Chapter Eleven

Dinner was a quiet affair, and not because there were two fewer people. Max and Bardoff wore gray faces as they ate their meals, barely speaking a word to each other. Bev brought a plate to Earl, but when she came back an hour later to retrieve it, it had barely been touched.

"Come now, Earl, you need your strength," Bev said, squeezing his shoulder. "We're not sure how long she's going to be like this. She'll be upset if you aren't here to greet her when she wakes up."

He sniffed and tore off a small piece of rosemary bread. "She's always upset when she wakes up. Says she needs an hour to drink her tea and come to her mind before she can talk." He popped the morsel into his mouth and chewed, then to Bev's relief, tore off another. "I know she's ornery, but she really does have a heart of gold under there. Thinks very highly of you, Bev."

She'd said as much on their wedding day. "I promise, I'm doing everything in my power to wake her and the others up," Bev said. "Is there anything else you can tell me about her morning? No detail is too small."

He shook his head. "It was her scheduled day off. She was in the kitchen, like normal. For breakfast, we stopped by the shop and got a cup of tea and a scone."

"And you hadn't seen Trent or Herman at the tea shop, right?" Bev asked.

"I don't think I've ever seen them in the shop, no," Earl said.

Bev chewed her lip. "You don't think Shasta wanted to hasten the transfer of the tea shop, do you?"

"Shasta?" He shook his head. "No, no. She and Etheldra are on good terms." He narrowed his eyes. "You don't think she had anything to do with this, do you?"

"No. I'm just trying to turn every stone I see," Bev said. "Even if I think they're silly."

He promised to eat more of his dinner, and Bev returned downstairs to give him some time. Doc Howser was the only one in the room, slowly spooning the gravy over the roast.

He looked up when Bev appeared on the landing. "Any change?"

"No," Bev said. "Trying to get Earl to eat."

"Good idea." He carried his plate to the middle table and sat. "What a week it's been already."

"You said it," Bev replied, sinking into her chair.

"Are we any closer to finding a culprit?"

She shook her head. "At this point, I'm asking questions of the Brewer twins and Etheldra's long-lost sister."

Howser shifted, only a little. "Sherry?"

"Yeah," Bev said with a nod. "But no one's seen her in forty years. I've heard she's in the north, south, east, and west. Married to a sugar merchant or living the high life as a socialite. Who knows the truth?" Bev chuckled. "But in any case, she's not here, so that's a dead end." She nodded to Howser, who seemed close enough to Trent and Herman's ages. "Are you from Pigsend originally? Did you know her?"

"Erm, yes. I'm from Pigsend. And yes, I did know her," he said. "It was a whole mess, her and Trent and Herman. But it's long since water under the bridge. Forty years is a long time, you know."

"Not for Trent and Herman," Bev said, thinking of the locket again.

"Hm. Well, I'm sure everyone else has moved on," Howser said. "I doubt Sherry, wherever she is, has given those two gentlemen another thought. These two should do the same."

Trent and Herman didn't seem the type to move on from anything. "I've got to get to the dishes. Let me know if you need anything."

~

Bev had trouble sleeping, her mind whirring with theories. Each potential culprit seemed more far-fetched than the last, from the Brewer twins plotting the demise of their respective bosses to the far-off specter of Sherry Dawes to Gerry, who was still stuck below ground in Lower Pigsend, per her last conversation with Percival.

There was, of course, the nagging worry that had been haunting her these past few weeks. Gore's words about everything being related sat in her mind like a weight. But what could putting three old people into a magical coma accomplish?

It was still dark when Bev finally gave up and sat on the edge of her bed, rubbing her face and wishing she'd slept a bit more. Biscuit, too, didn't seem ready to wake, as he rolled onto his other side and kept snoring. As she watched Biscuit, she realized there was one person in Pigsend who might be able to answer the heaviest question.

First, she popped in to check on Trent and Herman—still the same—then rapped softly on Earl's door, cracking it to peer inside.

"I'm awake," came a soft voice.

Bev opened the door completely and sighed. Earl's eyes were puffy, and based on his disheveled clothes, it looked like he hadn't gotten a wink the night before. "Did you get any sleep at all?"

He shook his head, rubbing his red eyes. "I think I saw her twitch around two. But I'm not sure."

Bev promised to bring him a pastry when Lillie brought them by later and headed downstairs. It was still very early, and most of Pigsend was still asleep, but the blacksmith was usually in the forge early to avoid the hottest part of the day. While she still planned to ask Bernard some questions, and if that didn't pan out, go to Lower Pigsend, first she wanted to speak with the man who'd cursed everyone a month before—just to make sure he and his cohorts weren't behind this again.

As predicted, Gore was hard at work and didn't hear Bev approach. During the solstice, his magical hearing had made itself known for the first time, able to overcome his occupation of working with iron. Gore had heard all manner of conversations and secrets about those in Pigsend—secrets he'd used to blackmail the candidates. But after Freddie dropped out and Gore retreated to his forge, his hearing went back to the normal range. At least, that was what he'd told her.

She waited a few minutes longer, lingering in the doorway before clearing her throat loudly. "Gore?"

The blacksmith stopped mid-strike and opened the hatch on his helmet, narrowing his eyes at Bev. He replaced the lid and plunged the white-hot iron into the nearby barrel of water, causing a loud hissing noise.

"What do you want, Bev? Here to ask about Andres? Haven't seen him."

"Did you hear about all the magical comas?"

He turned to Bev with what appeared to be honest surprise. "Magical comas? What kind of magical comas?"

"Three citizens of Pigsend struck down at their houses. Doc Howser and Bernard are working on a cure, but we have no clue what actually happened." She paused. "Surely, you've heard about that by now."

"I told you, as long as I'm working here, I don't have any better hearing than anyone else," he said. "I keep my head down and do my work."

"Then have you heard about it in conversations with your…erm…compatriots?" Bev asked.

He rubbed his chin. "Who was struck down?"

"Trent Scrawl, Herman Monday, and Etheldra."

He gave her a sideways look. "That's an eclectic group. Can't say I know why they'd be targeted."

"Does it have anything to do with what you told me after the election? You said everything was connected," Bev said. "Is this?"

"Goodness, you are jumpy," he said with a wry grin. "Did my words get under your skin, Bev?"

"I want to avoid spinning my wheels if I can help it," Bev said impatiently. "So if you have anything to say about this, tell me now before I waste my time."

He chuckled. "No, Bev. As far as I'm aware, these magical comas have nothing to do with our plans."

Bev exhaled, feeling that was truthful. "Thank you." She turned to leave then stopped, his words echoing in her mind. "What do you mean, 'as far as you're aware'?"

"Exactly that," he said. "Andres doesn't tell me everything. What we got cookin' is pretty complex, and people only know their part in the mix. Makes it safer that way, in case someone gets some funny ideas." He turned back to the piece of steel. "You can probably ask Andres the next time he's in town."

"Which will be…"

"As I said, people only know their parts," he said with a wry smile. "See you around, Bev."

~

Bev returned to the inn, wishing she'd had some closure from her conversation with Gore. What he'd said about keeping things close to the vest did make sense. Andres was dealing with possible rebellions and coups, and that sort of thing tended to attract attention. But it didn't help Bev now.

Lillie brought by pastries at seven, one of which Bev ran upstairs to Earl. Thankfully, he'd finally succumbed to exhaustion and was lightly snoring on the bed. Bev covered him with a blanket before leaving him to sleep. When she came downstairs again, Doc Howser was in the front room, drinking a cup of tea and enjoying one of the muffins. The poor man looked absolutely exhausted but seemed heartened by the pastries waiting for him.

"Any change?" Bev asked.

He shook his head. "It's vexing me greatly. You know, it's easier to watch someone suffer when you know the cause of it and can find a cure. Harder when you don't know what it is." He sighed. "But the hardest of all is when you know what's afflicting your patient and have nothing to help."

"That does sound difficult," Bev said.

"That's why I'm so keen on curing dragon pox. It's such a vicious disease." He sighed, looking up the stairs. "But I suppose that's taken second place to the current problem."

"Has Bernard discovered anything from the blood?" Bev asked.

"Not yet. This is a tricky potion or curse or whatever it is." He sighed. "Now Etheldra's fallen victim to it. Poor Earl. He's such a nice man. Going to make himself sick over her. I tried to tell him that she's in a magical sleep, nothing to worry about. She'll wake up feeling fine. But I don't think he listened."

"I thought I'd bring one of these muffins over to Bernard," Bev said, pointing to the basket. "Are you headed that way?"

He was, and happily escorted Bev across town, sneaking another morsel from the basket as they walked. Bev couldn't help but notice faces in windows as they passed, all of them suspiciously watching the doctor and Bev. She wished she could tell them there was nothing more to worry about at the moment, but that felt like spreading false hope.

When they arrived at the apothecary, Stella was behind the counter. She wore a thick apron and gloves and was mixing ingredients carefully. She looked up when the door opened and deflated a bit.

"He's in the back," she said, returning to her work.

Bev hesitated, remembering what Ida had said about Stella and Shasta being beneficiaries of the tea shop and apothecary. Could the twins have poisoned Trent and Herman as a diversion when their real intent was to hasten their takeover of the shops?

Stella met Bev's scrutinizing gaze and tilted her head. "What's wrong?"

Bev shook herself. She was getting paranoid. Stella and Shasta wouldn't hurt people like that. "Nothing. Sorry."

She continued to the back room where Bernard was hunched over a much larger table, many more vials and jars and ingredients spread out around him. His hair stuck up on all ends, looking as if he hadn't slept in days, and he was watching the ingredient mixture under a glass.

"Howser, come in. Bev, what can I do for you?"

"Brought some provisions," Bev said, holding up the basket. "Thought you could use a pick-me-up."

Bernard's face lit up, and he quickly took off his apron and gloves. He sighed as he gobbled up one muffin then took his time with the second.

"Yes, that hits the spot. Can't remember the last time I ate anything." He eased himself down onto his chair. "This is a puzzler, I tell you what."

"You said it," Bev replied. "I'm trying to pinpoint a motive, and there are only a few connections between our three victims." She explained her theories about the festival and Etheldra's sister Sherry, the latter eliciting a chuckle from Bernard.

"Yeah, I remember that. They were a few years older than me, but it was the town gossip for a long time."

"And the other connection…" Bev hesitated. Bernard was an even-keeled sort of fellow, but Bev wasn't sure how he'd react to being on her list. "Well, they've all bought tinctures from you."

Worry flashed over Bernard's face "What do you mean?"

"Well, Dane Sterling told me he delivered a tincture to Trent for his aches and pains. Herman, too, had a few vials of yours at his house. Earl told me Etheldra gets something from you to help her sleep."

"O-Oh, right." He nodded. "Sorry, my brain's a little foggy. Haven't gotten too much sleep while I try to figure this out."

Bev nodded, though she couldn't help but wonder what he'd thought originally. "I don't think that you set out to hurt anyone."

"Of course not. That goes against my entire nature," he said, turning to the muffin.

"But I wonder if someone might be out to get you?" Bev asked. "Do you have any enemies?"

"Other than my brother? None." He shook his head. "I make my tinctures and run my business, you know? It's bad enough I have to keep from running afoul of Her Majesty's soldiers. The rules and regulations on what apothecaries can and can't do are quite numerous."

Bev could only imagine. "You haven't heard from your brother lately, have you?"

"No, but you said you had," Bernard said with a quizzical look. "Do you think he could be behind this?"

"It's entirely possible." Bev didn't want to ask, but she needed to. "And Shasta? How is that going?"

"The dear girl out there?" He chuckled. "You think she's behind this?"

"I'm just asking questions," Bev said.

"Well, I can't say for sure, but I think she's happy," Bernard said with a frown. "She's certainly been getting more practice the past few days, what with me doing all this work back here. But she gets a lot of practice anyway. She'd be ready to take over if she wanted."

"And does she want that?" Bev asked.

He shrugged. "We barely keep up between the two of us with all the orders that come in. I don't think she's in any hurry to be rid of me."

More dead ends, but at least she got those questions answered. Bev glanced at the small vials of blood on the nearby table. "Bernard," Bev began softly. "If one were to bring that blood to someone with, erm…" She cleared her throat. "Magic of some kind or another, would they be able to test it the way you are?"

"They might be able to get something from it," Bernard said. "Why? Do you know of someone with that kind of magic?"

"Maybe," Bev said. "Do you think I could borrow a bit?"

Bernard crossed the room, found an empty vial, and added a few drops of blood to it. "Here you go. If they can figure it out, I would be grateful. I've about exhausted my knowledge of possibilities."