Supposedly, the stuffy officials that reigned in the historical registry office said which buildings could receive upgrades and which couldn’t, and had kept the king from making that change to the castle for years. Since it had been so devastated by the sorceress’s attack, Angulus must have made the argument that as long as they were rebuilding so much from scratch, maybe it was time to modernize a few things.
A few lights were on in the house, glowing powerfully from behind curtains, and her father’s black steam carriage was parked under the portico, so Cas knew he was home. She had visited him a couple of times this summer to shoot at the range out back, but she still worried he might feel she only came to see him when she needed help. She had debated all the way out here whether she truly wanted to ask him for that help, especially since her father didn’t have any great love for Tolemek. But Sardelle hadn’t found anything at the harbor—questioning the foreign freighter captains hadn’t resulted in anything—and Cas also hadn’t learned anything at the airfield, where only one commercial dirigible had been docked.
Aware that time could be of the essence—what if his kidnappers wanted to question, or interrogate, Tolemek about one of his concoctions and then get rid of him once they had what they wanted?—she felt she had to use every resource available to her.
Not sure where in the house her father would be, Cas tugged on the ostentatious doorbell rope instead of knocking. It was late, but she assumed from the lights that he was still awake. Perhaps not surprising for an assassin, he had always favored night and was more likely to be asleep in the mornings.
He came to the door himself, still mostly dressed for the day in black trousers and a gray long-sleeved and high-necked shirt that seemed warm attire for a summer evening. His sandy hair was impeccably trimmed and combed, as usual.
“Caslin,” he said, no hint of surprise in his voice. He stepped aside and gestured for her to come in.
She wondered if he’d heard of Tolemek’s disappearance—with his network of contacts, he had a tendency to learn about things as quickly as the heads of military intelligence.
“Good evening, Father.” She stepped into the grand foyer, marveling at how bright it was now, almost as if sunlight streamed through the high windows.
“It’s a little dark for shooting on the range,” he observed.
“Yes, I came because… I’m hoping you can assist me with something.” She hated asking him for anything, hated being anything but a woman capable of handling her own problems, and had to fight back a wince.
“Your pirate is missing.”
“He is. And he’s really more of a chemist and advisor and provider to the crown than a pirate these days.”
“So I understand.”
Cas took a deep breath and faced him. “I’ve been to his lab, and we believe whoever took him came most recently out of Dakrovia. But we weren’t able to find any ships in the harbor or at the airfield that might belong to the kidnappers, nor any records of ships like that having recently left.”
“You believe he was kidnapped rather than killed,” her father said, making it more of a statement than a question.
“There wasn’t a body.”
“But there were bullet holes, suggesting the attackers wouldn’t have cared if they killed him.”
“You know more about this than I expected,” Cas said. For a ludicrous moment, she wondered if he had kidnapped—or shot at Tolemek—but her father wouldn’t have used Dakrovian magic. Nor would he have likely shot and missed. Besides, he’d passed up the chance to assassinate Tolemek earlier in the year, a chance offered by the Cofah emperor himself.
“I keep an eye on him.”
“Er, why?”
“Because you are involved with him.” Her father’s lips thinned.
“I thought you made your peace with him at General Zirkander’s barbecue earlier this summer. He’s turning himself into a successful businessman in addition to someone useful to our king and country.”
“Nevertheless, I feel it’s important to watch him, to ensure you continue to be safe around him, both because of what he was and is, and because…” He extended a hand to her. “You are my daughter.”
Cas thought about pointing out that she could take care of herself and she didn’t need her father spying on her boyfriends, but that seemed an arrogant thing to say, considering she’d come to ask him for help. Besides, if he was having someone keep an eye on Tolemek, maybe that someone had seen something.
“You don’t have any more information than I do, do you?” Cas asked. “I know you’re good at finding people. I was hoping you could help me find him.”
“I’m excellent at finding people.”
Since Cas wanted something, she decided not to remark on his lack of humility.
Her father strode into one of the hallways off the foyer, waving for her to follow. When he stepped into his office, he flicked a switch, and lamps came on around the room. Judging by his pleased smile, the electrical upgrade to the house was still very new, and he was pleased—or smug—about having it.
He opened one of the file drawers in his desk and withdrew a folder. “You said you suspect a Dakrovian connection?”
“At the least, the kidnappers made a stop there on their way here. A Dakrovian bomb was used. A Farongi grenade, Captain Kaika said.”
“That reminds me of something in one of my weekly reports. You may know I subscribe to the Watchers’ Guild and get updates from around the capital, so I can more easily find people when the time comes.”
Cas had no idea what the Watchers’ Guild was, but she made an encouraging noise. If he had a lead, she wanted it.
“Here we are.” He plucked a red pen from a holder and underlined a few lines in a paragraph two thirds of the way down the page of a pamphlet that had been printed with a press. “Lady Masonwood, a very distant relation to the king, as you would guess, is the purveyor of the Sophisticated Hem, an upscale clothing shop in the merchant quarter. Most of their wares cater toward noblewomen shopping for dresses and the latest female fashions, but her male colleague is a haberdasher and maintains a corner of the store for noblemen and those of affluent means seeking the latest in hats, ties, sashes, and the like.”
Cas listened in bewilderment, wondering what this could have to do with kidnappings.
“Due to the reputation of the shop near and far, it’s not uncommon for men and women who have recently come into an influx of funds to go there and shop. I’ve caught two thieves over the years because of Lady Masonwood’s tips to the guild.”
“A noblewoman related to the king is associated with this Watchers’ Guild?”
“Oh yes. Quite a few nobles have been recruited into its ranks. I do believe people of that ilk enjoy slumming with the demimonde. Adds an air of excitement to their lives. But my point, as I’m certain you’re wondering, is that a Dakrovian man came in this week and bought a hat, insisting on paying in Jlongar Jalakian gold medallions because he didn’t have any of the local currency. It made an impression on Lady Masonwood because foreigners don’t generally come through her door, and if they do, they’re well-known and well-traveled businessmen capable of paying in any number of currencies.”
“I don’t know, Father. It seems like a stretch. Why would a kidnapper go hat shopping?”
He closed the folder. “I don’t know, Caslin, but Farongi weapons are made in Jlongar Jalak.”
She nibbled on her lip. That was quite the coincidence.
“Sometimes, it’s the smallest of mistakes that allow you to locate the man you’re tracking. And sometimes, you have to follow dozens of leads before finding the one you need. I’ll give you the report so you can read through and see what else might tie in with Targoson, but I definitely recommend questioning Lady Masonwood and seeing if she remembers anything. Such as where he’s staying.” Father eyed her uniform as he handed the pages to her. “She will assume you can’t afford her wares and try to shoo you out of the store if you walk in wearing ar
my clothing. Be prepared to let her know who you are up front, and don’t be intimidated, not that I expect you would be. However, if you wish, I can question her.”
As much as she wouldn’t have minded her father’s help, Cas suspected his method of questioning would involve removing some fingernails. Unless she learned that this Lady Masonwood had been the one to blow up Tolemek’s lab, that would seem extreme.
“I’ll handle it, Father. I do appreciate the offer of assistance. And this.” She held up the report.
“Of course.” Father clasped his hands behind his back.
Cas groped for something else to say to him—it seemed she should stay for more than five minutes, given how seldom she came to visit. But he hadn’t invited her to stay for a late dinner or anything like that, and she hated to presume. She looked at his desk, thinking a daily newspaper might suggest a topic of discussion, then stirred in surprise when she glimpsed a familiar pale blue envelope. She had recently received one exactly like that.
“General Zirkander invited you to his wedding?” she blurted, then promptly wondered if she’d been mistaken. Maybe pale blue envelopes were fashionable this year, and everyone was using them. It was true that Zirkander had invited her father to that barbecue, but she was positive he had been trying to help Cas mend fences with him, not that he’d truly wanted her father at his house.
“He did.”
“But Zirkander shot you this spring. I mean, you deserved it since you were getting in the way of our mission and working against the king…”
Her father’s eyebrow twitched. “Perhaps he’s inviting all the people he’s shot in an attempt to make amends and start his life anew.”
“I don’t think most of the people he’s shot are still alive. Or are Iskandian.”
“I shall consider myself special then. Normally, I would not accept an invitation to a pointless social gathering, but there’s quite a buzz in the capital and even beyond about the famous—or infamous—pilot getting married. It was written up on page twelve.” He waved to the guild report. “Some influential people will be there, including, it’s speculated, the king himself. Likely a dragon or two, as well, though I have no interest in them. A dragon is unlikely to wish to hire me.”
“To assassinate people?”
Cas’s mind boggled at the idea of Zirkander’s wedding being a networking event for entrepreneurial assassins. Wouldn’t it mostly be army officers? Since Sardelle didn’t have any family of her own, Cas didn’t think she had invited a lot of people outside of Zirkander’s sphere of acquaintance.
“Naturally. It is my profession.”
Cas reached for the invitation. “May I see it?”
“If you wish. I assume you received one of your own?”
“Yes.” Cas wondered how many other people had. Zirkander kept saying he and Sardelle were having a small wedding by the pond near his house, but she knew everyone in Wolf and Tiger squadrons had been invited, and she couldn’t imagine it had stopped there. A networking event. She shook her head.
She pulled out his invitation. Even though Zirkander and Sardelle had hand-written short personal notes on hers, she didn’t expect this one to hold more than the generic date, location, and request for a response that was printed on all the cards. But Zirkander had written on the bottom of this one too.
Ahnsung —
Come join us, and I’ll let you watch Lieutenant Ahn hit me with a brisk ball again. Also, if you promise not to stab anyone on my lawn, I’ll reserve a piece of cake for you.
— Ridge
Cas snorted. His note to her had been irreverent, too, unlike Sardelle’s far more proper invitation, and she wasn’t surprised that he’d adopted a similar tone for everyone. She was a little surprised that he’d personalized all the invitations and wondered when he’d found time. Whenever she saw him lately, he was on some errand or another, off to do a task that required his input or signature. From what Cas had seen, being a general and being in charge of an entire division of the army was far more arduous than simply flying and maintaining one’s own vehicle.
“My own wedding to your mother was a small, simple affair,” Father volunteered, surprising her. “Her parents did not approve of me, if you can imagine.”
“Because of your profession or because you were aloof and cold?”
There went that eyebrow again. Maybe she shouldn’t be so frank with him. She’d tap-danced around such questions as a teenager, but these days, she found herself disinclined to do so.
“I was cordial with them,” he said. “To the best of my ability. You know I find it difficult to exude affability.”
Yes, Cas had inherited that difficulty from him.
“And at the time, they believed I ran a small landscaping business. Even though I made it clear that I was not impoverished, they did not feel I was good enough for their daughter. As you know, I’ve not spoken to them since your mother passed. By that time, they had learned of my true work, and of course they blamed me for her death. Rightfully so, I admit, but it was always a regret of mine that they wanted nothing to do with you after that.” He spread his hand, as if to say the ways of human beings perplexed him. Maybe they did.
He hadn’t admitted his fault or his regret to her before, and Cas did not know how to respond. She didn’t remember her mother’s parents and didn’t know if they were even alive still, so she couldn’t say she missed them, but she had occasionally felt a dearth of family when she’d been growing up. It had only been she and her father, and various servants and tutors, for most of her childhood.
“Did Mother want children? Me?” Cas thought of her conversation with Tolemek, still regretting that she’d stiffened up and walked out, perhaps hurting him.
“She did. I was less certain it was a good idea, given my work and the possibility that enemies might strike at any family I formed, but she convinced me otherwise. And I was somewhat intrigued by the thought of having children who would carry on the family business.” He lowered his spread hand, shrugging a little.
Yes, she knew that part of the story. “I’ve never imagined myself having children.”
He tilted his head. In disappointment?
He was always so hard to read. She doubted she would have brought this up if he hadn’t started sharing first.
“I guess Tolemek has,” she added.
“Ah.”
Again, she couldn’t read him. She didn’t know if he was disgusted by the idea of them having children or relieved Cas didn’t want them. Maybe he hoped their relationship would dissolve, and she’d find someone more appropriate. Someone less Cofah. Less former pirate.
But he didn’t say any of that, and she told herself it wasn’t fair to assume.
“I need to find him,” Cas said. “So I can talk to him about it again. And just because. I don’t want to lose him.”
His lips thinned, and this time, she was sure there was some disapproval in his eyes. Still, he clasped his hands behind his back and said, “Are you sure you do not wish me to question Lady Masonwood?”
“No, thank you. And actually, I know someone who needs a dress. Maybe I can convince her to shop for it there. Lady Masonwood may be more willing to gossip to clients.”
“I hope your someone is financially well-endowed.”
“Uhm.” Cas knew generals made more than lieutenants, but she also knew Zirkander had a lot of houseguests he had to support. She also didn’t know if Sardelle earned money of her own from tutoring. As far as Cas knew, Sardelle wasn’t on the king’s payroll, though she should be, given all the assistance she’d given Wolf Squadron and the city as a whole. “I’ll check.” Cas held up the report—she would look through the rest of the pages later—and headed for the door. “Thank you, Father.”
“You are welcome.” He followed her into the hallway and toward the foyer. “Caslin?”
She paused at the front door. “Yes?”
“I did enjoy seeing you pelt Zirkander with that brisk ball.” His eyes glint
ed. “Even if that dragon-in-disguise thwarted most of your team’s attacks, you got in a few good hits.”
It bemused Cas that General Zirkander, brave pilot and hero of Iskandia, knew so many people who liked to see him hit by balls. She understood that her father didn’t care for him because he’d been a big part of why she had become a pilot, but so many of his superior officers seemed to have similar feelings toward him.
“I’m glad it pleases you to see me hit things, Father.”
He made a vague salute-like gesture and let her walk out without further comment.
As Cas strode down the driveway, she considered how early she would have to get up to visit Sardelle in the morning before work. She had to convince her that the Sophisticated Hem was the ideal place to shop for her wedding dress.
7
Sardelle wasn’t surprised when she sensed neither Tylie nor Phelistoth at the house when she returned. Earlier, Jaxi had told Wreltad that Tolemek was missing, so Tylie had likely left right away to find Phelistoth and hunt for her brother. She hoped they had more luck searching for Tolemek than she, Cas, and Kaika had.
She did sense Ridge sitting alone on the sofa, neither eating dinner nor reading. He seemed morose, and she quickened her pace, remembering that she’d asked if he would be home for dinner, implying that she would be.
How long had he been waiting? Was he disappointed she wasn’t there with something ready to eat? Neither of them was overly domestic—Fern had been the one to teach her how to bake cookies and tarts—but since she was the one whose work usually took place at home, she’d gotten in the habit of purchasing or making dinner for them—and their frequent visitors.
When she stepped inside, only one of the gas lamps brightening the house, Ridge rose from the couch to face her. He smiled, though it seemed forced. Had something happened?
“Are you all right?” she asked, brushing his mind.
“Yes. I was just sitting in the mostly dark and thinking. Sorry I didn’t start something for dinner. I was, uhm, rehearsing something.”
Oaths (Dragon Blood, Book 8) Page 11
