Ruby Ruins

said. The youngest guard fixed eager eyes on Ōbhin. “I can go with you. Keep any sappers from rappin’ the back of your head.”
Cerdyn chuckled. The broad-shouldered guard was bare-chested in the summer heat, sweat beading on the shaggy hairs covering his torso. He was the biggest man in the guard. During Ust’s attack, that strength had served well.
“I think I’ll go see if there’s any meat pies in the kitchen,” Cerdyn said. “Don’t get your head cracked in. I’d hate to work for Fingers.”
“Will Kaylin remember your name today?” the impostor-Smiles asked. “You’d think you’d get a hint when she stares at you like a stranger day in, day out.”
Cerdyn shrugged. Kaylin the cook had not been the same, or so Ōbhin was told, since her husband’s death two years ago. She could remember how to cook, but any more than that seemed to slip away from her. She could be angry at you for entering her kitchen one moment and the next you were her new scullery boy and she’d snap at you to wash her dishes.
Cerdyn nursed an ache for her. He spent a great deal of his free time around her kitchen.
“Poor man,” the thing pretending to be Smiles said. “When I first arrived, Kaylin had a temper, but at least she could remember your name.”
“You knew her husband?” asked Ōbhin.
“A little. He must have died not more than a half-month after I started workin’ here. My Jilly’s been here longer. I guess he was a good man. Had to be to put up with Kaylin’s anger. Glad my Jilly isn’t one for shoutin’.”
Ōbhin nodded as he looked away. It was so easy to forget that the thing wasn’t Smiles. Ōbhin wanted to expose the creature, but who would it replace next? Which guard or servant would leave the estate only to be killed in secret?
I hope they didn’t give your corpse to Dje’awsa, Smiles, thought Ōbhin.
“You’re guarding the gate this afternoon, right?” Ōbhin asked.
“Me ’n Bran,” Smiles said. “You forget?”
“Blows to the head do that,” Dajouth said. He clutched tighter to his shirt. “You think she’ll be different? Avena, I mean, when she gets better?”
“I don’t know,” Ōbhin growled. He marched towards the gate where Fingers stood watch. The man leaned against it, looking distant. He’d been silent since returning from their fruitless search for Creg five days back.
Pensive.
Ōbhin was halfway across the grounds, passing one of the rhododendron bushes adorned with lilac flowers, when Fingers opened the gate. A carriage trundled through and trotted down the driveway. The groom driving it wore the vestments of a priest, a prism dangling over the front and flashing in the sunlight.
Sighing, Ōbhin reversed direction and hurried after it to the manor’s front door. Dualayn hadn’t hired a new butler after Pharon’s death in the attack, and none of the maids or other servants seemed to want to step into the role. An important visitor had arrived, and the proprieties drilled into Ōbhin as a palace guardsman wouldn’t let him leave without greeting whoever this was.
Someone from the church?
Miguil, the estate’s groom and Avena’s former promised, emerged from the stables and jogged towards the front of the house to attend to the horses. The carriage slowed to a stop before the marble steps of the front porch. Ōbhin’s long legs carried him past it, his leather boots thudding on the gravel driveway. He became aware of his shoddy clothing, a rough leather jerkin and linen pants, his face flushed from the exercise in the summer sun.
A poor impression for visitors.
“Your eminence,” Miguil was saying as he helped Refractor Charlis, a high-ranking member of the church and a friend of Dualayn’s, step down from the carriage. “Be welcome.”
“Elohm’s Blessed Colours fill you,” the priest said. He was a bald, round-faced man who didn’t seem to have a neck at all. His chin pressed into the rainbow robe that clad his body. Over that draped a white stole espousing his virtue: Honesty.
“Your eminence,” Ōbhin added. “Dualayn is not seeing guests at this time.”
“Yes, yes, he’s in his lab,” said the refractor. “Come on, child.” He held out his hand to the other passenger in the carriage.
Ōbhin was shocked to see the young woman who stepped out in the yellow robes of a Daughter of Patience. It was Deffona, Avena’s friend. The girl stepped down, her smile full of warmth. She didn’t have the bags under her eyes he remembered from the times he’d seen her at the hospital her cloistered order ran. She wore a white wimple that framed her round face covered by a yellow veil that fell over her shoulders.
“Deffona?” Ōbhin asked.
“Blessed day to you, Ōbhin,” she said, expression anxious.
“My new secretary,” said Charlis. “I poached her from Eldest Daughter Anglia.”
A look of momentary relief passed across Deffona’s face. “It’s been quite the challenge, and I do miss working at the hospital, but the refractor wanted to keep me close. He’s such a powerful man, you know. He is trying to keep Parliament from passing another tax for the king.” A giddy smile flashed across her face. “I even met the new high refractor.”
Ōbhin gave a polite nod. He wasn’t an Elohmite, so he cared little about who ruled their church.
“I’m working close with High Refractor Haphen on a bill that, I hope, we’ll bring some measure of peace to the city,” Charlis said. “I was hoping to have Dualayn’s input on the details. His mastery of jewelchines is unparalleled.”
“And we were hoping to see Avena,” Deffona added, her voice quiet.
Darkness pressed on Ōbhin.
Miguil shook his head and said, “Dualayn won’t let any of us see her. But we’re all praying for her.”
Miguil and Avena’s plans to marry had been destroyed when she’d learned Miguil’s true passion. She had little interest in being