Fey 02 - Changeling by Kristine Kathryn Rusch Read Free Book Online

and wiser in many ways, but the boy and his father had been close.
    The news would destroy Nicholas.
    The Danite pinched out the candle he had been using to light the others.   The kirk was ablaze in light.   The white wash seemed cleaner in this kind of brightness.  
    The room was cold, though.   The dampness of marshes penetrated here.   At least Stowe's borrowed cabin had a fireplace to dispel the worst of the chill.
    "I think we might bring them in," the Danite said.
    "If we're going to interview them, we should do it separately." Stowe rubbed his hands together.   They were turning red with chill, even though it wasn't that cold outside.   The dampness in the kirk had to be permanent, and probably quite a relief in the summer.
    "They ain't none of them to confess to you," the Danite said.   He was a native of the region, and unlike the old Rocaan, had not yet unlearned the dialect.   "Twont matter how you approach em."
    Stowe suppressed a sigh.   He had set up this meeting on the Danite's suggestion.   "Then what is the point?"
    "To listen.   To hear what they ain't saying.   Silences they can tell you all."   The Danite smiled.   His teeth were uneven, and one up front was missing.   "And if you listen good, you will learn all you need."
    "I trust you will help me with this listening."
    The Danite nodded.   "Twouldnta wasted yer time should I thought it would come to naught.   Twould be best if some of the questioning I did."
    "Yes," Stowe said.   "I think it would."   He waved a hand and headed toward the front where two chairs had been placed in front of the altar.   "Let them in, then."
    The Danite pushed open one of the double doors and gestured the people outside to come in.   About a dozen people straggled inside, men covered with mud to their hips, and women whose skirts were patched and mended so many times that the original fabric was unclear.   They looked older than Stowe, although he realized as he watched them move, that many were younger.   One woman had a boy in tow, and he had a large boil on his neck.   All of the people were so thin they looked skeletal, and only a few had bathed within the last week.
    The stench they brought with them was so great Stowe had to swallow twice to keep from losing his breakfast.
    They watched him as they came in, keeping their gaze on him even as they scattered into the pews.   Now he understood why the pews had no cushions — the stench would remain.
    The Danite closed the door and walked up the aisle toward Stowe.   The people sat toward the back in groups of two and three.   The Danite stopped beside Stowe.
    "His lordship Mr. Stowe," the Danite said, looking at Stowe.
    Stowe nodded his head in greeting.   The villagers did not bow or even nod as was the custom in Jahn.   They continued to stare at him, eyes bright in their mud-covered faces.
    "I trust you all heard about the horrible murder," the Danite said.   "His lordship Mr. Stowe he wants to talk about it."
    "Ain't none of us done it," said a man in the back.   His hair stuck up on the sides, and his face was so mud-covered his skin looked dark as a Fey's.
    "He ain't sayin none of us did," the Danite said.   "But we got to find out what happened."
    "Can't see why," the boy with the boil muttered, and his mother immediately pressed his head against her breast.  
    "Why?" the Danite said.   "You all know why.   Twas our king that died."
    "Not our king," said the man who had spoken before.
    Stowe straightened.   He had yet to take the chair that he had set for himself, and now decided he wouldn't.   These people were astonishingly forthright.   "Who is your king, then?"
    "Don't got one," said the man.   He jutted his chin out as he spoke to Stowe as if that gave him extra strength.
    Stowe opened his mouth to argue, but the Danite brushed against him.
    "You follow the Roca.   The King what died is a son of a son of a son of the Roca.   Same family, you know."
    "The Roca does