Rathe looked at b’Estorr, a chill settling in the pit of his stomach, not helped by the crackling stove. “Let’s go upstairs,” he said, and the necromancer nodded.

Rathe led the way back up the stairs to his narrow workroom. The stove was banked for the night, but the runner who had refilled the teapot was already stirring the coals to new life. Rathe nodded his thanks, and waved the others to a seat as the runner shut the door again behind him. “I take it there’s a problem?”

“Yes.” b’Estorr glanced at Holles as though seeking permission, and the older man nodded.

“Better he hear it from you, Istre. You know the–ramifications– even better than I.”

b’Estorr nodded, his arms folded across his chest as though the cold had reached him, too, and Rathe didn’t bother to hide his frown. Chadron was a cold place; winter never seemed to bother b’Estorr, so this was something more.

“Nico, I know you get a lot of people coming to you during ghost‑tide, telling tales of murder where there’s no such thing.”

Rathe nodded, warily. “We just had such a one.”

“Whereas the presence of a ghost during ghost‑tide is a likelier confirmation of timely death, rather than untimely. Though it has been known.” b’Estorr’s voice was momentarily tutorial, but then he shook the story away. “What would you say the absence of a ghost would mean?”

“During ghost‑tide?”

“During ghost‑tide,” b’Estorr agreed.

Rathe shook his head in turn. “Advocat–you’ve not touched Leussi’s ghost?”

Holles shook his head once, his eyes closing briefly over some sorrow too private to share. “And the ghost‑tide is more than a week old, Adjunct Point. And we had been lemen for almost twenty years.”

“Dis Aidones.” Rathe paused, imagining the other’s pain–gods, if he were to lose Eslingen, without even that much comfort–then forced himself to think rationally. There were a few other explanations than the obvious, and he took a breath. “Forgive me, Advocat, but there are a few questions–”

“I understand.” Holles managed a brief smile. “But I can tell you that we had not quarreled, nor was he expecting or looking forward to his death. It was–very sudden.”

And I will find out the details, Rathe thought, but not from you. The alchemists would have the records he needed, no need to cause the man further pain. “Those were my questions,” he said aloud, and didn’t add what they all knew. There were no reasons for Leussi’s ghost not to return. “Istre. You said the ghosts of the untimely dead walk at ghost‑tide, too, that it’s been known. Then why… ?”

“Because his ghost has been bound,” b’Estorr said flatly.

Rathe shuddered. He had seen b’Estorr bind a ghost once, tying it to the spot where the man had fallen–the magist who had orchestrated the theft of the children, mad and powerful–and it had not been a pleasant sight. Or, not sight, but feeling, like the sour smell of a house fire, a reminder of loss. The landame’s successor had had to build a stone cairn over the spot, to keep the horses from shying at it.

b’Estorr went on, “I can’t find it, whispers only. The only ghost that doesn’t make its presence felt during the ghost‑tide is an untimely ghost that has been bound–yes, I know, the points have to ask about either desire for death or some quarrel that would keep the ghost away, but that’s really not what’s happening. In those cases, the ghosts are there, but withholding themselves, and if that were the case, I’d have touched him. There is no other explanation. Especially not in a case like this, where the ties of lemanry were so strong.”

“All right,” Rathe said, “I’ll accept that. Was he bound at death, or could it have been malice after death, instead of murder?”

It was the first time the word had been spoken, even though they had all known it was lurking, and he saw Holles wince. b’Estorr shook his head. “Timing wouldn’t work. You’d have to be by pretty much at the moment of death in order to bind the ghost.”

“He was still warm when I found him that night,” Holles said, raw‑voiced.

Rathe scoured his face with his hands, as though he could wipe away the image Holles created for him. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “What do you want of me?”

The words came out as more of a challenge than he’d meant, but Holles seemed not to hear anything but the offer of help. “I want you to go to the regents with me. The death has already been signed as natural, he’s in the ground, and the matter’s closed. But I want it investigated. I want his murderer found and punished. So I need the regents’ warrant to reopen the matter and refer it back to the points. I thought if I brought a pointsman, particularly one of your reputation, plus a necromancer and anyone else who’d support me–well, I thought it could only help.”

“Am I your best choice?” Rathe asked, exchanging a quick look with b’Estorr. “Don’t mistake me, I consider–my professional opinion is–that you have grave cause for concern.” He used the judicial phrase deliberately, and was pleased to surprise a faint smile from the advocat. “And I want to help however I can, but…” He paused, wondering how to explain the situation, settled for, “I’m not best regarded by the regents.”

Holles frowned, and b’Estorr gave a thin smile. “The metropolitan took the points’ side against the regents last summer, largely on Nico’s say‑so.”

“And was proved right,” Holles said. He shook his head, suddenly obstinate. “I don’t care. Bourtrou held you in high regard, and you’re not afraid of necromancers and alchemists, not like some of your fellows–not like the one we were dealing with just now, to name names. I would take it as a great favor if you would stand with me in this. But I will go to the metropolitan herself if necessary.”

And use my name, which would just about seal my reputation with the regents, Rathe thought. “Of course I’ll do it, I just wanted you to be aware that my presence may–make things more difficult for you than it has to be.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Holles said, and smiled again, the expression briefly erasing the lines shadowing his thin face. “I would prefer you to handle the investigation, in any case.”

“Thank you,” Rathe said, and swallowed a sigh. If the folly stars were in the ascendant, there would be little he could do until their time was past. “Do you have any idea who might have wanted to kill him?”

Holles’s hands clenched, then consciously relaxed. “He had enemies, no one is without them, especially a man in his position. But I can’t think of anyone who held him in such disrespect that they would–do this to him. Kill him, yes, but not bind him.”

“Or fear?” b’Estorr asked. “That’s a strong reason to bind a ghost, Kurin, stronger than hate. Who feared him?”

The advocat shook his head, almost helplessly. “No one. Rathe knows, you know, he was one of the fairest, and kindest, of the intendants, people would go to him for advice, and he was always willing to give it.”

And that was loss speaking, Rathe knew. It was never that simple, there was always someone who feared or hated the victim, or both, and Leussi would be no different–unless of course it was madness, and that was its own kind of fear. But there was no point in grieving the man further, not until they had the necessary warrant. “When do you go before the regents?”

“The day after tomorrow, in the morning. At ten o’clock.” Holles took a breath. “Rathe–”

“I’ll be there,” Rathe said. How Chief Point Trijn would react, he could not begin to guess.

Holles dipped his head again, almost a bow, “Thank you, Adjunct Point. I am more grateful than I can begin to express.”

b’Estorr touched his arm gently, and Holles managed a smile.

“I don’t speak of fees, I know your reputation. But I’m grateful.”

“We’ll leave you to your–more ordinary–business,” b’Estorr said, and led the other man away.