“For this type of missive,” said Josef quickly. “It’s too good for
… That is to say, the paper is not what…”
Christiana’s eyes narrowed. “Ye-es?”
Josef took a deep breath and started over. “This isn’t the type of paper a person would use for simple correspondence. Its texture and weight are too good. This is the kind of paper used for fine volumes, or maybe imperial documents. It’s far too valuable to be, uh, well, wasted on a simple invitation.”
I reached down and felt one of the clean sheets of paper, then my own. It was hard to tell because of all the wear and tear, but the stuff of my letter did seem weightier. Christiana did the same, nodding her agreement with Josef’s conclusion.
I straightened up, taking my letter and refolding it. I put it back in my sleeve.
Christiana was studying me. “You know who did this?”
“No. But I know where to start.” Baldezar-damn that arrogant scribe, anyhow.
“I want them dead, Drothe. All of them.”
“Of course you do,” I said. Whoever was behind this knew about Christiana and me, at least on some level. Any threat to her reputation was a threat to her status, and I was one of the bigger threats her reputation faced. “But it’s not that easy.”
Christiana crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow at me. “Really? And why not?”
“Because whoever sent Tamas-the assassin-gave him glimmer. Magic. That means money and connections. That means they’re willing to risk the empire sniffing around if their man gets caught.” I shook my head. “Frankly, I’m not worth that kind of risk.”
“I could have told you that.”
“Notice I’m not arguing. But my point is, the person I have in mind doesn’t have the resources or clout to hire someone of Tamas’s caliber, let alone hand him a piece of glimmer.”
Christiana shrugged, her shoulders rising and falling in the curtain of her hair. “So just hold the forger’s feet in a…” She stopped, and I could almost hear the pieces clicking together in her head. “It’s that scribe of yours, isn’t it? The one you’ve had doing the documents for me. Damn it, Drothe! I told you to find someone you could trust.”
I had to laugh at that. “You expected me to find a trustworthy forger? Ana, listen to yourself. I found someone who’s reliable and good at what he does; that’s as good as you’re going to get with a Jarkman. And because he’s reliable, he’s going to be hard to crack. He doesn’t give up his clients easily.”
“He didn’t seem to have a problem giving you up.”
I nodded. “I know, which is what is going to make this interesting.”
Chapter Eleven
The sun was tinting the east with purple and pink when Baldezar arrived at his shop. Some of his younger apprentices had been there for an hour already, grinding pigments, sorting papers, and gathering glair from the egg whites they had wrung through sponges the night before. I had waited across the street beneath a bookbinder’s eaves. I’d nearly nodded off twice, and had only managed to stay awake by chewing a handful of ahrami. Now, though, just the sight of the scribe was enough to quicken my heart.
I stepped across the street and slipped up behind Baldezar as he opened the door to his shop.
“Bene lightmans, Jarkman,” I said as I put a hand between his shoulders and shoved. He stumbled across the threshold and fell to his knees. I stepped in behind him and shut the door. Throughout the shop, the apprentices froze, their eyes wide.
Baldezar spun around on the floor. His face was already turning red, both from anger and embarrassment. His mouth was a dark scowl.
“How dare you!” he said as he began to gather his feet beneath him. “What do-”
I stepped forward and kicked out, catching him just inside the left shoulder with my foot. I held back on purpose, not wanting to break anything at this point. Right now, I was just setting the tone.
Baldezar went over backward. I heard his head strike the floor with a hollow thunk. He relaxed but didn’t go entirely limp. Dazed but not unconscious-good.
I reached behind me and locked the door to the street. “The shop is closed,” I said to the apprentices. “No one comes or goes until I’m finished. Is that clear?” They all nodded. I pointed to a corner. “Sit there. Don’t move.” They didn’t quite fall over themselves getting to the corner, but it was close.
I bent down and pulled Baldezar to his feet. “We need to have a talk,” I told him as he shook his head, trying to clear it. “Upstairs.”
Baldezar turned and walked unsteadily toward the steps. I followed behind, a hand on his back to steady him as much as to reinforce the threat.
He fumbled briefly with the latch before opening the door to his office. Baldezar settled in heavily behind his reading table, rubbing at the back of his head. I stood, hand on the back of the chair that faced him. One of the apprentices had opened the shutters earlier in preparation for their master’s arrival. The room was a strange mixture of gentle morning light and leftover shadows.
“This had better be good,” he said, managing to summon a sliver of his normally imperious tone.
“Yes,” I said, taking the forged letter out of my sleeve. I unfolded it and set it on the table in front of him. “It had better be.”
He stared down at it for a long moment. Finally, he picked up the paper, holding it gently between his thumbs and forefingers.
“I take it,” he said dourly, “you think I did this.”
“The thought had occurred, yes.”
“Then the thought would be wrong.”
I leaned on the chair. It creaked under my weight. “I’m not in the mood for hints and vagaries, Jarkman.”
Baldezar touched the back of his head gently. “I’d gathered as much.” He wet his lips, then set the letter back down. “Since I don’t know the context of this forgery, I can only guess it was used to get you somewhere for some reason. The text is clear on that much. But the reason you’re here is because whoever wrote the letter used the name, writing, and chop of a certain noblewoman with whom we both know you do business.”
“Which puts the person behind the letter into a very small circle of someones.”
Baldezar nodded. “Yes. And my having done work for both you and her in the past, and having access to her writing through you”-he shook his head-“a very neat line, I admit.”
“But?” I said.
“But I’m not stupid. That’s the key.” Baldezar eased gently back in his chair. “I’ve been forging documents for decades, Drothe. Bills of lading, imperial trade waivers, letters of passage, contracts, tax stamps, diplomatic negotiations… More documents than I can name, and most of them far more dangerous than a simple letter of summons. If I’ve been able to keep nobles, ambassadors, tax masters, and imperial ministers from tracing things back to me, do you really think I would make it this easy for you? Forgers die if they give people easy trails to follow.”
“Normally, yes,” I said. “Except when they expect the recipient of the forgery to end up dead.”
“Murder? Is that it?” Baldezar shook his head. “I’m surprised you settled for knocking me down. The more traditional response would have been to run me through, would it not?”
“Dusting people is easy,” I said. “Getting answers is a bit more tricky. Corpses make it even harder.”
“Very pragmatic,” observed Baldezar. “But I’m pragmatic as well. By all accounts, you’re a hard man to kill, Drothe. How many attempts now-two, three?”
“More,” I said.
Baldezar nodded. “Precisely. And I’m to think I will be the exception? I would have to consider the possibility you might live, and that you might get your hands on this letter. That’s too clear a road back to me.”
“Unless you were in a hurry. People make mistakes when they’re rushed.”
“True, but what’s the hurry? Why would I even want to kill you in the first place?”
“It wouldn’t have to be you,” I said. I pointed at my sister’s forged signature. “You do this kind of thing for hire.”