Iron Degan’s and the Gray Prince’s hands were all over this. It was turning out exactly as Degan and I had feared: Start a war, then draw in the empire. But what after that?
“What about the rest of the cordon?” I said.
“The Kin in Ten Ways are falling into three camps-for Nicco, for Kells, and for themselves. The last group is the largest. They’ve mainly been staying out of it, but some are starting to hire out.”
“To?”
“Both sides, but Nicco’s been picking up more.”
“And Kells?” I said. “How’s he faring?”
“That’s the interesting bit,” said Mendross as he reached above his head and stretched. A small cascade of cracks and pops erupted from his back. “Kells should be in the best position-he has Blue Cloak Rhys and Shy Meg at his back, along with a Ruffler called Mateo-but the street says he’s barely holding on. Nicco’s pouring Cutters into the cordon like crazy, but they aren’t enough to explain why Kells’s men are being rolled back night after night.” Mendross leaned forward. “People are staring to talk about glimmer. Not just the stuff you can hire out on the street, but dangerous glimmer-things that take down men with a word, or shatters steel midswing.”
“Has anyone seen anything?”
Mendross shook his head. “No, but there are whispers.”
“I’ll just bet there are,” I said, remembering the body floating in my bedroom and the woman walking through my dreams.
I rubbed at my arm, trying to make the hairs on it lie down. The book beneath my doublet shifted at the motion.
“I need a favor,” I said.
Mendross’s eyes immediately became hooded. “Such as?”
I pulled out Ioclaudia’s book. “I need you to hold this for me.”
Mendross eyed the book but didn’t touch it. “What is it?” he asked.
“Something I can’t keep at my place,” I said.
“Because someone may come looking for it there?”
“More or less.”
“And what makes you think they won’t come looking here instead?”
“Would you come looking for a book in a fruit peddler’s stall?” I said. Especially, I thought, a book on illegal magic.
Mendross grunted and stared at the journal, thinking. “Who’s after it?” he finally said.
I’d been trying to figure out how to answer that question since I’d walked up to the stall. Too much truth, and I’d walk out of here with the book still under my doublet; too little, and I’d be setting Mendross up for even worse trouble if someone came looking.
Halfway, then.
“Kells,” I said. “Maybe another Upright as well.”
Mendross’s eyes didn’t even flicker. “Two golden falcons now,” he said. “And another two when you pick it up.”
It was steep for what I had told him; not nearly enough for what I hadn’t. I pretended to consider, haggled a bit to allay any suspicions, and finally gave in.
I handed Mendross the journal. He took it, turned around, and placed it in the middle of a pile of ledgers on his counting table.
“That’s it?” I said.
“Which is more suspicious: seeing a book with other books, or finding one at the bottom of a barrel of figs?”
“But…”
Mendross held up a hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll find something better. This is just for now.”
I left Mendross’s stall with a basket of mangos-he insisted-and made another half circuit of the bazaar just to be safe. Satisfied, I gave the basket of fruit to a blind beggar at the edge of the square and headed for home.
My step felt lighter, and not just from a lack of coin after paying Mendross. For the first time in a long time, I had a handle on something. Yes, there were still any number of unanswered questions, but now I had one of the pieces of the puzzle. Hell, I likely had a key piece. And while that put me at risk, it also made me valuable. I might be captured, questioned, and tortured for the journal, but the odds of my being dusted out of hand had just gone down.
It was a strange kind of security, considering what having Ioclaudia’s book likely meant for my long-term health, but in the short term, I’d take whatever I could get.
My good mood lasted until I turned onto Echelon Way and got within sight of my building. Then I noticed two things: First, that despite its being well into morning, Eppyris’s doors were still closed; and second, Nicco had stationed two of his Arms-Salt Eye and Matthias the Brick-on either side of the shop.
I swore to myself and quickened my pace, pushing through the crowd. I hoped Eppyris’s doors were closed because he’d followed after his family, and not because Nicco had forced him to shut down. It would be just like that ham-fisted Upright to punish me through the people under my protection.
I was ten yards away when Salt Eye did a double take and recognized me in Nestor’s clothing. He stood up a little straighter, looked around for Matthias, failed to get his attention, and, with a shrug, began ambling toward me.
I threw the hood of my cloak back and gestured at Eppyris’s shop. “This had better not be what I think it is,” I said, pitching my voice to carry past the few people who still separated us.
“It’s not,” said Salt Eye. A smile formed across his jagged face as he came closer.
He was three paces away when the smile twitched and faltered. Then Salt Eye fell over. Behind him stood Fowler Jess, a long knife in her hand, the blade red and wet and shining in the morning light. Unlike Salt Eye, she wasn’t smiling. In fact, she looked downright pissed.
Chapter Twenty
Our eyes met over the dying Arm. There were anger and murder and dark resolve in Fowler’s face, but none of those inclinations seemed directed at me. Seeing her like that, knife in hand, standing over another man’s body, reminded me of why I’d found her so damn alluring in the first place. Nevertheless, I let my right hand begin drifting toward my dagger.
Someone saw the body, saw the knife, and screamed. Someone else joined in. People began running and shoving and pointing.
Damn Lighters-just like them to ruin the moment.
I glanced away from Fowler in time to see Matthias get his throat slit from behind by one of Fowler’s people. The woman winked at me and then slipped back into the crowd without a ripple.
Someone grabbed my arm. It was Fowler.
“Come on!” she said, pulling. I didn’t move. She swore. “Nicco’s got at least two more Arms farther up the street, and I don’t like our chances against them in a fair fight.” I stopped resisting and fell in behind her.
Fowler led me down Echelon Way to an alley called Chipper’s Gap. Scratch was loitering at the entrance. He knocked over a stack of barrels as we passed, blocking off the alley mouth.
We turned into a doorway before the alley ended and followed a short flight of stairs down, cut back along a hallway, then ran up another set of steps. We came out among the leather hides and laces of Petrus the cobbler’s back room. Then through another door, down more steps, and so on, weaving through a maze of connected cellars, gardens, and closely constructed upper stories until we paused inside a recessed archway at street level, four blocks away.
“I take it,” I said, my hands on my knees, my thigh aching, and my breath coming in gasps, “that I’m no longer one of Nicco’s favorite people.”
“You think?” said Fowler. She was leaning against the opposite wall, head back. “Did your finely honed instincts tell you that, or was it my people saving your sorry ass that tipped you off?”
“A little of both,” I said, “but I appreciate the ass-saving more.”
“Damn well better,” she said. There was a strange catch in her voice, and I looked up to find her staring at me across the narrow space. “How long, Drothe?” she said.
“How long what?”
“How long have you been working for Kells?”
I froze. It was the last thing I had expected her, expected anyone, to say. Kells? How the hell had she connected me to Kells?
I blinked and tried to look more insulted than surprised. “What?” I stood up straight. “Where did you hear that?”