Steel Earring was leaning on the other fel and looked like he was going to say something. But he only nodded.
“What are you going to do?” Isabel asked.
“Go after Marcus.”
“Then I’m coming with you.”
“You’re only going to slow me down.”
“Some of the guards who escorted Lady Claudia’s carriage came with horses. I can take us there.”
Digger shook his head. “I won’t need them. I’m going under the streets through the sewers. If trolls can travel the city that way, it’s how Marcus is getting around unseen.”
“That answers where you’re going,” Isabel said. “It’s not a fast way to travel. But I know the sewers too. It’s how I’ve been moving the sisters from the Black Rock Mission. Besides, you still look a little wobbly. So what’s it going to be?”
Moving the sisters? Digger had no time for such riddles. He retrieved the dagger from his brother.
To Jamie, Isabel said, “Get Monty to the bar like Digger told you. I’ll be there soon.”
Digger expected her pureblood lover to protest. But all Jamie said was, “Be careful.” He and Isabel kissed.
Digger went to the manhole and lugged the cover off and shoved it aside. The hole leading down was dark and the pungent reek overpowering. But he began to climb down. Isabel followed with her lantern and sword.
Once they dropped down, she held the lamp while he inspected the nearest stone walkways for signs of Hellard’s passing. The narrow lip of the gutter and low ceiling wouldn’t have been easy for the large ogre.
No more blood.
But a fresh heel print marked the edge of a trickle of sludge. Digger pointed the direction they needed to go. Isabel nodded, the back of one hand pressed to her nose.
Digger moved quickly.
While several tunnels ran in new directions, most of these tributaries were narrow conduits and pipes that would never accommodate a grown fel, let alone an ogre. They were soon heading uphill.
Digger tried to keep his bearings but after a few turns and several pauses to search for fresh footprints, he was sufficiently disoriented. He could make only a rough estimation that they were moving north.
The direction of the castle, he realized.
As much as he wanted to be with Monty, the suspicion that Hellard and Marcus were together and moving away from the Temperance District nagged at him. For now the best way to protect his brother was to take Marcus down. An open war between fel and pureblood would be a mistake, even as he understood the city’s mad balance between liberty and perverted justice was untenable.
They stopped at a four-way intersection. Hellard must have once again stepped in something wet, as an obvious print indicated which way he had gone.
“This is where I leave you,” Isabel said.
“I thought you were here to help me.”
She nodded down another tunnel. “The mission is this way. I didn’t want Jamie to hear where I needed to go. There’s people who are relying on me.”
“It can’t wait until morning?”
“This Marcus thing couldn’t have happened at a worse time. Don’t you see? Duke Tito has been waiting for an excuse to pull his sister from her throne. I thought it would happen when she declared herself queen. But the games finally did it. And what do you think will be the first thing he’ll do when he takes control?”
“I’m guessing it’s not gambling and whoring.”
“He’s going to lock the mission down. Don’t ask me how I know. There’s been no time to talk, but the harbor has new patrols just outside of it. Tito’s inspecting every ship. It could be tomorrow, maybe the next day. I can’t wait for that to happen.”
“And Jamie?”
“He wouldn’t understand and he’ll get in the way. I’m sorry.”
Digger paused at the corner. “Do what you got to do. I have to finish this.”
“I’m not asking for your help.”
“Why not explain this to Jamie?”
“You really want to argue about trusting our loved ones while down here? Fine. Jamie doesn’t think his uncle capable of what I know has already happened at other missions down south. And Tito already has agents on the island reporting everything. It’s going to get bad. What just happened tonight will only speed it up.”
“Be careful, Isabel. When I finish this, I’ll find you.”
“You be careful too.” She handed him her lantern.
“You’ll need it as much as I will.”
“No I won’t. Remember, you’re the halfblood.”
With that, she left him. He listened to her soft footsteps echoing until they vanished.
He headed up the sewage corridor alone.
Chapter Forty-Seven
THE INCLINE SEWER TUNNEL led to a set of stairs leading past a grate jammed by heaps of garbage and filth. Multiple pipes fed into a central culvert. The trickling sewage flowed around and through the dammed-up grate. A stone landing above the incline split into three tunnels with a ladder going up.
The floor here was damp and covered with debris swept in from the open gutters above. Digger climbed the stairs and stopped to search for signs of the ogre’s passing.
“Heard you coming,” Sprat Hellard said from the shadows of the center passage. “I thought you were supposed to be sneaky. But with you and Isabel talking so loud, you might as well have been shouting. Of course, maybe it’s just the acoustics down here.”
“Hellard? What happened to you? Where’s Marcus?”
“He kept going. I thought I’d stick around and wait and see if you showed up.” He stepped into the lantern light. He was covered with streaks of blood and carrying a spear.
“Down that tunnel? We have to stop him.”
When Digger moved, Hellard blocked his way.
“I think maybe we should talk first,” Hellard said.
“We don’t have time for that right now. I’m glad you’re okay, but I need to catch up with Marcus.”
Hellard raised the spear out of Digger’s way. But as soon as he tried to step past, Hellard smashed him with a fist and knocked him to the floor. Digger fell and his lamp went rolling. It guttered and spilled out its oil, which lit into a pool of blue fire.
“I said we needed to talk,” Hellard said. “Marcus told me about what you were. A ranger.”
“I’ve never kept it a secret.”
“You never bothered to mention it to me. You know what the duke’s soldiers did to me and mine?”
“How could I not?”
“When did you serve Duke Tito?”
“This isn’t the time.”
Hellard squatted over him. “This is the time. There’s no better time than right now.”
Digger tried to kick one of Hellard’s knees out from under him. The ogre was too quick, he must have seen it coming. He caught Digger’s leg with one hand and slammed the spear handle down across his head.
Digger’s skull rattled. He blinked away bright spots.
Hellard straddled him and brought the spearhead down. “You see this? Recognize it? It’s the kind of weapon you rangers use. Those cross lugs keep an impaled opponent from pushing along the shaft. Made for hunting wild pigs. And ogres. Skewers them, keeps them from moving, then with a twist, rips their guts out.”
“What do you want me to say? That was over two years ago. We killed bandits, ogres, and devil hounds and I did what I was told. Did we kill your tribe or your family? Maybe we did. Maybe I did. You want an apology?”
“I want to know whose side you’re on.”
Digger tried to push the spear out of the way but it didn’t budge. “You know what Marcus is going to do? He’s going to start a war on this island.”
“We’ve all been fighting one before we got here. Why stop now?”
“Because believe it or not, our kind has a chance of making it here.”
“Making it?” the ogre asked with laugh. “An hour ago we were fighting for our life for their entertain
ment.”
“I know. I was there. But there’s enough of us in Diregloom who’ll get slaughtered if it turns into open warfare.”
“So speaks the halfblood. A change of clothes, a dab of powder, you’ll fit in with Red Eye and the dandies in the theater who were betting on us.”
“You went to the theater to make some coin, didn’t you? And now you’re morally hurt?”
Hellard grunted. “Thumping heads in a fair fight is different.”
“I don’t care about what you or anyone else does to make money. But provoking the purebloods here is only going to bring retribution on thousands of fel who are just trying to survive.”
“So that’s it with you, then. As long as what’s happening threatens you or your brother, you’ll put any number of people into the ground. But when someone else decides they’ve had enough of purebloods putting their boots on their neck, you turn face like the moon and fight against them. Which means you haven’t changed since you were one of the duke’s soldiers.”
Hellard planted a foot on Digger’s chest and pressed the spear shaft against his throat. Digger gripped the shaft and pushed with all his might. The ogre was too strong. He felt himself weakening. His own weapon was out of reach.
“Is Digger a bad man now?” Vinca asked. The little stable girl had approached from the shadows and stood near the puddle of burning oil, her hooded lamp in hand.
Hellard let up ever so slightly. “Turn away, little bug. I thought you left.”
“I was waiting for the bright-eyed man to go away. Then I heard Isabel and Digger. I thought we could get out of here together.”
“We will. Soon. No more sewers for either of us.”
Digger gasped and fought to catch his breath. “Vinca...she’s not fel...you know that, right?”
“You and I are done talking.”
“It’s not us or them. The duke’s trying to make it that way. So is Marcus. But look at Jamie. There’s others. Lady Sofia.”
“That’s love,” Hellard said. “Their hearts and nethers are involved. You think either of those two will do anything if you or I were marched to the gallows?”
“Jamie has. He’s risked his neck for me. Look, Sprat, I know this island is crazy, but it’s all our kind has to work with. We can’t burn it all down and hope something better’s going to take its place. And if you want a piece of me for what I did in the past, that’s fine. But let me stop Marcus from making every pureblood hate us more than they already do.”
The ogre kept the spearhead poised for a moment before moving it. He took his foot off. It was a like a tree had been lifted from Digger’s chest.
Hellard took Vinca under one meaty hand as if to protect her from Digger. Digger got up into a crouch and fought a wave of dizziness. But at that moment the stench of the air tasted sweet.
“You followed Marcus down here,” Digger said. “Where was he going?”
“He mostly wanted to talk about you. Wanted me to kill you without saying as much. But then he told me what I should do once I was finished with you.”
“And what was that?”
“Make up my mind about helping him. Be convinced we’re on the same side. But mostly he wanted me to come up to the castle and help him kill the queen.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
CLAUDIA SLAPPED THE carriage door for the driver to stop. But they kept going, taking turn after turn and forcing her to grip her seat.
She could hear her steward Rochus urging the driver on. She called to him. Shouted his name. Threatened him and the driver and anyone else listening with death, torture, and a thrashing if they didn’t listen, but her demands were ignored.
What about her guests? Her game? Hadn’t Rochus served her long enough to know that the unforeseen appearance of the trolls in the sawmill had only made the event even grander than anything she could have planned? It would be talked about for years! And now to be whisked away because...well, it didn’t matter why.
This was unacceptable.
Once they were on a level street, she stuck her head out the window. The carriage was racing across Stockade Square and heading for Fountain Street.
“Please stay inside and out of sight, my lady,” Rochus called from the back.
“Rochus, stop! Stop right now!”
The carriage still in motion, he swung onto the running board to face her. “We can’t, my lady. He’s out there and he killed some of your men during our game. He might have been responsible for the trolls and the rest of the mayhem which followed. We can’t risk you getting hurt.”
“Rochus, I am very cross with you. Very cross. Don’t expect to be forgiven.”
She leaned back inside. Kicked the opposite bench. Thought about what she would have to do to unruffle the feathers of her devotees. Hoped that the ones who died hadn’t been anyone important.
The carriage finally slowed as it passed through the castle gate and came to a stop. Rochus held the door open. The house staff waited with heads lowered.
Claudia stepped from the carriage. “Prepare my bedchamber. I’ve decided I’m tired. I’ll want a cup of tea in my clock room first. Since I’m under house arrest, I’ll be writing letters.”
Rochus relayed the instructions and followed her up the steps to the front door. “The house guard will be ordered back here. I’ll see to it the city watch keeps us updated.”
She dismissed him with a wave. “Don’t bother me with details of the cleanup. Have whoever’s left of my guests brought here and made comfortable. And where’s Jamie?”
“I lost sight of him, Lady Claudia. My priority was your safety.”
“I’m here. I’m safe. Now do something right and go find him.”
She left him at the front door and marched down the grand hallway towards the clock room where her writing desk waited. Two of her servants followed on her heels. One held a house robe, and the other scrambled to open the twin doors for her but was too slow. Claudia threw them wide. The dozens of wall clocks chimed two as she sat down at her desk.
“I’ll be busy for the next forty minutes. Don’t disturb me.”
The servants lit lamps and someone placed an empty teacup and saucer next to her. Once tea was brought in, the staff left her alone.
She smoothed out a piece of paper, collected her pen and ink, and composed her thoughts.
SHE WAS USED TO PUSHING through the cramps in her hand and the stiffness in her neck that inevitably began ten minutes into writing. Her looping script never broke as she finished off her letter to a cousin whose granddaughter had been among the spectators squished by the rampaging trolls. Surely she’d understand. Accidents happened.
Claudia was trying to remember who else might have been lost. She rubbed her eyes and the bridge of her nose. The pot of tea was empty, but it hadn’t done much to ward off her fatigue or the headache nibbling at her brain.
There would be quite a bit to straighten out come morning. Jamie would have to shoulder some of it. It was time to put her nephew to work so he could be tested. He’d best be around.
Ah, Jamie.
She delighted in the thought of what fun she might have with how smitten he was with his Sprite. She remembered a homily the bishop had once given about the devil. That prince of demons knew what was in the heart and could read it like a book. But Jamie was so plainly intentioned. Claudia didn’t need supernatural senses to see him clear through. His eyes shone with nothing but love for his fel girl. It was all he cared about. Now if only his Isabel weren’t so elusive. Claudia’s spies were having a hard time accounting for her activities.
A mystery for another night, Claudia decided.
The rest of the letters could wait. But she wanted to write her brother Tito before retiring. She smoothed out a fresh sheet of paper, dipped her pen in the ink, and pondered the first line.
Something in the hallway crashed.
Claudia ignored the sound, tried not to think about which vase some clumsy servant had sent to the tile floor. Expensive, und
oubtedly.
Hadn’t she done so well in scraping together for her games that evening? Saved money, truly. While red candles were hard to come by, she had found a good deal on the stained-glass candleholders which essentially provided the same effect, throwing her game world into crimson light. And the color had lent itself to such an inspired impromptu narration by the game caller.
Pity about him.
She supposed a letter to his wife would be fitting, but the backward woman wasn’t highborn so it could wait.
A brief sharp cry echoed from somewhere beyond the door. Claudia stiffened in her chair to listen but only the tick-tick-tock of the wall clocks rose above the silence. She set the pen down and leaned back in her chair.
“Felicia? Is that you?”
While she had given orders to not be disturbed, someone was always in earshot in case a need arose.
“Rochus? Are you back?”
The door swung open. A shadow stood just out of reach of the light, carrying what looked like a sword. The stink of sewage wafted into the room.
Claudia considered a gem-encrusted silver letter opener next to her inkpot.
The intruder stepped into the light. He wore a hooded cloak that didn’t hide his green skin and a giant scar across his face. The sword and his tunic and pants were stained with streaks of red.
“Pick that knife up,” the fel said. “Or will the queen of the island be slaughtered like an animal without putting up a defense?”
She rose from her chair. “I know you. You were caught hiding aboard a ship. You were raving in your stockade cell.”
“You know nothing about me.”
“More than you know. The guard captain always keeps his eye out for talent. Said you disarmed two sailors and broke one man’s arm before being subdued. He then told me what you were muttering about. Said your name was Marco or something similar. It seems you have anger in your heart and didn’t come to my island for the freedom it gives so many of your kind.”
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