“The spiritist was doing valuable work for the war effort,” Guymer said. “And now, while you were alone with her, we lost her rare talents.”

Magda came up out of her chair. “If you are suggesting—”

“What were you doing down there?” Councilman Sadler asked in a quiet voice meant to override Guymer’s accusation. “What business did you have with a spiritist?”

Magda sank back down into her chair. “What do you think I was doing seeing a spiritist?”

Sadler shrugged. “You tell me.”

“I had what business anyone going to see a spiritist would have. I wanted to contact the spirits.”

Councilman Weston lifted an eyebrow. “Contact spirits? For what purpose?”

“I miss my husband,” Magda said. “What other purpose would there be to see a spiritist? I wanted to know that he is safe in the arms of the good spirits, to know that he is at peace. Perhaps none of you miss Baraccus, or worry and pray for his soul, but I do.”

Looking rather uncomfortable for the first time, some of the men leaned back.

“You are not the only one who misses him,” Sadler said.

Magda thought that he sounded sincere.

“And was the spiritist able to help you?” Weston asked. “Did you find out what you needed in order to put your mind at ease about Baraccus?”

“No. She was killed before . . .” Magda turned away and swallowed at the terrible memory. She cleared her throat and looked back to the men watching her.

“So, has the murderer been found?” she asked.

Elder Cadell swished a hand back and forth just above the table, as if he wished he could brush the problem away. “The lower reaches of the Keep have been searched extensively. Nothing has been found. There is no trace of the killer.”

Magda looked from one face to the next. “But how is that possible? How could he have gotten away?”

“This dead man?” Guymer asked in a mocking tone. “The one you say killed our spiritist?”

“I reported what I saw,” Magda said. “Are you suggesting that I lied?”

“No,” Guymer said with a smirk, “only that in the heat of panic you may have imagined him to be more fearsome than he actually was, imagined that a killer would have had to be a monster. Your description was hardly useful. How would anyone searching know what he really looked like so as to know who to look for?”

Magda returned the glare in kind. “I told you what I saw.”

Councilman Clay leaned forward. “And what you say you saw was not of any help in identifying the person responsible so that we could find him, now was it? There have been several such murders in the lower Keep. You are the only one who has actually seen the killer. Or, should I say, you are the only one who has survived the encounter.”