by Zen DiPietro
“Then I don’t see how I could possibly like it.”
He opened the door and held it for her, then followed her out into the bright sun.
“I suppose if you’re eager to shoot someone, Will could contract you out for some high-risk guard duty somewhere.”
He shook his head. “Even worse.”
She shot him a sudden grin. “Guess you’re stuck with me, then.”
They’d reached her kite, and they both stepped on. He settled in and gave her a nod. She boosted them into the air. His stomach took the now-familiar dip it always did when she lifted the kite straight up to launch it. And they were on their way.
She shared the details with him during their flight to Sanctuary. Although he knew she was an elder, it still impressed him when she casually told him that she’d dispatched shivs to keep Stratos and the three magistrates under surveillance. He’d lived his life on the receiving end of the order’s jurisdiction, ensuring that the eye of justice never fell on him. Now, he saw the order from the top down, as Kass did, and the view was dizzying.
Once in Sanctuary, she landed the kite behind the shiv quarters and they slipped inside. The small space and unremarkable blandness surprised him. It was at odds with the vastly large rooms and old-world grandeur of the keep. But then, he supposed, this was just a waystation for a handful of shivs at a time. Additional shivs could stay at the monorail station if it got crowded. They’d be the lucky ones, too, in his estimation.
Élan arrived fifteen minutes later and joined them in a narrow dining room. She looked delicate and ethereal as always, but wore a guarded expression he recognized from the first time he’d met her.
“Thank you for joining us,” Kass greeted her.
“Tell me you’ve solved the issue, and that I’m off the hook.”
“Not just yet.” Kass’ expression was not unsympathetic. “We need your help with one more thing, then hopefully we’ll have what we need.”
Élan let out a small sigh and tossed her hair back over her shoulder. “What do I have to do?”
Kass leaned forward. “I understand you’re well acquainted with Nik Greer, and his former partner, Farum Lake.”
Élan had never had the urge to growl and rip things apart with her bare hands. So that was new. She closed her eyes tightly and called upon all of the acting skill she’d ever earned. She was going to need every bit of it.
Night reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Ready?”
She smoothed her other hand down her skirt and took a breath. “No, but let’s do it anyway.”
With Kassimeigh’s permission, she’d filled Night in on some of the details regarding the sparkle investigation. In true Night fashion, he’d been unimpressed and dismissive of the entire thing. For whatever reason, he still wanted to help her, so he agreed to come with her to see Farum. She was deeply grateful. She wouldn’t have wanted to do this alone.
Night touched the chime, and a maid or assistant or whoever almost immediately swept the oversized, grandly carved door open.
“Welcome,” she gushed with a genuine smile. “Mr. Lake is delighted you’ve come.”
I’ll bet, Élan thought acidly, but kept a pleasant smile on her face. Her skirt brushed against the doorframe as she walked in with Night.
Since Farum had a fondness for nostalgia, she’d dressed in her favorite style from the old days. A very full silver skirt the exact shade of her hair fell all the way to the floor. In contrast to the voluminous nature of the skirt, she wore a fitted top with laced-up sleeves in the same color. Wearing the outfit reminded her of the time before she’d become famous. It had been lovely.
The woman ushered them into a large sitting room decorated with far too many colors, textures, and what she supposed were art pieces. While they waited, Night pulled her close for a hug and whispered in her ear, “Don’t worry, sweet one. Our best performance ever.”
He pulled back and gave her a grin. A bubble of laughter burst out of her and her entire feeling for their enterprise changed. With Night, even this could be fun. After all, it was her chance to get back at Farum. He’d once been almost as dear to her as Sim, but he’d cajoled her into doing him a favor to help his career. She’d finally agreed, and her song had become an overnight success, when she’d expected it to be a demo to show production quality. She’d been surprised by how ruthlessly Greer had used her, knowing that she’d never sought that kind of fame, but she’d been deeply betrayed that Farum had been a part of it. It didn’t matter that he’d parted ways with Greer. The damage had been done.
Élan bumped Night’s arm with her shoulder. “You’re right. This will be great.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” Farum strode into the room looking polished and self-satisfied. Élan supposed she was imagining that second attribute, but she knew the man to be insufferably smug. He offered a quick greeting to Night before planting himself in front of her.
“Élan, I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to see you.” He held his palm out to her and she placed her hand in it. He clasped it warmly in both of his before releasing it. “When you revealed yourself at the awards, I nearly had a heart attack. The good kind.” He let out a laugh. “I tried to find you, but you were always occupied. I’m so glad you decided to come see me.”
She smiled brightly, as if nothing could have pleased her more. “It was a busy night, for sure. But I think it turned out well.”
“So you’ve come out of your self-imposed retirement?”
“I have. I got tired of hiding.” That was the honest truth, at least.
“Music to my ears.” Farum winked to indicate his joke and she chuckled accordingly.
“I got so excited, I’ve forgotten my manners. Please, let’s sit. Can I get you a drink?” He waved toward an assortment of settees, chairs, and couches. Farum was known for his large gatherings.
She selected a narrow settee and seated herself. It was just the right size to keep her feet on the ground, but when Night took a seat next to her, his legs stretched out awkwardly in front of him. She giggled at him, and he gave her a mock-severe look before chuckling.
“What drinks do you have?” Élan called to Farum, who had moved behind a bar at the far side of the room. Not just a long, high table that was made for drinks. No, Farum had an actual pub-style bar in his sitting room. And his living room. And his ballroom upstairs. She suspected he might have one in his bedroom, but fortunately she had no reason to know that.
“Everything.” Farum made an expansive gesture.
“Hm, well, since it’s not even noon yet, I suppose I should opt for juice. Orange, maybe?”
“Oh, but my dear. That’s why mimosas, bellinis, and nirafruit cocktails were invented. For some reason, if there’s a hearty portion of fruit juice involved, drinking alcohol in the morning suddenly becomes socially acceptable. Don’t ask me why.”
Élan laughed, for real this time. She’d puzzled over the oddity of drinking etiquette before.
“Okay then, I’ll take a bellini.”
“Excellent choice. I make the best bellinis. And for you, Night?”
Night shrugged. “If they’re the best, then a bellini, I suppose. Wouldn’t want to miss out on the best ones.”
Farum devoted himself to making the cocktails, whistling a merry tune. He had fancy equipment for each step and a routine of pouring, measuring, shaking, and re-pouring. He filled three tall, skinny glasses with the peachy creation and placed them onto a tray. He carried the tray to a side table, then handed each of them their drinks.
Élan took a sip and had to admit that it was the best bellini she’d ever tasted. “Delicious,” she pronounced.
Farum beamed, clearly pleased. “Thank you. In another life, I might have been a bartender.”
“But then you wouldn’t have this huge house.”
He tossed a careless shrug off his shoulders. “True.” He took a long drink and sat back into a chair. He leveled a look at her. “So tell me why you’re here.”
<
br /> “I wanted to talk to you about some options. Now that I’ve gone public again, I’d like to do more with my career.”
Farum gave her a sad smile. “I wish that were true, but nope. Lie. You may have stopped hiding, but I know you’re not going to get on the screen again. What’s the real reason?”
It hadn’t occurred to her that he might not believe her. She’d been sure that, like everyone else in the industry, Farum would assume that “no” was only a precursor to “yes.” So now what?
“You’re right,” she admitted. “I have no interest in doing videos.” She glanced toward Night and he gave her an encouraging wink. Her heartbeat slowed. Of course. Now she knew what to say.
“I want to do something more like Night does, behind the scenes. Maybe he and I could even collaborate.”
Farum tapped the stem of his glass with his thumb as he considered. He nodded slowly. “Yes, I could see that working nicely. There are some projects coming up that could be particularly good with your touch. Hm. I’ll think on it.” He smiled and finished off the rest of his drink, then set the glass aside. “I’m surprised, though, that you’d come to me. I thought you hated me to the point of wishing me dead, along with several of my direct ancestors.”
She shook her head and compressed her lips into a rueful frown. “I was initially angry that I felt misled about how prominent my song would be. But almost a decade of quiet living since then has helped me get over it. Ancient history, you know?”
Farum jiggled his glass, making the drink swirl around. “I guess I can understand that. You had a tough time, and I’ve always been sorry for that. I never meant for things to happen the way they did. I’m glad you seem happier now.” For a moment she could see the guy she once considered her friend.
She had a moment of softening. He’d invited her into his home, knowing that she hated him. He’d spent a decade well aware of how she felt. Night had continued working with Farum. She’d always thought it both disloyal and ill conceived, considering Night’s own preference to stay out of the spotlight.
But what if she’d been wrong about Far all this time?
“I’ll look into it,” he said decisively after finishing off his bellini. “If you’re sure that’s what you want. I’m not the only producer in the world, you know. As much as I’d love to work with you again, I want you to be sure about it.”
He seemed to be genuine, and she suddenly didn’t want to lie to him anymore. But she didn’t know that she could actually trust him, either.
“I appreciate your willingness to work with me,” she said instead. That was true, at least.
“Of course I am.” His eyes registered surprise. “You’re not only ridiculously talented, Lan. I’ve always considered you a close friend, even when I hadn’t seen you in years. If you’d called me up a month ago and said you needed me, I’d have dropped everything to get there as soon as humanly possible.”
All the slick personality had faded away and he looked like the Far she’d spent late nights poring over musical arrangements with. Her mind reeled from the reversal and she suddenly felt horrible. Had she had it all wrong, all these years? Had she been that unfair to him?
“Thank you,” she murmured, looking down at the carpet.
Far cleared his throat. “No thanks needed. If you’re back in music, working with me or with another producer, then that’s more than I could have hoped for. Other than my friends, music is what I’ve always loved most.”
He stood, collected the empty glasses, and returned them to the bar. “Anyone need a refill, or want to try something else? I have some fresh nirafruit just begging to be squeezed.”
She and Night shook their heads, so Far simply got himself a short tumbler of ice water and returned to sit.
Trust was not her strong suit. She’d spent the past decade of her life trusting only a precious few people, outside of her bard colleagues. She shouldn’t trust him. But she decided to take a leap of faith. She’d intended to use mana to make him talkative, but she now felt wrong about doing that.
“Far, what do you know about sparkle?”
He froze, and Night broke into a grin.
“I didn’t expect to hear you call me that, ever again.”
She realized that at some point, she’d slipped back into calling him by his nickname. “Yeah. I . . . guess we need to talk. But what do you know about sparkle?”
“Why are you asking?” His expression became guarded.
She wondered if she’d just made a mistake. If she had, she’d have to try to subdue him with mana and wait for Kassimeigh to arrive. Maybe make him sleepy? She hoped it didn’t come to that. She’d never tried such a thing.
“It’s important,” she said simply.
His gaze dropped for several long moments, then lifted again. “Do you have a problem with the stuff? Using it too much? There’s got to be help for that.”
She burst out laughing. His question was just too unexpected. Night poked her in the ribs. “No, no, nothing like that,” she giggled, trying to compose herself.
“Okay.” His forehead wrinkled in confusion.
She shook off her amusement and got serious. “The stuff is a problem. Deadly. I’m trying to figure out where it’s coming from. Who created it. How to get rid of it. I know Nik has been giving it to people, and you and he still move in the same circles. I need to know anything you know about it.”
Far rubbed the back of his neck. “Am I in trouble? I get the feeling this isn’t coming from just you.”
“I’m working in conjunction with the shivs.”
His brow creased. “You said the stuff is deadly? I hadn’t heard anything about that. We’re talking about serious consequences for anyone involved.”
“The justices will sort out fault and punishment. I’m just asking what you know. Of course, you’re not obligated to talk to me. But I hope you will.”
“Not talking to you would mean talking to a justice. I’d rather it be you.” He fell silent, running a thumb over his lips the way he did during deep thought. “Well,” he finally said, “I go to tons of events. Awards, banquets, parties, ceremonies. It’s important in my business to keep my contacts with everyone fresh.”
“Right,” Élan said when he paused.
“I went to a banquet and a few people were asked to an after-party event. Top-level industry types only. People with a lot of sway.”
“Okay.”
He seemed reluctant to say more. “There were a handful of us there, and we were all given some of it. Seemed harmless. The guy said that if we wanted more, to let him know. The only catch was that we needed to remember a few names when voting time came around. And in the meantime, we should show our support. Talk him up with trendy, influential people. Nik was really interested in both the sparkle and the political connections, but I didn’t care about either.”
“I need to know who gave it to him. And gave it to you as well, from the sound of it?”
He sighed. “Marten Stratos gave it to us. He gave me some, but I felt like it was a bad idea to breathe some unidentified junk. I took it to be polite, then shoved it in a drawer and forgot about it.”
“What were the names you were supposed to remember? Who was he trying to buy votes for?”
Far’s shoulders pushed back and his jaw firmed decisively. “Magistrates Burroughs, Olith, and Sorenson.”
It wasn’t strange for Ina Trewe to invite Marten Stratos to her office. Kassimeigh had noted from the records that the man frequently visited the town hall in Capital to consult with the various magistrates.
The unusual thing that morning was that when he arrived, a black-clad justice and a blue-haired woman sat across the desk from Ina. Kassimeigh saw his surprise, then his unease. He tried to cover it with a practiced smile, but Kassimeigh wasn’t buying it. Judging from Izzy’s frown, she didn’t, either.
Ina didn’t rise to greet him, nor did she or Izzy. Instead, Ina nodded to him from behind her desk.
“Mart
en. Please have a seat.” She indicated the one between Kassimeigh and Izzy.
“Of course. I thought we’d be doing a typical PR consult, but I see Flyn and Posey aren’t here.” As he sat, his eyes skimmed over the two women who were, instead, in attendance.
“Yes. We aren’t here in regard to my business. We’re here in regard to yours. And hers.” Ina nodded toward Kassimeigh.
Stratos stiffened and his cultivated smile slid away. Good. He understood his situation.
“Marten Stratos,” she intoned, “I am Shiv Justice Kassimeigh, elder of the Northern Keep. I am here to adjudicate you. You’re suspected of distributing a deadly substance, and of crimes against the Council.”
She didn’t know exactly what crimes and hoped his testimony would help her figure that out. But better if he assumed she already knew everything. She narrowed her eyes in a way that said she did.
The man paled and his eyes darted around the room.
“We’ll start with sparkle. Do you deny that you’ve distributed it?”
“No.” The answer was hoarse.
“Do you understand how it’s made, or how it functions?”
“No.”
A quick glance at Izzy confirmed that he told the truth.
“Did you know that it’s dangerous, and has proven deadly in several cases?”
His head drooped forward and he pressed a hand to his forehead. “No.”
She’d hoped for that. His life might be saved. That was especially good because she needed his services for the next part of her plan.
She crossed her arms. It felt strange to adjudicate someone while sitting, so she stood and turned slightly to face him.
“It is dangerous. It has proven deadly. That means you are in a very precarious position. If you value your life, you must be entirely forthcoming while we deal with the second part of your adjudication. Understand?”
He nodded.
“Who gave you the sparkle?”
“Magistrate Sorenson.”
Kassimeigh glanced at Ina. While the magistrate’s posture and expression remained impassive, Kassimeigh’s familiarity allowed her to recognize a nearly imperceptible narrowing of her eyes.
