Free Window Wall by Melanie Rawn Page A

is.”
    She munched a bite of toast, sipped tea, and sighed. “I think he’d look terribly stylish with one of those carved canes coming into fashion at Court. What are they calling them? Swagger sticks?”
    “With a gold dragon’s head for a handle,” he agreed. “I’ll mention it to Fa. He ought to have enough wood around his workshop to put something together.”
    “Does anybody know how it all happened?”
    Mieka deliberately didn’t think about the crimped end of a hallmarked withie he was keeping in a wad of wool inside his trouser pocket. “There’ll be some sort of investigation. But they won’t find that Jed or Jez did anything wrong, or were careless, or anything of the sort.”
    “Of course not,” she stated indignantly. “I’m sure they’ll find that it was naught but a dreadful accident.”
    “Mm.” The lacy little sleeve of her nightdress had slipped down one shoulder and it took him a few moments to register what she said next.
    “I thought—I mean, I was hoping that mayhap I didn’t feel well … for a different reason.”
    Mieka saw the blush on her cheeks, and the sweep of heavy lashes as she lowered her gaze. His hands were shaking slightly as he moved the tray to the floor. “Mayhap,” he said, hearing how thick his own voice sounded, “mayhap I could make you feel
much
better right now.”
    The blush deepened, and as she looked up at him with her wonderful iris-blue eyes, his last coherent thought was what a fool he was ever to leave her bed at all.
    * * *
    T ouchstone departed for Seekhaven a few days later. Rather than drive the wagon through the maze of Gallantrybanks streets to collect everyone, they all spent the night before at Wistly. Jeska and Kazie arrived shortly before tea. Rafe and Crisiant were there by nightfall with their little boy, Bram. (It had become fashionable to give a child the mother’s maiden name; the boy was lucky that Crisiant had been born Bramblecotte and not Rosecresting or Sweetwood). Cade showed up later that evening with Derien, Mistress Mirdley, Jed, and Blye. It was quite the extended family gathered the next morning to bid them farewell, Mieka reflected, remembering that first time when it was just the four of them yawning their way onto the King’s coach.
    Jezael insisted on being helped downstairs to join in seeing them off. Mieka noted with puzzlement the exchange of a furtive, significant glance between Cade and Mistress Mirdley when Derien commented on the pillow cushioning Jez’s leg and Jindra told him who had made it. When Jez assured the little girl that he felt much better because of it, another glance went back and forth. But Mieka forgot about asking its cause when his mother began the unrewarding task of getting everyone into the wagon who should be there, and keeping everyone who shouldn’t (Tavier, in particular) out. Mieka kissed his wife and daughter, promised Jinsie that he’d remember to look up her friends at the University in Shollop and his mother that he’d remember to send more letters this time, was admonished by each of them not to tell any more lies than were strictly necessary, and turned to climb the steps into the wagon.
    He hadn’t even put his foot on the second step when a hire-hack pulled up just in front of the wagon and decanted two frowning gentlemen in severe brown suits with the sea green collars and cuffs signifying a Royal office of some sort. To be fair, the short one probably couldn’t help his expression; he was quite obviously of Gnomish descent, with the heavy scowling brow that sometimes went with that bloodline. The other, just as obviously Human to his toenails, simply looked sour and disapproving.
    “Wistly Hall? Residence of Jezael Windthistle?” he demanded of Mieka’s father.
    “Yes. And you might be …?”
    “Royal Inquisitors.”
    Mieka was abruptly reminded of the glass shard still in his pocket, and cursed himself. He’d meant to give it to Blye earlier on, and forgot.
    Calm