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Margaret shrugged. “I daresay we’ll both find out when we get home.”

I guessed we would.

Despite the traffic, we quickly left the city center behind us. I couldn’t see anyone obviously following us, but with the heaviness of the traffic it was hard to be sure. Still, there was no one behind us when we turned into Margaret’s street, and no cars had cruised past by the time we’d parked outside Margaret’s small two-up, two-down. A curtain covering the downstairs window moved briefly, then, a heartbeat later, the green-painted front door opened and the woman I’d seen at Loudon’s appeared.

The air of downtrodden meekness that had surrounded her there had completely disappeared here.

She ran toward us, her fingers flying. I had no idea what she was saying, but Margaret laughed. “I’m fine, really I am. Just a broken—” She stopped, watching Jaikyl’s still flying fingers. “Yes, there was an explosion at the shop, and no, it was no accident.”

Jaikyl glanced at me rather pointedly.

I held up my hands. “I wasn’t responsible for the explosion; it was courtesy of the man who has caused two similar explosions in Deva. But we need to move this conversation inside, because it might not be safe out here.”

If we had been followed, it likely wouldn’t be safe inside, either, but I didn’t bother adding that.

Jaikyl hesitated then wrapped an arm around her partner’s waist and helped her inside. I followed them in, then closed and locked the door behind us. It wouldn’t stop a ruby-wielding elf intent on destruction, but it would at least give anyone else pause, even if only for the few minutes it took them to break in.

Those few minutes would give us time to escape.

I followed them down the short hall and then into a living dining area. The kitchen lay to the left, positioned behind the hallway stairs. Jaikyl pulled out a kitchen chair, placed Margaret down, then carefully eased her broken wrist from the sling. Her gaze narrowed and energy rose, a warm caress of healing power that was far softer than the energy Darby raised.

It obviously healed just the same, however, because after a few minutes, color returned to Margaret’s cheeks, and she sighed in relief. “Thank you, dear heart.”

Jaikyl nodded and glanced at me, one eyebrow raised in question.

I waved her concern away. “I’m fine.”

She snorted, moved around the table, and pressed her fingers against my spine. Pain slithered through me, and she snorted again. Her healing energy rose, and the pain faded away.

“Thank you,” I said, when she stepped away.

She nodded and moved back around the table, once again speaking with her hands. Margaret watched then glanced at me. “You should go have a quick shower while we boil the kettle and make a pot of tea—or coffee, if that’s your poison of choice. Jaikyl also wants to assure you that this time your drink won’t contain a truth potion.”

“Tea would be good.” I pushed to my feet. While I didn’t have a change of clothes here, it’d certainly be good to wash the worst of the grime away. I doubted they intended me any harm, but on the off chance I was wrong, well, I still had my knives. “But why would Loudon instruct you to give us a truth potion? And how did he instruct you, given all he did was ring that bell?”

“The bell is the key,” Jaikyl said through Margaret. “He only rings it when he wishes to pry information from his guests.”

“It’s why he’s such a successful collector, and why Gannon is a well-regarded reseller,” Margaret added. “People come to Loudon for advice and information, and he instead bleeds them dry.”

“Surely people would realize?—”

“No,” Jaikyl said through Margaret. “By the time they leave his house, all memory of the episode is gone. They just remember whatever it is Loudon wished them to remember.”

“That’s one hell of a truth elixir.”

“He can afford to pay for the best.” Margaret motioned in the general direction of the stairs. “There’s clean face flannels and towels in the linen closet, and the bathroom is the first door on the left at the top.”

I thanked them and headed up. The first-floor landing was small, with a bedroom to the right, the bathroom to the left, and, directly in front, a sliding door fronting the small linen closet.

I grabbed a flannel and towel, found a fresh cake of soap in the bathroom, and then stripped off, shoving my knives back into my purse but keeping it within easy reach. Once I’d shaken out the worst of the dust and remaining debris from my clothes in the shower cubicle, I switched on the water and had a quick shower. Ten minutes later, feeling fresher and cleaner despite my worse-for-wear clothing, I headed back downstairs.

Jaikyl placed a large pot of tea—which was covered with a cheery-looking knitted cozy—and three mugs on the table, then sat down. Margaret followed with a jug of milk and an opened packet of Jaffa Cakes and sat beside her wife. She slid the packet across to me, then poured the tea.

I plucked a Jaffa Cake free. “What did you want to see me about, Jaikyl?”

“It was about your mom,” she signed. “Loudon lied about her reason for being there.”

“I gathered that.” I bit into the orangy chocolate goodness, and my stomach rumbled in appreciation. Almost getting blown up really didn’t affect my appetite. But then, few things could. “Did Loudon drug her?”