“Why is he here?” Lian was almost in tears.
“No good reason, I’m sure,” Raych muttered. Even still, she opened the door.
“Hey,” Asti said, looking around like a mad squirrel. “Just you here?”
“Me and Lian.”
“Hmm,” he said. Even for Asti, he looked out of sorts. “All right, we need to move quickly.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“No, just hold the door open.” He went back out.
Raych did as he said, now seeing that there was a carriage in the street, stopping just in front of the bakery. Before it came to a halt, Asti jumped on the runner and opened the door. The Ch’omik man—Kennith?—came dashing out of there and into the bakery, which caused Lian to scream again. Then Verci and Asti came in, Verci half carried by Asti. The carriage was moving again before they even got all the way inside.
“Shut the door,” Asti said as they got in.
“Are you being chased?” Raych asked.
“Raychelle,” Lian called, her hand on her chest. “Who is this . . . gentleman?”
“Kennith is an associate of mine, Lian,” Verci said pointedly. “You’ll be respectful of him.”
“I . . . I’m sorry, I just found having this . . . strange man charge into the bakery to be a shock.”
“Verci,” Asti said sharply. “We need to keep moving.”
“What are you talking about?” Raych asked. “What is going on?”
“Raych, it’s all right,” Verci said, though he hardly said it with any conviction.
“It is not all right,” she said. “You come in like the sinners are after you, after being gone for two days, and—”
“I’m sorry,” Verci said, in that irritatingly calm way he had that always worked. “But things are happening.”
“What things?” Lian shrieked.
“Verci,” Asti said sharply, going over by the oven. “We should keep moving.”
“You aren’t staying here?” Raych asked.
“I’ll be back,” Verci said, hobbling over to her, putting a hand on her cheek. “I’ll be back tonight.” He said this, giving a pointed look at Asti. Making it clear to his brother not to gainsay it.
“Right,” Asti said. “He will be.” With that, he reached behind the stove and moved something, and a panel of the wall opened up to a staircase. “Ken, can you help Verci?”
“Got it,” Kennith said.
“Two hours,” Verci said, giving her a kiss. “That’s a promise.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
“Come on,” Asti said. Kennith let Verci drape an arm over his shoulder, and they went down the stairs. Asti followed behind, and the panel slammed shut.
“What—what the blazes just happened?” Lian asked. “And why is there a secret door in the back of the shop? Did you know about this?”
Upstairs, Corsi started crying.
“Just go home, Lian,” Raych said, as she went to her child. “Lock up when you go, and don’t mention any of this to anyone. Especially Hal.”
* * *
After a horrible day, Asti found it oddly gratifying to see Josie shriek when he came out of her secret door that went from the bakery to the safehouse. She was puttering around her office, making herself a pot of tea. She knocked it off the counter in her confusion, and Asti scrambled to catch it before it shattered on the floor.
“How did you come through—” she started once she regained her composure.
“Please,” Asti said, putting her teapot back on the counter. It had been hot, but he didn’t let the fact that it hurt show on his face. It was a good exercise for maintaining control, keeping the beast in its cage. “You think I didn’t know you had that passage?”
She shrugged. “I figured you knew I had it. I just didn’t think you’d actually find it.”
Verci came limping in, supported by Ken. “Some respect, Josie. You gave me the bakery to live in. You think I didn’t scour it top to bottom.”
“I can guarantee you didn’t find all my secrets.”
Kennith put Verci in a chair. “I don’t understand how you had tunnels and such built without anyone else knowing about them. I mean, it would have taken hundreds of men—”
“I didn’t,” Josie said.
“But how—”
“Boys,” Josie said, going to her desk with her tea. “This part of the city is old, over a thousand years. And like any old lady, it is full of secrets you’ll never discover.”
“She’s saying that there are hundreds of forgotten tunnels and catacombs in the city,” Asti said. He had heard some stories back in his Intelligence days. He had even heard rumors that there were ones deep enough to go under the river. “The westtown ones are probably the most forgotten.”
“You’re here for a reason, and clearly not a good one,” Josie said. “So spill.”
Asti waved her out. “Let’s go out to the main floor. Where is Mila? We sent word for Almer to come out.”
“Mila is on our local problem,” Josie said, getting her cane. “How’s the foot, Verci?”
“Hurts like blazes,” he said.
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, coming over to him. “I know for that. Hope you do better than I did.”
“I’ll be running rooftops soon enough.”
“Hmmph.” She looked down at the brace. “Grab my tea, Asti, bring it out. I can tell you, a clean break like that, treated well, you got a shot. I never did.”
“How did you hurt your leg?” Kennith asked, helping Verci out to the main floor. Asti grudgingly grabbed the tea and took it out.
“Cudgy Ottin and his people decided they wanted to end my career as a window-girl,” she said. “So they took a hammer to my knee.”
Asti bit his tongue. He had been a part of the crew that Josie had used for her revenge on Cudgy and his gang. Way back in the day, when she was grooming him to be one of her enforcers.
As they sat down at the table, Vellun and Almer came in.
“Who the blazes are you?” Josie asked Vellun.
“Vellun Colsh,” he said. “I’m with Pilsen. Where is he? I haven’t seen him for a bit.”
“He’s working. So you’re his young sweetmeat. I can see why he fancies you.”
“He’s been useful,” Verci said. “And Pilsen trusts him.”
“He fancies him, there’s a difference,” Josie said. “Sorry, boy. You’re very pretty.”
“As you say, miss.” Vellun took a seat at the table. Kennith tapped him on the shoulder.
“Help me in the kitchen. I think we all could use something in our stomachs.”
“That’s a good idea, Kennith,” Josie said. “There’s bread and cheese and mustard—”
“I’ve got it, Missus Holt,” Kennith said, pulling Vellun with him to the kitchen.
“He’s really quite gifted in the kitchen,” Verci said.
“I’m sure,” Josie snarled. “He knew to get that pretty boy out of here, as well.”
“You don’t trust Vellun?”
“I don’t know him. Trust isn’t even an option.”
She was looking at Asti expectantly, but he didn’t want to say much more until Mila and Pilsen came in. “How’s business, Almer?” Asti asked.
“Terrible,” Almer said. “Half the folks in this neighborhood are thugs, the other half are scared out of their gourd.”
“We’re trying to do something about that,” Asti said.
“Are we?” Almer asked. “I wonder. You’ve got that girl peacocking around—”
“Mila?” Asti asked. “What does he mean?”
“Her Miss Bessie act needed some work,” Josie said. “So we’re establishing some bona fides for her.”
“Peacocking,” Almer said again.
“All right, it does
n’t matter,” Asti said. “This has to do with Lesk’s crew?”
“Amongst other things,” Josie said. “You’re stalling.”
“Fine.” Dragging this out wouldn’t help. “We’ve got some good intel on the house, the employment scam worked. I was able to case the whole household. Win and Julien have jobs there.”
“And you, too, yes?”
“Not anymore. I was skunked.”
That got Josie’s interest. “How the blazes did you get skunked but not them?”
“Because the lady of the house is a ringer as well. Old . . . acquaintance from my days in Intelligence.”
“Your days in what?” Almer asked.
“Not now, Almer,” Verci said.
“The kind of old acquaintance that leads to you clawing each other’s eyes out?” Josie asked. “I didn’t ask about why you’re all banged up.”
Asti hadn’t realized it was that obvious.
“But we’ve reached an accord, which puts us forward to a new plan—though needless to say, this woman is not someone we trust.”
“Not someone we trust are words I live by, Asti,” Josie said. “Here they are.”
Mila and Pilsen had come in with a little boy in tow. She was dressed in some strange outfit that looked thirty years out of date, bright blue and red. Pilsen was done up like an actor’s idea of how a pirate on the Napolic Straits dressed.
“I should never let anyone dress themselves,” Asti muttered. “Who’s the boy?” The kid had tottered over to Josie and got in her lap.
Josie smiled, stroking the boy’s hair. “This? This is Tarvis. If we ever lose you, Tarvis is ready to take your job.”
“What does he do?” Tarvis asked. “Does he stab people?”
“Very well,” Josie said in the sweetest voice Asti had ever heard from her. “And he comes up with plans.”
“Yeah, I can do that. I need to come up with a clever plan.”
“Oh?”
“My brother is in Gorminhut. I need to get him out.”
Asti chuckled. This kid was him.
Mila sighed and sat down. “We just parlayed with Essin and his crew.”
“Not his crew,” Verci said. “They’re all Lesk’s folks.”
“Now they’re Treggin’s,” Pilsen said. “And Treggin is something to worry about.”
“You meet him?” Josie asked.
“Not directly. Asti, you know this Essin fellow. Smart man? Erudite?”
“I would not use those words for him.”
“Right,” Pilsen said.
“The Essin we met talked pretty fancy,” Mila said.
“And not in that, ‘I’m using words I think are fancy but I don’t know what I’m saying,’ way,” Pilsen added.
“So what do you think?” Asti asked, though he guessed the answer.
“That this Treggin fellow could hear us, and feed to Essin what to say. Which means he’s a mage of some sort. And we need to worry about that.”
“What’s a mage?” This came from Tarvis.
“Trouble,” Asti said. “We’re sure about that?”
“If it isn’t magic or something like that, it’s a damn good trick,” Pilsen said.
“Did he ask about us?” Verci asked, indicating himself and Asti.
“You two?” Mila looked to Pilsen for confirmation. “I don’t recall. No, he didn’t.”
“That’s definitely odd,” Verci said. “Helene said Essin was obsessed with what we’re up to.”
“Right,” Asti said. More signs that Treggin—or someone else—was now pulling his strings. But Asti couldn’t worry about that, not right now. “Speaking of, we’ve got a new development at the Henterman house. Short version, my cover is blown, but we have an in for the big party.” He pulled the invite out of his coat. “We need to forge a copy of this, combined with a reasonable cover for the nobleman you’ll be playing, Pilsen.”
“Ah, good,” Pilsen said. “Playing a nobleman at a feast will be something enjoyable.”
Kennith and Vellun came out from the kitchen with trays of hot cheese sandwiches. “Not much in stores, but I did what I could,” Kennith said. “I’m famished.”
“Darling, sit with me,” Pilsen said to Vellun, who dutifully took a chair by him. “We’re going to a party.”
“You’re going,” Asti said. “As am I. Helene will be my escort, and Mila will be yours.”
“Is that going to work?” Mila asked.
“Or as his niece or something,” Asti said. “Work it out and make it play. But that means you’ll have to work like mad for the next two days on being a noblewoman.”
“Same with Helene?” Pilsen asked. “She’s going to be a challenge.”
“She’ll be here in the morning,” Asti said. “So that’s the plan. The four of us as party guests. Win and Julien are still our inside men. Verci, you’ll run the observation from a carriage with Kennith, Vellun, and Almer as support.”
“What support?” Almer asked.
“And what about Lesk’s crew, the Scratch Cats, Treggin?”
Josie answered that. “Between calling out the sticks and the parlay you had, that should keep them busy for a couple days.” She looked pointedly at Asti. “But this isn’t something we can sit on, hear? I want us to move on them soon.”
“Calling out sticks?” Verci asked.
Asti had noticed more than usual in the neighborhood when they came to the bakery. “You did that?”
“Doesn’t hurt me none,” Josie said.
“Hurt me,” Tarvis said.
“And you should go to sleep,” Josie told him.
“Can’t make me.”
“You’d be surprised what I can make happen.”
That was a flash of the Old Lady that Asti had known when he wasn’t much older than Tarvis. Somehow sweet and terrifying at the same time.
Asti grabbed a sandwich and tucked into it. “The point is, tomorrow, Pilsen will work with Mila and Helene. Josie, get a forgery of that invite made.”
“Pardon me?” Josie said.
Asti sighed. “Could you please get forgeries of that invitation?”
“Yes,” she said calmly. “Since you asked so kindly.”
Asti continued. “Verci and Kennith lie low in here and get the carriage ready for whatever we might need. I’ll head out east to meet with . . . Liora.” He almost choked saying her name.
Mila perked up. “Who—”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Mila still had her attention on him. “Did you get that letter?”
Asti stared at her confused for a moment, then he remembered. “I did, but I never got the chance to look at it.” He dug into his coat pockets and got it out.
“Who’s it from?” Verci asked as Asti started reading it.
“Huh. It seems there is a newssheet that is interested in finding out more about the fire. The Veracity Press.”
“Never heard of them,” Almer said.
“I have.” This was Vellun. “North side paper, mostly distributed in the neighborhoods around RCM. One of those former-student, radical-idea papers.”
Vellun clearly wasn’t quite as vapid as he sometimes played at. Worth noting.
“Good to know,” Asti said. “Then I’ll check in with them tomorrow as well.”
“Is that wise, in all of this?” Josie asked.
“We need information, first and foremost,” Asti said. “The Veracity Press might know something that will open up what we know about Henterman.”
“Or render running on him pointless,” Verci said. “If that’s it, Asti, let’s go.”
“Go?” Asti asked.
“Yes, go,” Verci said. “I promised my wife I’d come home, and by saints and blazes, you’ll get me there.”
* * *
> Verci was glad that Asti didn’t give him any push about helping him back through the tunnels to the bakery. It was a long walk hobbling with the crutches he assembled from spare wood at the safehouse. He wished they hadn’t left the chair behind. But the challenge of the walk put his mind to work on some ideas for a new foot brace, maybe a special cane or crutch. Necessity brought ideas, after all.
It was rather late, nearly the midnight bells, by the time they got inside. Asti got Verci up the stairs—ringing the right bells so Raych would know it was him—and then said goodnight.
“I’ll sleep in the basement,” he said. “Josie left enough furniture in her bunker down there that it’s pretty comfortable.”
“Asti,” Verci said gently. “You know you can just move in down there. You don’t have to—”
“I’m not good to have around your family too much.”
“You’ve been—”
“I’ve been holding on pretty well of late, but today . . . Liora. It’s gnawing at me. For them, for you, I need to keep some distance.”
“Basement is some distance, Asti,” Verci said. “Think about it.”
“I think on everything,” Asti said, and went back down.
Verci pushed himself up the steps—the pain in his leg was nowhere near what it had been two days ago, and Doc Gelson’s brace helped—but it was hard and slow going to make it to the apartment. Raych had opened the door, waiting for him when he reached the top.
“So you did come back.”
“I said I would,” he said, coming in and getting himself to the comfortable chair.
“I don’t know what happened tonight . . .”
“I’ll tell you if you want to know. I can tell you everything.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t think I want to hear it.”
“If you don’t, you don’t,” Verci said. “But I said from the beginning, I’m not going to keep secrets from you.”
“Things went wrong today, didn’t they?”
“And how.” Verci wasn’t sure how to say this, exactly. “We’re casing a lord’s manor house in East Maradaine right now.”
“Because this lord was behind the fire.” She somehow managed a tone that made it sound completely reasonable and utterly insane at the same time. Which it was.
Lady Henterman's Wardrobe Page 20
