The duchess was delightfully absorbed in a novel chronicling the scandalous adventures of a particularly devious lady of high fashion when there was a knock at her door. Diane closed her novel over a finger to mark her place and called, “Enter!”
Once again, it was the swordsman, Reynald. He bowed to her and held out a sealed note. “My lady, a message for you from Lord Davenant.”
She set down her novel, took the note, and glanced at the seal—it was plain, not the Davenant crest. “Since you have delivered this yourself rather than passing it on to Tilson, I gather you have some further information for me?”
Reynald nodded. “When I was at Davenant House, an embassage arrived from the Merchants’ Confederation. They delivered a petition to the Dragon Chancellor, demanding a full report on the chocolate shortage. Apparently, the merchants believe that the Council is lying about it. They say they have knowledge of the matter from a chocolate dealer.”
“Do they indeed?” she said coolly. “How did Lord Davenant respond?”
“He kept me waiting for this, while he dictated notes to the other chancellors, madam.” The swordsman sounded impatient at being forced into the role of courier.
“I see.” Diane ran her fingers over the fine, thick paper on which Lord Davenant had doubtless written yet another declaration of his passion for her. She looked at Reynald, who was, like Lord Davenant, a man—and thus in possession of an ego that required tending. “I would like to know which dealer is behind these rumors. Can you find that out for me?”
Had he been a peacock he would have spread his feathers in pride. “Of course, madam,” Reynald said instantly. “I will return to the Kinwiinik district and discover him.”
“Good.” She knew that he would not find anyone, but it would keep him occupied. He might even discover something she didn’t already know.
“Would you like me to silence this person, madam?” he asked eagerly.
“I simply wish to know his identity. Can you not ascertain that from a living man?” she said. Reynald had become far too bloodthirsty lately; she couldn’t allow him to develop the habit of assuming she wished him to murder everyone.
“Of course, my lady,” he said quickly.
“Then go.”
“Yes, my lady.”
After Reynald departed, Diane unsealed the note. She had written to Davenant just that morning, and she had not expected a response so soon. His handwriting was hasty, sprawling across the thick paper, and his signature was messier than usual—owing, no doubt, to his distress over the merchants’ petition. She read the brief message with a smile curling the corner of her lips. He begged to see her. He was unable to contain his longing for her. What a dear.
She folded the note and placed it in the back of her novel. She would respond, but she had left the heroine, Lady Genevieve, in quite a prickly situation at the theater, and she wished to know how it would turn out. By the end of the chapter, Lady Genevieve had taken control of the situation expertly (as Diane expected), and Diane had decided upon a course of action. She pulled a piece of Tremontaine-crested stationery from her desk and picked up a pen.
My dear Gregory, she wrote, and licked the quill with the tip of her tongue.
The Inkpot, generally a crowded and convivial gathering place for University students in search of cheap beer, decent tomato pie, and the kind of whisky so raw it tastes nearly combustible, was less lively than usual on this early summer afternoon, but not because the students had taken to the outdoors. When Rafe and his fellow students arrived at the Inkpot after his excruciating six-hour oral examination, they found a room full of sleepy scholars getting sleepier as they drank beers to chase away the lingering, indigestion-inducing taste of amandyne.
“The stuff is disgusting,” said one young student who looked rather pale and sweaty, as if he had developed a winter fever.
“I’ve heard there’s something better over at Kettlesworth Hall,” said another.
“You mean in the Alchemy department?”
“Yes, you smoke it.”
One student left in search of this latest mythical chocolate substitute, another slumped over in a snore, and Rafe started in on his third beer in a quarter of an hour, bought by his fellow College of Natural Science classmates who trickled in to congratulate him on becoming a Master.
“I nearly thought he was a goner when he started in on Chickering,” said Joshua.
“Good on you for standing up for experimentation!” said one student, shaking Rafe’s hand vigorously.
“How in the Seven Hells did you get Lyttle out of retirement?” asked another.
“Good thing you did—can you imagine de Bertel’s objections?”
A round of laughter followed, while Micah said in his high-pitched voice, “Does this mean you’re finished with the University?”
“I think so,” Rafe said, still a bit stunned by the course of the day’s events. He was a Master now! Why didn’t he feel more triumphant? In fact, why did he feel as if he were about to walk off a plank into shark-infested waters?
“What will you do?” Micah sounded anxious.
Rafe shoved the panic-inducing thoughts aside. “Currently my only plan is to get roaring drunk,” he said.
The door to the Inkpot flew open, and Thaddeus appeared, his eyes overly bright. “It’s here!” he cried loudly, drawing the gaze of every patron in the Inkpot. “The white coat! Ah, there it is, such a creature!”
Joshua stood up. “Thaddeus, what in the Seven Hells is wrong with you?”
Thaddeus spotted their group gathered around the wooden table in the front window and broke into a beatific smile. “It is glorious!” he declared, and lurched across the floor toward them.
Rafe nearly fainted when he saw the man who had been hidden behind Thaddeus in the doorway.
“Will,” he said, almost to himself. Then, pushing his chair back hastily and standing on unsteady feet, he cried, “My lord! What are you doing here?”
The Duke Tremontaine glanced around the dingy, low-ceilinged establishment, favored haunt of many a University scholar, until his blue eyes alighted on the young man swaying beside a slight boy and a table full of remnants of tomato pie. “Rafe!” William called, and made his way through the tavern.
“What are you doing here?” Rafe hissed again in shock.
“I have heard that this is where newly minted Masters celebrate their success,” Will said, smiling.
Rafe gaped at him for a moment. “You heard—how did you know?”
“The University informed me, of course,” Will said. “May I join you?”
Behind them, Thaddeus cried, “The beard! It’s so lovely.”
Rafe winced. “Are you sure you want to be here?”
“I wish to absorb the atmosphere of intellectual curiosity,” Will said warmly. “Let me buy you a beer, eh?”
“What is wrong with Thaddeus?” Micah was asking.
Joshua answered, “I don’t know. He’s seeing something that isn’t there.”
Rafe glanced from the duke, who was dressed far too splendidly for the Inkpot, to his inebriated classmates, to Micah. He had the distinct feeling that this could be a disaster, but the fact that Will had come to the Inkpot on his own was . . . well, Rafe’s heart was beating a bit faster than usual. He pulled a chair away from an empty table and set it beside his own. “Please,” Rafe said.
The duke insisted on buying a round of beers for everyone. Rafe was thus forced to introduce him, officially, to his friends, who all (except Micah) gaped at the duke as if he wore an exotic Kinwiinik feather headdress. Rafe tried to avoid remembering the fact that Joshua and Thaddeus had heard the duke many times before, due to the cramped nature of their rooms.
Micah told him brightly, “I was at your house for the ball.”
Will gave the slight boy a puzzled look. “You were?”
Rafe said quickly, “Micah here is a brilliant mathematician. You know that theory I was telling you about? Micah is helping me de
velop it. Micah, tell the duke about the artificial numbers.”
“Oh, do you want to hear about them?” Micah said eagerly.
“Indeed I do,” the duke replied.
Micah launched into an explanation, and Rafe hoped that Will would forget what Micah had said about the ball. Meanwhile, beside him Thaddeus continued to stare dreamily at something that no one else could see. Rafe whispered to Joshua, “What happened to him?”
“He went to see Clarence,” Joshua said, eyeing the Duke Tremontaine nervously.
“Of Alchemy?”
“Yes.”
Thaddeus suddenly turned to them and said, “You are both talking about me; I know it! And you don’t understand—the leaf we smoked is a miracle—I see things now so clearly that I have never seen before!”
“What do you see, Thaddeus?” Rafe asked.
“It’s beautiful,” Thaddeus gushed. “Look over there—perhaps you will be able to see it—you are more open-minded than the rest of them.”
Rafe decided to humor him. “I only see some other University students.”
“He’s a wily creature,” Thaddeus said. “The coat on him—white as snow, fine as—as a lady’s face powder!”
“And how are you familiar with ladies’ face powder?” Joshua asked.
Thaddeus paid no attention to Joshua, continuing to describe the creature in rapturous tones so piercing that everyone at the table, including Micah and William, turned to stare.
“Er, is your friend quite all right?” Will asked Rafe.
“Pay no attention to him,” Rafe said. “Did Micah tell you about the star charts?”
“Yes, it’s all extremely exciting,” Will responded enthusiastically.
Micah was studying Thaddeus, who was gesticulating wildly and declaring that no one believed him. “Thaddeus, tell me again—this thing you’re seeing has white fur and a beard?” Micah questioned.
“Yes, yes! Can you see it? And the coat is so wonderful!”
“Like snow and powder, I remember,” Micah said. “But tell me what else is it wearing?”
“Wearing? It’s not wearing clothes.”
“But the coat?”
Thaddeus blinked slowly, his gaze shifting to Micah’s curious face. “Aha!” Thaddeus exclaimed. “No, no, this isn’t a human being. You really can’t see it at all, can you?”
“I’m afraid I can’t,” Micah said.
Thaddeus looked disappointed. He turned to Rafe. “Can you see it?”
Rafe grimaced. “Thaddeus, I think you might need to go home and sleep this off.”
“Sleep! No! Oh, look—it’s coming closer.” Thaddeus scooted his chair back and his eyes followed the invisible creature as it apparently crossed the Inkpot. As Joshua buried his face in his hands, Thaddeus reached one hand out as if to stroke something in midair.
“Oh for the Land’s sake, will you stop that?” Rafe snapped, hoping that Will didn’t think all his friends were insane.
Thaddeus did not respond, but continued to stroke the invisible creature.
“What is it?” Will asked.
“It appears to be approximately five feet tall, with a white coat and a beard, and it’s not a human being so I assume it’s an animal,” Micah said helpfully.
Joshua, face still hidden behind his hands, said flatly, “Haven’t you guessed yet? It’s a unicorn. He’s seeing unicorns.”
Rafe burst into laughter, barely managing to avoid choking on his beer. “What was in that pipe he smoked?” he asked.
“You’ll have to ask Clarence,” Joshua said.
Micah’s eyebrows were furrowed. “But there are no such things as unicorns. I know that because I’ve heard of them, but my aunt told me that they are only stories.” Suddenly Micah’s eyes brightened, and he tugged on Thaddeus’s sleeve. “Thaddeus, perhaps you’re mistaken. Perhaps you’re seeing a goat! A white goat. I think that in some cases goats were mistaken for unicorns.”
Thaddeus slowly turned to look at Micah, blinking as if he were coming out of a daze. “A goat?” he mused. He glanced back at the invisible creature, which seemed to be situated in approximately the same location as the Duke Tremontaine. “I . . . are you a goat?”
Everyone at the table except for Thaddeus and Micah froze in horror.
Will blinked. “I’m sorry, young man. Are you addressing me?”
Thaddeus’s face had begun to turn an unhealthy shade of green, and as William looked at him with concern, Thaddeus pressed his hands over his stomach. “I’m—I’m not feeling —” He jumped up and bolted from the table, clutching his belly. He barely made it outside before he doubled over in the doorway, throwing up in the street.
“Er, well, shall I buy another round?” said the duke delicately.
Rafe winced.
The Kinwiinik warehouses were nestled between the docks and the Middle City in the Traders’ district, a long but easy downhill walk from Tremontaine House. Reynald was aware of about half a dozen warehouses, but he wasn’t about to knock on their front doors and ask for information. He would get the lay of the land first, watching for who went where.
He decided to start at the largest warehouse, one of several managed by the Balam family. He found a convenient vantage point across the street in a shady square where children were playing around a water pump. The pump also provided cover in the form of a crowd, because it brought many Kinwiinik to the area seeking both water and community gossip. Reynald settled into a corner beneath a gum tree that peeked over the wall of a family compound and pretended to fall asleep.
He had been watching for some time before he saw a figure he recognized approach the warehouse and enter. It was the Kinwiinik girl who had fought off all those men in Riverside and then shown up at the duchess’s ball with her family. Definitely a person of interest. The girl left the warehouse an hour or so later carrying a leather bag over one shoulder, and Reynald followed. She proceeded down the street and around the corner, where she disappeared—damn her—right into the Balam compound. He was about to find another place to wait when he saw someone he knew slipping into an alley across the street.
Reynald approached the alley, hand on his sword. “Aldwin?” he said in a low voice.
A beat of silence, and then the Galing house swordsman stepped out of the shadows. “What are you doing here, Reynald?”
Reynald spat on the cobblestones. “None of your business. What are you doing here?”
Aldwin gave him a dark look. “I’d wager I’m doing the same thing you’re doing.”
Aldwin was a good swordsman, but word had it that the Crescent Chancellor had been ordering him to take on other tasks recently, the kind of tasks that Reynald was so very skilled at. “As a matter of swordsman’s courtesy,” Reynald said, “I’ll tell if you’ll tell.”
Aldwin shifted on his feet and gave a short laugh. “Very well. I’ll play, but you first.”
Reynald gestured toward the Balam compound. “I’m following that girl.”
Aldwin nodded. “I’ve been following her too.”
“Why?”
“She was poking around my lord’s house, asking after a whore who used to visit him.”
Reynald could almost feel the pieces clicking into place. “Which whore? Galing had a number of them.”
Aldwin gave him a cruel grin. “He did. This one died recently. Name of Ben.”
Reynald’s teeth clenched. “This Kinwiinik girl’s been sniffing around about Ben?”
“I think so. Talked to Titus about it too—you know, Karleigh’s swordsman. The Kinwiinik girl was also at their place looking for Ben.”
Reynald glanced over his shoulder at the Balam compound. No movement there, and if she had left, he was certain that Aldwin would have noticed. “Mind if I join you?” Reynald asked, stepping into the alley.
“If I mind, will that stop you?”
Reynald bared his teeth at the other swordsman.
Aldwin grunted. “Didn’t think so. Just don’t get in my w
ay.”
The two swordsmen leaned against opposite walls in the alley, adjusted their weapons and their expressions, and prepared to wait for Ixkaab Balam to appear.
The window of Tess’s Riverside studio was open to the warm, sunny day, and as Kaab approached the building she caught a glimpse of Tess inside, her face turned down to her work. She was worrying her lower lip between her teeth, and as a curl of red hair fell over her eyes, she brushed it back with impatient, ink-stained fingers. It had been over a month since they had first kissed, and in the weeks since then Kaab had learned exactly how much she enjoyed kissing the spark-eyed, red-haired beauty. She had been in no rush to turn their kisses into anything more, because Tess had clearly been mourning Ben’s death, but given the state in which she had last left Tess—rather breathlessly, she recalled with a grin—Kaab was certain that the moment for more had arrived. And Kaab, who prided herself on many things, but most especially her attentiveness to feminine desires, was determined to do this the right way.
“Tess!” Kaab called from beneath the window.
Tess looked up in surprise, then leaned out the window with a smile lighting up her face. “Kaab! I didn’t expect you today.”
“I’ve brought you something,” Kaab called, gesturing to a large leather satchel slung over her shoulder.
“I’ll be right there.”
A few moments later the front door opened to reveal Tess in a simple blue dress with a white smock, the sleeves pushed up to reveal her dimpled wrists. Her coppery hair was coming loose from its knot, and her face was a bit flushed as she asked, “What have you brought me, Kaab?”
“A special gift from my homeland. May I come inside and prepare it for you?”
“Is it chocolate?” Tess asked with a sly grin. “I’ve heard it’s in high demand these days.”
Kaab raised a finger to her lips conspiratorially. “I know nothing about such a demand, but it would be best if we not discuss it in public.”
Tess laughed and opened the door wider, gesturing up the stairs. “Come inside.”
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