Wrapping her in a blanket, he picked her up, slung her effortlessly over one bony shoulder, and carried her back downstairs, her long hair trailing down his back. No one appeared to impede him, although by this time they would be too late in any case. That troublesome little man who protected her was nowhere to be found. Her husband had not returned. She was alone, and she was completely his.

He bore her back through the village to the council hall, encountering no one, entered the hall anew, and trudged down the basement stairs to where he had left the second guard sprawled on the floor. Taking away the blanket, he laid her next to the dead man, making sure she was resting in the still-spreading pool of his blood. He took time to smear some of that blood on her clothing and hands and even her face. Then he stretched out her right arm toward the dead man’s throat and curled her fingers around the knife that had killed him.

Rudimentary, but effective. The formula had already worked once for Skeal Eile and the Queen of the Elves when they had killed the King and made it appear as if it was his daughter who had done it. The Seraphic had told him so. It was this story that had given the ragpicker the idea.

He rose and studied his handiwork. It would look as if she had killed both guards and set Arik Siq free. Why she would have done this and what had happened afterward would be anyone’s guess. Had he deceived her with false promises? Had she collapsed on discovering the truth? Had he chosen to leave her behind? Speculation would abound and would cause further disruption in the lives of the villagers. That, in turn, would give the rest of his plan a better chance of working out the way he intended.

Whatever the case, by the time things got straightened out—if they ever did—the staff would be in his possession and he would be far away. The whole point of this exercise was to create enough trouble for the inhabitants of the valley that they wouldn’t notice what he was about. He didn’t really care how any of this turned out for these people.

Because within a matter of weeks, they would all be dead.

Chapter Sixteen

“WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO, PAN?” PRUE STARED at him with her strange, empty eyes, but the turbulence of her emotions was clearly revealed by the expression on her face. “Do you think he’s telling us the truth?”