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Chapter 43. Gathered Together In Bands
by Rhea
Rhea's pillow had slid to the outside of the bed by the time she woke up, though her paws were buried under the blankets. She pulled them free and groggily stood. There was no reason to lie about with as many questions to answer as she had.
First came breakfast, however. Perhaps one of her fellow guests would meet here there? But she had woken up earlier than she expected. Only a few servants staffed the dining hall, and the first one she saw departed upon her request for scones. He returned shortly after, and she ate in peace.
Nice as it would have been to begin immediately, Rhea knew that she would not help her cause by waking up the others. It had been a late night, and a tiring one too. She might as well go back to bed, if only for a moment or so.
She did return to bed, and she spent rather longer than a moment there. There was no light to stream into her room and indicate the morning was late, which was still a disappointment, and she wasn't yet hungry for lunch. Nevertheless, she returned to the dining hall. The easiest guest to talk to, if the least likely suspect, was also the most likely to be found in the vicinity of food at any given moment.
In time, Quincy duly entered, ready for lunch. Or brunch, perhaps, though he wasn't picky. "Over here," Rhea whispered edgily.
"Wait a tick." Quincy nodded at a passing mouse servant. "I say there chap, you wouldn't mind snagging me a salad and a roll, wot? You hungry, Rhea?"
By then, in fact, she was. "A little bit, just a roll is fine. Come over here."
"What's all the secrecy? We're the only ones here."
"Doesn't hurt to be careful."
"What's going on?" Quincy warily replied.
"How closely did you keep an eye on Desmond? The day we were searching in groups."
"I haven't been "keeping an eye" on anyone. We broke up into groups to search the castle, not to baby-sit each other."
"A simple "not at all" would have worked." Rhea hadn't expected much more out of Quincy, but she didn't bother to moderate her tone. "Now, about the wall upstairs. Or, should I say, the lack of wall."
"The hole..." Quincy shuddered, remembering the ghastly room. "With all those dead creatures inside? I saw that."
Rhea nodded. "Did you knock the wall in?"
"What? Me? No. Do—do you think Desmond did?"
"He might've. It would help to know when you let him out of your sight."
"I didn't do it. I don't think Desmond or Flynn did, either."
"So that leaves the others." It made sense, after all. Quincy would be smart enough to try the outer walls if he could, and it was difficult to imagine him wielding an axe. "Okay, thanks."
She rose and left, hoping Biara was nearby. At least she knew which room was not hers.
"Your roll, ma'am?" asked the mouse, balancing two of them in one paw and Quincy's salad in another.
"Oh. Yes." Rhea turned back for the meager lunch, trying to stuff too much of it into her mouth in the rush to eat and move on. As she gnawed on the ungainly part of the bite that did not fit, Quincy raised a paw to beckon her over. "Whizzit?"
"Why did you ask about Desmond? And nobody else?"
He really was smart.
It could have been much worse; there was nobeast in the castle that she trusted more. Thinking of an alibi would take too long, and there was no reason not to let him know. Had he answered differently, she might already have told him about the mole. Still, she felt vaguely disappointed without knowing why as she said, "There's a dead mole in his room. A servant. Or at least there was during the ball."
When Quincy's numb face remembered the power of speech, he spluttered, "But—why would Desmond want to kill a servant? He—I don't think he could do that."
"I'm not sure either. Which is why I'm looking for someone who does have some answers."
"I'm sorry, I...I had no idea." He chewed on his salad, steadying himself. "Let me come with you. I know Desmond better than you; I might be able to get him to talk."
"Fair enough." Rhea stood, heading for the rest of the castle.
"Don't you want any more food?"
"I'm not hungry."
Wide-eyed, he followed her into the main hall, but Kima, emerging from the basement, grabbed his attention instead. "Where have you been?" Quincy asked.
"E-exploring, downstairs," she stammered.
"Oh? Find anything interesting?"
"Not yet. Maybe...maybe you could help me look?" Kima smiled. "I was looking there before, it got a bit repetitive. But you'd have some fresh, uh, eyes."
"Sounds like a plan."
Despite Quincy's animation, or perhaps because of it, Rhea cleared her throat. "Is now the best time?"
"Oh," he exhaled. "Rhea and I were going to go look for some of the others."
"Really? What for?"
Before Quincy could give away everything, Rhea interjected. The cat was on edge, as wound up than she'd been after Raine's death. Kima wasn't Rhea's most likely suspect, but no sense in revealing too much. "You remember the wall that got destroyed, right?"
"Of course."
"Quincy doesn't think any of his group did it, so we're going to look for the others and see what they know."
"Oh."
"Do you want to come with us?" Quincy asked.
"Sure!" she grinned. "Any idea where they are?"
"Probably upstairs." Rhea headed for the staircase she'd taken the previous night, Quincy following behind when he realized she wasn't going to wait for him. Kima, however, lagged behind. "Rhea?"
"What?" she snapped.
Ears tilted towards the ballroom, she moved forward. "Someone's inside there."
Quincy scurried after her, Rhea bringing up the rear. She made out intermittent phrases—"If you help us...another beast to die..."
"Let's go." The badger powered forward, passing up the others into the comfort of the lead.
"...no longer thinking about killing us," Nallmian finished from the inside.
Rhea leaned forward, putting her weight on her front paw as if to crush the ballroom floor underneath. "Speaking of killing, you four have a lot of explaining to do!" Quincy and Kima nervously entered. "We need some answers, and we're not leaving until we get them."
"Take it easy," said Nallmian. "What's the problem?"
Kima glanced at the heavily bandaged Saveaux. "Maybe the newt can tell us?"
"He's healing," Biara replied. "He can't talk right now."
"Healing from what?" Rhea glared at Nallmian, then let one eye rove towards Desmond for good measure.
"He was captured by some of the servants," the marten explained. "We broke into the servants' quarters to rescue him."
"When one of your teammates is in danger or gets hurt, you don't just sit around doing nothing," Nallmian said. The stoat looked at Quincy and smirked. "I'm sure the hare would have done the same for his comrades. Oh, that's right, he hasn't got any. They kicked him out for being a ponce."
The hare's jaw clenched silently, but Rhea held up a cautionary paw. "Desmond, there's a dead mole in your bedroom," she stated flatly. "How did it get there?"
"I've no idea," he replied, unfazed. "I'd like to know, myself."
"What were you doing in another guest's room?" Biara challenged.
"Looking for you, actually." Rhea felt dimly conscious that she was too far on the offensive, but she ignored the sensation, preferring the giddy rush of spite. "Where were you during the ball?"
"Rescuing Saveaux," she explained as if to a child.
Rhea glowered as Quincy wondered "Why would anyone want to hurt him?"
"Maybe so we'd suspect each other," Nallmian suggested. "The Professor wants blood."
"The mole was more than enough for me. Does anyone else know anything about that?" Rhea demanded.
Nallmian shook his head. "I don't know anything," Biara mused, "But I don't think any of us had any reason to do him in."
Rhea ignored Nallmian's blink, fixated on the chance to learn more. "How do you know it's a him?"
"Her, whatever. Could the Professor have done it himself?"
"He doesn't look fit to kill anybody," Kima remarked. "Unless he had another servant do it."
"But why would he be killing off his own servants?" Quincy pointed out.
"To turn us against each other," Nallmian cynically pronounced. "Saveaux could have been an example too. And it's working, isn't it?"
"Not if we can find a way out," Rhea asserted. "Did you knock in the wall upstairs?"
"Why do you ask?" the stoat edgily replied.
"If it worked on an inside wall, it can work on an outside wall. Why don't we all get axes and cut our way out of here?"
"Suit yourself if you'd like to try, you hardly need my permission."
"Saveaux," Quincy gently smiled, "do you know anything about...any of this?"
The newt shook his head. "Leave him alone," Biara commanded. "Come on, Saveaux, you need some more medicine."
He scurried forward, Biara confidently a step behind. "Where do you think you're going?" Rhea growled. "We're not finished."
"My friend is injured and, if you'll excuse me, I plan to help him."
"Some of us have more productive things to do than standing around and moralizing," added Nallmian.
Rhea was too stunned to be truly outraged, and the moment's pause was all Saveaux needed to pass her and head for the exit. While she could have chased after him, of course, he didn't seem to be able to communicate much even if he did know anything. By then there wasn't much point in protesting Biara's departure.
Nallmian attempted to join them, but Rhea drew the line there. "Don't pretend you're going to bandage up his tail. What else do you know? You and Desmond both."
"Desmond?" The stoat expansively turned his head from side to side. "Don't see him."
"He was just here!" Aggravated, Rhea stormed forward, glancing around the ballroom while giving the chandelier a wide berth. While she did so, unsurprisingly, Nallmian scampered out.
"He must have left while we were talking," Quincy suggested.
"Indeed." Rhea took a mental inventory of the dwindling guests. "Has anybody seen Flynn?"
Quincy shook his head, while Kima laughed nervously. "Sleeping in?"
