"We remember the Harreds well," Mr. Febland said, puffing away at his cigar. He was a portly man with a big belly and white strands in his otherwise black beard, as curly as his daughter's hair. "Mage Harred wasn't at home that much, eh, what with her busy state duties and all, but Connor was a good father. Honest and hardworking. He worked in the town's library. The twins grew up amidst mountains of books."
Behind them, Felora and Peron helped Mrs. Febland to clean up in thanks for providing a most delicious meal of vegetable broth and freshly baked bread. The clangs and polite conversation faded into a background buzz as Loren leant forward, clasping her tea between her hands.
"But Seiren was never the bookish sort, huh?"
"They were quite the opposite pair, eh! Madeleine was the serious, good-willed one, just like her father. Seiren was the silly and funny one. Madeleine was always the one who had to drag her little sister away from Kasia and Tala so they could study. The twins always went on about enrolling at King's and how they have to know the theory of magic, eh, before they take the exams. They were set on becoming mages, just like their mother."
"What was Kristen Harred like?"
"Eh, we barely saw her. She was always in a hurry. But the twins were happy enough whenever she was home. We'd never hear the end of it. 'Mama this' and 'Mama that'. Who can blame them? Connor was a fair father, but he was just a regular human like us, not a hint of magic to him."
Loren took a sip of the tea. There was a pleasant minty twang to it, unlike the rich, flavoured ones she was used to in Bicknor. She took another appreciative sip before setting her cup down onto the table.
"And can you tell me what happened the night the Harreds were killed?"
Mr. Febland's jaw set, his brow furrowed.
"Why do you want to know about that?"
"I'm asking for Seiren's sake. She was too young to remember much of what happened, especially given the shock." Loren gave a sympathetic smile. His shoulders relaxed and he mirrored her expression. "She's been asking about it recently and I wanted to get a fuller account. She's caught up in Hartley so couldn't come, so I offered."
"I see. The poor girl. Well," Mr Febland said, taking another drag and slowly easing it out, "everything happened so quickly. I'll try to tell you what I remember, eh. There was a lot of magic that night: sparks, lights, explosions, the lot. We're not magical folk, see, so I told my wife and children to hide. I watched from the door."
A lot of magic? Loren frowned. Kristen was probably the only mage in Finberry, the town being so small, and nothing significant ever happened there in records so there would not have been other state mages sent there for duty. Who would have cast the magic that cost Kristen Harred her life? It would explain the hole in the side of the little cottage, though.
"I waited till all the chaos had died down. By that point, half the town had arrived to see what was going on. The house was in a right state; the far side was in pieces, the windows shattered and everything. And there was this horrific smell in the air--"
Probably magical death, thought Loren, frowning. It was only recorded and she'd never come across it until recently, but there was a certain unmistakable stench magic leaves behind when it took a life. Her first encounter had been Denerin Raynott at Keycol, although much of the smell had been obscured by the charred surroundings. So Connor and Madeleine Harred's deaths was by magic. But by whom?
"--and the state mages from other places had arrived, too, and the military lot. They cordoned off the area and told us to mind our own business, eh. They searched for the Hannan that apparently did all of that and didn't catch him for a good few days. Finberry's a small place though, eh. We only lived down the hill so we saw the silhouettes of the military lot moving about and looking at the remains."
"Did you see them take Seiren away?"
"No. They didn't let anybody see much of anything."
"Was there dust around the site? Do you remember seeing any kind of summoning dust?"
He shrugged. "It was dark, Mage. I could just about see the outline of the house and the pieces, but not much else."
How odd. Hannan summoners relied almost entirely on their summoning skills to attack and always left chaos behind. Summoning dust would be hard to miss; they were practically luminescent.
"A few weeks later, they told everyone the Hannan had been caught and he was executed. By that point, we hadn't heard from Seiren again."
Loren bit her lip. Her tea had cooled.
"Take me back to that night. During the day, was there anything unusual?"
Mr. Febland racked his brain, tapping the mouth part of his cigar against his thick lips. His eyes glazed over.
"I don't recall any, but I was out on the fields, eh, so by the time I came back it was near dark. The lights were on at the Harreds', but that's nothing unusual. They like to read, you know? You saw anything unusual, Kasia?"
His daughter shook her head, her black curls bouncing with the motion. Her eyes also glazed over. Loren frowned. "I was out most of the day with Ma, so I didn't see anything."
"Tala?"
Loren turned. The oldest son stood leaning against the door frame. He jumped, startled at being included suddenly in the conversation.
"Eh?"
"Stop dreaming, you numpty. You remember anything happening that night the Harreds died?"
"Oh, er." He flushed, aware of being in the centre of attention. His eyes unfocused. "There was a guy during the day. He knocked on our door... asked for directions. He was looking for the Harreds'."
"Oh?" Loren perked up. This could be something. "What did he look like?"
"I don't know... it's all a bit fuzzy." Tala frowned. "I don't remember much of... he was a man. He apologised for disturbing me and asked for the direction to the Harreds'. I thought he was looking for Mr. Harred for a book or something. I think he might have been the Hannan."
Everything sounded bizarre. Hannans tend to have scarred, leathery features with well-defined bone structures and pale-coloured irises, making them easy to identify. There shouldn't be this much uncertainty.
"I pointed out their house and he walked there and then I shut the door. Didn't see him again after that."
"I see."
"Mage. Is it... is it my fault they died?"
Loren's eyes widened at the sudden question. There was guilt all over Tala's face. They were probably the same age, but the innocence on his face she had lost at least ten years ago.
"No." Her answer seemed to have eased his worries, even if she wasn't certain of what happened that night. "There was somebody after the Harreds. Even if you hadn't told him, like your father said, Finberry's a small place. He would have found them anyway."
"You think he was the one who killed them?"
"If that's what the military says." Loren chose her words carefully. He seemed satisfied with that. There was no point in getting innocents embroiled in this. "I must leave. I had planned to look at the cottage for a bit before leaving Finberry."
"You should stay!" said Mr. Febland. He pointed at the window. "It's pretty dark now, eh. Might as well look at it all when it's bright, no? We have spare beds and rolls if you and your travel companions are happy to use them. The twins used to use them a lot when they had some unfinished games with my kids and it can't wait till tomorrow, ha!"
"That's... very kind of you." Loren couldn't help but feel Seiren would have liked to have some familiarity like this in her dogged quest, when her direction in life was so muddled.
Loren declined their offer of breakfast the next morning, wanting to look thoroughly at the Harreds' cottage before returning to Benover and relaying everything to Rowan. Seiren would be returning around now, Loren imagined. It would be nice to see her again and see if any of that rugged exterior had mellowed outside of Loren's contact.
Felora and Peron stood on lookout as Loren picked her way up to the small red-bricked cottage. The grass crunched beneath her feet, their surfaces covered with a thin sheen of ice. Her breaths appeared as small puffs of white smoke. She huddled into her cloak.
The crumbled west side of the house sat in shadows. The chilly air tingled with every breath she drew in. Magic. Loren knelt down and extracted a sheet of paper and chalk. She sketched a tracker rune and infused it with chaos magic. This was a trick Kommora had taught her a few years back, although Kommora altered the rune so that it tracked pure magic and she could interpret sigils unique to every user. Loren tweaked it to work in favour with her chaos magic. The deaths in this place, although it was many years ago, responded to her call. White magic trickled from her fingertips and mixed with the violet glow of the chalk rune. She eased out a breath. The lively energy of chaos magic coursed throughout her body, both exhilarating in its potential and terrifying in its potential power at the same time. She reined it in and focused it along the lines she'd drawn.
The swirling violet and white light pulsed and then shot outwards, running over the surfaces of the moss-covered house like tiny streaks of lightning, not missing a single crack or chipped piece. Loren scanned the innards. There was a small, lit congregation at the pile of wood resembling the front door, and another one near where the living room window had been. There was a third one at the base of the stairs, which was closest to her. She would start there.
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