Sanctuary - Lynn Abbey [197]
“He’s just getting your scent,” Soldt explained, then added a sound, maybe a word from some other language, and the dog sat. “So, tell me, what happened in the ruins?”
Cauvin went through his story again, including his failed attempt to confront Leorin at the Vulgar Unicorn. “The Stick said he didn’t know when she’d left. Shite for sure, she must’ve gone looking for the Hand last night while you and I talked. You and the Torch were right all along—”
“Cold comfort in that. I thought—Lord Torchholder thought, too—that your loyalties might be tried, that’s all. I didn’t see her sending the Hand out after Lord Torchholder. What exactly did he say about the boy being his heir?”
“Frog all—Bee’s not the Torch’s heir. That’s me … supposed to be me. Damn it.”
“But the Hand would think otherwise?”
Cauvin gave a halfhearted nod. “The Hand would’ve chosen Bec, ’cause of his age. It doesn’t matter who inherits the Torch’s gold. We’ve talked too much when we should be looking for Bec.”
“No, it’s not just talk. As I understand it, when a sorcerer—and damn me for saying this, but Lord Torchholder’s more sorcerer than pure priest—chooses an heir, it means he’s found someone who’ll carry his memories—a foothold in the future. If the Hand thinks they’ve got Lord Torchholder’s heir then, trouble doubled, they think they’ve got Lord Torchholder himself. They’ll treat him accordingly.”
Cauvin shuddered. “Frog all,” he swore more sincerely than usual. “We’ve got to find Bec before they kill him.”
“Killing Bec is the last thing the Hand wants to do,” Soldt said grimly.
“We’ve—We’ve got to start looking!” Cauvin started toward the tunnel to the inn’s main courtyard and the city streets beyond it.
“Not so fast. It’s not as if the Bloody Mother’s got a Hand-filled fane sitting outside the walls. Maybe your ladylove could tell us where they hide, but even if we could persuade her to help us, she’s gone missing.”
“Copper Corner,” Cauvin said. “We could start there. It’s close by, and that’s where the Hand tried to grab Bec the first time—”
Soldt interrupted his good idea, “What first time?”
Cauvin explained and Soldt shook his head. “The next time something like that happens—assuming we live to see a next time—tell someone! It’s too late to find anything there now; last night’s storm will have washed away whatever scent was left. My thought is to take Vex out to the ruins, see what his nose can turn up around the bodies, and see to Lord Torchholder while I’m there. He’s got to come in now.”
By the way the dog raised its head when Soldt said “Vex,” that was its name; and by the way Galya walked away after Soldt said “he’s got to come in,” Soldt’s plan to stash the old pud amid her laundry was going to meet strong opposition.
“Shite for sure, he’s in already. Grabar wouldn’t stay out there, not once he’d convinced himself that Bec was gone, but he wouldn’t leave the Torch alone and, froggin’ sure, the old pud wouldn’t get anywhere arguing with Grabar.”
“We’ll start at the stoneyard.”
“Not me. I’m staying away from Mina, from my foster mother. She’s blaming me for what happened to Bec. Soon as Grabar convinces her that the old pud really is the gods-all-be-damned Torch, she’s going to blame me for what’s happened to him, too.”
Galya emerged from the laundry with a huge, linen-covered basket slung over one arm. “Sounds to me like she’s got a right to blame all of you for what’s happened to her son. Men! When will you learn? Life is not a game! Bet here, throw the dice there, turn the cards and see what happens … That woman needs someone to stand beside her. Let’s go.”
“She’s got Batty Dol sitting with her