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She raised a hand to her mouth. "Who would do such a terrible thing? He was such a good man."

"I don't know," Closl said. "All that I am sure of is that Lord Piergeiron is going to want answers when I see him later this morning. He takes the protection of this city very seriously."

"I am well aware of Lord Piergeiron's interest in this city."

Standing in the hallway, Closl was aware of the smell of burned flesh coming from the study. "Walk with me, dame."

The woman fell into step beside him.

Closl lead the way down the curving steps to the lowest floor, then out beside the house where a small garden contained a number of vegetables, grape vines, and flowers. A stone wall ringed the patch of land, and Mintrivn had confirmed that it had wards of protection placed on it. Care had been taken in the placement of the small stone benches in the garden. He took a deep breath, clearing the smell of death from his nostrils.

"Is this your garden, dame?" he asked.

She looked around, her cheeks wet with tears now. "No. It was the master's. He put it in, saying it was for me, but he spent hours out here when no one was looking. It was a habit of his since he'd quit traveling quite so much."

"Please sit." Closl waved to one of the benches across from an alabaster fountain with birds cut from sapphires sitting on the edge. The water trickled noisily from an artesian well that tapped an underground source, but the sound was soothing.

"Thank you."

"I am told you had the night off last night."

"Yes, sir. It was my routine to set the master's table for him, then go home myself. I have three children, you see. The master was very generous with his time."

"I understand that I am also told that you were paid even for those days that Golsway was not at home."

The woman nodded. "As I said, Senior Civilar Closl, the master was a very generous man."

Closl almost smiled. In most circles, Golsway had been known as a very hard and demanding man. His research, when presented, was flawless. His lessons, when executed, were poetry.

"Tell me about last night," the senior civilar suggested. "You prepared the eveningfeast before you left. What time did you leave?"

"Just after moonrise," she answered.

"I'm told that was later than usual."

"Yes." She nodded. "I prepared my own eveningfeast for my children earlier, then came back to prepare the master's. He was entertaining, you see."

"I understand that was a rare occasion."

"True."

"Who was he entertaining?" Closl asked. There was still the body in the drawing room burned beyond recognition to be explained, though the senior civilar had some ideas.

"Thonsyl Keraqt, the merchant."

"Do you know what business he had with Golsway?"

"No. The master had his business, and I never pried into it."

Closl talked for a while longer, going over the evening until he was sure he had everything the woman knew. There were no clues, nothing to suggest who had killed the men. After only a little while longer, he released her from his questioning.

She was almost to the door leading back into the house when he called for her attention.

"What can you tell me about Baylee Arnvold, dame?" he asked.

"Only that he would never have anything to do with this," she replied without hesitation. "If that's what you're thinking."

"It's been brought to my attention that there was a falling out between them in the past year."

"Ten months ago," the woman replied, her eyes sparking fire. "And I would

like to know whose tongue has been wagging so loosely."

"I'm afraid I can't reveal that. Those who talk to me have my confidence."

"Then please take a message back to that person for me that they should respectfully find some other way to spend their time than passing on idle gossip."

"I'll consider that, should the information prove false or misleading."

"The falling out you refer to," the woman explained, "was nothing more than a boy growing to manhood, despite his father's best wishes."

Closl studied the woman. "I'd never heard that Baylee was the