Elisha Magus by E.C. Ambrose

news of Prince Thomas’s young wife and child slain. A bloody business. Perhaps Brigit should, indeed, be afraid. But it would be the perfect place for her to use his talisman, given the history of bloodshed. It reminded him of the French magus who died on his doorstep, and he pushed his plate away.
    “I can tell you a faster way to go, avoiding the carriage road.” Randall settled his thick fingers together. “If you’ll take Rosalynn with you.”
    “What about the bandits?”
    Randall waved this away. “The verderers strung them up. Besides, you needn’t take her into the forest, just to the abbey. Beaulieu’s not far from there, and she might be able to spend some time in healing. She’s started murmuring about taking the veil. Being a guest there might help to convince her not to. I can still find her a worthy match, given time.”
    Elisha extended his awareness toward his benefactor, meeting his hooded gaze. “So long as it’s not a way to convince me to spend more time with her, Your Grace.”
    “It’s not a bad thought.” The duke pursed his lips and gave a dismissive shrug. “She knows the way, and I’ll send a small entourage with her. If anyone from Brigit’s camp hears about it, it’ll provide you cover.”
    Sighing, Elisha conceded the point. Escorting the lady to an abbey was a perfectly honorable excuse for travel. “If she can leave immediately, Your Grace, then I accept.”

Chapter 6

    A fter packing a few things for the journey and leaving them with the duke’s grooms, Elisha walked toward the battered town. On a low hill against the rising sun, a windmill’s tattered sails groaned as if sorry not to be able to catch the winds. A pair of workmen hammered on the scaffold being built to repair it. Dawn’s light gave the valley a golden cast, highlighting the edges of burned beams and broken walls. A few shepherds moved out to the fields, their dogs giving Elisha sharp looks. The leaning church rose over all, reminding Elisha of his narrow escape the night before. He kept his senses extended, but he guessed nothing would come of it today. In order to catch him, the hunters must know where to look and when. Funeral notices were posted, in case anyone still sought their unburied dead, and many people knew Elisha had been attending them all. As for the “robbery,” it had been his own chamber. It might have been truly a crime, meant to take advantage of his presence at the ball to steal medical herbs, though the strange weapon suggested otherwise. Two possibilities remained: That the Frenchman’s fear had come to pass and his mysterious betrayer had noticed him with Elisha earlier or even seen them meet again. Or that Elisha’s enemies were willing to lay more than one trap, perhaps counting on catching him off balance after the first attack failed.
    Hopefully, his examination of the dead magus would point him toward one answer or the other. The idea of another magus as the killer left him disappointed, as if all magi were above vengeance or murder. He should know better—just look at Brigit.
    Elisha went around the side of the little church to the crypt door where he expected the body had been kept until a funeral could be arranged. In addition to his medical kit, Elisha carried a strong cloth needle and some plain thread to stitch up the winding cloth when he had finished. With care, no one would know he’d been there at all.
    A wooden door set down a few steps from the street led beneath the church. Trotting down to stand beneath its little roof, Elisha tried the latch, but it did not give. He glanced about, thankful that he was at least on the shaded side of the building and most of the damaged buildings around him remained empty. He would have to enter using his other skills.
    Setting his hand to the lock, Elisha drew in his awareness, honing it as a hunter hones his spear. He could not see into the darkness of the iron hole, but his awareness, focused in this way, reached inside