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enshel seed traces found in
the stable block。 More lho； as well as listeria and e。 coli in small amounts in the kitchen section… hmmm…'
Alizebeth shrugged。 'The usual mix of recreational drugs one might expect； none in large quantities； and the kitchens's as hygienic as
anywhere。 You'd probably get the same sort of readings from Spaeton House。'
'Probably。 Penshel seeds； they're quite unusual。'
'A very mild stimulant；' said Gabon。 'I didn't know anyone still used that stuff。 Time was； it was the drug of choice in the artists'
quarter of Dorsay； back when I was on the force。 The seeds are dried； rolled and smoked in pipes。 A little bohemian； an old man's
smoke。'
'Most of the outdoor traces can be put down to the visiting entertainers；' I mused； 'plus a little off…duty pleasure from the staff or looseliving
guests。 What about the stable block？ Are any of Froigre's ostlers penshel smokers？'
Alizebeth shook her head。 'They'd cleared large parts of the stable area to provide spaces for the fair stall…holders。'
I put the snooper down on the desk and it wriggled back and forth for a few moments until it got enough purchase to right itself。 'So
nothing untoward； in fact。 And certainly no significant toxins。'
'None at all；' said Alizebeth。
Damn。 Given the description of Aen's death； I had been quite sure poison was the key； perhaps some assassin's sophisticated toxin that
had not shown up on the initial medicae report。 But Alizebeth's snooper was high…grade and thorough。
'What do we do now？' she asked。
I passed her my data…slate。 'Send the contents of this to Aemos by direct vox…link。 See what he can come up with。'
Uber Aemos was my ancient and trusted savant。 If anyone could see a pattern or make a connection； it was him。
EVENING FELL。 I went outside； alone。 I felt annoyed and frustrated。 In fact； I felt thwarted。 I'd come there as a favour to my old friend's
widow； offering my services； and in most respects I perial inquisitor； and this was most likely just a job
for the local arbites。 I had expected to have the entire matter sewn up in a few hours； to settle things swiftly in a quick； unofficial
investigation； and leave with the thanks of the family for sparing them a long； drawn…out inquest。
But the clues just weren't there。 There was no motive； no obvious antagonist； no aggressor； but still it seemed likely that Aen Froigre
had been killed。 I looked at the medicae report again； hoping to find something that would establish natural causes。
Nothing。 Something； someone； had taken my friend's life； but I couldn't tell what or who or why。
The evening skies were dark； stained a deep violet and smeared with chasing milky clouds。 An early moon shone； passing behind the
running trails of cloud every minute or so。 A wind was gathering； and the stands of trees beside the lawn were beginning to sway and
swish。 The leaves made a cold sound； like rain。
I walked over to my flyer； popped the cargo trunk and took out Barbarisater。 I slowly freed it from its silk bindings and drew the long；
gleaming blade from its machined scabbard。 Barbarisater had been an heirloom sword； a psychically…attuned weapon from the forges
of distant Carthae and slaved to the minds of the generations of warrior women who had wielded it。 Enhancing its strength with
pentagrammic wards； I had used the long sabre in my battle against the heretic Quixos； during which struggle it had been broken
below the tip。 Master swordsmiths had remade the blade from the broken main portion； creating a shorter； straighter blade by rounding
off and edging the break and reducing the hilt。 A good deal smaller than its old self； now more a single…handed rapier than a hand…anda…
half sabre； it was still a potent weapon。
Naked； in my hand； it hummed and whined as my mind ran mrough it and made it resonate。 The incised wards glowed and sobbed out
faint wisps of smoke。 I walked out over the grass under the seething trees； holding the blade out before me like a dowsing rod；
sweeping the scene； letting the blade…tip slide along the invisible angles of space。 Twice； on my circuit of the lawns； it twitched as if
tugged by sprite hands； but I could discern nothing from the locations。
But mere was something there。 My first hint of a malign focus。 My first hint that not only was foul play involved； but that Lady
Froigre might be right。
Though they had left only the slightest traces behind them； infernal powers had been at work here。
ALIZEBETH CAME INTO my room at eight the next morning。 She woke me by sitting down on the side of my bed and handed me a cup
of hot； black caffeine as I roused。
She was already dressed and ready for work。 The day was bright。 I could hear the household coming to life： pans clattering the kitchen
block and the butler calling to his pages in the nearby gallery。
'Bad storm in the night；' she said。 'Brought trees down。'
'Really？' I grumbled； sitting up and sipping the sweet； dark caffeine。
I looked at her。 It wasn't like Bequin to be so perky this early。
'Out with it；' I said。
She handed me a data…slate。 'Aemos has been busy。 Must've worked all night。'
'Through the storm。'
'There was no storm up his way。 It was local。' I didn't really hear that reply。 I was caught up in a close reading of the slate。
Failing to cross…match just about every detail I had sent him； Aemos had clearly become bored。 The list of guests I had sent him had
led to nothing； despite his best efforts to make connections。 The caterers and performers had revealed nothing either。 No links to the
underworld or cult activity； no misdeeds or priors； except for the usual clutch of innocent and minor violations one might expect。 One
of the travelling actors had been charged with affray twenty years before； and another had done time for grievous wounding； that sort
of thing。
The only item that had flagged any sort of connection was the description of Aen Froigre's death。 Aemos had only turned to that rather
vague clue once he'd exhausted all others。
In the past twenty months； eleven people in the Drunner Region of Gudrun； which is to say the coastal area encompassing Menizerre；
Dorsay and Insume all the way to Madua chapeltown； had died of a similar； mystery ailment。 Only a tight； deliberate search like the
one Aemos had conducted would have shown up such a connection； given the scale of area involved and the size of population。 Listed
together； the deaths stood out like a sore thumb。
Here； Aemos had come into his own。 Another clerk might have sent those findings to me and waited for direction； but Aemos； hungry
to ansself； had pressed on； trying to make a pattern out of them。 No simple task。 There was nothing to demographically
or geographically link the victims。 A housewife here； a millkeeper there； a landowner in one small village； a community
doctor in another； seventy kilometres away。
The only thing they had in common was the sudden； violent and inexplicable nature of their demises： seizures； abrupt； fatal。
I set down my cup and scrolled on； aware that Alizebeth was grinning at me。
'Get to the last bit；' she advised。 'Aemos strikes again。'
Right at the last； Aemos revealed another connection。
A day or two before each death； the victim's locality had been paid a visit by Sunsable's Touring Fair。
LADY FROIGRE WAS most perturbed to see us about to leave。 'There are questions here still…' she began。
'And I'm going to seek the answers；' I said。 'Trust me。 I believe my savant has hit upon something。'
She nodded； unhappy。 Rinton stepped forward and put his arm around his mother's shoulders。
'Trust me；' I repeated and walked out across the drive to my waiting flyer。
I could hear the sound of chain blades； and turned from the car to walk around the side of the hall。 One of the trees brought down in
the night's freak storm had crashed part of the stable block and the housemen were working to saw up the huge trunk and clear it。
'Is that where you detected Penshel seed？' I asked Alizebeth when she came to find out what was keeping me。
'Yes；' she said。
'Fetch my blade。'
I called the housemen away from their work； and walked into the collapsed ruin of the stable； crunching over heaps of coarse sawdust。
The ivy…clad tree still sprawled through the bur