Widdershins scowled. “That was dropped.”
“Yes, because as the city's trade dried up, Lord Marguilles couldn't afford to waste time and resources on a prolonged legal struggle. But it remains true that ‘Widdershins’ isn't your legal name, and therefore, the will may not be binding.”
“It's how Genevieve knew me, you rat! I have a dozen people ready to testify to that! It's why Marguilles couldn't afford to continue his challenge!”
“And do you think he'll feel that way when I tell him that the entire will was forged?”
Widdershins felt as though she was suddenly tumbling backward, down an unseen hole; could barely hear the common room through the sudden frantic pounding of her heart, which must surely be deafening to everyone around her. She could only hope she sounded a lot more confident than she felt when she said, an eternity later, “I don't know what you mean.”
“Of course not.” Evrard leaned in, as though to whisper, but continued in a perfectly normal tone of voice, “I have connections everywhere, Widdershins. There's nothing you can do that I cannot discover. Genevieve would be ashamed of you.”
The young woman's whole body went taut as a crossbow string, and there's no telling whether she'd have actually drawn her blade at that point or simply attacked Evrard with her bare hands (or booted feet), but as she'd held her friend back a moment earlier, it was now Robin who returned the favor.
“Shins, no!”
“I see,” Evrard continued, as Widdershins relented against the tide of gangly limbs pressing against her, “that you're not, in fact, done hiding behind your friends.”
“I won't let you do this!” Widdershins wasn't sure if it had come out as more of a growl or a whine; she desperately hoped for the former.
“You'd have to kill me,” Evrard said simply.
“Why?” Robin fell away as Widdershins deflated. “Gods, what did I ever do to you?”
“Maybe, if you really can't figure it out, I'll explain it to you someday. In very short words. Have a good evening, ladies and gentlemen. So sorry for the interruption.” He tossed a handful of coins at the bar; they skipped and scattered over the smooth wood, tinkling as they fell, and nobody-employee or patron-moved to pick them up. “A round on me, to compensate you all for your trouble.” With that, and a last sardonic bow, Evrard strode through the door, cloak flapping with an almost deliberate melodrama in his wake.
“It's fine, everybody.” Widdershins's tone put the obvious lie to her words, but none of the customers appeared willing to challenge her assertion. “Everything's fine. Please, go back to your drinks.” And then she just stood in the center of the room, gazing at nothing at all.
“Shins?”
“Hmm?”
Robin's face, even more pallid than normal, interposed itself between Widdershins and the nothing she was staring at. “Can he actually do that? Can he take the Flippant Witch?”
“I–I don't know, Robin. He has no proof that the will was fake, but just the accusation might be enough to spur Gen's father to new efforts. He could certainly make life really, really hard for us.”
“Right.” Robin attempted to force a shallow smile. “Because things were going so smoothly before now.” And then, blinking at Widdershins's abrupt turn, “Where are you going?”
“I'm going to follow that-that snake! He knows so much about me? Fine! I'll even things up!”
She was gone before Robin could possibly have decided whether to protest or to cheer her on.
“There she is!”
Squirrel followed his friend's pointing finger just in time to see Widdershins, apparently having burst through the door at something of a run, haul herself up short. She took a quick but steady look around, as though searching for something, and then headed off down the Market District's main avenue at a much slower pace. Swiftly she blended in with the crowd, occasionally vanishing completely into pockets of shadow between the glowing lantern posts. (This despite the fact that she wasn't currently dressed in her “business-related” blacks and grays.) Clearly, she didn't care to be detected.
Just as clearly, she was expecting any potential discovery to come from in front of her. She wasn't nearly as well concealed from anyone following behind, especially not anyone who knew most of the same tricks.
“All right, boys,” Simon said through a tight little grin. “Let's see what our girl's got going on tonight, shall we?”
And they, like Widdershins before them, moved out into the street and vanished into the crowd, pursuing a quarry utterly unaware of their presence.
CHAPTER SIX
So furious was Widdershins's burning anger, her determination, and yes-though she'd never have admitted to it-her fear, that it took several moments of intense emotional “shouting” before Olgun was able even to attract her attention.
“What? No!” She cast an ugly glance at the nearest passerby, who was currently staring at her, and then continued in a much lower tone of voice. “No, I do not think this is a dumb idea. In fact, I think this is the best idea anyone has ever had in the history of anyone ever having ideas!”
That response, if nothing else, was apparently enough to cause dizziness, because she'd pushed through the rapidly thinning crowd-most people were hurrying home, if they were out at all this late in the evening-and had covered another two blocks or so before…
“Well, I don't care if you think it's a bad idea! You're not the one who's about to lose your best friend's life's work, are you? What would you even know about-”
Widdershins actually moaned aloud and stumbled, barely catching herself before careening into the worn and discolored wood that was the nearest wall. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt something from Olgun that powerful, that overwhelming. She actually found her gut clenching with a shame that very much reminded her of those times she'd bitterly disappointed Alexandre.
“You…Olgun, I'm so sorry. I know what you've lost. I had no right to say that to you. Forgive me?”
Acceptance, grudging for an instant, then growing stronger-but still tinged with more than a little anger, and more than a lot of worry.
“But you won't lose me, not over this. No, I don't know who he is, but you and me? We can handle anything, yes?”
She was moving again, struggling to catch up before she lost Evrard completely, and though she could sense Olgun's grumbling, she could sense, too, that he wasn't about to argue any further.
The street steadily evolved from mud with the occasional cobblestone to well cobbled with the occasional pothole-and even those began to fade as Evrard's path drew him, and Widdershins, ever nearer Davillon's richer districts. Any doubt the thief might have had regarding her adversary's nobility (in birth and blood, if not in demeanor) was swiftly washing away.
So who was this guy? And why did he harbor such hatred for her?
Evening had taken her leave of the city some minutes earlier, leaving night to assume its rightful place. The roads weren't empty, not entirely, but pedestrians were sparse, and Guardsmen ever more common. Widdershins found herself with no crowds in which to hide; forced to resort ever more often to shadows, doorways, and alleyways any time Evrard thought to look around, her pace slowed and her quarry began to pull ahead. She realized, with a weight in her stomach as though she'd swallowed a whole goose-and not one braised and roasted, either, but feathered and honking-that she was on the verge of losing him entirely.
She peered briefly toward the rooftops, wondering if the “thieves' highway” might not be a wiser option, but quickly dismissed the idea. She didn't know this part of town well enough, didn't know if she'd find herself stranded before a gap too wide to cross. No, best to keep to the roads, maybe even to sacrifice stealth for speed and just hope that the irritating aristocrat wouldn't happen to check behind him at any point where Widdershins couldn't-