“Oh, I think I know, right enough,” Dorna volunteered. “His father hated witchcraft. And Tamin here was learning to use his ‘witch’ abilities right under his father’s nose. Just a matter of time ’fore the old man caught him at it, right?”

Janel’s expression had seemed grim before, but as Dorna spoke, her whole face froze into something harder than stone. “What did you do, Tamin?”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“You’re the Baron of Barsine. Everything that happens in your banner is, by definition, your fault.”

He flinched at the anger in her voice. “Relos Var said witches cursed me. You should know what it’s like. You’ve been cursed too.”

Janel’s nostrils flared. “Who told you that?”

“Relos Var. He’s right, isn’t he? You’re cursed.”

“Not by witches.”

“It’s the same thing.”

Brother Qown tightened his grip on the man’s shoulders. “No, it isn’t,” he protested, but he didn’t think Tamin was paying any attention.

“Did you kill your father, Tamin?”

The man cast his gaze around him, but the crowd had surrounded them. Everyone from town listened, watching, waiting on his answer.

“I didn’t kill him,” Tamin said, “but I … I removed my healing. Took it all back. He’d have died the first time, so the second time … he did.”

Brother Qown blinked. “That’s not how it works.” He turned to the count and whispered, “That’s not how healing works. You can’t do that.”

Janel nodded to him to indicate she’d heard and put up a hand for Brother Qown to be quiet. Then she continued talking to Tamin. “Was it your idea, or Relos Var’s, to execute the castle steward for your father’s death?”

“It was…” Tamin’s voice trailed off as something haunted and dark entered his eyes. He looked like a man waking up from a nightmare.

A little girl’s voice broke the silence as she set a small basket on the ground next to Tamin. “Mare Xala made you steamed buns for dinner.” The tiny girl was maybe six years old, with dark red skin and white fingertips. She sniffled and wiped her nose with her hand before turning back to an older woman. “Did I say that right?”

The old woman nodded. “You did, foal.” She tossed a green wool bundle at Tamin’s feet. “You’ll need a cloak too, so’s to keep you warm.”

Dorna straightened and put her arm on Janel’s.

The count’s eyes widened.

Brother Qown felt the crowd’s mood shift, but he didn’t understand its cause or meaning. Tamin looked puzzled before his expression changed to panic.

“No.” Tamin shook his head. “No, I don’t need your charity—”