Marlo managed to choke down a good portion of a cow’s hindquarters and answered for Skin. Others piped up grudgingly, and after a lot of back and forth and arguing over days and times I finally established something like a timeline, and a map.

If Lady Werewilk noticed the discrepancy between the dates she’d been given and the dates I was getting now she showed no signs of it. I did catch Marlo giving a few hard glares, and I decided he was a close second to being in charge. Interesting, I thought. It’s usually the butler who runs the show, but Singh showed no interest at all in anything but Milton Werewilk.

I chewed a mouthful of sweet potatoes and studied the map I’d made.

My hand-drawn map of the Werewilk grounds was hardly to scale, but the marks I’d drawn didn’t suggest even a hint of a pattern. If someone was trying to define a property line, they needed fancy eyeglasses. It appeared the stakes were being placed with all the methodical precision of a child’s game of Kick the Wagon.

I swallowed.

“Now I’m going to ask a question none of you probably want to answer. If you’d rather catch me alone later, that’s fine. I won’t name names, and you have my word on that.”

Lady Werewilk lifted an eyebrow, but didn’t say a word.

“It’s possible some of you may have been approached by whomever is putting out these stakes. Maybe they wanted information. Maybe they wanted a blind eye turned here or there. Maybe they even offered payment. Maybe you even took it. But I’m telling you now that if someone grabs this House you’ll all likely be turned out. So unless they paid you enough to set you up for life, you’d be better off coming to me. Like I said, I won’t name any names.”

Lady Werewilk stabbed a fork into something so hard people started. I grinned.

“Anyone have anything to say?”

Silence all around.

I shrugged. I hadn’t been expected anything. At least not right under the Lady’s nose.

“Fine. I thank you for your time and your cooperation. My partner and I are going to poke around for a time. If anyone wants to talk, I won’t be hard to find.”

Nods, and a few mutterings. Marlo and the staff, sensing business was done, set about mopping sweat with fancy napkins and eating everything in sight. The artists rose and departed in groups of twos and threes, taking most of the beer with them and stuffing their pockets with rolls and slabs of corn bread.

Talk was sparse. I ate my fill, and then some, while I watched people watch me. The heat kept anyone from lingering too long. Last to go were Singh and Milton, who was led out by hand. He placed his feet oddly, haltingly, moving like a very young child or a very old man. After they were gone, I sat sweating across an empty table from Lady Werewilk.

The blast from the fire still hadn’t raised a sweat on the woman.

“I never particularly liked Weexil,” she said, toying with her food. “Had he not always returned from his buying trips with money left over, I’d have let him go months ago.”

“Money left over? Large sums?”

She shrugged. “Large enough to make keeping him viable, despite his disruptive influence,” she replied. “Is that significant?”

It was my turn to shrug. “Might be. Might not. Did he keep receipts? Do you know where he shopped?”

“Marlo would know. I’ll have him come round and speak to you about it.”

Marlo, again.

“I thought Marlo ran the stables. He handles the money too?”

She smiled. “Marlo does what I tell him, though he’d deny that with his last breath. Singh used to handle the money, but Milton needs him all the time now. And gruff as Marlo is, he has a good head for figures, and he’s honest.”

I nodded. Sweat dripped off my nose. “How do you stand it?” I asked. “You must be half-baked by now.”

Lady Werewilk laughed. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret, Mr. Markhat. The spot on which this chair sits is hexed. I feel nothing from the flames.” She pushed her chair back, rose, took a single step to her right.

I watched the heat wash over her. She immediately began to sweat.

“House lore claims my great-great grandfather, five times removed, had this charm set beneath the foundation. His reasons for doing so are lost. But my father, and his father, and his father before him all knew of it, and all used it for the same purpose I did tonight.”

“To show the help who’s boss?”

She fanned herself and moved quickly away from the fire, coming toward me in the process.

“The Lord of Werewilk’s legendary ability to sit close to that inferno and not sweat hasn’t been seen here in years,” she said. “I thought tonight it might inspire some honesty.”

I grinned. She moved to stand at my side. The heat raised her perfume, and brought a hint of color to her cheeks, and I might have been inspired to say something far too honest had not Gertriss charged in. She had some color in her cheeks too, but the set of her jaw and the way her hands were clenched into fists made her agitation all too obvious.

“Weexil’s lady love?” I asked.

Gertriss nodded, moved to stand with Lady Werewilk and I. I caught her eyeing the ravaged table, and felt a pang of guilt that she’d missed supper.

“She was,” said Gertriss. “Had been, the whole time he was here. Love at first sight. Songs under the moonlight.” She gave Lady Werewilk an accusing eye. “The locks on both barns need to be replaced. They weren’t the only ones disturbing your hay.”

I didn’t need a catfight, so I chimed in before Lady Werewilk could do more than inflate.

“She shoved his things in the oven? Was there a note?”

“She did, and there was. She burned it too. I love you, but I have to go. I’ll never forget you, but you should forget me. And there’s more.”

She was grim-faced. I didn’t think I’d have to guess more than once.

“She’s with child.”

“She thinks so. I think it’s too early to tell, but she’s convinced.”

“Had she told Weexil?”

“She hadn’t told him outright, but she’d hinted. She thinks that’s why he left.”

I cussed. Because if Weexil was just a rake who’d fled at the first sign of fatherhood, then he wasn’t a link to the crossbow on the road or the stakes in the yard.

Gertriss gave me a look that said she didn’t like me very much right then.

Lady Werewilk sighed. “I suppose this-event was inevitable,” she said. “Still, I had hoped it wouldn’t be Serris. She has a rare talent.”

“Seems all your artists have a rare talent,” I said. “Isn’t that unusual, Lady Werewilk? So many absolute geniuses, all here at once?”

“You’ve seen their work?”

“I’ve seen a few. All were marvelous.”

She beamed.

Screams broke out from down the hall. Screams and shouts, though I couldn’t make any sense of the shouting.

I was already at the door when Marlo charged through it. “Lady,” he boomed, ignoring me completely. “It’s Serris. She’s on the roof.”

Lady Werewilk blinked. “On the roof?”

I put myself between Marlo and the lady. “Show me. Right now.”

“Go,” said Lady Werewilk.

Marlo turned and charged. Gertriss and I followed, clambering up the stairs, darting down twisting halls, shouldering our way through thirty assorted artists, and finally bursting up into the attic via a narrow spiral stair and a warped trap door.

The attic was finished, in at least there were plain plank floors and even plaster on the walls. Junk haunted the corners-crates and chests and old saddles and old tools.

There was a lamp burning in the middle of the floor. Blankets and empty bottles littered the place, evidence of many a late-night tryst. Moonlight streamed through a panel in the wall that was open and creaking in a breeze-a panel that opened into nothing but a few inches of ledge and the long, deadly drop beyond it.

I cussed. That wasn’t a door, never had been. Some impatient carpenter a hundred years ago had just sawed a hole in the wall and stuck a crude hinged cover over it, making an opening a kid might fit through, probably to scurry up on the slate roof and replace a few broken tiles.