Sanctuary - Lynn Abbey [201]
“He’s gotten a blood scent, a man’s blood,” Soldt explained. “Vex can find a corpse that’s been buried ten feet deep or weighted with stones and dropped in a river.”
“Tell him to look for Bec. I can show you the corpses.”
But Cauvin couldn’t show Soldt anything. The four fire-blasted bodies were gone. The ground where they’d lain had been carefully scoured. When Grabar led Gorge up from the city, they’d see that the ground had been disturbed, but they wouldn’t see traces of blood or gore, and the only footprints would be Cauvin’s, Soldt’s, and the dog’s.
They left the cellar for the ruined bedroom with its view of Sanctuary.
“You think I’m a froggin’ liar,” Cauvin said before Soldt leveled the accusation.
“Not at all. One ruin may look like another, but Vex scented blood. They can fool our eyes, but not his nose. In a way, they’ve made our job easier. The fainter the trail, the easier it is for him to follow. When there’s too much blood, too much scent, he gets confused … Don’t you, Vex?”
The dog looked up at Soldt. It shook its head, almost as if it had understood the words and disagreed with them. Only for a moment. They all heard a sound back near the cellar. Vex strained on the leash and Soldt let the dog pull him into the brush beyond the cellar. The dog seemed to have a scent, but when they got to the next hilltop there was nothing except a deer grazing in one of the Land’s End fields. It was too far away to have made the noise they’d heard. Soldt commanded the dog to sit and, with a protest whine, it did.
“Next time I’m bringing a bow. Nothing like fresh venison on the spit.” Soldt gave Vex another foreign-word command, and it followed him toward the ruins.
“Venison!” Cauvin exploded, catching up with them. “You’re thinking about venison? The Hand’s got Bec. They’ve covered their tracks. Turn that dog of yours loose. Tell him to find my brother.”
“In time. First we wait for your foster father.”
“What for? There’s nothing here!”
“All the more reason to wait. You don’t want him looking like a sheep-shite idiot in front of the watch, do you? We may still need their help. Besides, the muddle’s different now. The Hand’s come back; they know they’ve made a mistake. They know someone’s moved Lord Torchholder. Do they think he’s alive? Did Bec tell them Lord Torchholder’s still alive? Have they guessed that your brother isn’t Lord Torchholder’s heir?”
“You think Bec’s answered their questions?” Knowing how the Hand asked its questions added weight to Cauvin’s heart.
“Doesn’t really matter. Bec’s a clever boy, but he’s no sorcerer.”
“Froggin’ sure, I’m no sorcerer either—”
Soldt froze Cauvin with a glance. “Just pray the Hand realized their mistake sooner, rather than later.”
“And that they’ll be looking to swap Bec for someone else?”
“That’s one possibility.” Soldt jumped up on the windowsill. Staring down at the city, he shielded his eyes and cursed. “There he is, your foster father, coming up the General’s Road … by himself. No need to wait now. We can meet him halfway and get back to the stoneyard. With luck, the Hand will come looking for us.”
Cauvin led the way and caught Grabar’s temper while it was still fresh.
“—If we had a daughter who’d gone missing. Or if we were rich. Oh, then they’d bestir themselves. But for the son of an honest man living on Pyrtanis Street? The sons of Pyrtanis Street run away all the time. The guards have better things to do than look for my son—unless I’ve got twenty shaboozh to bond their efforts. If they find him dead or enslaved, they give me my shaboozh back, but if he’s just ‘wandered’—that was Gorge’s word—well, they’ll keep the shaboozh for their effort! Damn their eyes!” Grabar thrust his fist in the air, then lowered it. “I ought to have dragged them up to the ruins—”
“Better you didn’t,” Cauvin said. “There’s nothing up there. Someone—The Hand’s been through. Gathered up the bodies, cleaned up the blood.”
Color drained from Grabar’s face. Cauvin reached out to steady him. “We’re going back to the stoneyard. Soldt thinks the Hand knows they