“Hey, LT, do you know who you’re cozying with?” Braids asked Finn in a loud voice. “That’s the Councilor’s new assistant.”
“Why ’ja bring the bitch here?” Lank asked, slurring his words.
Finn placed his hand on my arm. A not too subtle hint to keep calm. His gaze never left the men.
“She fired my cousin, LT,” Braids said.
The tavern quieted.
Braids, sensing he had a larger audience, raised his voice and addressed the room. “She put my cousin and at least a dozen others out of work.”
Lank said, “And why ’ja think she was sniffing around the prison? How many of us are gonna be fired?”
Not good. I glanced around. Others nodded in agreement, siding with the drunks. No stopping it now. This was probably going to turn ugly.
6
MY RECENT STREAK OF BAD DECISIONS CONTINUED. What had I been thinking when I agreed to a drink with one of the prison officers? The rumblings of discontent over my presence in the Spotted Dog tavern increased. A couple men moved closer to the two drunks who had started this confrontation, and one of the elite officers joined the growing mob.
Tossed out would be the best scenario for me. Beaten to a pulp the worst.
“She cleaned out the riffraff,” Finn said to the two in my defense. “Did us a favor, and you know it. Besides, you hate your cousin, Cole. Said he couldn’t guard a baby.”
Not the right thing to say. Braids…Cole drew his sword. “You takin’ her side, LT?”
Finn stood in one fluid motion. The tension thickened the air, making it hard to draw a breath.
I rose to my feet, being careful not to make any sudden moves. “Gentlemen, Councilor Moon has no intention of changing anything at the prison. I was merely delivering a message for her. I’m sorry about your cousin, Cole. If you tell me his name, I can try to find him another job.”
He blinked at me as if trying to make sense of my words. Before he could respond, Finn said, “The government will be hiring construction workers to build an addition to HQ when the weather’s warmer. Lots of jobs then.”
The friction eased. A voice announced that a barrel of special ale was open and most of the crowd disbursed. When a few more COs entered the tavern, cheerful calls to a rookie hotshot erupted. Knowing a good distraction when I saw one, I grabbed Finn’s hand and headed toward the door.
I didn’t release my hold until we were a few blocks away. The setting sun cast long shadows along the street.
“Sorry, I didn’t think anyone would recognize you,” Finn said.
Confused, I asked, “Why not? You did.”
“I’m naturally nosy.” He quirked a smile. “Actually, knowing who is who in town is part of my job. A new arrival might mean someone is trying to aid a prisoner.”
“To escape?”
“Escape, or just to smuggle in supplies. Trading goods inside is very lucrative and every single item in there has two different uses at least. I keep track of all the merchants and delivery people. If I see a new face, I’m automatically suspicious. When I heard the Councilor hired a new assistant, I made sure to get a good look at you.”
“I hadn’t realized there was so much involved with your job.”
“A common misconception. Everyone thinks we just stand around. But we have to be one step ahead of the prisoners or risk being surprised by a weapon made of crushed glass mixed in feces.”
I stopped. “You’re not serious. Are you?”
His queasy grimace didn’t change.
“Yuck. At least you have one more person who has a greater appreciation of what you do. Thanks for the drink. I’d better get back before the Councilor worries.”
“I’ll escort you.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but Finn was my only link to Wirral. “Okay,” I agreed. He could be my way inside.
We walked for a while in silence.
I mulled over what he had told me. “Do all the different areas of the prison have specific titles like SMU?” I asked.
“Yes. There are a ton of official designations, but we have nicknames for almost all of them.”
“Where does a rookie hotshot work?”
He laughed. “That’s the new guy in the SMU. The nickname for us is the hotshots. And rookies are the ones either newly graduated from training or new to the prison. I was called the rookie LT until he arrived.”
“Here you go.” Faith dropped a thick file folder on my desk. “Delivered this morning.”
Her amused tone drew my attention. I glanced at her. She stood with one hand resting on her cocked hip. Her short hair was tucked behind her ears as always, but she smirked.
Oh no. “What’s the catch?” I asked.
“The warden wasn’t…happy with your interruption two days ago.”
“And?”
“And you’re barred from entering his prison again.”
I shuddered, remembering the conditions. “That’s fine by me. So why so smug?”
“You’ve met the man. Not much upsets him, but our request plus your audacity—his word, not mine—in not trusting him or his people has galled him. He has issued you a challenge.” Faith was downright gleeful.
“Why me? You wrote the request,” I grumbled.
“Come on, Opal. The warden isn’t an idiot.”
“Since you’re dying to tell me, go on.”
“He challenged you to find anything, anything wrong with his correctional officers or his prison.”
“He’s that confident?”
She nodded.
Nothing was perfect. “Tell him I accept his challenge.”
Faith whistled. “Bold.”
“What’s bold?” Tama Moon asked from behind Faith.
The First Adviser jumped a foot. “Don’t scare me like that!”
“Sorry.” But the Councilor didn’t appear apologetic. In fact, her eyebrows were pinched close, puckering the skin on her forehead. “What are you two plotting?”
I noted her word choice. Plotting. Paranoid vibes wafted from her.
Quicker to respond, Faith said, “Nothing.” However she couldn’t lie convincingly, which added to Tama’s suspicions.
“Nothing important,” I said. “Nic challenged me to spar with him. My sais against his sword, and I not only accepted but claimed I would win.”
Tama released a breath and her shoulders eased down a fraction. “That is bold.” Her frown remained. She shoved a stack of files at Faith. “Here, I need you to check the payroll numbers and send them down to accounting.”
Faith clutched the packet to her chest and shot me a worried glance before hurrying away.
“Opal, I need to speak to you in my office.”
I studied her as I followed. Uncombed white-blond hair hung in clumps as if she just rolled out of bed. Her hands hugged her arms. When we reached her desk, she snatched a paper from the surface and waved it at me.
“What is this?” she asked.
I reached for the sheet and touched magic. A thick bubble resisted my hand, but I pushed through and took the paper from Tama. Damn it, Zebb. We had a deal. I squashed my desire to find him and crack his head open with my sais. He had just undone weeks of improvement, sending Tama back to where we started.
Instead, I kept my face neutral as I scanned the letter. When a person was convicted and sentenced to prison, all his assets were turned over to the Sitian government to put toward the cost of his incarceration. The letter was a standard reversal of assets to the Moon Clan and not something that would need the Councilor’s approval. Except in this case, the prisoner was Akako, Tama’s sister. Akako’s signature meant she agreed to the terms stated in the letter, and it was countersigned by Tama.
Confused, I tried to determine what she was really asking. “You approved the transfer.”
“I know that! Look here.” She stabbed her finger at a line of text below her signature.
I squinted at the fine print. “You also waived your right to purchase her assets. Is that bad?”