I turned to face her. “I’m also going to need backing. Nicco’s closed down or taken over my sources of money in his territory, and I haven’t had my hands in any action on Kells’s side of town for years. I have a few outside interests here and there, but not enough to let me operate on my own. I need more. We can work out the details after Ten Ways is settled, but know I’m going to need a cut of something down the line.”
“You… ” began Solitude.
“Have Ioclaudia’s journal,” I said. “The one thing you need to save the empire.” The sparkle was gone from Solitude’s eyes now, replaced by a much harder and colder light.
“What’s the matter?” I said. “Is the cost of being honorable getting too high for you?”
Every line of her body went taught with indignation. How dare you speak to me like that? it said. But she stayed silent. And I knew that, at least for the moment, I had her.
I gestured at the empty chair amid the shards of broken marble. “Have a seat,” I said. “There’s more.”
“How’s the fit?” said Iron Degan.
“Not bad,” I said, adjusting the hang of the doublet for the third time in as many blocks. “I think the last owner had narrower shoulders, though.”
“Be glad we found you anything at all,” he said. “Yours isn’t the most common cut in the city, lad.”
A new suit of clothes had been the last, and easiest, of my demands. Even so, Solitude had been fed up with me by then-she had told her people to find something for me as quickly as possible before practically throwing me out the door. “Quickly” had translated into secondhand drapes: a pair of dark breeches; patched stockings that had once been either yellow or white but were neither now; a worn linen shirt; and a doublet and slashed overcoat, both in a faded burgundy. Nothing fit quite right, and there were a couple of inhabitants left in the coat, but it was still a damn sight better than Nestor’s hastily altered hand-me-downs.
On the upside, I still had my own boots, as well as a couple of replacement daggers and a surprisingly nice rapier they had managed to scare up in the house itself.
“Over here,” I said, pointing to a blue and white striped canopy off to my right. Smoke flowed out from beneath it, carrying the smell of fish and oil and peppers.
“You hid the book there?” said Iron incredulously.
“No,” I said. “I haven’t eaten since last night. I’m hungry.”
We were on the edge of Stone Arch cordon, still a good way from Fifth Angel Square. Iron looked around, taking in the late-afternoon crowds with one sharp glance. We were in Nicco’s territory.
“Could half use a bite myself,” said Iron, running his tongue over his lips. “Just stick close.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. Iron was acting as both my backup and my handler. Solitude didn’t want anything happening to me before I got the book, or me doing anything unexpected once I retrieved it.
Solitude had given ground on my demands grudgingly. Protection for Christiana had been surprisingly easy to arrange, although Solitude had wondered why I was so worried about shielding a baroness. She had been careful to point out that no one could guarantee protection from a Gray Prince, especially Shadow. I had learned this firsthand, of course, compliments of Task, but I had appreciated the honesty nonetheless.
My own protection from Shadow was a far dicier thing. Surrounding me with Arms wasn’t tenable and likely wouldn’t have done any good, anyhow. The best Solitude could do was let Shadow know I was under her wing now, and that any move against me would be a move against her. Since they were essentially on the verge of war already, I wasn’t sure this would help, but there weren’t a lot of other options.
There was a small line in front of the street vendor’s stall, but we ignored it and moved to the front. A few Lighters muttered complaints, but a sharp look from Iron was enough to silence them.
The man bent over the charcoal grill was small, with the sandy skin and dusty hair of the steppes tribes. He was a blur of activity, turning hand-sized fish over the fire, chopping onions, mincing herbs, and pouring young olive oil into a hot pan, all while singing softly under his breath.
“Hello, Rall’ad,” I said. “What’s the catch today?”
Rall’ad’s hands froze in midreach, one near the fire, the other over the cutting board on the table beside him. He looked up at me, his face pale.
“Please leave,” he whispered in heavily accented Imperial.
I grimaced. Nicco-had to be. Word of my disfavor was all over the street, making even former Ears like Rall’ad eager to forget they knew me. Not that I blamed him-he had a wife and eight children to worry about. But I was hungry.
“Yellow salt skimmers today, eh?” I said, glancing into the bucket of gutted and cleaned fish. “Give us two…” Iron tapped my shoulder and held up three fingers, pointing to himself. “Make that four of your best.”
Rall’ad ducked his head in acknowledgment and dropped a small handful of red chilies into the oil in the pan. They immediately began to sizzle and spit.
Solitude and I had done our own bit of dancing over Nicco. Not surprisingly, I wanted him dustmans, both for what he had done to Eppyris and to get him off my blinds once and for all. Solitude had flat out refused. He was her main leverage in Ten Ways. Losing him would throw the cordon, and her plans, into chaos-or so she said. She had offered to talk to him instead, to make it clear I was off-limits.
I had laughed. Gray Prince or no, Nicco wasn’t about to let Solitude get between him and his vengeance. She thought otherwise, though, and it had ended there. I got the feeling that she didn’t much relish the idea of getting between Nicco and me, and that if there was going to be any resolution on the matter, it was up to me to find it-as long as it didn’t interfere with her plans, of course.
Rall’ad tossed the pan a few times, then added a handful of chopped onions to the heated dance. The aroma burned my eyes and made my mouth water at the same time.
“If I’m seen talking to you, it could mean my death,” Rall’ad hissed. He gave the pan two more quick tosses, then set it aside on the table. He picked up a bowl containing a mixture of chopped mint, parsley, garlic, and couscous. “Nicco has eyes everywhere.”
“I know,” I said. “I used to be one, remember?” The cook blanched. “Don’t worry. If anything, Nicco will thank you for telling him I’m headed toward Five Pillars after this.”
“And are you?” he said.
I smiled. “Careful you don’t burn my fish.”
“Never,” said the Ear.
The worst sticking point between Solitude and me had been Kells. I wanted him left alone, or at least left alive, and his organization intact; Solitude, though, had rightly pointed out she was at war with him, thank you very much, and she couldn’t just walk away. Besides, he was in league with Shadow, and how was that supposed to work?
Given how the war in Ten Ways was going, and given that Kells wasn’t going to be able to deliver the journal after all, I didn’t see his arrangement with Shadow lasting very long. I had said as much to Solitude, and also noted that Kells would be a wonderful counterbalance to the heavy-handed ally she had in Nicco. She had seemed intrigued by this notion, and while she hadn’t promised to take my former boss on immediately, she had agreed it was worth considering.
It wasn’t the arrangement I had hoped for, but it held out some hope for Kells. Not that it would do me any good; in his eyes, I would now be a cross-cove. He wouldn’t know about the reasons or bargains or choices behind any of this-he would only know that instead of taking the journal to him, I had traded it for my life. He would only feel the stab in the back.
I wished there was some way I could explain away that disappointment, to make him understand why I was doing this, but any explanation would end up coming after the fact. It would come off as an excuse-and in a way, it was. Kells was one of the few Kin I looked up to, and my work for him one of the things I could hold up with pride. I’d stayed true in the midst of the enemy, even when it would have been easier to let go and just work for Nicco. To have made it through all of that, to have gone back to him with my head up, only to give him the cross now, even for the best reasons-it was almost too hard to swallow.