by Sharon Shinn
He laughed. “I didn’t think you had enough floor space to sell elaymotives.”
“No, but I just concluded my business with Captain Demeset of Cozique and he expressed an interest in learning more about elaymotives—and so here we are.”
She knew that Rafe had never been in the retail business, but he used to make his living by convincing strangers to play cards with him for money, so he had an effortless charm designed to put anyone at ease. “Then he’s come to the right place,” Rafe said. “Kayle Dochenza isn’t here, but his agent is. Why don’t I take you up to meet him?”
Captain Demeset turned to give Leah a slight bow. “Thank you. I’ll be happy to do business with you next time I’m in port.”
“And I with you. You can find your own way back to your ship?”
“Easily.”
“Then I’ll be on my way.”
“You’re going back to the house tonight?” Rafe asked.
“Yes—are you? You can ride with us if you like.”
“That would be perfect. Josetta’s supposed to be there, and she said Zoe was coming over for dinner. Let me just make quick introductions, and I’ll be right back.”
While he was gone, Yori and Leah moved some of their recent acquisitions to the front seat so Leah and Rafe could sit in the back compartment more or less in comfort. Rafe still laughed when he came downstairs a few minutes later.
“Are you sure there’s room for me?”
“More room than there is in a pilot’s box in an aeromotive, from what I understand,” she retorted. “And much less danger of crashing.”
They climbed inside and situated themselves as best they could before Yori eased the car back into traffic. Rafe said, “Hey, I haven’t crashed an aeromotive in—let’s see—almost a quintile.”
“And how many times did you crash one before that?”
“Four. But the last two were more like uncontrolled landings. I didn’t even get bruises.”
“So tell me what it’s like to pilot an aeromotive.”
Rafe was a good storyteller, with an attractive voice and an excellent sense of the dramatic, so Leah found herself enthralled by his descriptions of flying. “It almost makes me want to go up in one with you someday,” she said.
“You couldn’t—not yet. So far Kayle’s only built machines that can hold one person and a small bit of cargo. But he has grander plans. He thinks someday they’ll be like transport buses and carry twenty or thirty people at a time.”
“That’ll be bad when the first one goes down,” Leah commented. “Unless you think they’ll be completely safe by then.”
“I doubt it. But elaymotives aren’t danger-free, either. Neither is riding a horse. Nothing is.”
“I suppose not,” Leah said on a sigh.
“Even your time in Malinqua had to be hazardous now and then,” he said. “So tell me what your life was like while you were there spying for Darien.”
She regaled him with a few stories, then spent twenty minutes describing the customs and peculiarities of the Malinquese people. “But you should go see for yourself,” she finished up. “I’m sure your brother would love to show you off to the court.”
“Ah, I can’t leave Welce,” Rafe said with a smile. He absently fingered the strange design sculpted into his right ear. “My cousin Ghyaneth, the prince of Berringey, made it clear that he would kill me if I ever left the country. He’s afraid I would try to usurp his crown. To ensure peace between our nations, we made all sorts of promises to each other, and one of mine was that I’d never set foot off Welchin soil.”
Leah had a feeling there was far more to the tale but this was all Rafe was prepared to divulge. She didn’t want people poking into her secrets, either, so she let it go. “He doesn’t sound like he’s a very nice person.”
Rafe laughed. “I don’t believe he is.”
Full dark had fallen by the time they crossed the canal and turned onto the Cinque. Leah saw Rafe’s eyes cut toward the slums as they passed the shadows and silhouettes of those dark streets. Thinking about Josetta at her shelter, she supposed, or remembering his old life as a gambler in a southside tavern. He might not have crossed the boundaries of Welce, but in his way he’d traveled even farther than Leah.
Yori called to them from the front seat. “Should we swing by the regent’s house to drop off our passenger before going to the shop?”
“Of course not!” Rafe exclaimed before Leah could answer. “You saved me a long, dull trip on public transportation. The least I can do is help you unload all of your purchases.”
“Glad you feel that way,” Leah said, “because I was going to tell Yori no.”
The whole street was eerily dark by the time Yori pulled up in front of Leah’s. What illumination there was filtered down from the upper-story windows of the buildings where the owners lived above their shops. The gas-powered streetlamps lining the road marched mournfully into the distance, cold, dark, and unhelpful.
“A problem in the line,” Yori said when Leah expressed dismay. “It happens all the time. It’ll be fixed by morning.”
Leah gestured at the upper stories. “But the gas seems to be working in some places.”
“Candlelight,” Rafe guessed. “See how it’s flickering?”
When Leah looked more closely, she could tell that the illumination behind the windows was being supplied by a capricious and uneven source. She sighed. “Well, there are boxes of decorative candles on the sweela tables,” she said. “We ought to be able to see well enough to carry this all inside.”
It took them five trips each to transfer everything to the shop. After a single foray to the upper level—Yori lighting their way with a candle while Leah and Rafe wrestled a trunk up the narrow stairwell—they decided everything else could be left downstairs and dealt with in the morning.
“If customers stumble over boxes and bundles, so be it,” Leah said, trying to strangle a yawn. “Maybe they’ll find something they wouldn’t have looked at otherwise.”
They all stepped outside and Leah bent close to the door so she could see to set the lock. When she straightened, she found both Rafe and Yori standing motionless beside the elaymotive, staring hard at a shadow pooled on the ground against a nearby building.
Leah stepped noiselessly up to Rafe and whispered, “What is it?”
“Person,” he breathed.
Yori crept forward on silent feet, waving the other two back when they started to follow. Leah was more convinced than ever that the other woman was one of Darien’s guards. Yori approached the figure cautiously, her left hand close to her hip where Leah assumed she kept a weapon. A moment later, Leah realized Rafe had also shaken free a knife. He might consort with primes and princesses these days, but Rafe was a man who had lived in the slums and knew how to defend himself in a street fight.
Yori had gotten close enough to the shadowy shape that she could get a sense of whether or not it offered danger. Leah felt Rafe grow even more tense as Yori leaned over to ask a question—and then, a moment later, drop to her knees. That was signal enough for Rafe, who instantly jogged over to her. Leah trailed a half step behind.
“It’s a young man,” Yori said in a low voice as they crouched beside her. “He’s covered in blood.”
“Alive?” Rafe murmured.
“Barely.”
“Can we move him inside?” Leah asked.
“Very carefully.”
Leah ran back to the shop to fetch a heavy woolen shawl that she could spread on the ground next to the injured man. Yori and Rafe gently moved him onto the fabric, causing him to groan in pain, and slowly, delicately, carried him into the building.
“I’ll get candles. And water,” Leah said, hurrying to collect supplies while the other two settled the young man on the floor. Not until a lit ring of candles threw some illumination on the vict
im did Leah get a good look at his condition. And then she gasped.
The man looked as if he had been deliberately and precisely cut in a half dozen places—along his wrists, his femurs, his throat. Each wound was shallow and short, only an inch or so long, and crusted with dried blood, but the area around each incision was smeared and blurry with a pale fluid that might be blood mixed with some unidentifiable substance. Against the pink and red, his skin was marble white, and his flesh beneath Leah’s hand was chilly. He lay motionless on the floor and only the twitching of his face, drawn tight against pain, gave any indication that he was still alive.
“Looks like he’s almost bled to death,” Rafe said grimly. “He might not recover.”
“Is he conscious?” Leah asked.
Yori shook her head. “I don’t think so. And—he might be drugged.”
“I don’t know if there’s much we can do for him,” Leah said. “Except clean him off and bind him up and hope.”
Rafe came swiftly to his feet. “I’m getting Josetta,” he said.
Leah stared up at him. “Why?”
“She’s got some sickroom training. And I’m sure there are medical supplies at the house.” He appealed to Yori. “Can I drive the car?”
In reply, the guard tossed him the key. “We’ll do what we can for him while you’re gone.”
Leah barely paid attention as Rafe strode through the door. She was following Yori’s instructions as they carefully cleaned the wounds and turned the body. It was impossible to miss the fact that the man was wearing plain and tattered clothing, which hadn’t been clean even before it was streaked with blood. Judging by the condition of his hair and the odor of his body, he might not have bathed in a nineday. Or two.
“Slum boy,” Yori said, after they had cleaned the last cut and covered the broken body with another shawl.
“How did he make it this far with these kinds of injuries?” Leah demanded.
“Probably didn’t,” Yori said. “Someone brought him to this part of town and whatever happened to him happened not too far from here.”
Leah couldn’t help shuddering. “Jugular, femoral arteries,” she said. “That’s where you’d cut if you wanted a lot of blood really fast. I can hardly believe he’s still alive.”
“There was some kind of paste on every wound,” Yori said. “I’m guessing every time an incision was made, it was quickly covered up to stop the bleeding. Then another incision was made somewhere else.”
“Do you think— Would it be possible— Could he have done this to himself?”
“Seems unlikely,” Yori said. “The blood would have been pumping out pretty fast. He would have had a hard time getting the salve on before he passed out. But I guess he could have done it.”
“Though not before he was covered with blood,” Leah said quietly. “And there’s hardly any of it on his clothes.”
Yori’s eyes lifted to meet hers. “No,” she said. “I noticed that.”
“Then—where did it go? Was he dressed in different clothing after all this occurred?”
Yori spread her hands in a broad I don’t know gesture. “That doesn’t make sense,” she said.
“None of this makes sense.”
It was a relief to hear the growl of the elaymotive returning, the sharp crack of doors slamming shut, the musical jumble of women’s voices growing louder as a group of people pushed into the shop.
“It’s worse than I thought!” Josetta exclaimed, hurrying over and dropping to her knees beside the victim.
Leah glanced over at the rest of the newcomers—astonished to recognize Zoe locking the door behind her and horrified to see Mally resting sleepily in Rafe’s arms.
Zoe read her expression. “Virrie’s gone for the night, the servants have firstday off, and we couldn’t leave her alone in the house,” she said.
“I’ll take her upstairs,” Rafe said. “She tells me you keep a box of stones that are just for her to play with.”
“In the chest by the window,” Leah said distractedly.
“I want to stay down here,” Mally said.
Rafe exchanged glances with Leah and she just shrugged. This wasn’t a sight Mally should see, but saving the victim seemed more urgent than arguing about it. She turned back to join the other women clustered around the injured man. Josetta, moving with businesslike efficiency, was opening a medical kit and pulling out strips of gauze and jars of muddy-yellow paste.
“He seems to have stopped bleeding,” Josetta said, “but infection’s the next thing to worry about. I want to use antiseptic salve and then bind his wounds. If he wakes up enough, I can give him some medicines that will help with the pain.”
“Not sure he’ll live long enough to develop an infection,” Yori said. “I hardly think there’s enough blood in his body to keep his heart pumping.”
“That’s why Zoe’s here,” Josetta replied.
What? Leah almost said, but Yori nodded. And while the princess and the guard worked together to smear him with ointment and bind his wounds, Zoe settled beside the unconscious man and simply took his hand in hers. She didn’t whisper incantations or even focus with any particular intensity on his face. In fact, she appeared lost in thought, as if trying to decide the best seating arrangements for a dinner she wasn’t looking forward to. Five minutes passed while Yori and Josetta worked and Zoe merely sat and thought.
The coru prime. A woman of blood and water. Is it possible? Leah marveled, feeling a little dizzy. With just her touch, is she helping him rebuild and replace all the blood he lost tonight?
Leah watched the man’s colorless face and thought it showed the faintest flush of pink.
There was a rustle behind her, and she looked over to find that Mally had abandoned the window seat and crept over to the group gathered on the floor. Rafe was behind her, his hands spread in apology.
“Mally!” Leah exclaimed. “Please go sit down with Rafe.”
“I want to see him,” Mally said. “I want to see the hurt man.”
Leah got to her feet, prepared to carry Mally away herself if Rafe couldn’t be firm with the child. “I don’t want you to look at him and be upset.”
“But I’m worried,” Mally said. “I think he must be cold.”
“What?” Leah said helplessly. Then, “Darling, we’ll take care of him. You go sit down with Rafe.”
Of course, Leah hadn’t reckoned with Josetta, the crusading princess who probably thought it was a splendid idea for a girl to grow a social conscience at a very young age. “I think he probably is cold,” Josetta said. “Maybe you could rub his feet?”
“His feet are filthy!” Leah exclaimed.
“Then she can wash her hands afterward.”
Leah glanced at Zoe—surely the mother of a young daughter would realize this was a terrible plan—but Zoe still seemed absorbed in her own private meditations. And Leah had no rights here. She couldn’t say, I’m her mother and I forbid her to touch this southside scum. She had to simply watch while Mally knelt down at the young man’s feet and solemnly began chafing his toes.
Leah raised her eyes to shoot Rafe a look that clearly said, This is all your fault. He smiled faintly. “So what else can I do to help?” he asked.
“You can figure out where we’re going to take this young man once we’ve fixed him up,” Josetta said.
Leah’s attention swung back to her. “Is he well enough to be moved?”
Josetta nodded toward her sister. “He will be once Zoe’s finished.” She glanced around the shop. “I guess we could leave him here all night. I’d stay with him.”
“Not unless I stayed, too,” Rafe said.
“It’s my place—I can be the one to watch him,” Leah responded, though it was probably the last thing in the world she wanted to do. No, the last thing after watching Mally rub the feet of a street urchin w
ho’d nearly been murdered.
Yori shook her head. “I’m taking him back to the palace. The regent will want to talk to him.”
That caught Josetta’s attention. “Why?”
Yori seemed to debate before answering. “Because the regent wants to know everything.”
“Why?” Josetta asked more insistently.
Zoe seemed to shake herself awake, though she still didn’t let go of the young man’s hand. Leah couldn’t help but notice that his face had gained even more color, though he still looked far paler than he should. Though, maybe not. Given his lifestyle, his cheeks might always have an unhealthy pallor.
“Because this isn’t the first poor soul who’s showed up on the streets of Chialto, cut up in precisely this fashion,” Zoe said softly. “But all the rest of them have been dead. Not able to answer questions.”
Josetta sighed and sat back on her heels, folding her hands in her lap as if there was no more she could do for the victim. “That’s what I was afraid of. I’ve seen a few cases like this near the shelter, too, in the past couple of ninedays. I’ve been wondering if there’s some new kind of—diversion—that’s been making the rounds.”
“You haven’t mentioned it to Darien?” Zoe asked.
“Never crossed my mind that I should.”
A smile flickered across Zoe’s face. “But, Josetta,” she said softly. “Don’t you realize the regent wants to know everything?”
“My mistake,” Josetta said. “I thought he already did.”
Rafe bent down to peer critically at their patient. “He looks a lot better than before,” he said.
“His feet are warm now,” Mally announced.
“Yes, thanks to all of you, I think he’s tremendously improved,” Josetta said. “I’m a little concerned that he’s still unconscious, though.”
“Yori thinks he’s been drugged,” Leah offered.
Zoe pushed herself to her feet. “Just as well,” she said. “That’ll make it easier for him to endure the ride back to the palace.”
The rest of them stood up, too, rubbing their knees and fighting back yawns. It couldn’t be much past the dinner hour, Leah thought, and yet it seemed like midnight must have passed an hour ago. She took Mally upstairs to wash her hands; when they returned, the others were discussing logistics.
