Free Hunting by Andrea Höst Page B

and a single accompanying Guard
waiting. The Investigator had given no sign of holding Ash's
silence on the matter of emanite against her, and simply nodded as
they mounted.
    "Captain Garton sent word that your
aunt's funeral will be tomorrow morning, lad," she said. "The Blue
Valley at third bell."
    "Thank you," Ash said, and spent the
ride down the long linked valleys to the middle of the Commons
fighting her dread of the Sun's judgment of Genevieve. Would all
the good Genevieve had done balance her past? Would Ash's hunt for
– not revenge, but some kind of justice – involve taking a life,
putting herself on the same path which had left Genevieve so
imbalanced?
    She found her fingers were digging into
Thornaster's robe and forced herself to relax them, to breathe and
be focused on a task and not memories.
    "The house is still sealed,"
Investigator Verel said, as they came into sight of it. "Pending
further examination."
    Was that a faint smile in the woman's
voice? Charity Dunn must be fuming. Still, Ash did not want to go
inside. The place could only ever be a shell without Genevieve.
Instead, she led the three from the palace into the same alley
where they'd kept their horses the first time. An upended water
barrel, a foot on the fence, and then she was on the roof.
    It was a place of angles and varying
levels, less familiar to her than many of her neighbours'. But it
was solid and well kept, the tiles firm, not in danger of caving
beneath her feet as one had a couple of years ago. What a leap that
had been, an instinctive, frantic thrust for safety!
    As Thornaster and the Investigator
joined her, Ash moved away. No matter how sturdy the roof, there
was no need to test it with their combined weight.
    Crossing to the point that would be
above Genevieve's bedroom, Ash glanced at the sprung bear trap she
had placed in the middle of the logical route, at a point that
would be cloaked in shadows at night. A piece of wood, half a foot
in length, was clenched upright between metal teeth. The trips –
thin, dark cord stretched at the right height to snag passing feet
and cause warning clatters – had all been neatly cut through.
    Only the faintest trace of the grey
powder remained. As the other two joined her, Ash bent to touch it,
then dusted her fingers clean.
    "A considerable oversight,"
Investigator Verel said, annoyance surfacing briefly through her
customary lack of expression.
    "It explains why there was no result
when you tried divining entry points," said Thornaster. "Is it too
late to get some residuals?"
    "Even a decem after is too late,
really. But I should be able to pick something up. The slightest
hint would be more than we have now."
    She knelt, and began to draw on the
roof with a piece of chalk. It was all very interesting,
recognisably magical, but Ash was distracted by the street below.
They were not far from the front of the house, and people had
noticed and were gathering to watch. Among them, leaning casually
against the wall of the cobbler's opposite, was a blond girl in a
blue smock. She was tossing a ball into the air and catching it,
but when Ash came into sight she closed her hand over the toy and
deliberately placed it behind her back. After a moment more, she
turned and walked down the street. The girl was called Bitty, and
Ash puzzled over what had to be a deliberate signal. Back or
behind?
    "What is she doing?" Ash asked
Thornaster, as the Investigator seated herself in the middle of the
pattern of symbols she had marked on the roof. "Residual
whats?"
    The Visel glanced at her briefly. "It
seemed most likely that our killer gained entry with a
translocation spell. A powerful piece of magic. Not only that, but
also one set to return him to the point of departure. Verel, having
found the place the spell was cast, may be able to catch a glimpse
of the caster's identity. Now be silent. This requires
concentration."
    Ash lingered a short measure more, then
wandered off, giving the impression of too