That done, I slipped out of the room, stopping long enough to erase any psychic traces of myself that I might have left. Then I locked the door behind me and very, very carefully released the spell that was holding the little wind-alarm. It didn’t go off. As the last step, I got a metaphorical spider back and had it cough up the one it had euphemistically eaten.
I looked around the rest of the area until I found what r had to be Shortisle’s desk, judging from the size, the location, and his name appearing on plaques, markers, and papers all around it. Unlike the records, here there was a chance I could learn something if, indeed, Shortisle was the guilty party, and if he left evidence of his crimes lying around. Phrased that way, I didn’t think much of my chances, but it wouldn’t hurt to explore a little.
The alarms built into his desk were all sorcerous, and not terribly effective, which meant that he had nothing to hide—or he wasn’t hiding it in his desk, at any rate. I dismantled the alarms, picked the locks, and looked through the contents. There were, in fact, no notes saying, “Today I accepted a large bribe from Vonnith in exchange for allowing her to close her bank and run with whatever money she could scrape together.”
Oh, well.
The most irritating thing was that he had two small, hidden compartments in the desk, both of which required a great deal of time and effort to open, and both of which turned out to be entirely empty—not even a psiprint of his mistress. I took this as a personal affront.
When I finished with the desk, I realized just how exhausted I was. That’s the most dangerous part: when you’re all done, and you’re tired, and everything has gone well, it becomes too easy to let your guard down and make some little mistake that will bring the watch running or allow you to be found after the fact. I made myself go slowly and carefully in removing all traces of my presence, both psychic and mundane, then I made sure of the timing of the watch (judging by the footsteps, they weren’t the same pair who’d been there before) before I opened the last door between me and escape.
Even after I was past that, I was careful to avoid crowded places, and took little-known paths through the Palace, walking for almost two more hours until I could emerge from the Yendi Wing (just for the pleasure of giving the inhabitants something to wonder about) and teleported straight back home, where I poured myself a glass of the same kind of wine Vonnith had given me, drank it down at a single draught, and climbed into my bed, after which I slept soundly for several very pleasant hours that were only marred by a few dreams in which spiders were banging on gongs.
When at last I roused myself late the next morning, I took care of morning things, broke my fast with warmed nutbread, maizepie, and Eastern-style coffee (which Vlad claims is too bitter for him), and teleported back to North-port. I found a large and busy inn very close to City Hall, so I went in, found a table in the middle of the room, and began to drink klava, with the intention of continuing until something either happened or failed to happen.
I was, in effect, making myself a target. With any luck, I’d have stirred up Shortisie, or someone in his office, and it seemed likely that, with a little work, whoever it was would be able to figure out that the visitor had been Kiera the Thief (although, to be sure, no one would be able to prove it), and I expected to be able to learn something from who showed up and what he did when he got here—I’d be surprised if I had to sit here for more than two days.
This was a part of the plan Vlad knew nothing about, because he would have wanted to be involved. I have a great deal of confidence in my ability to get myself out of anything I get myself into, but if you add a hot-tempered assassin whose blade is often faster than his head, it might be that I’d save myself a few moments of worry and, in exchange, lose a lot of useful information.
Vlad, however, would not have liked the idea of my doing it.
By noon I was tired of klava, so I switched to a “seaman’s ale,” as they call it in Northport, or “storm brew,” as it is called in Adrilankha, which is a very dark ale with traces of ginger; it was heavy, so I could pretend it was lunch. I felt very exposed at the table, and I hoped I wouldn’t have to wait there too long. I finished the seaman’s ale and ordered another, and considered asking for a bowl of whatever it was I could smell from the kitchen. People walked by the open window and often looked in, because that’s what one does when walking by an inn, and I kept wondering if any of these were people who were spotting me. I rubbed my eyes. At one point, I thought I saw Devera go by, but if so she didn’t recognize me, and it wasn’t very likely, anyway. I drank some more seaman’s ale. It was good. Two Jhereg came in, walked right up to my table, and sat down. They were Funnel-head and Mockman, both of whom had been in Stony’s office when I’d visited him. This was something I hadn’t expected at all.
Funnel-head said, “Stony wants to see you.”
“All right,” I said. “Now?”
“If you please.”
I left the ale unfinished, which was a shame, and stood up. They flanked me as we stepped out of the inn. They each had a sword, and Funnel-head, on my right, had a long dagger concealed under his left arm, and no doubt they each had a few other things that would help them not at all if I decided not to accompany them, but they didn’t know that.
Funnel-head said, “Shall we teleport?”
“Td rather walk,” I said, because I don’t let strangers teleport me.
“It’s a couple of miles,” he said.
“It’s a nice day.”
“All right.”
We exchanged no more words until we got there. We walked right up past where Dor was very careful not to be, then Funnel-head clapped outside Stony’s door and said, “She’s here, boss.”
There was a muffled response, and Funnel-head opened the door and indicated I was to go in. I did so, stopping only long enough to hand him his dagger. “You dropped this,” I said. He stared at it, then gave me a glare into which I smiled as I closed the door.
I sat down. “What is it, Stony? Why the summons?”
Stony, apparently, couldn’t decide if he should be amused or annoyed by my interaction with his flunky; eventually he settled on ignoring it.
“I’m worried about you,” he said.
“Worried about me?”
“About you, and for you.”
I waited.
“Yeah,” he said. “You’ve been looking into Fyres’s death, and some people are getting itchy.”
“People?” I said.
He shook his head. “You know I can’t name names, Kiera.”
“Then what are you saying?”
He shrugged. “I’m saying you should drop this, whatever it is, or else be very careful, that’s all.”
“What about you?”
“I’m not involved,” he said. “I just heard that you lightened some files in some Orca’s office at the Palace, and some Orca with connections to the Organization want you to go swimming. I thought you should know about it.”
“You’re not asking me to back off?”
He shook his head. “No. As I say, this isn’t my game. I just thought you ought to be aware of it, you know?”
“Yes,” I said. “Okay, thanks. Anything else?”
“No,” he said.
“All right. See you around.”
“Yeah. See you.”
I got up and left. No one tried to stop me. I was glad Stony hadn’t asked about Vlad again, because I hate lying to friends.
I hastened back to the Awful Blue Cottage to tell Vlad what I’d learned. It was late afternoon when I got there. Buddy ran out of the house, and I had to spend a moment getting reacquainted with him and allaying his suspicions before venturing inside.
Hwdf rjaanci was seated at the table next to Vlad. Savn was sitting up in the chair facing the hearth, and he turned and looked at me as I came in, which caught me up short. I said, “Hello, Savn.” He didn’t say anything, but returned to staring at the fire.