I picked out five names at random, pointed them out and gave the list to Gertriss.

“Look this bunch up. Make them stop whatever it is they’re doing. Bring them right here, right now.”

Gertriss repeated the names back to me.

“Why these people?”

“Why indeed? Makes you wonder just what I’m thinking, doesn’t it? I mean, there’s one artist, a couple of row-farmers, an assistant cook and Skin. I’d bet a shiny new crown that half of them have never so much as spoken to the other.”

“You’re just making things up as you go along, aren’t you, Mr. Markhat?”

“One mouthful at a time, Miss. Now scoot. I don’t care what excuse they cough up. All of them, right here, right now.”

Gertriss nodded, rose and left. She might not appreciate my methods, but I could see that she meant to follow my instructions whether the subjects were willing or not.

Alone on the porch, I eyed the swaying trees, pondered how different they looked in the sunlight.

No one was around, at least not close enough to see. I rose, sauntered around a bit, finally chose a ward statue at the edge of the wild lawn.

I don’t know my angels. This one was female. She’d been spared any festive paint, and I was glad. The sculptor had left something very much like compassion carved on her face.

Her right hand was outstretched and open, palm up. I laid a biscuit in it.

“This is for you, Buttercup.”

I spoke in a voice just shy of a shout, aimed out into the close-set oaks.

If anyone heard, there was no reply.

I waved and was back on the porch before the first of my chosen ones showed.

It only took Gertriss about half an hour to track down the five I’d chosen. Four made their way to the porch on their own. Skin arrived last, being herded by Gertriss, who was all but poking him with a prod.

“I ain’t got time for this,” he announced, in his customary near whisper. “Don’t like bein’ told around by no woman, neither.”

Gertriss gave him a withering glare.

“I’m not concerned with what you do or don’t like,” I said. “The sooner you stop mouthing off the sooner we’ll be done here. I can work fast or I can take my time. Which way you want it, Mr. Skin?”

He glowered and folded his arms across his chest but kept his mouth shut.

I rose and turned so I could see every one of the five faces before me.

“So let me get this straight. None of you know anything about the stakes, or who put them there, or why.”

The ones who didn’t nod “no” spoke it in grumpy mutters. Skin did neither, until I stared at him, and he finally relented and shook his head no. “What about strangers? What about people showing up asking for directions, asking about the people who live here? Anything like that happen recently?”

“You’re the only strangers we’ve seen.” That came from an assistant cook named Teon.

“What about Weexil? He have any friends drop by? Any visitors at all?”

No’s and shakes. Skin was shifting his weight from one foot to the other and grinding his teeth.

Time to stir the pot.

“So let’s talk about the stakes. Someone in this house knows a lot more than they’re pretending. Skin. You said you found sixteen stakes that first time, isn’t that right?”

“Yeah.” He licked his dry lips. “Look, I’ve got queens to move-”

“Teon. You ever see any stakes?”

“I work in the kitchen.”

“I didn’t ask you where you worked.”

“No, I ain’t seen any damned stakes.”

“What about people sneaking into the woods after dark, Teon? You ever see any of those?”

Teon’s fat face flushed.

“I ain’t seen nothing, mister.”

I whirled on the slight, tired-looking oldster at my right.

“What about it, gramps? People in the woods when they ought to be in bed?”

“What?”

“He’s deaf, Mr. Markhat,” said the lone artist there. “Well, he’s not if you scream in his ear, but-”

I raised my hand for silence.

“I’m tired of wasting my time. You lot had your chance to talk. Lady Werewilk gave her word no one would be sacked if they came forward just now. Too bad. She won’t make that offer again.”

Confused looks all around.

“That’s all. Beat it. We’re done here.”

Protests arose, but I cut them off by retreating through the door. Gertriss held them off, and they finally dispersed.

Muttering and footfalls finally died away, and Gertriss came in and shut the door firmly behind her.

“What was all that? People in the woods at night? What people?”

I shrugged, replied in a whisper.

“Hell if I know. But if someone in here is talking to someone out there, there’s been some sneaking going on. And if they think we know about it, they might…”

“Might point crossbows at us again?”

I ignored that. Although it was a possibility.

“They might make a mistake,” I said. “Look. So far we’ve been reacting. It’s time someone else was forced to react. Word of our little talk here will spread. Our villains might decide they’ve been seen. They don’t know by whom. They don’t know when they were seen, or what they were doing at the time. They’ll break out into a cold sweat. They won’t have any appetite. With any luck, they’ll break out in hives and scratch themselves half to death and confess to their misdeeds in a fevered rush.”

“So you’re hoping they’ll try to cover their tracks, even though they never left any.”

“Sort of. You wanted us to do something. It was that or shuck corn.”

Gertriss frowned.

“This isn’t what you expected, is it, Miss?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t know what to expect, Mr. Markhat. I reckon I thought you’d take them by their shoulders and shake them until they told the truth.”

I laughed. “That’s always an option. We can save it for tomorrow, though.”

I could see she was biting back a lecture on my work ethic when the sound of running feet sounded just outside the door.

My name was being called in a shout as well, by either Scatter or Lank or both.

I opened the door just as they charged in, faces ashen, mouths wide open and gasping.

Both held bundles of surveyor’s stakes. Both let them fall clattering to the floor. Both started ranting at once.

“Camp” and “woods” I caught first.

And then “body.”

“It was Weexil,” said Scatter. “Dead. Throat cut. He was dead, Mr. Markhat. They didn’t even bury him.”

Gertriss slammed the door shut and bolted it.

“Where?”

They exchanged a brief but guilty glance.

“I know there was a camp, lads. I didn’t know where, but I knew there had to be one. So spill it.”

“’Bout a quarter of a mile north of Hobson’s Creek,” said Scatter. I hadn’t seen any creek, Hobson’s or otherwise, noted on any of the maps of the Werewilk property.

“Three miles due west of here,” reported Lank. “Ain’t much of a creek.”

“But I’m guessing it’s a good place to hide.”

They both nodded. Gertriss watched, arms tight across her chest, her face reddening.

“Kind of in a gulley. Hides light and smoke from cook-fires.”

I nodded. That’s the kind of place I’d look for too, were I hoping to keep the presence of ten or fifteen men from becoming common knowledge.

“You boys ever see the camp before today?”

Gertriss cussed under her breath. “What makes you think they’d tell the truth about if they had? They knew about the camp. Knew right where to look for stakes.”

“Because they want to be paid,” I said, to Gertriss. “Don’t be too hard on them. We’re strangers from town. Talking to strangers from town about goings-on in the woods didn’t seem like a good idea, did it, lads?”

Heads shook in unison.

“I don’t blame you.” I did, but not much. “You found Weexil. You’re sure it’s him?”

“We’re sure,” said Lank. He paled. “He stunk. Flies all over him.”

“You know I’m going to ask you to take me there.”