"Sure, but not so hard that the mark sees us, right?" Mister Kail looked over at Dairy, then sighed. "Mark, kid. It means the target, the guy you're trying to rob. Or, well, murder, but we're not murderers. We're thieves." He said that proudly.
"Mister Kail, do you ever read the Book of the Four-andTwenty?" Dairy took a sip of his milk and honey.
"Um... sure, kid." Mister Kail shifted in his seat.
"Doesn't the Book say that stealing is wrong?" Dairy asked plaintively. This had been troubling him for some time.
"Well, yeah, but you have to figure that this isn't exactly stealing, is it?" Mister Kail looked over at him, nodding hopefully. "I mean, Silestin is a bad guy. He stole the book from Loch. But because he's got so much power, we can never arrest him. What we can do, though, is hurt him for all the bad things he's done. It's sort of like we're doing justice very quietly on our own."
Dairy thought for a moment. "The world shouldn't be like that, Mister Kail."
"Damn right it shouldn't, kid."
The men walking with the Archvoyant came into view. They both wore robes. One of them, a small man, tittered along nervously behind the Archvoyant, but the other wore a shimmering black robe and had skin that flickered in the light. Dairy felt the world go still around him, as though everything else had paused.
"Mister Kail," he said softly, "who is that man?"
"Damn," Mister Kail murmured. "Silestin's got one of the Glimmering Folk with him. I heard about that in the puppet show. There are some nasty old Urujar folktales..." He looked over at Dairy with some concern. "You okay, kid? It's... well, it's really okay to be scared of him."
"I'm not scared, Mister Kail." The Glimmering Man looked around as though searching for something, and Dairy quickly looked down again.
"Well, I am." Mister Kail took a big drink of his kahva. When Dairy glanced back up, the Glimmering Man was walking away.
"He makes me feel sort of tingly," Dairy said, frowning as he tried to explain it. "Like something deep inside me is trying to say something important."
"Huh." Mister Kail pursed his lips. "Uh, do you feel that kind of tingly feeling when you look at your unicorn friend, Ululenia? Or maybe Desidora?" Mister Kail sipped his kahva and smiled. "She's got those big dark eyes and that dangerous death priestess thing going on, huh?"
Dairy frowned. "I don't think so, Mister Kail. I've never felt it until I looked at that man."
"Maybe you should ask Hessler about this," Mister Kail said, coughing. "I'm sure it's, you know, perfectly natural, but... yeah, you should really talk with him about it."
"Do we go back and report to Loch now, Mister Kail?" Dairy asked as the Archvoyant and the two men with him turned and walked up a bunch of steps into the Hall of the Voyancy, a big white building with guards out front.
Mister Kail looked at his kahva. "Let's finish our drinks, make sure the Archvoyant doesn't come back out. Have to be thorough and all that."
"Thanks for helping me learn how to be a good thief, Mister Kail." Dairy sipped his milk.
"My pleasure, kid."
Pyvic found found Orris in the Cleaners, sitting at one of the guard stations. "Good morning, Orris."
Orris looked up at him blankly, then went red-faced. "You. Hope you're happy, you son of a bitch."
"Orris, Archvoyant Silestin has ordered me to speak with you about Prisoners Loch and Kail. He'd like me to get a description to help with conducting my investigation."
"So it's your investigation now, is it?" Orris sniffed, and Pyvic simply stood there for a long moment, counting in his head as his old superior had taught him, until the former warden ducked his head again. "Fine. Whatever gets you out of my face. You've done enough already."
Pyvic took Orris to a private room and took notes for the better part of an hour until he had a decent idea of the appearance of both prisoners. Kail was easy—by the end of the interview, Pyvic was certain that the Urujar guard who'd thrown the first punch when the young guard had given away their ruse was Prisoner Kail.
Loch was harder. Orris said she was bony, then said she had arms like a man's, which didn't sound bony at all. In one of Orris's tirades, she was an ungainly stomping monster who'd kick you if you called her a woman. In another, she became a sly seductress who probably convinced Alms to help her with what Orris called "her animalistic wanton ways". Orris was screaming obscenities about her by this point.
By the end of it, all Pyvic really had to go on were the eyes. No matter his other inconsistencies, Orris always yelled that they seemed to look right through him, hard and sharp and alert, always measuring.
Pyvic had seen eyes like that on an Urujar woman recently. He wished he hadn't.
Icy Fist watched as Archvoyant Silestin strode through the main gate of his palace and shook hands with visitors who had come to take a look at the palace gardens. By proud tradition, the gardens were open to the public except during emergencies or parties, and so the cultivated hedges and sparkling fountains were surrounded by businessmen trying to impress their associates, young nobles visiting on vacation, and those few common folks who could afford the travel fees and security inspections necessary for a trip to the Spire.
Just past the hedges and garden paths and behind a wrought-iron gate whose presence indicated that it was not part of the public tour lay the impressive bulk of the Archvoyant's mausoleum. Its marble columns were pale in the afternoon light, even the parts sculpted with a fake ivy pattern.
Most of the wrought-iron gate was bounded by hedges, and Icy leaned against one of them comfortably, watching for approaching guards while Desidora, who had snuck into the off-limits area, examined the mausoleum's magical aura for defenses. He had a small white lizard perched on his shoulder.
You are most nimble, Ululenia said in his mind. I would not have believed a man of flesh and blood, untouched by the magic of nature, could climb that wall in order to get over the gate and open it for Desidora.
"I was fortunate that the ancient stone had acceptable handholds," Icy said modestly. He'd had to time it properly, given that tourists and visitors could have seen him as well.
Also, the part where you leaped off the building, grabbed that hanging pipe, and swung around before vaulting out into the air and catching hold of the obelisk statue, said Ululenia as they waited. That was really impressive.
A pair of palace guards were coming his way, so Icy made his way back toward the gift stalls. Ululenia would let him know if Desidora needed help getting back out again.
"It is a useful skill, but hardly of merit," Icy said, blending with the crowd as a pair of palace guards strode by. "I am but a beginner on the great path of knowledge."
Did you know, Indomitable Courteous Fist, that when I read your mind, I can tell when you are using false modesty?
Icy looked through a selection of rich silk robes emblazoned with the colors of the Republic. "That is greatly unfortunate," Icy murmured, "as false humility is necessary for an Imperial living among the Republic barbarians."
Or a creature of magic. As the arctic fox takes up its snowy pelt to blend into the icy white of winter, so we outsiders must make ourselves small and innocent to soothe the fear of these angry mortals. Icy moved on to a stall that sold suede and leather gloves for dueling. What little pride we may retain is—oh, my virgin needs a good pair of gloves.
"Dairy?" Icy blinked. "I do not believe he is your..." After a brief pause, he gave that up. "You believe that his lack of handwear presents a problem?"
The gray suede ones. The tiny reptilian form under Icy's collar dug in her claws. Can you not see him wearing them? Them, and nothing el—
"I shall purchase them immediately," Icy promised, "provided that you refrain from further discussion of this topic."
Had Dairy, with whatever unintentional magnetism he possessed, not so ensnared Ululenia that she insisted upon the purchase of the gloves, Icy would not have taken the few extra moments to purchase them. He would have walked around the corner and out
of sight without incident, never the wiser.
And so it was, in a way, due to Dairy that Icy walked back toward Desidora and the mausoleum when he did, and collided with a beautiful young Urujar woman whose eyes were covered with a band of smoked crystal,walking quickly but unevenly, wearing expensive silks and an expression of delighted terror.
"Please, please, you must hide me!" she declared, her voice smooth and cultured. Her hands moved in front of Icy, fluttering nervously, and Icy realized that the woman was blind. "The guards! They will be furious—"
"Do not trouble yourself," Icy said quickly. "Please, take my hand, and I will lead you to safety."
He darted back through the gift stalls and pulled her into one of the hedge mazes, taller than a man stood, all of them with rare flowers and rich golden statues in their centers to reward those who could navigate them. She followed, and in mere moments they were safely out of view.
"My thanks," said the beautiful young woman. "I... I know it is foolish, but—"
"They were pursuing you?"
"They are my guardians," she said, smiling and lowering her head. "The guardians of my guardian. You see, I'm a ward of Archvoyant Silestin."
"You are Naria de Lochenville?" Icy asked in surprise, belatedly remembering Loch's sister.
"I am." She shook her head, then wiped angrily at her eyes behind the crystal band. "Of course you would know my name. The Archvoyant names me his daughter and parades me around to show what a great man he is."
"I am Indomitable Courteous Fist." Icy took her hand again. "It is a pleasure to meet you."
"I thank you, my Indomitable defender." Her lips curved into a sweet smile. "I so rarely find my way to freedom from it all. Is there... is there any chance that you could take me through the city my father protects me from?"
"I..." In the silence of his mind, Icy thought very hard about how he had just purchased expensive gloves on someone's behalf, and how someone might consider repaying a favor in such a fashion.
I shall help Desidora, Ululenia said, her laughter a silvery flash in his mind. Embrace your freedom, fellow outsider.
"...believe I can spare a few hours to escort a beautiful woman around the city," Icy finished.
As they left the hedge maze and headed for the main gates, Icy flicked an arm casually behind Naria's back, and a white dove flew out of his sleeve.
Pyvic found himself on the Spire at sunset with nowhere to go. His quarters at the justicar precinct held little appeal after several days flat on his back, so he collected his meal allowance and went out.
The entertainment district of the Spire was coming alive with nightfall. Businesses that could afford magical lighting arrayed signs in a glow of gentle lavender or sultry crimson. Businesses that couldn't lit lamps with colored glass panels to achieve the same effect. Pyvic passed a lane of restaurants whose glittering lights and expensively attired clientele proclaimed them far beyond his meal allowance.
A lamplit sign marked a dark-painted kahva-house at the corner of the restaurant lane. It said that it served meals as well, and, thinking of his last kahva-house experience, Pyvic smiled and strode inside, squinting at the candlelight that cast a dim golden glow across the room.
Most of the people inside were Urujar, and Pyvic was one of a handful of white customers. The kitchen had evidently just opened, and waiters were pushing scarred wooden tables together for larger dinner parties and politely requesting that the folks lingering over their kahva either order dinner or leave.
The woman from the kahva-house in Ros-Oanki was there at a small table, reading a thin leather-bound book. Her hair was bound back in a simple ponytail that suited her better than the loose-flowing cascade she'd worn before, and her skin shone like polished bronze in the candlelight as she frowned thoughtfully over a passage.
Pyvic considered the timing.
The coin landed on the book, and she looked up sharply, slamming the pages shut to catch it. She did have piercing brown eyes. When she saw him, her frown turned up into a crooked smile.
"They're kicking out anyone who isn't buying dinner," Pyvic said. "You looked like you wanted to stay."
She opened the book slightly. The coin slid free. "This isn't much for dinner on the Spire, Justicar."
"Pyvic." He shrugged, then grinned. "It's a down payment. You get the rest when you let me share your table."
She weighed the coin in her palm, giving him a look that slid right through him. Then she kicked the other chair out from the table. "If this is the start of a negotiated purchase of affection, you're in for a disappointing evening... Pyvic." Her lips were pursed in a barely contained smile.
He sat, pulled up the chair, and tried to figure out what to do with his hands. "I recall a woman in a kahva-house saying that she liked intense brooding men in uniform."
She smirked. "You've got a good memory."
"I still don't recall your name, though." Pyvic gave her a casual grin. "Or what you did for a living. What was it, again?"
"Bookseller," she said. "You keep asking like the answer is going to change. And you never heard my name." She paused, and Pyvic saw her take a slight breath, the kind that most people wouldn't ascribe any deep meaning to, and then she said, "Isafesira."
"That's a lovely name." She put the book in her knapsack, but not before he'd caught the title. "The Uncovering of Bounty in Inhospitable Climates. Wei Lin, famous Imperial strategist. Odd reading material for a bookseller... or are you planning to sell that?" An actual bookseller wouldn't be caught dead creasing and staining the pages of something she planned to sell in a kahva-house.
"Hardly." She grinned. "A gift from a friend I'm staying with."
"That's a rare book, especially in the Republic. Your friend has deep pockets... and an odd notion of books a lady might enjoy."
"Voyant Cevirt was my commanding officer back during the war." She clipped her knapsack shut. "He thought I'd appreciate a rare book on tactics."
"Not just tactics." Pyvic raised an eyebrow. The book had been required reading material for officers commanding scouts, although they hadn't gotten first editions. "Tactics of infiltration—getting in and out like thieves in the night."
"That's such a very justicar-ish way of thinking about it." She sipped her kahva. An Urujar waiter brought them menus, and she smiled politely and said something in their old language. Pyvic took his menu with a nod.
When the waiter was gone, Pyvic said, "A justicar has to think like a justicar. All the time."
"All the time?" She arched an eyebrow. "I suppose that means you're looking at Archvoyant Silestin as well, then."
He gave her a polite, confused smile. "Should I be?"
"According to the puppeteers, you were put onto this case for political reasons. A justicar with your record might be wondering what makes this case so important... what the Archvoyant had to hide."
He chuckled. "And what do you think that might be?"
"I'm just a bookseller, Pyvic," she said, and smiled. "How would I know?"
"You seem awfully well informed for a bookseller," Pyvic said, putting no particular heat into the words. "I met you in Ros-Oanki, while the escaped prisoner I'm looking for was in Ros-Oanki. She came up to the Spire, and now you're up on the Spire at the exact same time. Maybe I just have a suspicious mind."
She snorted. "Damn right you have a suspicious mind. Any justicar worth a damn has to have one." She leaned forward. "Of course you saw me there and then up here. Why the hell do you think I was down in Ros-Oanki? I needed to book passage up here so that I could sell Voyant Cevirt a book." She sniffed. "And apparently get interrogated by a nice-looking justicar who's talking himself out of buying me dinner."
He sat back, stung. Her eyes were the same shining bronze as her skin when she was angry. "You don't talk like a bookseller."
"And if you actually thought I was this prisoner, you'd be watching me from across the street or taking me into custody. You wouldn't be badgering me over kahva." Her eyes narrowed
. "Unless Silestin has you bullied into submission."
"And I should be investigating him on, what? The word of a bookseller?"
"On the suspicions of a justicar," she said evenly, "unless those only work on women in kahva-houses."
Pyvic blinked, looked away. "I'm sorry, Isafesira. I suppose I deserved that."
"Damn right you did." She sipped her kahva again.
"So..." He looked at the menu, then at the... not beautiful. No makeup, no painted nails, no low-cut silk dress, no dangling black tresses. But striking. A much better word for the woman across the table. She could strike you with her eyes, her words, probably her fists if it came to it. She had the build of a woman used to pulling her own weight. She'd served in the army. "...shall I leave you, then, or shall we order?"
"Before you were a justicar, you served in the army," she said. "What were you?"
He blinked again—she kept throwing him off track. "I captained a scouting patrol."
Her eyes softened, crinkled with laugh lines around the edges. She smiled.
They ordered.
Archvoyant Silestin walked through the night-time crowd that filled the Boulevard of Enchantment.
Light-globes lit the city street gaily, and from salons and taverns came rich music, laughter, and heady debate. Stalking beside him was a massively built man in peculiar golden armor, complete with a mask that obscured his face, and a flowing green cloak. The strange man carried an ancient barbed spear, and the crowds of drunk, laughing aristocrats parted before his palpable menace while Silestin himself laughed and shook hands.
"Do you trust the death-priestess?" Tern asked, stomping through the crowd defiantly. People looking at her sturdy brown dress seemed inclined to think her a servant and jostle her aside, and a few had learned about the steel-toed boots firsthand.
"I don't understand the parameters of the question." Hessler wore the white robes of a scholar. "Trust is a more complex philosophical issue than the average layperson can understand."
"Thanks." Tern kicked someone who got in her way.
The Palace Job Page 15
