I looked at Grimalkin in astonishment. There was much that I’d been in ignorance of . . . things that, had he lived, Tom might have told me.

“Wash the body,” the witch commanded. “I will hold the lantern.”

I soaked the rag in water and used it to wash his body, slowly removing the bloodstains and grime. At one point Grimalkin helped to turn him over. When I’d finished, we dressed him in the trousers and satin shirt that had been brought from the County to make him look like a prince.

“Should I put his boots and socks back on?” I asked.

Grimalkin nodded, and with some difficulty I tugged on the socks and then pushed his feet into the boots and laced them up.

As we prepared to leave the tent, I took one last look at Tom. The witch assassin had closed his eyes, and he could almost have been asleep.

Outside the tent, Majcher was waiting. He and Grimalkin exchanged a few words in Losta.

“The burial will take place tomorrow at noon,” she told me as we walked back toward our tent. “Prince Stanislaw will attend to honor Tom. He was impressed by his courage and fighting prowess. The funeral procession will leave from here tomorrow morning. They are preparing a headstone for his grave, and asked me what I wanted to be carved upon it. I left it to the prince to decide. After all, whatever they write, it won’t be true. I wish he could be buried next to his master in the garden at Chipenden, but that is impossible.”

I awoke soon after dawn, after barely an hour’s sleep. Instantly, the memory of Tom’s death was like a needle piercing my heart. My eyes began to brim with tears.

Grimalkin was awake; she was sharpening her blades. I watched her in silence.

It had rained hard during the night. The noise as it drummed on the ground and the roof of our tent had repeatedly awakened me—that, and the memory of the terrible thing that had happened. Now I could smell the rich aroma of earth and grass.

“Later today, after he is buried, I will take you home, girl.”

“I have no home,” I responded bitterly, but I was secretly relieved to discover that she didn’t intend to abandon me here. Yes, I did very much want to return to the County.

“Your home now is Chipenden, and no doubt Judd Brinscall will move in and become the new Chipenden Spook. You will become his apprentice.”

“He won’t take me on. He has already refused at least five times. He doesn’t like me. He set his dogs on me and just laughed when one of them ripped my skirt.”

“He will do as I say!” Grimalkin exclaimed fiercely. “You have earned your right to be trained, and it will happen.”

I was stunned by the vehemence of her response. I suddenly realized that she truly could coerce Spook Brinscall into taking me on. But did I want it that much? Could I bear to be trained by him?