Chapter ONE - Weebly

wanted him and not Sephira Pryce or some other
thieftaker. This was why he had been thinking about
that pulse of power ever since seeing Berson’s servant
in the Dowsing Rod. Even so, he was troubled.
“There are no marks on her,” Ethan said,
straightening and meeting the young minister’s gaze.
“What does that mean?” Pell asked.
“Well, it means she wasn’t killed in any of the usual
ways. She wasn’t stabbed or shot. Her throat wasn’t
slit. Her neck wasn’t broken.”
“Could she have been strangled?”
Ethan looked down at the girl again and shook his
head. “That would leave bruising on her neck, whether
done with a rope or bare hands.”
“What about poison?”
He considered this for several moments, staring at
the girl’s face. Her expression in death was peaceful;
she could well have been sleeping rather than dead. It
was hardly the face of someone who had died by
poisoning.
“I suppose it’s possible,” Ethan said.
“But you don’t believe it.”