Inn forty-nine

"Lance! That..." A range of emotions passed across Weft's face. Fear. Guilt. Dislike. More dislike. "No, he isn't a vampire. He's an angel," he said.

"And she found him bleeding... where?"

Playing down her surprise, she answered, "In a warehouse, or storeroom. She didn't mention much detail."

"No. Bleeding from where? Where had-- did she say I'd cut him?"

"She only said bleeding and unconscious, not where." At least Sylvie was reasonably sure she hadn't just forgotten. "And that you tried to kill him."

Weft hoisted himself up and began walking around the rim of the fountain, beginning in the direction away from Sylvie and turning around before he reached her.

He was going to have to work this out from first principles.

"If I'm still alive and he's still alive -- is he still alive? 'Tried' to kill him, though, she said. If we're both still alive I never got sent after him properly, that's for sure. Then he'd be dead. Or I would. Last time I saw him he was alive. He tried to... definitely alive."

Weft stood on one hand. "Why would I cut him, though? Why would I do that?" He righted himself again. "Oh grace, I hope he didn't like it."

Sylvie sat on the edge of the rim and turned around to watch Weft's face while he walked around, keeping her own face only mildly confused.

When he paused in his... explanations?, she took a moment to translate her thoughts into Polite and asked, "Weft, are you trying to talk me to a point and I'm failing to follow, or are you really as confused as you sound like?"

Weft scowled. "Give me a minute. I haven't finished thinking this through yet." He kept pacing, extremely sure-footed on the narrow, slippery wall in his apparently flimsy footwear.

"I doubt I carved him up for any professional reason. Maybe he died since, I don't know. His friend Zade would know. He seemed a sensible type, even if he does act like a woman. Lance had better not have enjoyed it. I don't know who would hire an assassin to cut up an angel and leave the job half done. What a waste of time. Can he die? I didn't think angels could. But then again, Lance is a freak. Such a one as he shouldn't really exist. No wonder he's a pervert. Maybe anyone would be." Weft jumped directly upwards, performed a flip and landed facing the other direction.

"So in answer to your question, I've no idea why I would've done something like that. Seems passing strange to me." He looked at Sylvie expectantly.

"So are you saying you don't know what event Jaina might be talking about?" The thought that he might see enough blood that a body didn't register had crossed her mind, but it seemed extremely unlikely, considering he knew both Jaina and Lance.

"Well, no, I can't think when I've ever got physical on him. A few times to evade being grabbed, maybe. As far as I remember, my acquaintanceship with him mostly involved hiding on rooftops and yelling at him. Why? You think she made it up?"

"No, not really." Problem being that she didn't think Weft was making it up, either, so, "Short of asking Lance if he ever shows up, I'm out of ideas."

"If he does, don't expect to see me nearby." Weft sprang down off the fountain to stand neatly and very still. He looked at the inn building, the trees, the hall in the distance, another patch of trees, then abruptly at Sylvie.

"Hold on. Are you telling me you were given the impression I was an episodic inept killer and you came and talked to me alone?"

Startled, she answered. "Actually I was here before you jumped off the roof and asked me questions."

"Oh. So you were. Why did I come down here again, if not to complain about Jaina?" Weft interlaced his fingers and stretched his arms.

"To ask if I'd seen Sebastian."

"Oh, right." Weft looked over his shoulder. Some animal rustling about in the forest. Four-legged, whatever it was.

"Should I leave you alone?" He couldn't decide whether he'd rather resume calmly and unruffledly taking stock of his position far away from all vampire-snuggling redheads, or seek out company.

"Well, I really should get on with work, but if you'd like to tag along..." She shrugged. She'd rather see Weft far, far away, but since he was likely to stay in the area, it was all the same. Hopefully.

"Really?" He brightened. "Thanks. What are you doing?" And peeked at the bucket.

It was somewhat more than half full, and Sylvie picked it up with littke difficulty.

"I'm going to get a shrub settled. It'll be part of a loose bounding hedge for the garden."

That's what you get for sticking to politeness. Oh, well.

"Is that for keeping wild animals out, things like that?" Weft asked, following her at a little distance.

Maybe he'd been wrong about Sylvie. She was being nice.

"I rather thought of marking the boundary of the Inn grounds for people, while keeping it easy to get through, but I can ask Suitov what he'd prefer."