—”