Not without some trepidation, Einarr and the others led the two Singers back to the warehouse where they had found the hanged butcher. Aema covered her mouth with a cloth as they approached to avoid the worst of the smell. Reki’s shoulders shuddered once under her heavy cloak, but she did not hesitate. The door swung open under her palm and she stepped across the threshold.
She stepped no closer to the hanged man, however. His slow spin carried him around so that he very shortly faced the living in the door.
“Seithmathir,” Reki read.
“Magic-man?” Einarr furrowed his eyebrows, confused. It was odd for a man of the Clans to study the Arts, of course, but never a reason to kill a man that he’d heard of.
“Evidently.” Reki paused a long moment. With her hood still up, Einarr couldn’t tell if she was studying the body…
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