And that was that.

Nearly two hours after Remmie’s furious abandonment, Rumm found Barl weeping outside the poultry coop, slumped on the grass beside the dead, ruined calf.

“Mage Lindin!”

Humiliated, she scrambled to her feet. “Oh, Rumm. Morgan’s right. He should put a bell on you!”

The master servant, thinner and far less immaculate these days in trousers and shirt sleeves, no buttoned tunic, took a prudent step back. “I’m sorry. When I called you for lunch and you didn’t answer, I became concerned.”

“Lunch?” Squinting, she glanced at the sky. And there was the sun, slid past its high point on its lazy glide toward the horizon. “Oh.”

“Are you hungry? I’ve made some pea soup.”

“No. Yes. Perhaps.” She dragged her silk sleeve over her wet face, and when Rumm clicked his tongue at that gave him a look. “Careful, or you’ll be wearing those soupy peas.”

“Mage Lindin,” he said, very correct.

She watched him as he tried not to look at the dead calf. All the terrible things Remmie said came back to her, and she lifted her chin.

“Well? Go on, then, Rumm. Tell me I’m cruel. Tell me I make monsters. Tell me how much I enjoy killing helpless beasts like this.”

Shocked differently now, his gaze shifted back to her. “I would never say any of those things, Mage Lindin. Much of your work is distasteful, but it’s for the greater good.”

He answered to Morgan, not her, but she’d chance a question anyway. She had to know. “Is something wrong in Elvado, Rumm? Something Morgan’s told you to say nothing about?”

Rumm’s eyes flickered. Seeing it, Barl felt her insides twist. So Remmie was right? Morgan was keeping things from her? She wanted to weep again, but managed to hold the tears at bay.

“What’s gone wrong, Rumm? Tell me!”

“What makes you think anything’s wrong, Mage Lindin?”

She slapped him. “Stop it! Don’t you dare stand there treating me like a block of wood, you stupid man. My brother was here. He says Dorana’s falling apart! Is it?”

Rumm’s cheek was marred by a red mark where her hand had struck. “And was it your brother who said those hateful things, too?”

“Being hateful doesn’t make him a liar! Rumm, so help me, I won’t ask you again!”

“Mage Lindin, I’m sorry. You’ll have to take this up with his lordship.”

“You’re sorry?” She pressed her trembling lips together, hard. “I’m going inside,” she said, when she could trust her voice. Then she kicked the dead calf’s spindly leg. “Burn this. Or bury it. I don’t care, only get it out of my sight.”

Rumm bowed. “Mage Lindin.”