Shadowed by Death

by Jane Beckstead

  now. “I’ve been in Montaine,” I said, since it was as easy a

  story to adopt as any.

  “Yeah, heard that one.” Roddy leaned against the desk.

  “From your father. That’s why I thought it was a lie.” Roddy certainly knew Papa well. His own father wasn’t much

  different. While the clerk’s business was above-board, nothing

  else Quinn Zimmer did was. Once Papa had told me all about how

  Quinn was the only man in Waltney able to forge any document—

  citizenship papers, titles, deeds, vital records.

  “I can’t vouch for the truth of anything he’s said. Except

  that I’ve been in Montaine. Working as a maid.”

  “Now, that can’t be right. Remember all the times you told

  us boys you were going to make something of yourself? Something

  important?” The tone in his voice had turned teasing but goodimportant?” The tone in his voice had turned teasing but goodBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 78

  natured. “What about all that book learning you were going to do?” Curse Roddy and his impeccable memory. Once we’d been sworn enemies, me and his friends. I’d fought with them often, both with words and fists. When I asked Quinn to swear an affidavit for me, though, that had changed things.

  Rather than doing the swearing in front of Master Norwood, who could ask around town about me and find out the truth of my gender, I had opted to travel to Bergmondale to swear in front of their master wizard. The plan had been for the four of us to take the week-long journey together—Papa, me, Quinn, and Hans. But Quinn had shown up on the day of departure with his wife and son Roddy, saying they wanted to come along to visit family in Bergmondale and wouldn’t be dissuaded. Being the closest in age, Roddy and I had become better acquainted on the journey. He and his mother had never been privy to the real reason for the trip, though. Quinn told them it was a scouting mission to investigate targets for future thieving. The excuse was just about as aboveboard as the real reason.

  “I’ve been learning…some,” I improvised. “There are quite a few books in the house where I work. I’ve learned some letters.”

  He looked impressed, and rubbed at his jaw. “Good. I’d hate to think that you nearly broke my jaw for nothing.”

  I shook out my hand. “I nearly broke your jaw? You nearly broke my hand. It wasn’t the same for years.”

  The squeak of hinges sounded, and moments later the clerk— whose name I couldn’t remember—emerged from a dark hallway in the back. “There’s work to do, Mr. Zimmer,” he reminded Roddy in gruff tones, eying me. “Today, ideally.”

  Roddy looked back at the man and bobbed his head. “Of course, Mr. Harmon. Right away.” He turned back to me, his tone suddenly all business. “Er…how can I help you, Miss Mullins?”

  “I was hoping to speak with your father. About a…record he filed for me some time ago.”

  Mr. Harmon, apparently satisfied that work was happening, retreated back to his office. Meanwhile, Roddy’s freckles contorted as his lips turned downward. “Pop died six months ago,” he said softly. “Attack of the heart. Doc said it was years coming on.”

  I blinked as relief washed over me. An unexpectedly selfish reaction. Quinn Zimmer was dead, and now I wouldn’t have to worry about him becoming a liability. But Roddy’s sorrowful expression twisted something inside of me. “I’m sorry, Roddy. I didn’t know.”

  “Your father never mentioned it?”

  I shook my head. “Papa and I don’t talk much.” Or at all. “It’s better that way. How did it happen?”

  He shrugged. “Pop dropped dead walking the road two minutes from home. By the time I found him, it was too late. Fortunately he’d been training me to take his place for years.” He leaned he’d been training me to take his place for years.” He leanedBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 80

  closer and lowered his voice. “What was the record? Was there some problem with it? Someone spot it was a fake? I can fix it for you.”

  “No, nothing like that. I just wanted to…thank him again. It meant a lot to me.”

  Roddy’s face turned quizzical, and I couldn’t tell if he believed me or not. Perhaps it was unusual to be grateful to a forger. “I see,” he said. “Then I suppose I’d better get back to work. It was good to see you again, Avery.”

  I swallowed hard, forcing the lump down in my throat. The time had come, then, to perform my gilded tongue spell, and I found myself unaccountably nervous to cast it while face to face with Roddy. I held my hands out, fingers trembling slightly, until the master’s quote from yesterday popped into my head. For if you are not in command of yourself, then who is?

  I straightened my spine and stilled my hands. What else had the master said? Control was vital for the correct practice of magic? I would be the most self-possessed underwizard there had ever been. I searched for an emotion to feel and pounced on the nervousness that still made my knees shaky, feeling it this time on purpose, rather than unwillingly.

  The magic in the room pulled to me and I breathed it in. When I uttered the words of the gilded tongue spell a moment later, I stumbled a little at the force of the magic that left me. It almost felt as though I’d put a piece of myself in that me. It almost felt as though I’d put a piece of myself in thatBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 81

  spell.

  Roddy blinked curiously. “What was that?”

  “Did you know, Roddy? I’m a boy.”

  He blinked again, his eyes going a little unfocused. “Oh,”

  he said after a brief pause. “Of course you are.” He took three steps and sat down heavily in the chair behind his desk. This must be that fog Master Wendyn spoke of. I should probably make my exit. But first I stepped down the hall and spelled Mr. Harmon too, who already had a memory of me as a girl. The same glazed look covered his face as he mumbled, “Mmm. Mm-hmm. Of course.”

  I stepped back down the hall. “Bye, Roddy,” I said.

  He muttered something that might have been “Goodbye,” and I let myself out of the office.

  Outside, I found Ivan sitting on the steps. I grabbed him by the arm and dragged him behind me down the street. “Guess what?” I hissed in a whisper. “Zimmer’s dead.”

  Dead? Ivan gestured. How?

  “Natural causes. My secret’s safe from him.”

  Lucky.

  “Yeah. Unless you’re Zimmer.” I wished I didn’t feel so excited about it. It felt wrong in the face of Roddy’s sorrow. I just wouldn’t think about that right now.

  We crossed the street and approached The Bows. I had to steel myself for this visit. Hans had always made my flesh steel myself for this visit. Hans had always made my fleshBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 82

  crawl. This time I didn’t ask Ivan to wait outside for me. I’d keep him by my side for this encounter—just in case. It was noon by now and the tavern brim full of people eating the midday meal. A room full of people who probably had a memory of me as a girl, and most certainly would if they looked my way right now. I should probably spell all of them too.

  “I'm looking for Hans,” I told the barmaid behind the counter, who was busy pouring drinks. I didn’t recognize her. She was young and new since I’d left town.

  She sized me up and then waved a hand. “Hans!”

  After a moment, an unfamiliar man approached, much older and grayer and lined than Hans had been. “Looking for work?” he asked, eying me.

  “No, I’m looking for Hans Dunstall.” Someone bumped into Ivan in the crowded room, sending him sprawling, and I spent a moment helping him back to his feet.

  “That’s me. What can I do for you, if not give you a job?” He looked from me to Ivan. “No handouts.”

  “You’re not Hans Dunstall. I’ve known him for years.” But I uncertainty shot me through. Time had passed, hadn’t it? But still, only three years. This man looked thirty years older than Hans should be.

  “You must be looking for
Junior.”

  I gave him a shrewd look. “You’re his father?”

  “That’s right. But you won’t find him here. He’s living out “That’s right. But you won’t find him here. He’s living outBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 83

  past the churchyard these days, under the yew tree.” I felt my brow furrow. “But that’s…that’s the cemetery, isn’t it?”

  “You’re a quick one. Yes, he’s taken up residence in the cemetery and left me with this business to run. At my age! I’d much rather be sitting on my front porch sipping a sweet drink right now, I can tell you that. Would have sold the place, but there’s his family to take care of.”

  The room seemed to spin around me for a moment. Dead. In the clerk's office, that knowledge had brought me some amount of happiness, but now it set me back. Hans dead too?

  “How long ago?” I asked faintly.

  “Two months.”

  “Hans!” someone shouted from the other side of the tavern.

  He sighed and nodded in that direction. “I’ve got to get back to work, unless there’s something else I can do for you.”

  “No, I—wait. How did he die?”

  “Talk to the apothecary.” Already he moved across the tavern, waving me toward the entrance. “He can tell you the whole story. He prepared the body.”

  Ivan and I stared at one another, people bustling around us at what felt like half the speed they should.

  Both dead? Strange, Ivan gestured.

  That was just what I was thinking. Two men dead, both in the last several months. This was starting to get eerie.

  The last thing I did before we left was climb onto an upturned barrel near the wall, shout to get everyone’s attention, and spell the entire room with the gilded tongue spell.

  There. That was a decent start at spelling all of Waltney.

  ****

  “Hans Dunstall?” the apothecary repeated, his face screwed up in thought. He was a small man with a stained apron that might once have been white tied over his clothes. Now it was gray and brown and red, stains whose origins I didn’t want to know. He put down the mortar and pestle he was working some unlucky herbs over with and rubbed his hands together. “Ah, yes. I remember him.” He moved across the room to flip through a few parchments stacked on a table against the wall.

  “It would have been two months ago, I’m told.”

  Finally he pulled one parchment out. “He was a junior, was he not?”

  I nodded my head. “Yes. Yes, that’s him. How did he die?”

  “Out hunting and fell into the gorge. Took eight men three days to carry him out.”

  “But—it was an accident, right?” I asked, mostly to reassure myself.

  “I've no idea.” The apothecary skimmed the scrawling on the parchment before him. “He was much too dead to inform me one way or the other, once they brought him in here.”

  “But the other men, they must have said—”

  “He was by himself at the time. Hunting. Therefore my conclusion would be that it was indeed accidental, unless one of the animals he was hunting took it into its head to exact revenge.”

  Ivan made a guttural noise that I knew was a laugh. The apothecary spared him one stern look before turning his attention back to me.

  “He had rather a large family, didn't he?” I asked faintly. “Seven children?”

  “If he did, his corpse refrained from mentioning it. But I do seem to remember a distraught wife in here, big with child. Twins, perhaps.”

  Wonderful. That’d be nine fatherless children. Was it possible this was somehow my fault?

  I thanked the apothecary for his time, spelled him to remember me as a boy, and exited to the street with Ivan in tow. Hardly aware of what I was doing, I plopped myself down on an upturned crate in front of the business. My legs didn’t feel as though they would support me any longer.

  The oddness of the whole thing struck me. Maybe it was perfectly normal, but at the same time, maybe it wasn’t.

  What’s this? Ivan gestured, holding up a square of parchment. In my pocket. Someone put it there?

  It was a creased missive, sealed with red wax upon which It was a creased missive, sealed with red wax upon whichBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 86

  the impression of an ornate letter B had been imprinted. The folds had nearly cut the parchment, and by the time he smoothed it open, it was almost in tatters. But I hardly noted the rips and creases once I read the message, peering over Ivan’s shoulder.

  Three men swore. Three men will die.

  The Council is getting close, but you don’t have to worry. I will protect your secret.

  A chill ran through me. “Do you have any idea where this

  came from?”

  He shrugged, his brow quirking downward. Not there after clerk. Maybe at inn?

  “The man who knocked you down,” I said, rubbing at my forehead. “He must have put it there.”

  Maybe.

  “Those men are dead.” I didn’t try to hide the tremble in my voice. “They're dead, Ivan. Because of me.”

  Ivan dropped the note into my lap. They kill your father next?

  My eyes widened. “They’ve already tried,” I whispered as realization flooded me. Someone had pushed Papa off that balcony. I was suddenly certain of it. As much as I despised the man, I couldn’t stand by and let him be murdered.

  I lunged to my feet. “Come on.”

  We hurried down the main street and out of town. #

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Ivan tugged at my sleeve. It could be a coincidence, he gestured at me for the sixth time as we strode down the Midnight Wood Road, which led out to our place.

  “Will you stop saying that, Ivan?” I snapped. “It could just as easily not be a coincidence.”

  His expression turned hurt, and instantly I felt bad. I knew he was only trying to make me feel better.

  “I’m sorry. I’m just worried.” I shook my head and ran a hand over my eyes. What in the three kingdoms was wrong with me? I didn’t worry about my father. Papa was the last person who deserved my caring.

  Still, there had been good times. Once…

  I didn’t realize I had become lost in thought until Ivan poked me in the arm and brought me out of it.

  He comes, Ivan gestured.

  Surprised, I looked up to see the approaching hobble of a man walking with the aid of two canes.

  “Friar's bones, did he walk all this way?” I said aloud.

  “Oh, good!” Papa called over the expanse of road between us, as he continued to hobble forward. “Just the person I wanted to talk to. You know, you’re not getting rid of me so easily.”

  “Are you all right?” I asked, looking him over. “Nothing… out of the ordinary happened to you?” I don’t know what I out of the ordinary happened to you?” I don’t know what IBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 88

  imagined might have taken place, but after what I’d heard in town, almost anything seemed a possibility. An unexplained attack of the heart? A rabid deer attack? Someone pushing him into the gorge?

  He gave me an odd look. “My leg’s still broken, if that’s what you’re going on about. I just want to talk to you, Avery.” He jerked his head at Ivan. “Alone.”

  I shook my head. “He stays. And anyway, if you’re truly all right, then I’ve got some questions for you.”

  “Questions?” he waved a hand. “You’ve got questions for me? Nope. It’s my turn for questions.”

  I folded my arms and stared at him as he came to a stop in front of us. He looked tired, leaning on those canes after hobbling such a distance. “What questions could you possibly have for me?”

  “How about how dare you treat me so badly? I’m your father.”

  My brow raised.

  “And second, why was I cursed with such an ungrateful and cruel daughter? To just disappear? For three years? With no word?”

  “Three and a half years,” I reminded him as I looked down at myself and smoothed
out the skirt of my dress. I’d just let him get his little outburst over before I chimed in to defend myself.

  He lapsed into silence, and once I noted it I looked up again. A frown punctuated his face.

  “Oh, are you done? I was waiting for you to finish before I responded.”

  He waved a hand. “Please. Respond away.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but he carried on talking.

  “And who is this boy tagging around with you, anyway? A Gavin lookalike that you've taken in to replace your brother? Do you have a replacement for me as well?”

  “Why would I need to replace you?” I asked, baffled.

  “Or how could you, really. I’m one of a kind,” he said loftily. He shifted on the canes, his face strained, and I felt bad at all the work he’d gone to to find me.

  “Let’s go back to the cottage, shall we?” I suggested, and started to move in that direction. “Can you walk and talk?”

  “Under most circumstances.” He swung into action, hobbling as fast as he could to keep up. I dropped to a slower pace to accommodate him.

  Should heal his leg, Ivan gestured at me.

  Since I didn’t want to answer aloud, I gestured back, How would I explain that to him?

  “What's that?” Papa swung gamely along beside us, doing a pretty good job of hobbling on his two canes. “What are you doing with your hands there?”

  “Talking,” I said. And then I couldn’t seem to hold in the “Talking,” I said. And then I couldn’t seem to hold in theBeckstead / Shadowed by Death / 90

  rest. “Something that you aren't fond of, as I recall. You were so scared of talking to Gavin while he was dying that you ran out in the middle of it, rather than say goodbye to him.”

  Papa had the grace to flush at those words. His voice dropped to a hush. “H-have some understanding, Avery,” he said, with a hitch in his breathing, thanks to the work of walking. “It was a hard time for all of us. I couldn't watch my son die. Not when I'd already gone through that with my wife.” He rubbed a hand over his face, and I hated the sympathy that ran through me at his words. “It was wrong of me, I know. I knew it as soon as I came to my senses the next morning and hurried back home. But Gavin was already gone. Buried. And you were gone too only to return whenever it’s convenient for you.”