Iron Degan’s and the Gray Prince’s hands were all over this. It was turning out exactly as Degan and I had feared: Start a war, then draw in the empire. But what after that?
“What about the rest of the cordon?” I said.
“The Kin in Ten Ways are falling into three camps-for Nicco, for Kells, and for themselves. The last group is the largest. They’ve mainly been staying out of it, but some are starting to hire out.”
“To?”
“Both sides, but Nicco’s been picking up more.”
“And Kells?” I said. “How’s he faring?”
“That’s the interesting bit,” said Mendross as he reached above his head and stretched. A small cascade of cracks and pops erupted from his back. “Kells should be in the best position-he has Blue Cloak Rhys and Shy Meg at his back, along with a Ruffler called Mateo-but the street says he’s barely holding on. Nicco’s pouring Cutters into the cordon like crazy, but they aren’t enough to explain why Kells’s men are being rolled back night after night.” Mendross leaned forward. “People are staring to talk about glimmer. Not just the stuff you can hire out on the street, but dangerous glimmer-things that take down men with a word, or shatters steel midswing.”
“Has anyone seen anything?”
Mendross shook his head. “No, but there are whispers.”
“I’ll just bet there are,” I said, remembering the body floating in my bedroom and the woman walking through my dreams.
I rubbed at my arm, trying to make the hairs on it lie down. The book beneath my doublet shifted at the motion.
“I need a favor,” I said.
Mendross’s eyes immediately became hooded. “Such as?”
I pulled out Ioclaudia’s book. “I need you to hold this for me.”
Mendross eyed the book but didn’t touch it. “What is it?” he asked.
“Something I can’t keep at my place,” I said.
“Because someone may come looking for it there?”
“More or less.”
“And what makes you think they won’t come looking here instead?”
“Would you come looking for a book in a fruit peddler’s stall?” I said. Especially, I thought, a book on illegal magic.
Mendross grunted and stared at the journal, thinking. “Who’s after it?” he finally said.
I’d been trying to figure out how to answer that question since I’d walked up to the stall. Too much truth, and I’d walk out of here with the book still under my doublet; too little, and I’d be setting Mendross up for even worse trouble if someone came looking.
Halfway, then.
“Kells,” I said. “Maybe another Upright as well.”
Mendross’s eyes didn’t even flicker. “Two golden falcons now,” he said. “And another two when you pick it up.”
It was steep for what I had told him; not nearly enough for what I hadn’t. I pretended to consider, haggled a bit to allay any suspicions, and finally gave in.
I handed Mendross the journal. He took it, turned around, and placed it in the middle of a pile of ledgers on his counting table.
“That’s it?” I said.
“Which is more suspicious: seeing a book with other books, or finding one at the bottom of a barrel of figs?”
“But…”
Mendross held up a hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll find something better. This is just for now.”
I left Mendross’s stall with a basket of mangos-he insisted-and made another half circuit of the bazaar just to be safe. Satisfied, I gave the basket of fruit to a blind beggar at the edge of the square and headed for home.
My step felt lighter, and not just from a lack of coin after paying Mendross. For the first time in a long time, I had a handle on something. Yes, there were still any number of unanswered questions, but now I had one of the pieces of the puzzle. Hell, I likely had a key piece. And while that put me at risk, it also made me valuable. I might be captured, questioned, and tortured for the journal, but the odds of my being dusted out of hand had just gone down.
It was a strange kind of security, considering what having Ioclaudia’s book likely meant for my long-term health, but in the short term, I’d take whatever I could get.
My good mood lasted until I turned onto Echelon Way and got within sight of my building. Then I noticed two things: First, that despite its being well into morning, Eppyris’s doors were still closed; and second, Nicco had stationed two of his Arms-Salt Eye and Matthias the Brick-on either side of the shop.
I swore to myself and quickened my pace, pushing through the crowd. I hoped Eppyris’s doors were closed because he’d followed after his family, and not because Nicco had forced him to shut down. It would be just like that ham-fisted Upright to punish me through the people under my protection.
I was ten yards away when Salt Eye did a double take and recognized me in Nestor’s clothing. He stood up a little straighter, looked around for Matthias, failed to get his attention, and, with a shrug, began ambling toward me.
I threw the hood of my cloak back and gestured at Eppyris’s shop. “This had better not be what I think it is,” I said, pitching my voice to carry past the few people who still separated us.
“It’s not,” said Salt Eye. A smile formed across his jagged face as he came closer.
He was three paces away when the smile twitched and faltered. Then Salt Eye fell over. Behind him stood Fowler Jess, a long knife in her hand, the blade red and wet and shining in the morning light. Unlike Salt Eye, she wasn’t smiling. In fact, she looked downright pissed.
Chapter Twenty
Our eyes met over the dying Arm. There were anger and murder and dark resolve in Fowler’s face, but none of those inclinations seemed directed at me. Seeing her like that, knife in hand, standing over another man’s body, reminded me of why I’d found her so damn alluring in the first place. Nevertheless, I let my right hand begin drifting toward my dagger.
Someone saw the body, saw the knife, and screamed. Someone else joined in. People began running and shoving and pointing.
Damn Lighters-just like them to ruin the moment.
I glanced away from Fowler in time to see Matthias get his throat slit from behind by one of Fowler’s people. The woman winked at me and then slipped back into the crowd without a ripple.
Someone grabbed my arm. It was Fowler.
“Come on!” she said, pulling. I didn’t move. She swore. “Nicco’s got at least two more Arms farther up the street, and I don’t like our chances against them in a fair fight.” I stopped resisting and fell in behind her.
Fowler led me down Echelon Way to an alley called Chipper’s Gap. Scratch was loitering at the entrance. He knocked over a stack of barrels as we passed, blocking off the alley mouth.
We turned into a doorway before the alley ended and followed a short flight of stairs down, cut back along a hallway, then ran up another set of steps. We came out among the leather hides and laces of Petrus the cobbler’s back room. Then through another door, down more steps, and so on, weaving through a maze of connected cellars, gardens, and closely constructed upper stories until we paused inside a recessed archway at street level, four blocks away.
“I take it,” I said, my hands on my knees, my thigh aching, and my breath coming in gasps, “that I’m no longer one of Nicco’s favorite people.”
“You think?” said Fowler. She was leaning against the opposite wall, head back. “Did your finely honed instincts tell you that, or was it my people saving your sorry ass that tipped you off?”
“A little of both,” I said, “but I appreciate the ass-saving more.”
“Damn well better,” she said. There was a strange catch in her voice, and I looked up to find her staring at me across the narrow space. “How long, Drothe?” she said.
“How long what?”
“How long have you been working for Kells?”
I froze. It was the last thing I had expected her, expected anyone, to say. Kells? How the hell had she connected me to Ke
lls?
I blinked and tried to look more insulted than surprised. “What?” I stood up straight. “Where did you hear that?”
“Never mind,” she said. “Just tell me. How long?”
“I don’t-”
“How long?”
I glanced toward the street out of habit, then back down the hallway behind us.
Fowler tensed, likely wondering if I was going to run, or maybe remove a suddenly inconvenient witness. I shook my head to reassure her. She’d just saved my life and put her whole crew at risk in the process; I wasn’t about to dust her. She was Fowler.
Besides, she knew, which meant other people did, too.
“How did you find out?” I said.
Fowler slapped me. Hard. “You just told me now, you son of a bitch!” she yelled.
I had stepped right into that one. Dumb. “All right, clever girl,” I said. “Congratulations. You got me. Now, tell me how you knew to ask.”
“Tell me how long, first.”
“I’m the one who just had two Arms sent after him by Nicco,” I said. “It’s my turn to ask a question, so be patient and wait your turn.”
I watched her jaw work for a moment before she gave a grudging nod.
“It’s been coming from inside Nicco’s organization,” she said. “I only heard because of… Well, we’ll get to that in a minute. But word is he’s decided you’re a liability.”
“I doubt he used the word ‘liability,’ ” I said. “Liability” wasn’t nearly colorful enough for what Nicco would be feeling when it came to me and Kells.
“Probably a safe bet,” said Fowler. “Anyhow, from what I hear, some people are having a hard time believing you’d turn-cloak like that. Others are calling you a ‘Long Nose’ without batting an eye.” Fowler paused to give me a caustic look. “But either way, Nicco’s cut you loose, so it’s open season on your ass. Good thing you weren’t the kind to make enemies when you were under Nicco, right?”
“Yeah, good thing,” I said drily. I’d been a Nose; part of my job, by default, was making enemies. “Any idea how the story got started? From inside, I mean?”
Fowler shook her head. “None. Like I said, I was lucky to find out it was going around when I did. If he hadn’t broken into your place in the…”
“Wait,” I said. “Nicco broke into my place?”
Fowler looked up and down the street from the doorway. “I’d rather not talk about this here, in his territory, especially after what I just did to two of his people. Let’s get out of here first, all right?”
I didn’t argue. We headed out into the street. Fowler took us on a roundabout route, full of sudden turns and double-backs. Eventually, we ended up on a quiet side street in Rustwater cordon, just outside Nicco’s territory.
“So, how long?” she asked again.
“I thought we were still on my turn,” I said.
“Just answer the damn question, will you?”
I took a deep breath. “I’ve belonged to Kells since the beginning.”
A brief silence, then, “You fuck.”
It was about what I had expected. It’s one thing to talk about the idea of a Long Nose, but quite another to find out someone you know has been lying to you from the day you met him. It’s not personal, the lie, but people have a hard time seeing it that way. All they know is that you’ve been keeping something big from them for years. And with Fowler, it ran even deeper. Our occasional bedroom romps aside, she’d lost people keeping me alive. She’d put her life and reputation and crew on the line for me; in exchange, I’d hid who I was and what I did from her.
“Do you want out?” I said.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Probably.” Fowler swore and kicked at a stone on the street. “Dammit, Drothe, why’d you have to be a cross-cove?”
“I’m not a cross-cove,” I said. “I came into Nicco’s organization working for Kells, and I never turned on him. It only looks dirty from the outside. I’m straight-it’s just the work that’s crooked.”
Fowler didn’t seem convinced, but then she’s never been one to appreciate a finely split hair. “I don’t think Nicco’s going to take it quite so philosophically,” she said.
“We’ve already established that,” I said.
“And I don’t think you will, either, once I fill in a few details.”
I glanced at her sidelong but kept walking. “Go on.”
“The place wasn’t exactly empty when Nicco came looking for you,” said Fowler. “The apothecary was there.”
“Eppyris?” I stopped in the middle of the street. “I thought he’d gotten Cosima and the girls out.”
“The woman and the girls, yes,” said Fowler. “But he stayed on.”
“And when Nicco came?”
“He and his boys worked him over,” she said.
There was more. I could feel it, hanging in the air between us.
“And?” I said.
Fowler cleared her throat. “When they were done,” she said, “Nicco made him open the door to your rooms.”
The door to my rooms. Oh. Oh shit.
“By the time I got to him,” continued Fowler, “he was closer to dead than alive. We managed to get a carver in to sew him up and stop the worst bleeding.”
“How bad?” I said.
“Between the beating and your… and the traps. Crippled at least, maybe blind. I found out from a neighbor where the wife and daughters were. I had Scratch and Rook take him there after the carver was done.”
“Will he live?”
Fowler shrugged.
I tried to imagine Eppyris without his apothecary shop, Cosima and the girls without him. It came all too easily. I pushed the images aside.
“How did Nicco get so close?” I said.
“What?” said Fowler.
“How did Nicco get so close to my place?” I said, my voice rising. “Where the hell were you and your people when all this was happening?”
“Don’t,” said Fowler. “Don’t you dare! Yesterday, as far as I knew, you were still working for Nicco. If I’d known what was going to happen, I would have dusted the big bastard myself. But he was your boss-I didn’t have any reason to stop him! We didn’t know it had happened until they came out, wiping the blood off their hands.”
“And you just let them walk?” I said.
“He was your fucking boss!” she said. “Maybe, just maybe, if I’d known you didn’t actually work for him, and that you wouldn’t cut my throat for cutting his, I might have stepped in. But I didn’t know that, so I stayed put.”
“So you let Nicco just-”
“Damn it, Drothe!” said Fowler. “You weren’t home. My job is to protect you, not everyone who walks in and out of the damn front door!”
I opened my mouth, hesitated, closed it again. Raging at her wouldn’t solve anything. I was the one who had promised to keep Eppyris and Cosima and the girls safe, not Fowler. Me. And after all my promises and precautions and bravado, I still hadn’t kept the Kin away. I hadn’t kept Nicco away.
But I would handle that. Someway, somehow, I’d pay that bastard back. Revenge couldn’t help Eppyris, and I knew it would supply no comfort to Cosima, but it was something Nicco and I understood. He had come after me because, in his eyes, I had betrayed him; I’d go after him not only to protect myself, but because he’d bloodied someone under my protection, in my own home. It was street justice, simple math that any Kin understood, and it needed to be settled. Instead of just dusting me, Nicco had gone out of his way to humiliate and insult me. If I ever wanted to be able to hold my head up among the Kin again, I had to address that fact-personally.
I started walking again. All of a sudden, the shaded silence of the side street seemed oppressive. I needed people around me.
“Is anyone watching Eppyris and his family?” I said. I wouldn’t put it past Nicco to track them down, just to hurt me more.
“I have Rook hanging around their street,” said Fowler.
“Put three mo
re on them,” I said, turning onto Tumble Downs. It was the main thoroughfare in Rustwater cordon, and we hit it right near the central square. There were people and traffic and shop fronts all around us, and I suddenly felt better for it. “And yourself,” I added. “I want them well guarded.”
“That doesn’t leave anyone to cover you,” said Fowler, slipping closer to me so we wouldn’t get separated by the crowd.
“I can handle myself.”
“Right,” said Fowler, “because that’s been working so well for you up until now.”
“With the number of Kin I have after me at this point,” I said, “I may be better off without a slew of people trailing after… Holy Angels!”
“What?” snapped Fowler, her hand immediately going to her knife.
I didn’t answer. Instead, I stopped in the middle of the street and stared, ignoring the traffic that split and flowed and cursed its way around me. There had been a gap in the people a moment ago-a gap that had let me see a face. I stood and waited.
The gap came again. Yes. There.
I immediately began pushing my way through the throng.
“Drothe?” said Fowler from behind me, sounding more annoyed than anxious.
I ignored her. My whole attention was fixed on the tall, thin man standing in the open air of a street-side barber’s stall. He had just gotten out of one of the wooden chairs. He was busy wiping his face with a towel to remove the last of the shaving soap.
“Baldezar,” I whispered to myself, invoking the name to make it true. “Angels, let him be dumb enough to be standing there in the open.”
As if in answer to my prayer, the man turned, a coin glinting in his hand as he reached to pay the woman who had shaved him. It was the Jarkman.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
I quickened my pace, my hand going to the dagger on my belt as I dodged through the press around me. Behind, I could hear Fowler calling my name again. She sounded farther away.
Not far enough, though, as it turned out. As Fowler shouted out my name a third time, Baldezar’s head snapped up and swung toward the street. I tried to duck behind a passing cart but wasn’t fast enough. Baldezar’s eyes grew wide as they lighted on me, and then he was off, sprinting down the street.
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