"Apparently he's given you a city that's safe enough to trade in that you'll get a higher price for your pelt than if you tried to sell it out in the wilderness."
Cord patted the sword on her hip. "When I step into a street, I make it safe. I should be taxing him!"
"Can we have this argument another time? Like never? We need to see Captain Twill's family."
"First, we eat. No one is reasonable before breakfast."
Blays hunted for his boots. "At last, something we can all agree on."
They headed downstairs and ate a breakfast of flatbread, spiced squash, and a thick lentil stew. Cord ate what the Keeper couldn't.
Finally finished, Cord stood and stretched her arms above her head. "The day looks much brighter now. I'll seek an audience with the Twills. Stay here, yes? The people of Dog's Paw welcome strangers, but not to their doorstep."
She walked outside, leaving the four of them to pick at the scraps remaining on the table. Aside from the plentiful wines and beers, the beverage of choice in Dog's Paw was a strong tea that tasted similar to the way their sage-lights smelled. Dante couldn't decide if he liked it.
Blays set down his mug. "Is this really our next step?"
"Do you have another suggestion?" Dante said.
"Try the four other senates?"
"The first two beat us down like we'd stolen their shoes and were trying to sell them back to them. What makes you think the next ones will be any different?"
"Because they are different?"
"The Andrac have these people so scared they're literally jumping at their own shadows. It'll take us at least a week to go get rebuffed by each of the other senates. That's more than enough time for Mallon to bring a second army into the basin."
"So what? As long as they've got the invincible demons on their side, it doesn't matter if they've got a hundred men or a hundred thousand." Blays brightened and snapped his fingers. "That's your plan, isn't it? After we use the tragedy of Twill's death to light off a war, the gods will be so disgusted with us they'll turn us into demons. Then we can fight back as equals!"
"Let me ask you this," Dante said. "Do you think Twill's family should be kept in the dark?"
"They have the right to be told. But the timing's fishier than a fishwife's explanation of why she smells like the neighbor's cologne."
"So we agree they should be told."
"And not so much on every other part of this."
"Then here's my deal," Dante said. "You do all the talking."
Blays narrowed his eyes. "Why would I want to do that?"
"So I won't manipulate them into agitating for war."
"Leaving them to do with the information as they will. That's…reasonable. Why are you offering me this?"
"Because we're friends," Dante said. "And I want to keep it that way."
Blays picked up his mug of sage tea. "You've been leading too long. You're finally starting to get wise. What say you, Naran?"
"Agreed," Naran said. "Provide her family with the information they have the right to, and leave it to them to decide how to use it. That will respect Twill as she deserves."
Cord returned an hour later. Her default expression was to look pleased with herself, but that morning, she looked ready to marry herself.
"The Twill family will meet us," she said. "I promised we'd return with all the swiftness of our legs."
The Keeper struggled to her feet. "Then I hope you warned them of the limits of mine."
"Would you rather stay?" Dante said. "If you don't feel safe, I'll stay with you."
"And miss your meeting?"
"That will make it much easier for me to keep my mouth shut."
"I have already broken my vow to never leave the Reborn Shrine. I might as well get the most of my fall from grace."
Cord led them outside. Rather than climbing up to one of the houses dug into the hillside, she took them around a trail into the scrub.
"Can you tell us more about the Twills?" Blays said. "Like whether they're the type to shoot the messenger?"
Cord swung her arms as she walked. "I don't know anything more than what's said in the pubs. Do you know what we say of a true Collener? That they've eaten so much dust they have mud for blood. That is what they say of the Twills."
"She didn't speak of her family much," Naran said. "But I know they're merchants, as she was. Some more legitimate than others."
"But they all do business," Dante said. "As a family."
Blays snorted. "Perverse, I know. But some families like each other."
Dante shut his mouth. He'd been afraid the Twills might be an old man and his wife trying to coax a few shoots of asparagus from the dirt. Instead, they sounded like a minor institution. When people of means got angry, they tended to have no compunction against browbeating the nearest official into doing their will.
The walk took them over a low hill and into a stretch of land where patches of grass tried valiantly to maintain their green color. A coalition of black stone buildings stood across the field. Cord approached what looked at a distance to be a small shack, but as they grew closer, it resolved into the hull of a compact sailboat propped on a scaffold.
"They're trying to build ships out here?" Blays gazed across the desert. "No wonder Twill left for Bressel."
As they neared the structures, three small figures jogged outside holding bows and nocked arrows. Two girls and a boy, the oldest no more than fifteen. They crouched behind shrubs.
"Who's there?" a girl called.
"Ho!" Cord lifted her left hand straight in the air. "Is this how you greet friends of Boggs?"
"He's 'specting you?"
"I am Cord, and these are my friends. If you don't fetch Boggs, you'd better hope my partners have more patience than me!"
The girl straightened, peering at Cord like one of the rodents Dante occasionally saw out in Collen's fields, and scampered back to the house. The other two kids kept their bows trained on Cord. After a minute, the front door banged open. A man in his early thirties stalked outside.
He turned to face the delegation. His tanned face was ruddy with exertion, anger, or both. What wasn't ruddy was scarred.
He tipped his chin at Cord. "These're your people?"
"I can't call them mine," she said. "But for now, they walk with me."
"You said they had news about Mariola." He squinted at Naran. His voice softened a touch. "You're Mr. Naran? She talked about you in her letters."
Naran bowed his head. "I'm honored she thought to do so."
Boggs laughed. "Yeah, she said you were a stiff one. So what drags you out to our little slice of hell? Where's Mariola? Slippin' one past the royal navy?"
The children watched them closely. Naran nodded to the door. "Perhaps we should speak inside."
"It's barely morning. Don't tell me you got your fill of sun already." Seeing the look on Naran's face, Boggs curled his lips. His face went ashen. "Something happened. She's dead, ain't she? Who did it?"
"Are you sure you want to have this conversation in front of the children?"
"You mean am I afraid they might accidentally learn how the world works? That Colleners are planted in the ground every day 'cause Mallish pigs think they own this land and everyone on it? Why do you think I got these kids their bows as soon's they had the strength to draw them?"
Naran exhaled through his nose. "You're correct. Several weeks ago, Captain Twill was executed in Bressel by a priest named Gladdic."
"We're used to not hearing from her for months on end. That's the life at sea. But this time…I had a feeling something wicked was on its way. I wrote to her. Asking when she'd be home next. Hoped I could get her back here before whatever was coming did its damage." A pair of tears dropped down Boggs' face. He made no effort to wipe them away. "Tell me more about who's the bastard I'm going to stab."
Naran relayed the tale. Blays added a few details Naran hadn't been present for, but Dante held his tongue the entire time. Boggs asked a handful
of terse questions.
"I can't express the depths of my sorrow," Naran said after he'd finished. "Captain Twill was my mentor—but also my best friend. I can never hope to replace her."
Boggs nodded, shoulders hunched tight around his neck. "Tell me if I'm hearing what you're saying. Mariola died taking you somewhere none of you was supposed to go?"
"Correct. The king shut down passage to the Plagued Islands in order to make sure Mallon's business wouldn't be interfered with."
"In other words, if you lot hadn't been sticking your nose in it, she'd still be here."
Naran's eyebrows shot up. He quickly smoothed his expression. "Don't blame these men. Twill agreed to help them because Dante cured her of the Weeping End. Then, after what Gladdic did to Captain Twill, the crown claimed her ship and pressganged most of our crew. Dante and Blays freed them and recaptured Twill's ship. In exchange for my further aid in the islands, I made them promise to help me kill Gladdic. They could have abandoned their promise at a dozen different points. For that matter, rather than risk their lives against a terrible sorcerer, they could have killed me and walked away and no one would have been the wiser." He gestured to Blays and Dante. "Yet here they are."
Boggs looked away, teeth clenched so hard the cords on his neck flexed like rigging. "You're still after the asshole that done it? Gladdic?"
Dante glanced at Blays. Blays said, "Even though it's starting to feel more and more suicidal. Not that that's stopped us before."
"So why's he still above ground?"
"There's been a complication. Involving demons."
Boggs swore. "So's I heard. Hoped that was nothing more than fools believing foolish things. So that means you can't get at him. Sneaky, isn't you?"
"How's that?" Blays said.
"I may live out in the desert like some poor mouse, but that don't mean I'm dumb. I know you spoke to the senate last night. And I know they tossed you out on your ear. Today, you come to tell me the last thing I want to hear. You angling to set the Twills on the senate's throats?"
"We just learned you lived here last night. We thought you deserved to hear what happened from those of us who were there."
"So you say." Boggs spat in the dust. "I make my living trading with people who don't want me to know how much they've got in their pocket. I know an agenda when I see one."
"I wanted to talk you into pressuring the senate," Dante blurted. "But Blays and Naran thought that would dishonor Captain Twill's death. And they were right."
"Then why in the twelve hells are you here?"
"Your sister was fearless. If we couldn't come here to tell you what happened face to face, then we learned nothing from her."
"Mister Naran said you saved her life. Cured her of the Weeping End."
"Just so she'd take us to the islands," Dante said. "It was entirely for my own ends. I'm no saint."
"None of us is." Boggs stared across the hardpan. "Let me show you something."
He stalked around the side of the house. Dante shrugged at Blays, then followed, as did the others. Boggs headed past the house and several shacks and climbed a low ridge, stopping at the top. Below them, roofed, open-walled structures housed a great deal of lumber. Past this, the desert went on.
"What do you see here?"
"Desert," Blays said. "In plentiful supply."
"Not Mariola. When she looked out here, she saw potential. Great big gobs of it. Mister Naran, do you know what Mariola was doing with her money?"
"She always said she was investing it," Naran said. "But when I or the crew asked what she was investing in, her answer was always 'our future.'"
Boggs chuckled. The sound was almost resentful. "She was gettin' our aunt into the dredging business. Keeping the canals good and deep. Hard work, but fine money from the earthers. Mariola weren't in it for the coin, though. See, Parth ain't too far southeast of here. No further than some of the canals we already got. My sister wanted to dig a new canal. All the way to Parth. Her idea was we could use the waterways to trade back and forth. Travel, too. Much cheaper than draggin' wagons across the desert. Build right good friends with the Parthians, too."
He nodded to the piles of lumber. "She was just gettin' started on the first barges this year. Was going to send them up and down the canals we already got to show everyone how easy it'd be. Earn a pile of cash and convince others to invest in the new canal she wanted. See, my sister had vision. She went to sea because she knew that was the only way to get the seed money—and to learn boats, too. And now she's dead."
Dante kept silent. So did the others. The only sound was the wind; with no leaves to rustle, the gusts were hollow, untextured.
"She saw further than anybody I knew. Don't know why nobody had the idea to use the canals for trade before her. Maybe it seemed too expensive. Maybe it's 'cuz the currents are so sluggish, and with the winds always blowing the wrong way, a caravan would always be faster. Even so, she was going to find a way. But that's what Mallon does, don't they? They take away our best and brightest. And all that's left is fools like me."
Dante itched to speak up, but forced himself to stick to his promise.
"A canal to Parth," Cord mused. "That would be a sight."
"It's gone now," Boggs said. "Once Mallon's through here, we'll be too busy rakin' up the mess to waste any work on a canal. What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to deal with something none of our people's ever been able to set straight?"
Blays toed the dirt. "If you can't answer that, I don't know what hope we'd have. All I can tell you is we're going after Gladdic."
Boggs stooped for a rock and slung it as hard as he could. It struck one of the tarps strung over the lumber, punching right through the fabric.
"Stay in town," he said. "It'll take a few days to bring the rest of the family around."
"What are you going to tell them?" Dante said.
"That Mariola's gone. And if we give a damn for her memory, we can't let Gladdic take the next Mariola."
The five of them trudged away from the ridge, leaving Boggs to gaze at the desert. Around him, the children fired arrows into a raggedy bale of wheat stalks.
"I'm impressed," Blays said. "I figured that as soon as you heard he was looking to build a canal, an offer to dig it would erupt from you like the gases in a dead man's belly."
Dante stepped over a protrusion of basalt. "Maybe if I pretend to have ideals, the ether will like me better. Besides, now isn't the time to spend my talents digging ditches. We've got demons to slay."
* * *
The next few days were quiet ones. It was good to have time away from the stresses of battle, diplomacy, and travel, but it was hard to feel like they weren't wasting vital time. Every day Gladdic had control of the city was another day for him to tighten his hold on it. And for fresh soldiers to arrive from Bressel.
Dante put his time to use continuing to practice the ether, summoning it as the Keeper had instructed. If he was making progress, it wasn't obvious. Maybe the Keeper was right about him. Then again, he'd once thought he'd never be able to use the ether at all. Perhaps the fact it had required a trip into the afterlife to unlock that ability was proof he would always be limited at it, but there was no sense turning things into a self-fulfilling prophecy.
His skills were limited enough that he was only able to practice them for a quarter of an hour a day. After that, he sought news down in the common room or at one of the merchant stalls set up along the cliffs. According to rumor, the city of Collen remained closed. No one entered or left. No reinforcements had arrived yet, either. Dante assumed Gladdic was doing the same thing they were: laying the groundwork for the next move.
"Let's say Boggs convinces the Twills to pressure the senate," Blays said one afternoon after returning from the pub. "And the senate is convinced to go to war. Triggering the Oath of the Wasp or the Code of the Honey Badger or whatever these people are sworn to. All of a sudden, the basin's got a new army to play with. What do we do with it?"<
br />
Dante rubbed his eyes. "Coordinate with them to liberate Collen. For all that's happened, I'm still hoping to limit our involvement. If we can take out Gladdic and the demons, we can leave the Colleners to take and hold the city. The question is, what happens if Gladdic isn't the only priest who can summon the Andrac?"
"Then the world is much scarier than I thought it was."
"We may have to summon a few monks from Narashtovik," Dante said. "They can keep the city safe from further demons and do their best to train some of the locals into sorcerers."
"Sounds great. But you know what I'm going to ask next."
"No. We still don't know how to take down the Andrac."
"Right," Blays said. "Then I'll get back to drafting our defeat speech."
Dante spent what was left of the day discussing the ether and the Star-Eaters with the Keeper. Between them, they turned up exactly zero new insights regarding the demons. As Dante dressed to go downstairs and get drunk in disgrace, the loon in his ear tingled.
He activated it. "Hello? Jona?"
"You're alive!" The voice was familiar, but Dante couldn't quite place it. "Greetings from Narashtovik, wayward leader."
Dante grinned. "Nak?
"In the voice. Now what trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?"
19
"You've got proof you didn't hire the Crows?" Raxa snorted at the man seated in the chair. "Let me guess. It's sheathed in that scabbard by the door."
Cane Dreggs shook his head slowly. "It's here between my ears. You're right about one thing. It was the Army of Crows who attacked you. But why do you think I hired them?"
"The Crows are run by a man named Bennel. The same Bennel is cousins with your lieutenant Vart Dracks."
"So what? Are cousins incapable of doing business with anyone but each other? In that case, I'm retiring from the underworld to convince King Moddegan he has a long-lost branch of the family tree."
"They talked," Raxa said. "We found their letters."
"Which ones?"
"The ones Bennel sent to Dracks."
The Silver Thief Page 28
