The King's Questioner

by Nikki Katz

  Kalen inhaled the salty air and removed one of his gloves. He hated this more than anything, but he needed to get a pulse on the city and hunt for news from Mureau.

  Luna leaned in. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “We need answers sooner rather than later.” Especially with the Impérial right on their tail.

  He slowed his steps as they approached the crowded city center in the middle of the bay. He pretended to be interested in the wares and let his fingers brush against the residents’ bare skin. A hand here, a forearm there.

  Bits of recent memories spilled into his mind.

  A girl trying on gowns in a shop, exclaiming she’d found the perfect red dress for the festival.

  A man getting more and more angry as he attempted to negotiate a sales contract with a supplier.

  A mother staring at her son as he left home that morning, fearing he was up to no good and would end up a criminal or a lockpick.

  Hey, it’s not so bad, Kalen thought.

  His forehead began to sting with pinpricks of pain, and Kalen shoved his hand into his pocket. There wasn’t anything newsworthy in their thoughts.

  The trio moved further into the city center, where pathways widened and stalls lined either edge. Keepers shouted the worth of their wares. Bands for seasickness, silk pillows, and flickerfly jewelry and lamps. Cirrus seemed especially interested in that stall. Kalen sidled up next to a shop owner selling throwing stars and asked the proprietor about the metalworking of the weapons.

  “These are forged in high-temperature ovens in the mountain of Ornatio.” He held out a small set of gilded stars. Kalen feigned interest, leaned closer, and brushed his hand against the owner’s palm as he cupped the stars. He figured a weapons dealer would be on the lookout for any fugitives if word had been sent ahead. Instead Kalen saw that he had been lying to the local ironsmith about costs.

  Kalen thanked him for his time and walked toward Luna and Cirrus.

  Luna tugged on her skirt. “Well I didn’t learn much except that this city is full of pretentious idiots. You?” Luna asked.

  “Nothing of note.” Kalen pulled on his glove, and they made their way through the piers leading toward shore. Here the colors muted, as if the artist had run out of paint on the edges of Antioegen’s canvas. Even the citizens dressed in more subtle clothing. At the base of the foothills they found an inn that looked promising, in that it was set back and run-down and looked like a place where nobody would ask questions.

  “You two stay outside. I’ll see if there’s availability,” Kalen said.

  He walked into a large dining hall and an array of smells. The spicy scent of roasting meats and potatoes enticed him after the repetitive meals on the ship—but first, lodging.

  A woman behind the bar waved him over. Her low-cut blouse and apron failed to support her ample bosom.

  “Good evenin’.” She flashed a bright smile. “What can I be doin’ for ya?”

  “I’d like to rent a room.”

  “For how long?”

  “A week. At minimum.” He hoped they’d be long gone, either returned to Mureau or searching elsewhere, but wanted to appear reliable. It wouldn’t hurt to keep the room for longer than they needed.

  “I have only one left.”

  It would have to do.

  He handed her the coins, and she led him up a wide stairwell sitting at the far left of the entranceway. The wooden steps squeaked as they climbed. At the landing they stepped onto a dark red carpet, probably hiding several stains. A hallway extended in front of them with doors on either side. She opened the third door on the left and ushered him in. The room was small but comfortable enough. Two narrow beds jutted out from the wall, a low table wedged between them. A stack of blankets and pillows was nestled into an armchair near the door.

  She handed him a key and told him the dining hall would be open late.

  With a nod of thanks, Kalen dropped his bag on the floor as she ambled down the stairs. He took a moment to pause and look out the window and get the lay of the land from this angle. Their view was of the sprawling city beyond. Rays of pink and orange light filtered through the glass structures and reflected off the metal-and-wood fixtures.

  He took a deep breath. They’d escaped. They were here, in a foreign city, in search of a banished princess.

  For the first time he allowed himself to dwell on the futility of this quest.

  A veritable needle in a haystack.

  * * *

  “WHAT’S THE PLAN?” Cirrus sprawled on one of the beds, his ankles neatly crossed and his hands behind his head.

  “We need information,” Kalen said. “And I think the best way to do that is to split up.” He glanced at Cirrus. “You’ve been here before. Do you have any sources?”

  “Of course I do. Girls tend to run their mouths.” He glanced at Luna. “No offense.”

  “Hmph,” Luna said. “I’m assuming you mean you’re going to head to the nearest brothel?” She sighed and continued pulling clothing out of her bag. She clutched her cloak in her arms like it was a security blanket.

  Kalen turned to her. “Any chance you can return to the docks and keep an eye out for the Impérial? We need to find out if they’re here asking about us, and if so, what they discover.”

  She nodded. “Glad to put my skills to use. What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to start off downstairs and see what I can gather from the patrons. Bawdry tales usually are based in truth. Perhaps some of them will involve magicked items or projected emotions.”

  Cirrus launched out of the bed. “Sounds horribly boring. I think I definitely got the better end of the stick here.” He tossed them a rakish grin.

  “Please be inconspicuous,” Kalen said. “It wouldn’t serve to have anyone talking about us.”

  “The girls know how to keep secrets, and any royals who would recognize me wouldn’t be caught anywhere near where I’m headed.” He opened the door. “Don’t wait up for me.”

  The door shut, and Luna shook her head. “Doesn’t he need sleep?” Luna herself looked like she was fighting a yawn. Kalen imagined that the nausea had kept her awake most of the previous night.

  “Cirrus doesn’t sleep.” He glanced at his bag and debated changing. As much as he preferred his conservative attire, he figured his gloves were enough to set him apart and he should remain in the Antioegen clothing.

  “What do you mean he doesn’t sleep?”

  Kalen played with the key around his neck. Unsure how many secrets to divulge, he modified his statement. “He doesn’t sleep at night. He’ll catch a nap at some point during the day.”

  The truth was Cirrus was terrified of the dark, especially of being in the dark in an enclosed space. He’d been known to sleep in the forest clearing where he could see the moon and stars, but if the prince slept indoors, it was with a vast amount of candles or flickerfly bulbs to keep the shadows at bay.

  “Weird.”

  Kalen’s stomach rumbled. “I’m going to head down.”

  Luna glanced at the basin on the table between the beds. “I’m going to rinse off some of this dirt and change. I’ll see you later.”

  “Stay hidden.”

  “As if you need to tell me that.”

  “I know. Still, it makes me feel better to say it.”

  He stepped into the hall and walked downstairs.

  The hall was almost filled to capacity when Kalen entered. The innkeeper was behind the bar, filling cups of ale and keeping up a steady stream of conversation with two men seated in front of her. A serving girl slipped through the crowd, mopping up spilled drinks on tabletops and taking orders from anyone who needed a refill.

  Kalen claimed the only remaining chair at the bar and waited for the innkeeper to come over.

  “Anythin’ to eat or drink?” she asked.

  “Whatever your special is tonight. And a hot tea please.”

  She turned and yelled into the kitchen for a bowl of cassoulet
.

  “Name’s Adelaide,” she said as she placed a steaming mug in front of him. He thanked her and took the cup. Her eyes cut to his gloves.

  “Frostbite when I was younger,” he said.

  A softness appeared in her eyes, and she asked after his childhood. Kalen felt strangely at odds, guilt over the lie but also a sense of freedom that she wasn’t afraid of him and his abilities. Naturally, he couldn’t talk to her of his youth, so he steered the conversation to another topic of more use.

  “Are there any upcoming festivals or events that my friends and I should know about?”

  “Jus’ the tournament tomorrow evening.”

  “What kind of tournament?” Kalen imagined jousting or some other nonsense sport.

  “Cards, of course.”

  Kalen’s eyes widened. A card tournament, now that sounded more his cup of tea. It would allow them to gather information—Luna and Cirrus from the crowd and Kalen from the players.

  “How does one enter?”

  “You don’t enter,” the gentleman to his right said with a sneer of his thin lips. “You earn it. That’s why we’re here tonight. Adelaide is hosting a game, and the winner gets entry.”

  Kalen looked him up and down, taking in his false-jeweled rings and the fraying hemline of his shirtsleeves. He was someone desperate for a win.

  “And how do you join the game on this fair evening?” Kalen asked.

  “You jus’ tell me,” Adelaide said as she took a bowl from the serving girl and arranged it in front of him on the counter. “Entry’s open to anyone.”

  “Except young boys,” the patron said, his sneer growing as he stared at Kalen.

  “He’s not a boy.” Adelaide swatted at him with a damp towel. “Leave ’im alone, Reiland. Anyone with the entry fee can play—you know the rules.”

  “When does it start?” Kalen dug his spoon into the thick casserole in front of him. Beans and mutton, mixed with onion and a simple broth.

  “As soon as I set up,” Adelaide said. “If you’d like to join, best eat quickly.”

  Kalen needed no further encouragement, finishing the bowl and a crusty piece of bread in a few short minutes.

  Reiland shook his head. “Starved, are ya?”

  Kalen ignored him and slid off his seat to allow the serving girl to clean and rearrange the tables and chairs for the tournament. Kalen sat as far from Reiland as possible. A dealer approached, and Kalen reached into his pocket to dig out the requisite entry fee. He handed over the coins and took inventory of the room. Two tables with nine players each. The dealer explained the rules of the game, nearly identical to the one he played in Mureau. Once each table was down to three players, they would gather at a single table, and play would reset. “And no cheating. That means no magick, either.” The dealer looked at the only two women who had joined in, identical twins with thin faces, long noses, sharp slashes of lips, and straight dark hair.

  Play began in earnest, and Kalen relaxed into his chair. He quickly guessed the players who would be out of the running first: a sloppy bettor on his left and a nervous player across the table from him. Kalen purposely lost a round, giving the table a false confidence that the kid wouldn’t be winning anything that evening.

  He folded the next two hands, watching as Sloppy and Nerves went all in and lost to a quiet player sitting to the right of the dealer. He wore dark glasses, and his muted green shirt was buttoned to his neck. Kalen had yet to pick up on his tells but watched him closely as the dealer passed cards around the table. The player lifted each card individually, looked at it, and placed it on the table instead of keeping the cards in his hand. His pinky finger curled inward on the fourth and fifth cards, and Kalen watched to see if he would keep or discard them.

  Those were the two he kept.

  Kalen had been dealt two pairs. He raised the bet and asked for one more card. He didn’t look at it until Pinky Finger looked at his individual three cards. His pinky only curled once, so Kalen figured at best the player was dealing with three of a kind.

  With a glance down, Kalen saw that his new card was a three of moons. It didn’t help his hand, but the pairs were royal cards and would beat a three of a kind. With a heavy sigh he pushed more coins into the pot. Two other plays matched the bet, and, with nonchalance, Pinky Finger added his coins as well. The dealer had them turn up their cards, and Kalen won.

  “Beginner’s luck,” Kalen said as he clumsily swept the coins to his side of the table.

  Less than a dozen hands later and their table had been whittled to three. Kalen, Pinky Finger, and a large-bellied man with luck on his side. They left their chairs to join the other table, where Reiland and the twins waited.

  Some of the patrons had left as the night wore down and the losers nursed wounded egos. Kalen fought a yawn and asked for another cup of tea. Reiland sneered at him again from across the table.

  The twins sat stoically upright, their opposite hands resting lightly on the table in front of them. Each had auburn hair pulled into a single braid trailing over their mirrored shoulders. Their heads tilted slightly in toward each another, and they sat in complete silence.

  Kalen sipped the tea as the cards were dealt. Reiland was a noisy player, sighing and drumming his fingers, but nothing read as consistent enough to be a tell. He was effective at masking them. The twins were impossible to read. They picked up their cards at the same time, discarded at the same time, and even blinked at the same time.

  If magick wasn’t at play, Kalen would have licked the bottom of his boot.

  Still, he could win.

  He had to win.

  CHAPTER

  11

  Within three hands the portly player had lost everything. Pinky Finger was quick to follow, but Kalen couldn’t seem to get ahead. Every time he nudged the bet higher, the twins would either fold or bet so high he knew his hand wasn’t a winner. There had to be something going on. He felt movement at his back.

  “They have a mind link.” Luna’s words were a mere whisper. “I can hear them speaking. Between their two hands, they can figure out much of the table.”

  He contemplated Luna’s words, wondering if he should bring it up to the dealer or use it to his advantage. The dealer had to figure the twins were in communication.

  Kalen only needed to get one of them out. Without the knowledge of a second hand, the other twin would be playing on an even field. Twenty minutes later he had his chance. He had been dealt four royal clovers and a sword. He bet before the discard, one twin folded, and the other twin stayed in but only discarded one card. He figured she didn’t have a great hand or she would have raised the bet, and he would beat her if he got another clover.

  The single card was dealt to him, but Kalen didn’t even bother to glance at it. He needed to win this hand. He cast his glance toward Reiland, all while counting the amount of coins in the twin’s pile. When his time came, he bet just enough coins that she would have to go all in. It left him with little remaining, but not so little as to be put out of the game. Reiland had folded at the first increased bet, leaving Kalen and the twin. She glanced at his card, paused as if in communication with her sister, and gently nudged her stack of coins forward.

  He exhaled hard and flipped over the card. Another clover.

  The twin expressed no emotion as she turned over her hand. A five-card run.

  He had beat her, but the game wasn’t over yet.

  “Good game,” Kalen said in her direction as she stood.

  She tipped her head to him and drifted away. Without an advantage, the second twin was easily knocked out. Reiland had a slightly larger stack of chips, but Kalen wasn’t concerned. He’d finally worked out the man’s tell. It was in the space in his movements. The length of time it took him to discard and pick up his new cards directly correlated to the strength of his hand. Within four more deals, Kalen had won.

  Reiland rose from the table and walked out of the inn without a word. Kalen was used to all types of losers. Thi
s was honestly the best kind as it didn’t result in a physical altercation.

  Adelaide appeared and thrust a large coin into his hand. “This is for entry t’morrow. Congrat’lations on your win.” Kalen thanked her and nodded his acknowledgment to the remaining patrons.

  A shadow slipped out of the room, and Kalen knew it was time to follow. The hour was well after midnight, and his eyelids kept closing of their own volition.

  When he reached their room, he noticed Luna was checking for exits, an obsession of hers. She pulled her head out from underneath the bed and sat on the thin mattress. She yanked off her boots and dumped them on the floor.

  “Good job.”

  “Thanks. And thanks for tipping me off,” he said. Luna’s ability had many uses, like uncovering the deceptions of eerie card-playing twins.

  “I figured you all couldn’t hear their chatter, especially since it was so blatantly about the game.” She rubbed at her tattoos. “They were odd.”

  Kalen removed his gloves and splashed cold water from the basin on his face. He took off his too-bright shirt and his boots, tucked his gloves beneath the pillow, and then collapsed onto the vacant bed. He rolled onto his side to face Luna. “So what did you learn?”

  She settled with her back against the wall.

  “I headed to the opposite end of the harbor. There’s a lighthouse and lookout post there, and I eavesdropped to see if there was any word about us having landed or news of the Impérial.”

  “Any word of foreigners disembarking?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing of the sort.”

  “And the Impérial?”

  “It arrived just as Milo predicted. The Antioegens obviously weren’t expecting the ship, as they used some sort of light system to send word down to the wharf. I made my way to the harbor, even passed Belrose’s office tucked to the side. He and Jasper were settling in.”

  “Did they see you?”

  “No, I stuck to the rooftops.” She lifted her hand to cover a yawn.