Free The Warrior's Bond (Einarinn 4) by Juliet E. McKenna

something valuable.”
    I looked inside the shattered top of the rough wooden box to see miniature copies of fixtures and furniture like the ones Messire’s craftsmen make for the Sieur’s approval when some residence or other is being refurbished. “Have any been taken?”
    Temar shrugged. “I think not. Some of the furs are gone though, the small pelts, the finest ones.”
    I bent to retrieve a torn sheet of parchment. “What’s this?”
    “Notes from our artisans.” Temar frowned. “Nothing important, but everything is unsealed.”
    “Thieves looking for information more than valuables?” I mused.
    “Anything valuable has gone,” scowled Temar. “There was some copper, but it is nowhere to be found.”
    “We all grew up with tales of the riches of Nemith the Last’s lost colony.” I looked at him. “Gold and gems. Were there any?”
    Temar smiled grimly. “All still safe in my personal baggage back at the shrine.”
    “Along with any maps or charts that might give away Kellarin’s secrets?” I hazarded, relieved to see him nod. “But whoever broke in here wasn’t to know that.”
    “So was this just sneak thieves taking advantage?” Temar wondered aloud.
    I sighed and nodded towards the door. “I don’t suppose the inns down here serve tisanes, but I’ll buy you ale if you want it this early.”
    Temar shook his head as we walked out into the sunshine and both drew thankful breaths of clean, fresh air, crossing the dock to sit on a baulk of timber.
    “Glannar’s men have got a sorry tale of thoughtlessness adding to mishap piling on stupidity.” I scrubbed an irritated hand through my hair. “It could just be some bright-eyed lads taking the chance they saw offered, certainly. A ship from unknown lands, all but dragged off the rocks by wizardry, the whole town would have heard the tale before their dinner yesterday, and a fair few would have been curious to know just what you’d unloaded.”
    “Curious enough to search through every scrap of parchment?” Temar was as keen as me to find an innocent explanation but equally alert to more sinister implications.
    “There are plenty of sailors keen to know the currents and winds between here and Kellarin,” I mused. “Some might be foolhardy enough to risk the crossing without magic if there’s enough profit to be had.”
    An unwelcome voice hailed us in a strangled shout.
    “What has been going on?” puffed Casuel as he reached us, hair unbrushed and mismatched buckles on his shoes.
    “Some of the Kellarin cargo has been stolen,” I said flatly, hoping his precipitate arrival might go unnoticed.
    “By whom?” he demanded, outraged.
    “As yet, we don’t know,” I replied calmly.
    “Why aren’t you out looking for them!” Casuel looked around the harbour, presumably for some slow-footed miscreant draped in stolen pelts.
    I turned my attention back to Temar. “It could have been pirates. They’ll be interested in knowing what comes from Kellarin and how it might compare to the Inglis trade.”
    “And they would certainly be interested in looking for charts,” agreed Temar.
    “Thieves or pirates, what’s the difference?” Casuel folded his arms abruptly, scowling.
    “Otrick was keeping Velindre informed, hadn’t he?” I took a step closer to Casuel, using my greater height to force him back a pace. “Otrick was well liked by pirates all along the coast, wasn’t he? If Velindre has similar friends, perhaps she let something slip?”
    “Impossible,” snapped Casuel, affronted.
    “From her manner last night, I hardly think the lady would be so careless,” Temar said cautiously.
    “Unlikely,” I agreed. But not impossible, and anyway the notion had Casuel too distracted to interrupt again.
    “But what if it’s neither?” I said to Temar.
    “Elietimm?” He nodded, expression dour. “People forgetting what was agreed, forgetting to mark the time, that could be Artifice at work”
    “What?” Casuel looked from