Magic Can Be Murder (16 page)

She realized she was hoping Brinna wouldn't be there, for she couldn't get out of her head the picture of Innis lying on the floor.

The barn door creaked alarmingly.

There was a scurrying sound: slight, but too big for mice. Nola stood in the sagging doorway to let her eyes adjust. Despite the gaps in the walls through which morning sunlight screamed, there were areas of shadow. From one of these areas came Nola's mother's voice: "The walls are crumbling and the roof leaks, granny. But the mice are too timid to be much of a nuisance, and I'm willing co share what breakfast I have for news of the town."

Brinna.

Still being kind to strangers.

Nola let drop the transforming spells that made her look like an old woman and Brinna like her mother.

Brinna scrambled backward into a corner, which actually put her in more light than she had been in before. "You!" she gasped, seeing Nola's face emerge from the old woman's. But she heard the difference in her own voice and lifted her hands to see that they were once more, finally, her own.

"I'm sorry," Nola said. That wasn't nearly enough. "I'm very, very, very sorry." It would never be enough—not for all the fear she had caused. She herself had been afraid, but at least she had known what was going on, what her choices were, even if they weren't much. She was weak from lack of sleep and sore from her fall down the stairs, but at least her body had been under her own control.

"
Is
it truly you, Nola?" Brinna asked. And that, too, was Nola's doing: Brinna could never again be sure whether who she thought she was looking at was, in fact, who she actually
was
looking at.

"Yes," Nola said miserably. "Please let me explain—"

Brinna reached into the basket she had taken marketing with her, fetched out a crust of bread, and flung it at Nola, though it fell short. "Why did you do this to me?"

"I didn't mean you any harm," Nola assured her. "And I promise you, you'll suffer no lasting ill effects from it, and I won't do it again, and I'm sorry, but I was afraid, and I wasn't thinking properly, and it was the only way I could think of co keep us both out of danger." That
was
part of ic. Nola took a step forward, and Brinna slid even further back into the corner, clutching the basket to her. For a moment Nola thought Brinna was about to fling more foodstuffs at her, but then she saw how tightly, how possessively, Brinna held the basket to herself.

How protectively.

Nola sighed.

Despite everything, she realized, she had still been hoping that Brinna hadn't been involved, that Brinna would explain all and somehow prove her innocence. Nola could hear the weariness in her own voice as she said, "That basket holds the money stolen from Innis, doesn't it? You and Kirwyn plotted together to kill him."

Brinna glanced down at the basket co make sure it was still covered, then her fear and anger bubbled over into derision. "Oh, and now you're going to chastise me for being a thief? You, a witch, taking advantage of people and disrupting their lives, stealing their very bodies? I chink we've both made our choices, Nola, so don't you look down at me."

"I'm not," Nola said, though she felt the criticism wasn't entirely fair: Brinna had chosen to become a thief; Nola had never been offered a choice about being a witch.

But she had chosen to
use
her witchcraft, so maybe that was the same.

"I didn't kill Innis," Brinna objected.

Nola didn't say, "I know," for then she would have to explain that her witchcraft went beyond changing appearances.

Brinna said, "I didn't even steal this." She indicated the basket. "Kirwyn stole it," she said. "He knew where Innis kept the strongbox, under one section of the floor, and then he found where Innis had the key hidden. He emptied out the box and gave the things to me to hide. So this was
given
to me. I didn't
steal
it."

Their plan made sense: Brinna could take the money away from the house and hide it somewhere while Innis was busy working, never suspecting his son would kill him that evening, and meanwhile all the neighbors, all the customers could swear that Kirwyn had never left the shop all that day long.

But it was still stealing, whatever Brinna said. And murder: Brinna had known of Kirwyn's plan in time to warn Innis if she had wanted to.

"What did Innis ever do to you?" Nola asked.

"Nothing," Brinna admitted. "But he was old, and he'd been wealthy all his life. And then he decided to get a young bride. And a common maid wouldn't do for him. I was good enough to help him pass the time, but when he wanted a
wife,
to produce another
heir,
he went and asked a wealthy wool merchant's daughter from Linchester. The two of them would have had more money than they knew what to do with. And would she have left me co continue working in her new husband's house, a potential rival? I think not. After running chat household so smoothly for the past two years, I would have been knocking on doors, begging for a chance co be a scullery maid again."

Nola sighed. "I didn't come to hear this. I came to warn you about Kirwyn. I tried to act like you, to say the things I thought you would say. But I didn't realize you..." It was hard to say. "...had helped Kirwyn. Because he thought I was you, and because of the way I was acting, he's become suspicious of you. I truly believe he means you harm."

Brinna snorted. "Well, he would have gone to the..." She looked suspiciously at Nola. "Well, never mind, to the place where I hid this." Again the glance at the basket. "But I went back there myself—after you worked your
witchcraft
on me." That was probably meant as a reminder that Nola was in no position to tell anybody what she knew—which she had no intention of doing, anyway. "And I cook ic with me. Because
I
didn't know, either. For all I could cell, you and Kirwyn had come co an agreement without me." Nola must have made a face, for Brinna laughed. "Why did you ever return to Haymarket anyway?" she asked bitterly. "Why did you pretend to be me?"

"It makes no difference," Nola said. "And once I got here, my only intent was to get away." She noticed that Brinna didn't ask about Nola's mother, nor about why Nola needed a crutch. And why should she? Nola was not her concern. But Nola would have asked. Nola finished, "And this time, I won't be back. I just wanted you to know about Kirwyn. You might want to try telling him that you were only trying to distract Galvin so that he wouldn't become suspicious."

"Galvin?
Galvin,
is it? Oh, we've been flirting with Lord Pendaran's men, have we?"

Nola tried to ignore the question, though she felt her face go warm. "The important thing is that you don't trust Kirwyn. I believe he may have been planning you ill long before I came into the situation."

Brinna got to her feet, which probably would have been easier to do if she hadn't been clutching the basket to her chest with such obvious distrust, as though Nola might yet make a grab for it. The thing must have been heavy: Once she settled it on her arm, Nola saw how low she held her elbow. "No doubt," Brinna said. "I don't intend to give him the chance."

She had already passed Nola and was almost to the door before Nola called after her, "What do you mean?"

Brinna raised her arm with the basket. "He has the house and the shop with everything in it. After all I've been through, he can't very well begrudge me this..." She tossed her head so that her golden hair caught in the sunlight, and she walked out of the barn.

"Good luck," Nola told her, but she was already gone.

She gave Mother and me a job when no one else would,
Nola reminded herself.

Though now she wondered if the plan had been to let one of them get blamed for the murder.

She gave us food when we left.
There could have been no possible advantage to Brinna in that.

Still, she had a long way to travel and she already felt weary. She leaned heavily on her walking stick as she made her way out of the barn.

Brinna was by the millpond, talking to a man who was coming from the mill with a sack of flour over his shoulder. She was pointing beyond the mill to where the river continued on its way south. Nola saw Brinna hand the man something, probably a coin, and the man, nodding, led her to where his small rowboat was tied.

He rearranged the sacks chat were already in the boat, then helped Brinna in. The boat rocked and she sat down hastily. The man laughed and said something, probably co reassure her. People were always solicitous of the beautiful, Nola had come to see. The man pushed off from shore, the boat scraping noisily against the stones at the water's edge, riding low in che water because of the extra weight.

It would be nice, Nola thought, if she, too, had a ride to where she was going. But since she didn't, she'd better start walking.

She estimated that with her sore ankle, the journey would take her a day and a half.

And what could her mother have gotten up to in all this time?

Before Nola had a chance to turn onto the path, a voice sounding no farther than a handspan from her ear shouted, "Brinna!"

Nola shrank back from Kirwyn, though he didn't seem to recognize her—nor even to notice her.

"Brinna!"
He had paused on the path itself, but now he cut through the grass, heading for the water's edge. Brinna and the man who was rowing both turned to face him. "Brinna, you faithless creature! You get back here!"

The man hesitated, but Brinna said something to him, and he kept rowing.

"Brinna!" Kirwyn bellowed. "I know you have my money!"

When they still didn't head back for shore, Kirwyn picked up a stone from the shore and flung it. In his fury, he threw it so hard it went way over the heads of the boaters. He picked up another stone, and that fell short, thudding against the side of the boat.

"Hey!" called the boat's owner. "Enough of that!"

Other people, seeing the commotion from the street, called out, too: some in reproach, some in encouragement.

Kirwyn threw another stone, which hit Brinna on the arm.

They were still close enough to shore that Nola could see che pain and surprise on her face as she rubbed her arm. And the fear.

"Enough of that, you!" the boat's owner shouted.

At the same time another voice called, "Kirwyn!"

And there was Galvin, running down che path toward them.

Nola, who had never expected she would see him again, ducked her head.

But of course he didn't recognize her. He couldn't have: He'd never seen her face before. He ran to intercept Kirwyn, who was picking up another scone.

Kirwyn's aim was thrown off when Galvin grabbed hold of his arm. "She killed my father," Kirwyn protested. "She stole his money."

He would have to do better than that, Nola thought, considering the previous story he had told.

"Leave off," Galvin warned. And, to the man in the boat he said, "You, come back."

Brinna leaned forward to tell the man something that made him hesitate.

Kirwyn picked up another scone.

Galvin caught hold of his wrist. "Put it down now, or I'll seriously consider cutting your hand off," he said, chough he hadn't yet unsheathed his sword.

Kirwyn let the stone drop.

The man in che boat still hadn't made up his mind whether to come back to shore. "In the name of Lord Pendaran—," Galvin called to him, but his forward momentum brought him onto that part of the bank that was both inclined
and
covered by stones. One foot slid so that he had to catch his balance, and this brought him just beyond Kirwyn, and slightly lower.

And Kirwyn had quite obviously had enough of being bested by Brinna and Galvin. While Galvin was distracted by boat and footing, Kirwyn took advantage of being temporarily higher and jabbed his elbow, catching Galvin on the side of his head.

As Galvin staggered, Kirwyn hooked his leg around Galvin's and the next moment Galvin was on the ground with Kirwyn astride his back.

"Stop!" Nola cried. There were several onlookers close enough to help, but none of them stepped forward, though one of them did say—mildly, considering the circumstances—"Hey, now." Nola hobbled painfully toward the two struggling men, her makeshift cane sliding off the slippery stones, jarring her aching ankle.

Kirwyn snatched up another of the river stones and brought it down on Galvin's head. Once. Twice. Just as he had done when bringing the hammer down on Innis.

But Galvin was quicker than Innis had been, and he was fighting back: The blows were only glancing.

Still, Kirwyn was on top, and it was only a matter of time before he got in a good hit that would crack Galvin's skull open.

Nola raised her walking stick and brought it down hard across the small of Kirwyn's back.

With a yelped curse, he rolled ofF Galvin and glared at Nola. Then he looked at the stone in his hand. Then he glared at Nola again.

Still nothing from the onlookers. In fact, a few of them backed away.

Kirwyn surged co his feet.

Nola remembered all the blood that had seemed co fill the water basin when she had watched Kirwyn smash in Innis's skull. That was what he was about to do to her—she was sure of it. He was going to kill her while Galvin was just now sitting up, obviously not quite able co gee his eyes to focus yet, coo groggy to intervene.
If
he even noticed her danger.

But Kirwyn didn't go after her. He looked at the scone he'd been striking Galvin with, then he looked once more at Brinna in the boat. The man she was with had started toward the shore in response co che authority in Galvin's voice, but had stopped rowing when Kirwyn had attacked Galvin. Now the man hurriedly resumed rowing—away once again.

Kirwyn flung che stone with all his might at Brinna.

It hit her on the side of her head.

From the shore, it looked as though she tried to stand up, possibly in a confused attempt to get away. The man who had been rowing dropped his oars and lunged for her, to get her to sit back down.

Too lace.

The boat tipped, and Brinna, the man, and all those sacks of flour went into the water. The man bobbed up to the surface. The way he floundered and scrambled to clutch on to the capsized boat gave testimony to the fact that he was not a swimmer. There was no sign of Brinna.