Page 68 of Horn of Winter

“But what of Liadon? She is the keeper of all records, so surely she’d be aware of unaccounted differences between one audit and another.”

“That’s presuming the bibliothecary actually made a note of the missing items. If they are being paid by outside sources to steal smaller relics—and I would guess that is what happened tothe horn, and even that singing bowl that mysteriously appeared at the museum—then they are unlikely to implicate themselves by noting their absence during an audit.”

“Did they ever interview the other bibliothecaries about the theft and the missing man?”

“I would presume so, as the council did request it.”

“And did the council ever get an answer?”

“Said bibliothecaries were all memory ‘adjusted’ and had no recollection of events leading up to the theft or indeed their dead counterpart.”

“Convenient.”

“But a sensible course of action if you wish to avoid blame.”

My eyebrows rose. “You think they intentionally had their memories erased?”

“I think there’s no one—beyond our small circle, that is—above suspicion when it comes to the hoard.”

I wrinkled my nose. There was a part of me tempted to say, “There were plenty of people we could trust,” but it was becoming ever clearer that Fate had woven threads of deceit and deception through the fabric surrounding us. I also suspected the whole trust issue would become even murkier in the future.

“That doesn’t explain why, if Vincentia and Riayn found half of the horn for their client months ago, Stace’s body was in that souterrain. She didn’t appear on the scene until much later.”

“You’re presuming the half they foundwasin the souterrain. It could well have been the missing half.”

“True.” I got out my phone and took a pic of the page. “I guess the easiest way to clear the timeline up is to get back home then head out to Alderley Edge and speak to the man.”

Mathi glanced at his watch. “It’s an hour’s drive from the airport—we might be cutting it fine for our hot dates.”

“I’m sure Eljin will happily sit in the pub if I’m back late, but if your date is the impatient type, I’m happy to head out alone.”

“Oh, and wouldn’t Sgott be pleased about me abandoning you like that.”

“How would he even know?”

“He would, trust me, but it is irrelevant because we are a team and one does not abandon a teammate mid-quest, even if the prospect of hot sex looms on the horizon.”

“Then we had best get going.” I paused. “Should we keep the accounts and contracts books with us, do you think?”

He nodded and tucked the file back into place. “It might also be worth asking Sgott to authorize the removal of these records to the council’s premises. It’s possible your aunt and Vincentia found other minor hoard artifacts that could be of use to the council’s quest to curb the black-market trade in relics.”

“A trade the Myrkálfar and no doubt many others on that council profit from.”

My tone was dry, and he smiled. “The sensible do not trade in godly relics, and even the Myrkálfar tread warily around them.”

“I think that’s the nicest thing I’ve ever heard you say about them.”

He rolled his eyes. “Get moving, woman, or we will never get home in a timely matter.”

I laughed, picked up the iPad, and got moving.

Reginald’s address led us to the outskirts of Alderley Edge, though it remained within walking distance of the village. It was a huge, white-rendered, double-fronted modern-looking building with lovely arched windows and slate roofing. Positioned to one side of the house was a large, open-fronted garage housing two Ferraris and three Porsches.

Mathi pulled to a halt in front of the arched entranceway and undid his seat belt. “The antique collecting business obviously does well.”

“If you can afford to park your expensive cars in sheds that have no doors, then you can afford a hobby as expensive as collecting godly relics.”

I shoved my knives into my purse, then climbed out and glanced up at the sky. While the flight back from Ireland had been without problems, we’d hit peak-hour traffic on the way here and, as a consequence, it was now close to five and dusk was staining the clouds a pretty shade of pastel pink.

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