fetch help. Returning to the garden, she
found Numinar on his knees in the mud and spilled blood. He didn't
move as she approached, didn't make a single sound. She took up a
station nearby, trying not to look at Meesa's poor ruined body,
unwilling to disturb Numinar.
Lord Vale was
quick to arrive, with his boys in tow. He marched through the
garden, heedless of the plants he was crushing underfoot. Reaching
Eva, he wrapped her in a brief embrace.
'Take Wrobsley
inside,' he murmured. He bent to speak to Numinar, though she
didn't hear what he said. Numinar blinked and stood up dazedly. He
allowed himself to be led indoors. She had to guide him carefully
to prevent him from falling over anything. Behind her she heard
Vale barking orders to his men.
A little later,
Eva sat tucked into a corner in the Wrobsley's front parlour,
slumped rather inelegantly into a wing-backed chair with a blanket
wrapped around her shoulders. She was still shivering with shock,
and no amount of blankets could warm her chilled frame.
Numinar Wrobsley
sat nearby. He hadn't spoken a word in the last half hour. Eva
glanced at him from time to time, alarmed at the pasty hue of his
face, the way his pale eyes stared without seeing. She could do
nothing for him. They waited, together yet separated by
immeasurable distance, as Vale's team conducted their
investigations.
Eva finally
roused herself as Meesa's body was brought in. Her stomach turned
over anew at the sight of her friend's poor stricken body, her
blood drying in crusted patches of rust-red. There was so much of
it, staining her face, her neck, her torso. All her clothes were
soaked through with it. She was laid gently on the table, her limbs
arranged in as much a semblance of repose as possible. Vale drew a
sheet over her ruined face, casting Eva a quick glance of
sympathy.
Wrobsley's
reverie was broken, too. He watched fixedly as his wife's body was
laid out. Eva expected some reaction from him: tears, rage,
despair. Instead he observed the proceedings almost
expressionlessly, as if his ability to feel anything was
temporarily suspended. It was far more terrible to watch than any
explosion of grief. Eva looked away.
One of Meesa's
arms had slipped from beneath the sheet. Her right hand was
blood-soaked but undamaged. Eva felt tears prickling at the backs
of her eyes at last, looking at that lifeless hand, those clever
fingers forever stilled. She stood up, letting the blanket drop
onto her chair, and gently lifted Meesa's hand. She was going to
restore it to the scant dignity of the sheet covering, but she
stopped, her eyes narrowing.
Last time she had
seen her friend, her pretty white hands had been adorned with
rings. The most prized of these, her beautiful new istore piece,
had occupied the third finger of her right hand. The bloodied
fingers Eva now held were bare.
She gently tucked
Meesa's arm beneath the sheet, then moved around the table. Meesa's
left hand was bare of jewellery as well.
Meesa's voice
echoed in her thoughts. I shan't take it off my finger .
She'd grinned as she said it, full of her usual good humour, but
Eva felt sure she'd meant it. Where was the ring?
'Numinar.'
He twisted his
head towards her, but he didn't seem to be seeing her. She sat
beside him, picking up his hands in her own, and looked full into
his face.
'Numinar, this is
important. Did Meesa take off her ring?'
'What?' His lips
moved soundlessly; she divined the word from the shape his mouth
made.
'The istore ring,
the one you bought for her. Did she remove it? Did she store it
somewhere?'
'She says she
won't ever take it off.'
'I know, but-'
Eva shook her head. She wasn't getting through to him. It was clear
enough, though, that he knew nothing about the disappearance of
Meesa's ring.
Vale poked his
head around the door frame. 'I'd like a few words, Mr. Wrobsley, if
I may.'
Eva crossed to
him, shaking her head warningly. She pulled him out into the
hallway, pulling the door to behind
found Numinar on his knees in the mud and spilled blood. He didn't
move as she approached, didn't make a single sound. She took up a
station nearby, trying not to look at Meesa's poor ruined body,
unwilling to disturb Numinar.
Lord Vale was
quick to arrive, with his boys in tow. He marched through the
garden, heedless of the plants he was crushing underfoot. Reaching
Eva, he wrapped her in a brief embrace.
'Take Wrobsley
inside,' he murmured. He bent to speak to Numinar, though she
didn't hear what he said. Numinar blinked and stood up dazedly. He
allowed himself to be led indoors. She had to guide him carefully
to prevent him from falling over anything. Behind her she heard
Vale barking orders to his men.
A little later,
Eva sat tucked into a corner in the Wrobsley's front parlour,
slumped rather inelegantly into a wing-backed chair with a blanket
wrapped around her shoulders. She was still shivering with shock,
and no amount of blankets could warm her chilled frame.
Numinar Wrobsley
sat nearby. He hadn't spoken a word in the last half hour. Eva
glanced at him from time to time, alarmed at the pasty hue of his
face, the way his pale eyes stared without seeing. She could do
nothing for him. They waited, together yet separated by
immeasurable distance, as Vale's team conducted their
investigations.
Eva finally
roused herself as Meesa's body was brought in. Her stomach turned
over anew at the sight of her friend's poor stricken body, her
blood drying in crusted patches of rust-red. There was so much of
it, staining her face, her neck, her torso. All her clothes were
soaked through with it. She was laid gently on the table, her limbs
arranged in as much a semblance of repose as possible. Vale drew a
sheet over her ruined face, casting Eva a quick glance of
sympathy.
Wrobsley's
reverie was broken, too. He watched fixedly as his wife's body was
laid out. Eva expected some reaction from him: tears, rage,
despair. Instead he observed the proceedings almost
expressionlessly, as if his ability to feel anything was
temporarily suspended. It was far more terrible to watch than any
explosion of grief. Eva looked away.
One of Meesa's
arms had slipped from beneath the sheet. Her right hand was
blood-soaked but undamaged. Eva felt tears prickling at the backs
of her eyes at last, looking at that lifeless hand, those clever
fingers forever stilled. She stood up, letting the blanket drop
onto her chair, and gently lifted Meesa's hand. She was going to
restore it to the scant dignity of the sheet covering, but she
stopped, her eyes narrowing.
Last time she had
seen her friend, her pretty white hands had been adorned with
rings. The most prized of these, her beautiful new istore piece,
had occupied the third finger of her right hand. The bloodied
fingers Eva now held were bare.
She gently tucked
Meesa's arm beneath the sheet, then moved around the table. Meesa's
left hand was bare of jewellery as well.
Meesa's voice
echoed in her thoughts. I shan't take it off my finger .
She'd grinned as she said it, full of her usual good humour, but
Eva felt sure she'd meant it. Where was the ring?
'Numinar.'
He twisted his
head towards her, but he didn't seem to be seeing her. She sat
beside him, picking up his hands in her own, and looked full into
his face.
'Numinar, this is
important. Did Meesa take off her ring?'
'What?' His lips
moved soundlessly; she divined the word from the shape his mouth
made.
'The istore ring,
the one you bought for her. Did she remove it? Did she store it
somewhere?'
'She says she
won't ever take it off.'
'I know, but-'
Eva shook her head. She wasn't getting through to him. It was clear
enough, though, that he knew nothing about the disappearance of
Meesa's ring.
Vale poked his
head around the door frame. 'I'd like a few words, Mr. Wrobsley, if
I may.'
Eva crossed to
him, shaking her head warningly. She pulled him out into the
hallway, pulling the door to behind
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