The carriage turned along the tree-shaded drive around the Field of Rebirth. Asphalt paving was used here instead of stones to quiet the clatter of steel-shod hooves, and also smoothed the way for the occasional motorcar. Those were still rare, but one of her professors claimed that they would eventually replace horses.

She tried to keep her mind on their task. There was more to the Vanishers than just the kidnappings and the robberies. What of the way the trains’ cargo disappeared so abruptly, giving the Vanishers their name? And what of the extremely well-made weapons? And then there was the major effort to kill Waxillium, both with poison and that bomb.

“Lord Waxillium?” she said.

“Yes?”

“How did your uncle die?”

“Carriage accident,” he said, looking thoughtful. “He, his wife, and my sister were riding in the Outer Estates. This was mere weeks after my cousin—the heir—had succumbed to disease. The trip was supposed to help ease their grief.

“Uncle Ladrian wanted to visit a particular peak to get a view of the landscape, but my aunt was too weak for the hike. They took a carriage. Along the way, the horse bolted. The hitchings snapped. The carriage went off the cliffside.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I am as well,” he said softly. “I hadn’t been to see any of them in years. I feel a strange guilt, as if I should be more crushed to lose them.”

“I think that story involves enough crushed people already,” Wayne murmured.

Waxillium gave him a glare, though Wayne didn’t see it, as his eyes were still closed, the cap resting on his face.

Marasi kicked him in the shin, causing him to yelp. Then she blushed. “Be respectful of the dead,” she said.

Wayne rubbed his leg. “Already she starts orderin’ me around. Women.” He put his cap back on his face and settled back.

“Lord Waxillium,” she said. “Did you ever wonder if…”

“If someone might have killed my uncle?” Waxillium asked. “I am a lawkeeper. I wonder, if just briefly, about every death I hear of. But the reports I received indicated nothing suspicious. One of the things I learned early in my career was that sometimes, accidents simply do happen. My uncle was a risk taker. His gambling youth led to a middle age where he sought thrills. I eventually dismissed the tragedy as an accident.”

“And now?”

“And now,” Waxillium said, “I wonder if the reports sent to me were a little too clean. In retrospect, everything might have been carefully crafted not to arouse my suspicions. Beyond that, Tillaume was there, though he remained behind at the manor house the day of the accident.”

“Why would they kill your uncle?” Marasi asked. “Shouldn’t they have been worried about bringing you, an experienced lawkeeper, back to town? Removing your uncle and accidentally putting Waxillium Dawnshot onto them…”

“Waxillium Dawnshot?” Wayne asked, cracking an eye. He sniffled softly and wiped his nose with his handkerchief.

She blushed. “Sorry. But it’s what the reports call him.”