Mr. Argyle produced a couple of documents unfamiliar to her. “The Council has issued you special commissions, giving you an extraordinary level of authority in House territories. You need to be discreet.” Mr. Argyle looked at her partner pointedly as he said this. “Local authorities will not impede your investigation, but they’re only obligated to aid you insofar as it doesn’t damage their own interests.” He hesitated a moment before continuing. “The Council couldn’t agree how to handle what’s happening in the Winter Isle. In particular, House Skarsgard refused outside interference with their mining affairs, and House Aevar’s suggestion of a military expedition nearly sparked a melee in the Halls of Law. To keep the peace, Lord Olrik suggested a fact-finding mission by agents without House affiliations.” He gestured at them both. “You two are the best we can do. Further aid from the Council is curtailed under the circumstances.”
She had questions, and by his expression, so did Mikani, but before either of them could get started, Argyle stood with economical grace. “I bid you both good luck . . . and good day.”
• • •
MIKANI BREATHED DEEPLY of the briny air and sneezed. Hells and Winter. I thought I was done with this place when I was transferred to Central. His years as a rookie hunting down smugglers on the East Docks had left him with some good memories and a sound knowledge of the area. They’d also left him with a couple of dozen scars and a severe aversion to the open sea. He looked around the street, looking for a weathered signpost.
“The Marlin Hook. Not fancy, but their beer’s good, and it’s run by a retired constabulary sergeant.” Beckoning to Ritsuko, he led the way down. “If we’re lucky, we might even be able to book passage there.”
“I suspect you have a bar for every occasion,” his partner muttered.
“You’re ever the optimist.”
The tavern was much as he remembered it: rough and filled with sailors. Dangerous men stared as they went, some bearing House insignia on their skin. He shouldered through the crowd, checking over one shoulder to make sure Ritsuko was keeping up. Mikani dropped a handful of copper on the counter and signaled the barman to bring them a couple of beers. He didn’t recognize anyone, but that wasn’t surprising, considering it had been years since he’d patrolled the area.
Ritsuko was scanning the room. If he knew her, she had already cataloged the exits, what items could potentially be used as weapons, which patrons were armed, and which of them had drunk enough to be belligerent. She settled on a stool nearby, pressing toward the counter to keep from being shoved from behind.
“Any of these gentlemen captain their own ships?” she asked, as the bartender carried over two frothy mugs of ale.
The bartender snorted as he set down their glasses. “There’s not been a gentleman in here since the place opened up, I’d wager, lass. But Riley there’s lord and master of the Gift of Albion.” He nodded toward a loud, stocky man in the far corner, telling a joke to an assorted group of sailors and prostitutes. “And young Girish over there just inherited his old man’s steamer last month. There’s probably a couple of small-timers scattered around somewhere, if you’re looking for a sloop or a short trip to the Southern Isles.” He headed off to the other side of the bar to deal with another customer.
Mikani studied the two men the barkeep had pointed out. “Riley, was it? Smuggler, I’d wager a month’s pay. Probably has a small, fast ship and knows all the best routes. But I’m not sure he’d take vouchers. We could try Girish, long as you don’t mind cramped quarters.” He lifted his mug. “After our drinks, anyway. They look like they’re sticking around for a while. So.” He turned his full attention to Ritsuko. “Guess we’re taking a paid vacation to the lovely, barren Winter Isle.”
“Do you think we can do anything up there?” she asked.
Without waiting for a reply, she downed half of her ale. She didn’t look like a woman who could hold her liquor, but she didn’t choke or splutter. He considered the question. “Hell if I know, partner. But even I’m not about to refuse the Architect.”
“I’d be happier about the mission if I felt sure we could make a difference. It seems like we’re deserting in the city’s time of need.”
Mikani sighed. I feel the same way. “House politics complicate everything. I suspect Olrik thinks we’re the best he can do under the circumstances.”
“That’s comforting.”
They finished their drinks in silence, then Mikani led the way over to Girish’s table. The other man glanced up with an expectant, slightly impatient expression. “Can I help you?”
“We need passage to Northport, have vouchers from the Council, which means you can probably pad the bill.” Mikani grinned, figuring that would strike the right note.
To his surprise, the captain laughed. “Good luck with that, mate. You won’t find a berth on any ship heading north, not even for ten barrels of the Council’s gold.”
“Why not?” Ritsuko asked.
Girish skimmed her up and down in an openly appraising look. Mikani grabbed the smaller man’s ear and pulled him close with a yank that had him spilling his beer, to the amusement of nearby patrons. “Eyes on me, boy. Now, speak.”
The man rubbed his ear with a fulminating air, then muttered a curse damning Mikani’s parentage. “You should’ve said she was spoken for. I don’t see a ring on those pretty fingers.” He made a noise in his throat, and Girish hastened to add, “Look, people are desperate and frightened. They’re hoping things are better elsewhere, so the ships are booked. And word is, it’s terrifying on the Winter Isle. Captains are rerouting shipments as we speak.”
“You’re saying we can’t get there by any means?” His partner sounded doubtful.
“None that I know of, miss.”
“Damn it,” she murmured. “He’s telling the truth.”
Mikani shook his head and finished his ale with a long draught. “We’ll just have to find a captain with some . . . courage. Let’s head out, partner, looks like we will be walking the docks.”
Girish turned out to be right. Bloody little bugger.
They had walked north along the docks for a mile or more now and spoken to a dozen captains of liners, merchantmen, and a couple of smaller ships that did quick runs up and down the coast to trade with the scattered townships and House holdings along the inner sea. They had all confirmed what they’d already heard: everyone who could afford passage was booking and double-booking berths, cargo space, and even spots on the decks of ships heading up and down the coast of the Summer Isle.
Several of the older clipper ships had House Magnus guards posted at the gangplanks and on deck guarding their wind generators. The crystal engines allowed the light clipper ships to travel faster than most steamers, as their elementals provided a steady and controlled source of wind. From the ragged look of some of the sails, Mikani guessed that the air spirits were starting to show their teeth.
And unfortunately, none of them are heading for Northport. At least, not with room for a couple of CID inspectors. Mikani could almost take that personally.
“The Architect might have to commandeer a ship,” Ritsuko said finally.
“We’d be lucky not to end up in the briny deep a mile out to sea.”
At this point, there was only one sailor they hadn’t talked to: the smuggler back at The Marlin Hook. So Mikani retraced his steps. Girish smirked when they stepped back into the bar. He ignored the merchant captain and cut a path directly for Riley, who was about to begin a game of darts. Vouchers wouldn’t work with this one, so he had to come up with better coin. Gunwood will likely have my arse for this.
“Captain Riley. We’re in need of a ship. Ordinarily, our interests wouldn’t coincide, but I’m in the unique position of being able to offer you certain liberties from taxation or inspection when you put into port.”
Riley turned, arching a brow. “And who the hell’re you, then?”
Mikani performed the introductions briskly, hoping the smuggler had the wit
to recognize a good offer when he heard one. The other man appeared to think it over, then he said, “I wouldn’t hang such a bargain on a handshake. I’m no fool. What assurance can you offer me?”
“I’ll go with you to speak to the port authority, vouch for you personally.”
“That might prove of some use,” Riley said grudgingly. “Where are you going?”
“Northport.” Ritsuko spoke for the first time.
At this, Riley laughed. “Not for a hundred promises of free trade. I’ll take you north up the coast, if you like. Maybe you’ll find a captain crazier than me in Bloenn’s Bay.”
Mikani exchanged a look with his partner. She shook her head slightly, and he had to agree. He hated ships, and he wasn’t getting on one without a guarantee it would take him where the Architect said they had to go.
Sighing, he said, “Thanks for the offer, but it won’t serve.”
“What now?” Ritsuko asked, as soon as they left the tavern.
He thought about it as he walked, and the obvious answer dawned. “There’s one more captain we can ask. Bronze gods know what it’ll cost me.”
CHAPTER 4
FREE MERCHANT ALEXANDRA BRAELAN CURSED AND threw a heavy ledger in the general direction of her shift clerk. The small man ducked and retreated a bit farther into the scant cover provided by the doorframe before continuing his report.
“The crew are safe, Mistress. They’ll be back home in the next week or so. And the insurance agents will cover this incident even though they’re grumbling about it. Our rates—”
“Enough!” She looked around for another ledger to throw.
The curtains billowed behind her as the ambient temperature dropped. Bronze gods. Get ahold of yourself before you tear the building down. She took a deep breath to steady her temper, bracing both hands on the edge of her desk. She could feel the turmoil of her elemental familiars, swirling around her in sympathetic anger. The clerk, Loison, beat a quick retreat while she soothed her spirits. Saskia sank into her chair and looked over the report while gathering her long blond hair back into a braid. She had lost another ship to cragger pirates, who were getting bolder by the day in their raids.
The craggers were named after the jagged coastline where they lived, a strange people, wilder and more primitive than the rest of Hy Breasil. Attempts at both diplomacy and war with them had been equally fruitless in the six centuries since they first appeared. They usually confined their attacks to isolated settlements and lone ships straying too far from established trading routes; their skill at hiding in the broken coastline made it more expensive to try to hunt them down than to take the occasional loss.
For the past three months or so, however, they had been ranging farther into the Inner Sea, forcing the larger shipping concerns—those allied or subservient to Houses Magnus and Skarsgard—to travel in escorted convoys. That made them harder to hit but presented the free merchant ships as much more tempting targets. Some captains had banded together for mutual protection, but when the pirates hit, individual captains were far likelier to cut and run than to defend the other vessels.
The bloody craggers will break us. And the damned Houses will probably give them all medals for it. She sighed, closed her eyes, and leaned back. Siren Trading, her free merchant company, had lost three ships in as many months. She’d be out of business within the year, and she’d sworn she’d do anything to avoid crawling to Stefan Magnus for a commission on some backwater route that’d ensure she never paid off her bond.
“Gods, I’d rather become a pirate myself. Get some payback . . . paint the Gull red. No more ledgers, accounts, suppliers, and twice-damned clients.” Saskia cut her daydream short at Loison’s discreet cough.
“Apologies, Mistress. Er, before you head out for plunder and rapine, Inspectors Mikani and Ritsuko are here to see you.” Loison held the tossed ledger protectively before him.
Either Janus is here to pay his debt, or he needs help . . . but no more kindness on credit, even for him. Slippery bastard, he is. Little wonder I enjoyed catching him so much . . . She stopped that train of thought and straightened in her chair.
“Well, show them in!”
“Of course.” Loison paused. “You’d make quite the dashing pirate queen.” He left as she searched for another book to throw at his back.
When Mikani stepped in a few moments later, she could tell he was having a rough go of it as well. He looked uncomfortable, as well he should, as he hadn’t responded to any of her messages. She didn’t rise, merely folded her hands at her desk and raised her eyebrows.
“The last time you walked off, it took three years to see you again. So I suppose we’re making progress. You’re here to make things right, I assume?” she asked in lieu of greeting.
Mikani fidgeted, hands in his pockets. He didn’t sit without an invitation, and she didn’t offer one. His reply would dictate how well disposed she felt toward him.
“About that . . .” he began.
Saskia shook her head. “I don’t want to hear excuses. I’m not interested in any of your stories or promises this time, Janus.”
“Sorry to trouble you,” Ritsuko said, “but if his credit’s worn thin, would mine be better?”
She didn’t know the woman well, so she wasn’t sure if that was meant as humor or an actual attempt to barter. If she wants a deal, she’ll have to fight for it. “What did you have in mind, Inspector?”
“We need to arrange transport to Northport, but several hours at the docks proved fruitless. Mikani led me to believe that you can accomplish the impossible . . . for a price.”
Saskia did her best to keep a straight face. Oh, bronze gods. I swear I’ll tithe you so, so well for this stroke of luck. “Really? Strange to hear that he still thinks highly of me, given the way he’s been avoiding me.” She did not glance over at Janus, who was studying the ceiling of her office. “You realize you’re asking for passage during storm season and through a gauntlet of bloody pirates? And that I could get my weight . . . no, his weight, in gold”—she flicked a pen toward Mikani, unable to resist—“to head down south carrying some rich, fat noble and his brood to safety?”
“But then you’d be deprived of our company,” Mikani said.
Saskia stood. She pressed her hands down on her desk, hard, to keep from strangling him. “You arrogant, annoying . . . idiot!” She rounded her desk, and Mikani held up his hands. “You threaten to arrest me when we break up, come asking for help with a black sorcerer—”
“Technically, he was a Ferisher. And you had blown up that Magnus ship, just before we had our differences—” Mikani covered his head as she swung at him.
“—and now you come asking for a ride?”
The other woman wore a bemused expression, as if she couldn’t decide if she ought to intervene. Then she slid smoothly between them. Ritsuko didn’t say anything about the altercation, but her body language made it clear she found it unproductive. “I believe I might prove of some use to you, Miss Braelan.”
Saskia straightened her dress and glared at Mikani a moment longer before turning her attention to his partner. “Then you’ll have to convince me, Inspector. Unless you mean to hold down your partner while I beat some gratitude into him.”
“No. I’ll never do that. And I would find it most disagreeable if you tried.” Inspector Ritsuko smiled slightly. “I perceive you to be a logical woman, however, and it behooves you to listen to what I’m offering.”
“I hope it’s good. Go ahead.”
The inspector laced her hands together, seeming nervous, more than Saskia had ever seen in their admittedly short acquaintance. Mikani’s partner was generally calm to the point of seeming cold, though if Mikani had worked with her for this long, Ritsuko couldn’t be a complete automaton. Today, however, she was a little more animated; Saskia wasn’t sure why.
“I’m not sure how much you know about what happened belowground,” Ritsuko said.
Saskia frowned, heading back to her chair
. “I’ve heard the rumors. Mole people. A portal to the abyss. The Winter king’s court, take your pick . . . you saw the stories in the news sheets.”
“In fact, Mikani and I thwarted an attempt to steal magic from young House scions and in the process, open a door for spirits that have faded, flooding this world with their energy.”
“That . . . that would’ve been very, very bad.” She clearly remembered the feeling of cold oblivion around that infernal machine: her bones had ached for days after.
“What most people don’t know is . . . when I disabled the device, it contained all the magic the maniac had leeched from his victims, and I conducted the full charge.” Ritsuko’s mouth twisted wryly. “That . . . changes you. My point being, I can do something now that I couldn’t before. Tell me a truth and a lie. I’ll tell you which is which, every time.”
“I did not blow up Stefan Magnus’s ship. Even though the highborn bastard tried to steal the Gull from my father.” And I’ll never forgive him for that.
“The former is a lie. The latter is true. You can test me again if you like—with something Mikani wouldn’t have been able to tell me.”
Saskia leaned back in her chair. “I’ve been engaged twice.”
Janus looked at her, brows arched.
“That’s true,” Ritsuko said instantly. “I imagine you can envision multiple applications for my skills: contract negotiations, disputes with suppliers, hiring or discipline of employees. It would also enhance your reputation as a woman impossible to bluff or shortchange.”
I’d love to have her along to negotiate next year’s contracts with the southern Holdings. If there is a next year . . .
“You make an appealing point, Inspector.” She looked from her to Janus, who was still across the room. “And I’d be willing to offer you passage for your assistance in return for, say . . . six months of service, as needed?”
“That sounds fair to me, provided I’m not otherwise engaged. As long as I have the time, it is yours, Miss Braelan. And I do keep my promises.”
Silver Mirrors Page 4
