Almost.
Rall’ad pulled a fish off the grill, turned it on its back, and squeezed its stomach cavity open, forming a small bowl within the fish. Two spoonfuls of peppers and onions went inside, along with a handful of the herbed couscous.
Three more followed quickly. All were put on a trencher and handed over to us. No money changed hands, even though I tried to slip Rall’ad some hawks.
“It will only make it worse,” he said. “Just eat and leave. Please.”
I took my one, leaving Iron his three on the trencher, and we stood off to one side, scooping the fillings and flaky meat out with our fingers. The mint and the herbs cooled the bite of the peppers, letting the natural saltiness of the skimmer come through. Normally, I would have savored it; this time, I simply ate.
Iron finished before me and handed the wooden plate back to Rall’ad. I ate a last bite, threw the remains in the gutter, and pushed back into the street.
We were a handful of paces away from Rall’ad’s stall when Iron said, “He was one of yours?”
“Used to be,” I said. “Now he’s too scared to look at me.”
“You expected any different?”
I chewed on my mustache. “No, I suppose not,” I said after a bit. “Still, it’s hard seeing it end like this-watching myself being so hastily shoved aside.”
“It never gets easier,” said Iron. “Take my word on that.”
I nodded, remembering what Degan had told me about his order-how degans sometimes served for years until the debt was paid. Was it easier for them, knowing they’d be walking away on their own terms, their deal kept, or did that make it harder? And what if the Oath required them to turn on their friends and associates? There was no one to blame except themselves and their honor. Even with Kells, I at least had the knowledge that I was saving him through my betrayal; the degans had no such luxury.
I shuddered at the thought. That was more weight than I would ever want to bear.
By the time we reached Fifth Angel Square, the crowds were out in force. Iron kept up with me far better than I would have expected, smoothly sliding his solid frame around knots of people even as I ducked behind and through them. I expected him to leave a wake of disruption behind him; instead, he left barely a ripple of notice.
As I walked, I looked up occasionally to catch a glimpse of Elirokos at the center of the square. The Pardoner’s weathered statue still looked like a one-armed beggar to me, but now I found I could sympathize with his predicament. Battered, broken, his glory literally falling off him in pieces, he still stood tall and pointed the way to redemption. The carved souls under his care had vanished with his missing arm, but that didn’t mean they were forgotten. I could see the weight of his burden reflected in the artfully carved lines of his face, the droop of his eyelids, the slight lean of one shoulder. If ever an Angel knew despair and failure, it was this one.
I nodded at the statue with a new appreciation. When this was all over, I decided, I would have to pay my respects at his shrine.
Mendross was in the middle of his closedown as I walked up. It was late enough in the day that most of the people who came to the bazaar to buy fruit had already been, so he was busy shifting bags, filling crates, and yelling at his son to do his share of the work. I could already see that the small handcart they used to sell their oldest produce on the street was nearly filled.
“Damn it, boy,” groused Mendross, his tone grown casual from the nightly ritual. “If you don’t move your ass, we’ll never sell any of this. Anchaka’s cart is already packed and away. If I end up with a pile of rotting-Sweet Angels and emperors, what the hell are you doing here!”
I smiled as the fruit seller caught sight of me and almost dropped the basket of dates in his hands.
“Being very unpopular with my former Ears, it would seem,” I said drily.
Mendross licked his lips and glanced at the crowds creeping through the bazaar around us. “You have to leave,” he hissed. “Now.”
I crossed my arms and stared at the fruit seller. I was getting tired of everyone I’d known in Nicco’s territory giving me the flick. Nicco might be after me, but it didn’t mean I was poison to whomever I touched.
“I’ll go,” I said, “when I get the package I left with you.”
Mendross looked at Iron and hesitated. As much as I would have liked to step off with the Ear, I knew Iron wouldn’t stand for it. Instead, I nodded to let Mendross know it was all right to talk.
“That’s just it,” said Mendross. “People have been coming around asking questions about you.” He set down the basket and stepped closer. “And about… it.”
“About it?” I said. Who knew to ask Mendross about the journal? “Who’s been asking?”
Mendross shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Tall cove, dark cloak.” He swallowed. “No face.”
Shadow? Shit!
“Did he ask you for it?” I said.
“No, no-just if I had seen you with it. And if I had an idea where it might be.”
I let out my breath. “Who else?”
Mendross opened his mouth but didn’t get a chance to speak.
“Well, there’s always me,” said Bronze Degan from behind me, “but I don’t know if I count.”
I spun around, a smile breaking across my face.
He was standing in the square, just outside the statue’s shadow, a wicked grin creasing his own face. “After all,” he added, “I’m not trying to kill you.”
“Give it time,” I said, laughing. I noticed he was wearing a new hat-deep red, like his doublet and pants-touched with a peach plume. I also noticed he was carrying a canvas sack.
“How the hell did you manage to get away from-” I said as I moved toward him, but a hand coming down on my shoulder interrupted me.
“Not so quick,” said Iron, stopping me in my tracks. “We have an arrangement.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” I said. I tried to shake his hand off and failed.
Iron nodded. “Aye. I just want to make sure he knows it,” he said, indicating Degan with his free hand.
I looked from one degan to another. Neither was looking at me, and neither was smiling. My good mood, so fast in coming, died just as quickly.
Behind us, I heard Mendross making a hasty retreat into the curtained back portion of his stall. Lucky bastard.
“What arrangement?” said Degan.
“He’s promised to give the journal to her,” said Iron, taking his hand off me. “And I’m here to make sure she gets it.”
“You mean Solitude?” said Degan.
“Aye.”
Degan looked down at me, and then back up at Iron.
“I can’t allow that,” said Degan.
“What?!” I took a step forward. No one stopped me. I took three more, until I was right in front of Degan. “What the hell do you mean you can’t allow it?”
“Do you know why Solitude wants that book, Drothe?” he said, almost patiently.
“Yes,” I snapped. “Do you?”
Degan raised an eyebrow and said, so quietly that it barely carried, “So she can kill the emperor.”
I took an involuntary step back. “You knew?” I said. “All this time, and you knew? You son of a bitch!”
Degan shook his head. “No. Not like that. I didn’t know what Solitude wanted to do. I didn’t know how the book fit into it. I had my suspicions, but I didn’t know for certain.” He looked up at Iron. “Not until now.”
“You know it’s what needs to be done,” said Iron.
“I know it’s what you think needs to be done,” said Degan. “I’m of a different mind on the matter.”