Company of Strangers, #1

by Melissa McShane

  “We have to get out of here,” she said. “Someplace quiet where we can talk.” Her face was still red, but so were her eyes, as if she were suppressing tears.

  Sienne stifled her questions as Alaric turned and pushed his way through the crowds. She hoped he didn’t plan to go all the way back to Master Tersus’s house for a private conversation, because she wasn’t sure she could stand the strain of not knowing. But Alaric took them down a different alley, one that was mostly narrow houses with common walls, and stopped under a street lamp. “What did Renaldi have to say?”

  Dianthe swiped a hand across her eyes. “She’s dead,” she said. “They don’t know if…if she burned to death, or if she was killed first—” She drew in a sobbing breath. Alaric put his arm around her and hugged her tight. Sienne risked a glance at him. His face was impassive, expressionless, but she had the feeling it was the kind of impassive that concealed an explosion waiting to get out.

  Dianthe breathed in again and wiped her eyes once more. “Sorry. She’d have hated it if I got maudlin over her.”

  “It’s all right to grieve,” Alaric said. “But now is the time to plan vengeance for her. She’d have loved that.”

  Dianthe choked out a laugh. “True. Well. The fire burned Neoma’s shop and left the shops on either side untouched. That means magic, and more, it means arson. Denys said they’re bringing in a couple of priests, one to determine cause of…of death, and one to identify the bastards who did this. He promised to let me know what they find.”

  “Never thought I’d be grateful to Renaldi for anything,” Alaric muttered. Dianthe slugged him in the chest, not very hard. “What else?”

  “I asked him about her box. He’s not from around here, so he didn’t even know it existed. They didn’t see it inside.”

  There was a pause. Kalanath, who’d been unusually silent, said, “Then it was destroyed. I do not know why it matters.”

  “It was invulnerable,” Sienne said. “It couldn’t be destroyed, even by magic. Are they sure it wasn’t just buried in the rubble?”

  “Very sure. There’s not a lot of rubble left.” Dianthe sighed. “It’s a damn waste is what it is. How many thousands of lari worth of merchandise did those bastards destroy? Her box never had more than about five hundred lari in it.”

  “And the gems, and that beautiful necklace,” Sienne said.

  “Also not worth much by comparison to the stock.”

  “And one more thing,” Alaric said. “The pendant.”

  They all stared at him. “She paid us sixty lari for the pendant. Are you saying someone killed her for a trinket worth sixty lari?” Dianthe said.

  “A trinket that came from a hidden cache from the before times,” Alaric said. “A trinket each of us handled.”

  “The body I found was clutching it tightly, like it was his, or her, most treasured possession,” Sienne said.

  Perrin shook his head. “This is all supposition,” he said. “Linked by the barest of threads. You, Sienne, told us yourself it was not magical, and magic is the only thing that would make such a bauble more valuable than its intrinsic worth.”

  “But it is one thing all of us, and this poor dead woman, have touched. You said a blessing might locate someone with such a…I do not know the word,” Kalanath said.

  “Qualification,” Perrin said. “That is true.”

  “But if someone wanted the pendant, why not ask for a blessing that would track it directly?” Dianthe said.

  “Possibly because they could not,” Perrin said. “Either their avatar rejected the request, or they did not know the object well enough. One cannot, for example, simply ask for the location of a diamond necklace. One must have a specific necklace in mind. No one has seen that pendant for hundreds of years.”

  “And yet they came looking for it now,” Sienne said. “That frightens me, that someone knew we’d retrieved it and came after us for it. And now Neoma’s dead.”

  “Then we must get it back,” Kalanath said.

  It was his turn to be stared at. Alaric said, “How does that follow?”

  Kalanath shrugged. “I dislike being a target,” he said, “and I dislike more that someone is dead because of a thing we found. Anyone who is willing to kill to have it will not stop at one death, and though we do not know why the pendant is special, it is certain the thief does. It feels like our responsibility to stop him.”

  “It’s not our fault they killed Neoma,” Dianthe protested. “You can’t think like that.”

  “It is not about fault.” Kalanath stopped and appeared to be searching for words. “It is that we are capable of stopping more evil from happening, and in my home, my mother—” He stopped again, closed his eyes briefly, and said, “I was taught that if you can stop evil, you should stop evil, because you cannot know if you may be the only one who can.”

  “But we know almost nothing,” Perrin said. He ticked off his words on one hand. “We don’t know what the pendant really is or why someone might want it, we don’t know where it is, we don’t know who stole it, and we have no idea where to begin looking for it. And the thieves may already have begun whatever wickedness they intend.”

  “Why thieves? Kalanath and I were attacked by one man, alone,” Sienne said.

  “But the destruction of the shop, and Neoma’s murder, couldn’t have been pulled off by a single person,” Dianthe said. “He must have had accomplices.”

  “Well, they’re not getting into that box any time soon,” Sienne declared. “It can’t be burned, cut, chopped, or force-blasted open. And the lock—Neoma breathed on it to open it, which means they’d need her living breath to get into it. Even a blessing can’t get around that.”

  “That is true,” Perrin said. “Unless one of them is a priest whose avatar can offer them an alternative, that lock will remain, well, locked to them. But we cannot count on that being true.”

  “Yes, and suppose they forced her to open it before they killed her?” Dianthe said. Then she shook her head. “No. There’d have been no need for arson if they had what they wanted. The arson was to conceal the fact that the box was missing. They knew someone might come looking for it.”

  “I think we should act as if we still have time,” Alaric said. “Perrin, how likely is it that Averran will grant you a blessing to locate the pendant?”

  Perrin shook his head. “I give it better than even odds,” he said. “Averran is not fond of granting location blessings, as he believes a true search sharpens the wits and polishes the soul. But I am familiar with the object, which is something in our favor, and I believe the fact that we seek it for altruistic reasons will incline him to our aid. But I cannot do it until tomorrow morning. After eleven o’clock, by preference. I think I should not pester him unduly.”

  “It can’t be helped.” Alaric looked away down the street. “I think, now that our enemies have the pendant, we’re no longer in danger, but we should escort you to your lodgings, just in case.”

  “That seems unnecessary,” Perrin said. “I would not put you to the trouble.”

  “It’s no trouble,” Dianthe said. “I’d rather not take the chance.”

  Perrin shrugged. “Then I will not argue further. And I admit to feeling better for the company.”

  “I as well,” Kalanath said. “But where will we meet tomorrow?”

  “My lodgings are…uncongenial…to large gatherings, and by ‘large’ I mean ‘more than two people,’” Perrin said. “We will need a place large enough to allow for my devotions.”

  “I have something in mind,” Alaric said. “Now, where are we going?”

  Perrin’s lodgings turned out to be around the corner from the tavern where they’d first met him. The slums were darker by night than they should be, as if a mist hung over the streets, choking out the few lanterns hanging from poles. Perrin strode along with an air of graceful unconcern, nodding in passing to a few of the men and women loitering on the corners. Sienne edged closer to Alaric and tried not t
o meet anyone’s eyes. She had never felt so out of place as she did then. But Perrin was, if not noble, at least from a wealthy family and technically no less out of place than she, so how did he manage to fit in? He made no sense.

  Perrin paused at the door, which was an ill-fitting slab of planks held together by rusted iron nails. “Do we have a plan for if Averran chooses to grant my petition? Because a location blessing only lasts a few hours.”

  “Working on it,” Alaric said. “We’ll come for you in the morning.”

  “Not too early,” Perrin reminded them, and shut the door.

  They had to cross most of the city to reach the inn Kalanath was staying at. It was a large hostel that catered to scrappers, and light and music poured out of its ground floor windows. Sienne caught a glimpse of Kalanath’s face; he looked mildly disgusted, as if he’d just witnessed someone belch. “It seems…exciting,” she said.

  “I do not like noise,” Kalanath said. “It is not what I am used to, in my youth. I thought I would grow to like it because it is what scrappers do, but I have not.”

  “Not all scrappers entertain themselves this way. The hostel where we stay is very quiet.”

  Kalanath shrugged. “I try because they are all very kind, but we are not the same.”

  He sounded very young, and very lonely, and Sienne burst out, “Why don’t you take a room at our hostel?”

  “Sienne,” Alaric said.

  “Well, why not? It’s quiet, and there are extra rooms, and it has to be better than this place. It’s a wonder anyone gets any sleep at all.”

  “It’s not a bad idea,” Dianthe said. “Master Tersus said he wished he could rent out more of the rooms. I think he’s feeling the need to expand his scrimshaw collection again and could use the money.”

  Alaric’s brows were furrowed in a frown. Sienne couldn’t figure out why. It wasn’t his house for him to make the decision, was it? “You’re right,” he finally said. “It’s not a bad idea.”

  Kalanath said, “But I will intrude.”

  “You can’t intrude. You’d have your own room, and it’s certainly less invasive than sharing a tent. Which you didn’t mind doing on our expedition.” The idea had taken hold of Sienne to the point that she could already picture the four of them sitting down to breakfast together. She suppressed the feeling that this was one step closer to being a team again.

  A tentative smile crept over his face. “Very well. I get my things and we will go.”

  While they waited, Alaric said, “Why do I feel like I’ve just adopted a stray puppy?”

  “That’s unfair. Kalanath is a grown man. And it’s not like it’s your house.” His words stung, as if he’d chastised her for some wrongdoing. Kalanath probably wasn’t more than nineteen, but that still counted as grown, given how long he’d been on his own. How dare Alaric be so condescending?

  “Don’t get snippy with me. Dianthe and I—” Alaric began, a trifle hotly.

  “Are not the owners of the hostel,” Dianthe said, glaring at Alaric. “Wouldn’t you rather share lodgings with people we like instead of whatever total strangers Master Tersus might rent rooms to?”

  Alaric opened his mouth, then closed it without delivering whatever retort he had in mind. After a moment, he said, “Well, he is quiet, I’ll give him that. And at least he’s not a wizard.”

  Sienne felt as if he’d slapped her. “How dare you—” she began. Then she saw his eyes twinkling at her, and she subsided, feeling embarrassed. “I’m surprised anyone is willing to put up with you,” she said instead.

  “Ah, that is Sisyletus’s own truth, right there,” Alaric said.

  Kalanath approached, staff in hand, a large rucksack over one shoulder. “I am ready,” he said.

  “Then let’s away,” Alaric said. “Master Tersus goes to bed early.”

  Kalanath was at the breakfast table when Sienne came down the next morning, eating porridge and staring out the kitchen window. Sienne looked in that direction and saw only the hedge, and above that the wall of the house next door. “Something interesting?”

  Kalanath startled. “I am just thinking,” he said, taking a bite of porridge. “I need a place to fight. That is, to practice with the staff.” He gestured at it, leaning against the wall next to the door.

  “I guess the bedrooms are too small for that. What about the side of the house? There’s space in the garden. Or on the other side—” she gestured at the window—“there’s not as much space, but it’s more private.”

  Kalanath nodded. “I will speak to Master Tersus. He may not wish for an Omeiran to practice in his garden where all may see.”

  Sienne privately thought Master Tersus would just charge him a couple of centi for the privilege, but said only, “That’s a good idea.”

  Heavy footsteps on the stairs preceded Alaric’s entry into the kitchen. “Ah, bacon,” he said, fetching a plate from the sideboard and piling several pieces of crisp bacon on it. “I can’t believe you two are eating porridge when you have better options.”

  “I like porridge,” Kalanath said. “We say, prakrhuti bhagyar khem donakhoti. It means the same as what you say…it sticks to your ribs.”

  “Well, I’d rather have delicious bacon than anything sticky, first thing in the morning,” Alaric said. He scooped up a large helping of scrambled eggs from the skillet on the back of the range and carried his plate to the table. “What’s your excuse?”

  “I don’t like anything rich, first thing in the morning,” Sienne said. “I do, however, like lots of sugar.” She used the little hammer to break off a chunk of sugar and stirred it into her hot bowlful of porridge, where it slowly dissolved.

  “I’m not sure how that’s not rich,” Alaric said, biting into three pieces of bacon at once.

  “You have terrible table manners.”

  “I know how to behave. But I doubt either of you want me to impress you.”

  Rapid steps sounded on the stairs. “I overslept,” Dianthe said. “Why didn’t anyone wake me?”

  “You need to come to terms with the fact that you’re not a morning person,” Alaric said.

  Dianthe fell on the coffee urn in the corner. Sienne watched her in some amusement as she fumbled with the cup, the cream, and finally the sugar hammer, then sank onto a chair and drank deeply. “Ah,” she said. “What I need is coffee before I’ve had my coffee.” She set the cup down and glared at Alaric. “I can quit any time I want.”

  “Sure you can,” Alaric said. “I think we should start at the amphitheater.”

  The abrupt change of subject left Sienne briefly stunned. She’d forgotten, in the pleasant comfort of breakfast with friends, that there was a murderer and thief out there in possession of a mysterious artifact that was worth killing for. “Why there?” she said.

  “That’s the center of Fioretti, or as near to as makes no difference.” Alaric took another bite of bacon and chased it with a forkful of egg. “That ought to put us on the shortest route to wherever the pendant is.”

  “What if they took it out of the city? Perrin said the blessing only lasts a little while,” Sienne said.

  “Then we’ll either ask for the blessing again, or use our heads,” Alaric said. “It’s a chance worth taking.”

  Kalanath rose and took his bowl to the pump, where he rinsed it and set it to dry. “I will speak with Master Tersus,” he said, retrieving his staff and leaving the room.

  “Why does he need to talk to Master Tersus?” Dianthe asked.

  “He wants a place to practice.” Sienne hoped he’d do it where they could watch. She’d seen his morning exercises while they were in the wilderness, and they were beautiful, all flowing leaps and kicks. It was hard to picture those movements being used to attack anyone, even though she’d seen that too.

  Dianthe rose and served herself eggs and one small strip of bacon. She took her seat just as Leofus came back into the room with a silver serving tray he set on the sideboard. “Can’t believe we’re letting sp
ace to an Omeiran,” he muttered.

  “Do you have a problem with that?” Alaric rumbled, dangerously placid.

  Leofus shot him a nervous glance. “Don’t like making allowances for their heretic faith,” he said. “Master Tersus just told me mutton’s off the menu for the future, unless I feel like cooking two meals. What’s wrong with mutton, I’d like to know?”

  “Nothing,” Dianthe said. “Unless you’re Omeiran, I suppose.”

  “Well, he’s being awfully accommodating, is all I can say. He never cared this much for Kitane’s name day celebrations, and he’s worshipped her all his life.” Leofus took up his spoon and gave the porridge a fierce stir. “I asked him, what next, no beef for High Winter, and he told me not to be a fool. I just want to know what to expect.”

  “That seems reasonable.” Alaric got himself second helpings of everything. Sienne cleared her bowl and retreated upstairs.

  She still didn’t have bedding other than her blanket, but she made her bed as best she could, brushed out her hair, and tidied her things. It didn’t take long. She’d grown up never needing to do those things for herself, even in Stravanus where she’d shared a maid with the five other girls on her floor of the boarding house. To her surprise, when she was finally on her own, she’d found tidying soothing and even cheering, like a daily accomplishment no one could take from her. Dianthe, on the other hand, was a slob. Sienne didn’t like cleaning enough to offer to care for Dianthe’s room.

  She sat on her bed and set her brush on the windowsill above its head. With Kalanath living under the same roof, it felt as if they were almost a team again. Which was a dangerous feeling. This, too, was a temporary crisis, and she needed to stop daydreaming like a lovesick schoolgirl.

  She closed her eyes and made herself think of other things. If she was going to be of use to a scrapper team, she’d need more spells. She should make an effort to find wizards willing to trade, or sell, more likely, since most of the spells she had were common. Which meant she should probably make a list of spells she was interested in. Force, and the fit spell for objects, even if that last one was self-indulgent rather than essential. Cat’s eye, true night vision. Open, the more powerful version of the small magic that let her open her spellbook to whatever page she wanted. Probably there were more she’d never even heard of.