Page 6 of A Fractured Song

In fact, she knew better than most, given the events of the last few months.

But this wasn’t about her, or about the fact that the council may still hold her in suspicion. It was much more important to find out who’d attacked the farm, threatening to destroy what little harvest the region had.

“Yes, I think we will,” she agreed. “But it’s probably worth finding out more first.”

She didn’t intend to tell her father everything she was thinking. But she suspected that once the council got involved, she would be pushed to the side, and it would become considerably harder to gain information. If she wanted to know what was going on, she’d be wise to find out as much as she could before telling the council anything.

And she did want to know what was going on. She felt personally invested. She could still feel in memory the pressure of her magic grappling with the other magic. It had been a raw and desperate struggle, and it was probably for the best that at the time she hadn’t realized she was fighting another human rather than just the natural elements. She might have lost her nerve if she had.

“Let me speak to the Mosleys,” she said abruptly, pushing herself to her feet.

“Whoa, steady there.” Her father held out a stabilizing handas she wobbled, but she waved him off. Her energy was still depleted, but not so much that she couldn’t move.

She’d barely started toward the door, however, when it swung open, and a woman with a round face and a friendly air bustled in.

“You’re awake, child!” she said, nodding from Marieke to her father. “Well, that’s a mercy. I was getting worried.” Before Marieke could reply, she surged forward and enveloped her in a hug. “We’re indebted to you forever, my dear. From all I hear, you saved us, and we’re grateful.”

“I just—it was nothing,” Marieke stammered, embarrassed, but strangely comforted by the embrace.

“Nonsense.” The older woman drew back. “None of it is nothing.” She sighed. “It’s still a disaster, no doubt about it. But it could have been infinitely worse. Would have been, if you hadn’t happened to be here! And that’s something to celebrate.”

“Here comes the statue.”

The murmur from Marieke’s father was so low that the farmer’s wife didn’t hear it. Hopefully.

Her lips twitching traitorously, Marieke turned away from her father in a pointed way, addressing her question to the woman she assumed was Mrs Mosley.

“I hope I won’t seem impertinent, but can I ask you some questions?”

“Of course you can, dear.” The older woman chivvied her back toward the bed. “Once you’re resting, and I’ve brought you some food.”

Marieke’s protests fell on deaf ears. She had no choice but to sit meekly on the edge of the bed and wait until Mrs Mosley had returned with a tray full of enough food to feed a whole family. Marieke had thought herself too tense to be interested in food, but as soon as she saw the steam risingfrom the home-baked goods, her stomach grumbled eagerly. She’d forgotten how much the exertion of magical energy could deplete the body. She remembered being constantly hungry when preparing for practical examinations at the Academy of Song. And even in her final year, she’d never undertaken anything on as large a scale as what she’d just done. It was no wonder her body was crying out for sustenance.

She picked up a scone, downing it in three mouthfuls as her hostess watched on with a faint air of smugness.

“There, I knew you must be famished. Why are people always too polite to admit they’re hungry? Myself, I love a good feed.”

She lowered herself into a chair, her round cheeks warmed by a grin that Marieke couldn’t help responding to in kind. The food was good, and it wasn’t at any risk of going to waste, not with the way her father was also helping himself.

“Now what questions did you want to ask me?” Mrs Mosley pressed.

Marieke straightened where she sat, lowering the apple she’d just raised to her lips. She was no investigator. Her questions would probably be clumsy compared to someone trained by the council to look into incidents like this. She’d just have to do her best.

“Have you ever had any accidents or disasters like this before?”

“Nothing like this,” Mrs Mosley said. “Of course we have our share of little accidents around the farm, and setbacks in our harvests. And we’re suffering under this blight like everyone else. But we’ve never had any catastrophes on a scale that threatened the whole farm until now.”

Marieke nodded slowly. “And…can you think of anyone who might wish to do you a mischief?” She saw the other woman’s brow crease, and hurried on. “Have you had any recent conflicts, I mean?”

“No, not to speak of,” Mrs Mosley said slowly. “We get on with our neighbors in the general way.”

Marieke fidgeted as she thought how to word her next question. “Do you know any singers? Have you ever had problems with magic of any kind?”

Mrs Mosley leaned forward. “Are you suggesting this was not only deliberate, but caused by magic?”

Marieke exchanged a look with her father, who’d also stopped eating now. “I don’t know anything for certain,” she said cautiously. “But I suspect it might have been.”

Mrs Mosley looked genuinely astonished, her eyes wide with dismay. “Heavens preserve us! We can’t fight against magical attack. Why would anyone use songcraft to set our farm on fire?”

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