Bayou Moon - Andrews, Ilona [82]
The kid knelt by him. She was clean and her hair was brushed. She looked like a smaller version of Cerise. Lark pulled the cloth off the basket and pulled out a pocket of baked dough. “Pirogi,” she said. “Are you the one who killed Peva?”
“Yes.”
Lark reached over and touched the tiller of Peva’s crossbow.
“Okay, then. You can eat our food.” She tore the pocket in two, handed him half, and bit into the remaining piece. “Uncle Kaldar said to do that. So you would know it’s not poisoned.”
William bit into his half. It tasted like heaven. “Can you shoot a crossbow?”
Lark nodded.
He picked up Peva’s crossbow and offered it to her. “Take it.”
She hesitated.
“It’s yours,” he said. “I already have one and mine is better.” The Mirror’s crossbow was lighter and more accurate.
Lark looked at him, looked at the bow, grabbed it out of his hands like a feral puppy stealing a bone, and took off, bare feet flashing. She whipped about in the doorway. Black eyes glared at him. “Don’t go in the woods. There is a monster there.” She whirled and ran down the hallway.
He glanced at Catherine. Her hands had stopped moving. Her face was sad, as if at a funeral.
Something was wrong with Lark. He would figure it out, sooner or later.
Light footsteps floated from down the hall, and a man appeared in the doorway. About five-ten, slightly built, blond, but still tan like a Mar. He leaned against the doorframe and looked William over with blue eyes. “You’re the blueblood.”
William nodded.
“You know about the Sheeriles.”
William nodded again.
“I’m Erian. When I was ten, Sheerile Senior shot my father in the head in the middle of the marketplace. My mother had died years before that. My father was all I had. I was standing right there, and my father’s blood splashed all over me.”
And?
“Cerise’s parents, my aunt and uncle, took me in. They didn’t have to, but they did. Cerise is like a sister to me. If you hurt her or any of us, I will kill you.”
William bit into his pirogi, measuring the distance to the door. Mmm, about eighteen feet give or take. He’d cover that in one leap. Jump, punch Erian in the gut, ram his head into the door, and boom, he could finally get some peace and quiet. He nodded at the blond man. “Good speech.”
Erian nodded back. “Glad you liked it.”
FIFTEEN
RUH leaned forward, casting his web into the stream. Spider watched the carmine cilia that sheathed the blood vessels of Ruh’s net tremble in the dark water. A long moment passed, and then the net closed on itself, folding, retreating, and sliding back into the tracker’s shoulder.
“They passed this way.” Ruh’s grating yet sibilant voice reminded Spider of gravel being swept across stone. “Lavern’s blood is in the water. But they’re gone. I can taste two traces of the hunter’s body fluids, one more decomposed than the other. So they came this way and went back out.”
Spider looked up to where a small house sat perched on stilts, stretching a weathered dock into a cypress-cradled pond. “They came here, lingered for some reason, and left, taking Lavern’s body with them.”
“I also found that odd trace, the same as in the river. It’s blood, but it tastes of something other than man.”
Spider propped his elbow on his knee and leaned, resting his chin against his fingers. The blood was interesting. “A wounded. They had a wounded with them, and they dropped him off here.”
“Yes, m’lord.”
“Why here? Why not take him to the Mar house, behind the wards?” Spider tapped his cheek with his finger. “How much time does Lavern’s body have left?”
“Twenty-two minutes. Although I may be mistaken and it’s twenty-three.”
Spider smiled. “You’re never mistaken, Ruh. Let’s wait then and find out if we’re right.”
He touched the reins, and the rolpie obediently pulled the small boat under the cover of a gnarled tree bent over the water.
CERISE descended the small staircase hidden in the back of the kitchen. The wooden steps, worn out by four generations of feet, creaked and sagged under her weight. They would have to be repaired before too long. Of course, that