by Neil McGarry
He glanced curiously at her. “There’s a small shelf behind his desk where he’s got a few books. Just records of the weekly count and such. Nothing valuable, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Not valuable to him, perhaps. “Tell me about the books. Are any of them bound in blue?”
He looked upward, remembering. “I think so, yes. There are two or three of them.” He regarded her incredulously. “You want to steal a book? Duchess, if you want books you can buy them from the scholars, easy.”
“Not these, I can’t,” she replied. “That’s all very helpful, Finn. I just need one more thing from you.” He rolled his eyes but did not interrupt. “How do I get into the Uncle’s office without being seen?”
Finn tried to keep his expression neutral, but Duchess had been trained by Minette, and she saw the flicker in his eyes he so desperately tried to conceal. “You think I know?” he scoffed, but all she heard was fear. “I go in by the door, same as anyone else.”
“That’s true,” Duchess allowed, keeping her eyes on him.
Finn looked desperate. “There’s just the one door at the top of the steps. You said you were in his office once. You’ve seen that yourself!”
“Yes,” Duchess replied, smiling slightly. “But there’s another way, isn’t there?” She gave him one of her father’s long, searching looks, those that had never failed to induce young Marina Kell to confess whatever sin she had committed.
His eyes darted around as if seeking escape. Sweat beaded his brow, and he glanced at the door as if afraid of eavesdroppers. He leaned forward until he was nearly whispering in her ear. “All right, damn you,” he breathed. “All right. Whenever the Uncle’s in his office, one of us stands just outside the door. Sometimes they have me guard, and once...well, I was sure he’d gone in there, and I even heard him moving around for awhile. Then, a few hours later, he comes up the stairs with Antony, like he’d climbed out a window or something. But he can’t have done that, because all the windows are barred. So how did he leave?”
Duchess’ smile widened. “A secret way out. Which means a secret way in.”
“You’re worse than Darley!” Finn stood abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair. “Look, I’ve told you all I know, and whatever you’re planning, you’d better leave me out of it. You did me a good turn, that’s true, but if the Uncle catches you sneaking into his private office, I don’t know you. I’ll say a prayer when the radiants burn your body, and send flowers to your next of kin, but I would stand by and watch him kill you before I risked myself again.” He wiped his brow. “Now go, please, and let me get some damned sleep.”
* * *
Duchess had never met so polite a thief.
Not that the cloth merchant had actually stolen Jana’s work, she noted as she poked through the fabric samples set out for customers, but the attempt at counterfeit was obvious. Whoever had woven it had clearly seen enough of Jana’s cloth to get an idea of how this copied craft should appear, but Duchess had spent too much time with the weaver to be fooled. Jana’s material was a minor miracle, whereas this stuff was simply a more thoroughly combed wool, the likes of which could be had in a dozen other shops. They’d attempted to utilize glass and beads as Jana did, but Duchess noted with satisfaction that none of it came close to the quality their shop offered.
Still, the other customers seemed not to notice, nor care, for the shop was doing a brisk business. It rankled that some stranger was making money aping their work. Lysander had been right; they might be the prettiest boy on the lane, but it was clearly a momentary thing. Best to take advantage of it while they could.
Having seen enough, she pushed her way out the door and back onto the Silkway, pulling her cloak more tightly about her.
“Sad, isn’t it?”
Duchess looked around to see a small, gray-haired woman, cloaked and hooded against the cold, and immediately recognized Ferroc, of Ferroc and Nieces. Duchess hadn’t seen the woman since making use of her basement for Castor’s “resurrection.” She was a prominent member of the Magnificent Order of Tailors, Seamstresses, Weavers, Dyers and Haberdashers, to which Jana belonged and which Gloria Tremaine headed. She represented a third point of authority within the guild, with Tremaine and the now-fallen Atropi marking the first two. She was also known as a friend of the Grey; all in all, a woman worthy of respect.
“Good morning,” Duchess greeted her courteously, surprised. Ferroc was not often seen outside her shop in the Shallows; usually she dispatched one of her employees to fetch cloth and other necessities.
Ferroc made a thin smile. “From your expression, I presume you think as much of their inventory as I do.” She gestured to the shop Duchess had just left. “I’m afraid such poor copies are becoming commonplace.”
Duchess shrugged, feigning indifference. “So it goes. Imitation being the highest form of flattery, I consider us very flattered indeed.” She smiled, but she had begun to suspect that this meeting was no coincidence. “How goes things amongst the nieces?”
“Better than most, considering how unsettled the city has been lately.” She gestured to the banners that hung from storefronts, featuring the fiery wheel of Ventaris, the lantern of Mayu, or the crystal shard of Anassa. “The Evangelism hasn’t spared the Silkway,” she observed with a slight shake of her head, “and if you want a fair price in cloth you’d best make certain you follow the same faith as your weaver. It’s unseemly, and worse, bad for business.” Duchess nodded sympathetically. “It’s brisk out today,” Ferroc went on. “Shall we walk while we chat?” Duchess gestured her assent and off they went. As they wandered along the Silkway, Duchess noted a thousand tiny signs of deference from the tailors and weavers they passed, clearly directed towards the older woman. Ferroc returned each with a polite nod, but Duchess suspected she was attempting to demonstrate the respect her guild brothers and sisters accorded her.
Best to approach this head-on. “I hope I’m not keeping you from anything.”
Ferroc’s seamed face split into a knowing grin. “I’m not here just for a chat, it’s true. I’d like to speak to you about the offer you’re discussing with Guildmaster Tremaine.”
“I suppose nothing’s really secret, is it? Not in Rodaas.”
“Certainly not in the guild, in any case. But let’s cut through the fog; I know what the guildmaster wants from you, and I’d like you to consider a counteroffer, with the same terms Tremaine is suggesting.”
Duchess took a moment to consider. “I’m honored that you would think of us, Ferroc, but since we’re being honest, I wonder why you’d think you can outbid the head of the guild. I mean no offense, but Gloria Tremaine is wealthy and well connected, and I am left to wonder what you can offer that she cannot.”
If Ferroc was offended she gave no sign. “Two things to consider. First, I can better any financial offer Tremaine is likely to make. I don’t expect you to take my word for it”—she produced a tightly rolled paper from beneath her cloak—“so I thought proof was in order.” She handed over the scroll, which Duchess cautiously unrolled. It was a promissory note bearing the stamp and seal of the Old Empire Countinghouse, the oldest and most reputable moneylenders in the city. Noam had always said that paper from the Countinghouse was as good as gold, and the amount listed nearly took her breath away.
“That’s...a handsome offer, I admit.” In truth, as an initial payment it was enough to make she and Jana rich, but she took care not to seem too eager. “And the second consideration?”
“I’m certain Tremaine has offered to supply you with all of the apprentice weavers you can stand, but sure as morning fog every one will be a spy for the guildmaster. Their job would be to give your trade secrets to Tremaine so she can then cut you loose.” She shook her head. “There’s poison in the cup she offers.” Before Duchess could reply, Ferroc added, “What if I were to find you an apprentice you could trust never to steal your secrets, or to spy for anyone—even for me?”
Duchess blinked. “
Again, I mean no disrespect, but how can I believe that?”
Ferroc held up a gnarled hand. “If I produce such an apprentice, would that and my note make my offer superior to the guildmaster’s?”
Duchess regarded her for a moment, wondering just how good a friend to the Grey this woman was. Her proposal sounded too good to be true, but if the tremendous wealth on the note was real, perhaps this trustworthy apprentice was as well. “If you were able to live up to that promise, I would hold your offer equal to Gloria Tremaine’s—or any other.”
“Excellent.” Ferroc inclined her head. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have promises to keep. You’ll be hearing from me shortly.” She took her leave, vanishing into the throng of the Silkway.
Rodaas never failed to surprise, Duchess thought, turning toward the Wharves and the shop. She had much to tell Jana. Between Ferroc and the counterfeit weavers, when it came to thievery, the guild seemed intent to give the Grey Highway a run for its money.
Chapter Twelve: Missing links
The last thing she needed was another worry.
Duchess had spent the entire morning in mindless activity in some hope of clearing her head. She’d swept the same corners again and again, folded and refolded the same bolts of cloth, but her mind was on her father’s diaries and Uncle Cornelius. Even her infiltration of Meadowmere Manse the night before the Fall had been less dangerous than what she was planning, for there she could at least have relied upon the aegis of the Grey. If she were caught breaking into the Uncle’s office, her cloak would provide no protection, leaving her at the dubious mercy of the Red.
The shop itself was no respite. Ferroc’s strange-yet-tempting offer had complicated an already complicated situation. Worse, Tremaine’s promised invitation had arrived and the Davari party was scheduled for the next night. By all accounts entering Banncroft was stepping into a pit of vipers, and being accompanied by Tremaine herself was like bringing along another serpent.
So when the knock came, and the door opened to reveal Daphne, Duchess welcomed an excuse to abandon her worries. She hadn’t seen any of the Vermillion staff for weeks, ever since Minette had made it clear that Duchess’ presence was unwelcome, but Daphne looked much the same. She was all rounded curves where Duchess was straight lines, but today she wore a simple dress that covered up more than it revealed.
Duchess gave her a hug and showed her into the shop. “Jana, this is Daphne, an old friend of mine,” she said, bringing the girl into the center of the room. “Daphne, this is Jana, who I’m sure you’ve heard about.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Daphne said politely. She turned to Duchess, glancing about the shop. “Would it be all right if I had a word with you, alone?”
Duchess frowned. “Of course.” She turned to Jana. “You don’t mind if we...”
Jana smiled. “Of course not. I shall attend to the shop. Go speak with your friend.” As Duchess escorted Daphne into the back room, she reflected that she rarely saw the girl outside of Minette’s brothel; for all her bravado in the bedroom, Daphne was not adventurous when it came to wandering the city. Duchess was becoming increasingly certain that this was no social call.
“It’s a very nice place,” Daphne said diffidently. “You seem to be doing well here.”
“We are,” Duchess replied carefully. “And it is good to see you. But I have to say I’m surprised you came so far down the hill.”
“Oh, I had Adele walk me down. She’s waiting outside.” Duchess was grateful for that. She wasn’t sure how well Jana would have taken to Adele, who was stronger than any woman and most men, and who ensured that visitors to the Vermillion behaved themselves.
Daphne looked around as if someone might be listening. “Minette doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Has she...did she say anything about me?”
Daphne shook her head and looked at the ground. “No, nothing to us. But Lorelei told me about your visit and I’ve heard things.” She looked Duchess in the eye. “Has something happened between you and Minette?”
Duchess sighed. “Nothing I can talk about,” she replied honestly.
Daphne nodded. “All right. I know there’s a lot Minette doesn’t tell us, but...” She took a deep breath. “I’m not as simple as you might think. I know Minette’s involved in...things. And I know you are as well.” She glanced away. “But it’s not because of her that I’m here.”
“No?”
“Keeper Jadis sent me.”
Duchess knew that the First Keeper was one of Daphne’s clients; in fact, she’d first met the man in Daphne’s chambers. Interesting that he should choose to contact her this way. “What does he want?”
“He’s asked to see you, as soon as you’re able. He says that he has something of yours he wishes to return.”
“Something of mine? I don’t—” Then she recalled that she’d given Jadis a mark for his help at the Fall, and now he was calling in his favor.
“That’s all he told me,” Daphne said apologetically. “He said you’d understand.” She bit her lip prettily and looked into Duchess’ eyes for a long moment. “Are you going to be all right?” she asked finally, and Duchess knew she was not talking about the First Keeper.
“I think I am,” Duchess replied, finding she meant it.
With their business out of the way, Duchess gave Daphne the penny tour. She found herself oddly proud explaining that she owned the building, and how Jana and she were entertaining offers from two prominent members of the guild. It was a side to herself she rarely showed, and she found she liked it.
“Take care of yourself,” Daphne said when all had been said and shown. “And if there’s anything I can do to help...”
Duchess found herself smiling at the offer. “Thank you. And...say hello to Minette for me. Tell her I hope to see her soon.” Daphne gave her another hug, then headed out into the street.
Duchess stood at the door for a long time after Daphne had gone, staring out into the Foreign Quarter. A summons from the First Keeper was not to be taken lightly, and in any case, just when she needed a distraction one had kindly presented itself. Why not take it?
She turned to Jana. “Would you like to go for a walk up to Temple District?”
“I would like to see that district,” Jana mused, “but should I not stay at the shop in case...?”
“To hell with the shop,” Duchess muttered, gathering her cloak. “We can close for awhile if we want. Half of Market Square buttons up their stands whenever they want a drink or to meet with a lover.”
Jana relented and off they went, closing up the shop and stepping out on to Dock Street into the light of a relatively clear Rodaasi afternoon.
It must be near third bell, she realized. She’d wasted nearly half the day in empty, useless contemplation. She grinned at Jana and they began the long way up Dock Street through the heart of the Foreign Quarter. “A sunny day in Rodaas,” Duchess remarked as they moved along the street. “Next it will snow.”
Jana turned her face up towards the sky. “What is the city like when it snows? I am curious.”
Duchess shook her head. “I haven’t seen snow in Rodaas for years. What little we get usually falls at night and is gone before the morning fog rolls in.” Her father’s country estate had gotten some snow, she seemed to remember, but the city rarely saw more than a dusting.
The way was crowded with afternoon traffic—merchants headed up or down the hill, stevedores coming on and off shift, fishmongers and laborers of every stripe. Duchess even caught sight of a bread girl, selling her wares out of a wheelbarrow. It was not one of Noam’s girls, yet she felt a sense of nostalgia nonetheless. When had she last seen the baker? When had she stopped thinking of Lani and Jossalyn as her sisters?
She glanced at Jana, who was looking at her, and realized that she’d barely spoken to her all day. For all the time they’d spent together, there was so much she didn’t know about the weaver. Jana had a brother she had not seen in years, an aunt who had died and
left her alone, and she had made a new life for herself in a place of strangers. She must have worries of her own, and it was time Duchess heard about them. “How are you holding up?” she said at last.
Jana smiled. “The shop has kept me busy—I have never woven so much cloth so quickly!” More seriously, she went on, “Though I have been thinking about this offer from Gloria Tremaine.”
That was a worry Duchess understood. “Well, there’s no need to decide anything right now. The guildmaster’s still busy just trying to impress me.” They reached Bell Plaza and turned towards Beggar’s Gate. “And we always have the option of saying no. Especially with Ferroc’s offer also on the table.”
“But we do not have the option of saying no to both.”
“Why would we want to?” As Tremaine herself had pointed out, fad was different from fashion, and who was to say that Jana’s cloth was the latter and not the former? Wasn’t it better to sell now, when the money was on the table?
“I do not want to teach my secrets to the guildmaster’s spies, but I am thinking that anyone Ferroc would send us would be no more trustworthy.” Jana sighed. “We are left with this spy or that one. That is no choice at all.”
Duchess could not disagree. “Maybe there are other options.” Jana had learned all she knew of weaving from her family—her aunt in particular—and she was unwilling to pass along such a legacy to a stranger. “There are other Domae in the city—would you feel comfortable training one of them?”
Jana smiled without humor. “Do you remember the day we met, back in the Deeps? Those people who tried to fight you? They called me a witch, yes? They are not the only ones to think so. The Domae who live here...they called me that before any of your people did.”
Duchess waved a hand. “People use that word to describe any woman who makes them uncomfortable, most often because she thinks for herself.”
“They have their reasons,” Jana replied cryptically, “and even if they did not, I do not think we will find many who are willing to work with me.”
