The Weaver's Source

Chapter 68

"So, did you find out what's going on with the Lord Master?" Milcent asked as her large hands wrapped a brown leather strap littered with numbers around my waist.

I had been whisked away by Milcent the moment she saw me leaving the bathing room and had been pliant as she measured body, listening to her babble, answering her questions, which thankfully were never about Grigore, but now she was moving onto something I was unsure I could answer. I pondered for a moment, wondering if Grigore would mind me speaking of what we had discovered in the cold halls. I doubted he wanted many to know, he had asked me not to speak of it to the Lord Master's family, something that was hard to do around Filip. He constantly kept trying to pry information from me while Grigore looked at the room of the second killing. I stuck to my story of not knowing anything but I had a funny feeling he knew I was lying. But Milcent was Milcent. I doubted she was much of a gossip and Grigore seemed to trust her. He'd left me with her after all and not once warned me against her.

I glanced at the door when a load roar of men swept into the room. Grigore was among them, brooding in the corner, trying his best to ignore the good cheer with a ward in hand. No one would overhear us. It was so loud out there and almost every man and woman was drunk.

"Promise not to breathe a word?" I asked.

Milcent nodded and looked up at me with intrigue. "No word shall leave these lips of mine about it."

I shifted my weight with uncertainty, gazing down at Milcent's honest expression, before I finally answered her question. "Grigore believes it's a myling."

Milcent looked taken aback. "A myling? You mean one of those ghosts? A vengeful child ghost?" I nodded silently as Milcent's confusion thickened. "Well I didn't expect it to be one of those. I heard mylings are rare. A child to feel so much hate and rage at death is difficult to come by. And it haunts the Lord Master, you say?"

"It does. His whole family." I said softly. "That is what Grigore thinks anyway but we haven't managed to any evidence, other than me seeing something he can't. Do you know why a myling would be haunting them?"

Milcent shook her head with her brow furrowed deeply. "I don't. Children aren't often in the house, all servants are above a specific age and any family are banned from living there. Only his youngest is still a child and he's always been vehemently protective of them so I don't know why a child would've died and hated the Lord Master that much."

I frowned, a little disappointed even though I guessed that would be her answer. She noticed the disheartened glint in my eye and smiled softly, rising onto her feet and held my arms up so she could measure.

"I'm not close to the Lord Master, just a lowly barkeep, but I'll see if someone knows something. Don't think I'll have much luck but I'll keep my ears peeled for any gossip or rumours. This rowdy drunken hoard often enjoys spreading tall tales, some that hold a nugget of truth now and then."

That did give me some hope. Ever since I was told about the myling, I was uncertain how we were going to kill something that was already dead. Grigore had tried to explain it to me, saying that ghosts were either soothed by song or vengeance or the destruction of their bones, an act that would destroy the soul entirely. The singing part didn't quite make sense to me and seemed like it would never work when so far all my song had brought was trouble but he was adamant about it. If we could find out why the boy was dead and deal with its rage, we could soothe it. I was still confused about how it worked and I hoped Grigore would explain a little more clearly later. For now, I knew I had to find out why the boy had died and how.

As I held my arms up, letting Milcent continue with her measuring, as I thought more about the ghost, feeling a little out of my comfort zone. Monsters at least were simple; it just had to die with a sword and some magic.