They arrived at the manor an hour later. The sun had set and the streets were dark. Rows of city manor houses rose like ghosts of ages past out of the shadows. Less than six months ago this street had been well lit and home to dozens of noble families and hundreds of servants. Now the windows were dark, the yards silent. A chill went up Nila’s spine at the sight of the Eldaminse manor. Even in the darkness she could tell that fire had destroyed part of the roof, and one of the chimneys had collapsed.
“Are you all right,” Bo asked. She felt his hand touch her shoulder. He was wearing his Privileged’s gloves.
Nila cleared her throat. “Yes.”
He handed her a lantern and then lifted his own, lighting it with the snap of his fingers.
“Thank you,” Nila said. The light illuminated the drive and threw the yard into deeper shadows. Somehow, it reassured her. “This way.”
She led him up the front drive and in through the main door. The grand hall had been ransacked. The paintings and sculptures were gone or defaced, and the chandelier had been cut down and stripped of semiprecious stones. Someone had written illegible words on the wall with what might have been feces. The house smelled like a farmyard.
“What are we looking for?” she asked.
“A safe,” Bo said. “Somewhere Eldaminse would have kept his correspondence and books.”
Nila lifted her lantern high and headed toward the stairs. “It’ll be gone already. Everything of value has been looted.”
“I have to try.”
The rest of the house looked much like the grand hall. The furniture was smashed or missing, everything of value removed, the walls covered in graffiti. Nila couldn’t help but feel sorrow at that. The house had once been a happy place, full of life and riches. Jakob had once run down these halls, chasing the servants with a wooden musket. She was glad Bo had left the boy in his bed.
The duke’s office was on the second floor in the southeastern corner of the house. The moment she entered the room, she knew they weren’t going to find anything. The room was covered in scorch marks, and part of the floor and outer wall were missing. Someone had tried blowing open the safe with gunpowder. They’d used a lot, by the looks of it. The duke’s desk had been reduced to splinters by the explosion.
She pointed to the mangled lump of metal over a dozen paces from where the safe had once sat.
“That’s it,” she said. “The duke’s safe.”
Bo stooped to examine the safe. Anything that had been inside it would have been destroyed by the explosion, or stolen after. He kicked the metal, then swore, hopping around the room on one foot while he held his toe. “Pit, pit, pit!” Bo stumbled toward the hole in the floor and Nila found herself grabbing him by the back of his jacket, pulling him back before he could fall.
He let out an exasperated sigh. “Ten days of work and this was my best lead.” He dropped onto the floor, cross-legged. “Are you sure there’s nothing else?”
“I was just a laundress,” Nila said. “I’ve only been in this office a couple of times, and I was always trying to think of a way to keep Eldaminse from taking me to his bed.”
Bo pounded a fist on the floor. “Damn!”
“Can’t you just go down south and…” She made a gesture with her hands.
“And what? Magic Taniel out of whatever cell they’ve locked him in? It’s a bit more involved than that.”
Nila sat on the floor next to Bo.
“If I don’t have the evidence to convict the General Staff, I’ll have to use sorcery,” Bo said. “Well, I’ll start with bribes. Bribes might work, but they’re notoriously unreliable. Someone is just as likely to take your money and then turn you in as they are to help you. If bribes don’t work, I’ll have to kill people. I don’t actually enjoy killing people, despite what some might think of royal cabalists. And I certainly don’t want to kill Adran soldiers. Taniel wouldn’t ever forgive me.”
Bo stared at the floor, looking angry and sad all at the same time.
“Wait!” Nila got to her feet.
“What…?”
“I came in here once and Lord Eldaminse was kneeling by the fire.”
“Most people do,” Bo said, his tone a little annoyed.
“No. Eldaminse always sat by the fire. He had this great big chair.” Nila skirted the hole in the floor and approached the fireplace. “Right here. And he never put the wood in himself. Always summoned a servant to do it. So when I saw him kneeling there, I thought it was strange.”
Bo was on his feet now, too. “A lockbox, you think? Hidden under the flagstones?”
“Maybe,” Nila said. It had to be. It was all Bo had left, and Nila suddenly found herself wanting him to find the answers he needed. She dropped to her knees beside the fireplace and began trying to squeeze her fingers between the cracks. She searched for a hidden switch or a recess she could grab to move the stone. Nothing.
“Move,” Bo said. He tugged on his Privileged’s gloves and raised his hands. Nila scrambled out of the way. The flagstone suddenly cracked, and the pieces – each far bigger than Nila could have lifted herself – flew to the side. Bo grinned down at the floor. Beneath the flagstone, untouched by the explosion that had destroyed the safe, was a small lockbox. She grabbed it by the straps on the sides and lifted it out.
Bo destroyed the lock with a flick of his gloved fingers and the lid sprang open. Inside were several leather-bound books, each about the size of a pocket ledger, and Nila realized that could very well be what they were.
Bo opened one of the books and flipped through it. The grin on his face grew wider. “Yes,” he said. “This is exactly what I needed.” He dropped the book back into the lockbox. Then he closed his eyes, hands flat on the lid of the lockbox. He almost looked like he was praying.
A thought occurred to Nila. “Bo,” she said.
“Yes?” He didn’t open his eyes.
“Won’t they arrest you when they find out who you are?”
“More than likely.”
“And won’t they kill you if you try to rescue Taniel with sorcery?”
Bo’s eyes opened. “Almost certainly. I’ll be right back.” He left the room, hurrying like a man who had just realized he’d left the kettle on in the kitchen.
Nila listened to his footfalls down the hallway and then down the stairs. She could hear the sound of his boots crunching on the gravel drive outside.
She was alone now, in this great manor that had once been her home. She lifted her lantern and did a slow circuit of the duke’s office. Several minutes passed, and Nila began to wonder where Bo had gone. Had he abandoned her?
No. She realized that the lockbox was still sitting on the floor, and beside it a pair of Bo’s Privileged’s gloves.
She sat down next to the lockbox and flipped open the lid. Taking a book in one hand, she began to leaf through it slowly. She recognized the duke’s penmanship on each page. There were what appeared to be diary entries and then, later on, columns and figures. Once in a while there would be a name, underlined. None of it made any sense to her.
She put the book back. The next one was much the same, and again with the third. Bo would have to sort these out and find what he was looking for, but he seemed happy to have these. She picked up his gloves. Strange that he would leave them here.
Nila listened for the sound of his footfalls in the house or on the drive. Nothing.
She stared at the gloves by the light of the candle. This was one of the pairs she’d mended. She could tell by the coffee stain next to one of the runes. On an impulse, she slid the glove over her hand.
She’d expected a shock. Perhaps something that would hurt her. There were stories about Privilegeds who warded everything they owned so that other people couldn’t use them. But nothing happened when she put the glove on. She slid the other over her left hand.