“Aza Guilla,” Jean whispered, “I stole these robes, but don’t hold it against these people. If I’m the only death-prayer they get, please judge them lightly, for the sorrow of their passing and the indignity of their resting place. Crooked Warden, if you could back that up somehow, I’d greatly appreciate it.”
There was a creak as the doors on the northern wall of the building were pushed open. Jean started to leap backward, but thought better of it; his light was no doubt already seen, and it would be best to play the dignified priest of Aza Guilla. His hatchets remained up his right sleeve.
The last people he expected to walk through the north door of the warehouse were the Berangias sisters.
Cheryn and Raiza wore oilcloaks, but the hoods were thrown back and their shark’s-teeth bangles gleamed by the light of Jean’s globe. Each of the sisters held a light-globe as well. They shook them, and a powerful red glare rose up within the warehouse, as though each woman were cupping fire in the palms of her hands.
“Inquisitive priest,” said one of the sisters. “A good evening to you.”
“Not the sort of place,” said the other, “where your order usually prowls without invitation.”
“My order is concerned with death in every form, and in every place.” Jean gestured toward the tarp with his light-globe. “There has been a foul act committed here; I was saying a death prayer, which is what every soul is due before it passes into the long silence.”
“Oh, a foul act. Shall we leave him to his business, Cheryn?”
“No,” said Raiza, “for his business has been curiously concerned with ours these past few nights, hasn’t it?”
“You’re right, Sister. Once or twice a-prowling, that we might excuse. But this priest has been persistent.”
“Unusually persistent.” The Berangias sisters were coming toward him, slowly, smiling like cats advancing on a crippled mouse. “On our docks and now in our warehouse…”
“Do you dare suggest,” said Jean, his heart racing, “that you intend to interfere with an envoy of the Lady of the Long Silence? Of Aza Guilla, the Goddess of Death itself?”
“Interfering’s what we do professionally, I’m afraid,” said the sister on his right. “We left the place open just in case you might want to stick your head in.”
“Hoped you wouldn’t be able to resist.”
“And we know a thing or two about the Lady Most Kind ourselves.”
“Although our service to her is a bit more direct than yours.”
With that, red light gleamed on naked steel; each sister had drawn out a curved, arm-length blade-thieves’ teeth, just as Maranzalla had shown him so many years earlier. The Berangias twins continued their steady approach.
“Well,” said Jean, “if we’re already past the pleasantries, ladies, allow me to quit this masquerade.” Jean tossed his light-globe on the ground, reached up, pulled back his black hood, and slipped off his mask.
“Tannen!” said the sister on his right. “Well, holy shit. So you didn’t go out through the Viscount’s Gate after all.” The Berangias sisters halted, staring at him. Then they began circling to his left, moving in graceful unison, giving themselves more space to take action.
“You have some cheek,” said the other, “impersonating a priest of Aza Guilla.”
“Beg pardon? You were going to kill a priest of Aza Guilla.”
“Yes, well, you seem to have saved us from that particular blasphemy, haven’t you?”
“This is convenient!” said the other sister. “I never dreamed it’d be this easy.”
“Oh, whatever it is,” said Jean, “I guarantee it won’t be easy.”
“Did you like our work, in your little glass cellar?” The sister on the left spoke now. “Your two friends, the Sanza twins. Twins done in by twins, same wounds to the throat, same pose on the floor. Seemed appropriate.”
“Appropriate?” Jean felt new anger building like pressure at the back of his skull. He ground his teeth together. “Mark my words, bitch. I’ve been wondering how I’d feel when this moment finally came, and I have to say, I think I’m going to feel pretty fucking good.”
The Berangias sisters shrugged off their cloaks with nearly identical motions. As the oilcoth fluttered to the floor, they threw down their light-globes and drew out their other blades. Two sisters; four knives. They stared intently at Jean in the mingled red-and-white light and crouched, as they had a hundred times before crowds of screaming thousands at the Shifting Revel. As they had a hundred times before pleading victims in Capa Barsavi’s court.
“Wicked sisters,” said Jean, as he let the hatchets fall out of his right robe sleeve and into his hand, “I’d like you to meet the Wicked Sisters.”
3
“BUT DON’T take it too amiss, Lukas,” said Doña Sofia as she set her hollowed-out orange back down on her shelf. “We have a few possible remedies.”
“We might only be out of the necessary funds for a few days,” said Don Lorenzo. “I have other sources I can tap; I do have peers who would be good for the loan of a few thousand. I even have some old favors I can call in.”
“That…that is a relief, my lord and lady, quite a relief. I am pleased to hear that your…situation need not ruin our plan. And I wouldn’t call it embarrassing, not at all. If anyone knows about financial hardship, why, it would be the House of bel Auster.”
“I shall speak to several of my likely sources of a loan next Idler’s Day-which is, of course, the Day of Changes. Have you ever been to any formal celebration of the festival, Lukas?”
“I’m afraid not, Don Lorenzo. I have, previously, never been in Camorr at the Midsummer-mark.”
“Really?” Doña Sofia raised her eyebrows at her husband. “Why don’t we bring Lukas with us to the duke’s feast?”
“An excellent idea!” Don Lorenzo beamed at Locke. “Lukas, since we can’t leave until I’ve secured a few thousand more crowns anyway, why not be our guest? Every peer in Camorr will be there; every man and woman of importance from the lower city-”
“At least,” said Doña Sofia, “the ones that currently have the duke’s favor.”
“Of course,” said Lorenzo. “Do come with us. The feast will be held in Raven’s Reach; the duke opens his tower only on this one occasion every year.”
“My lord and lady Salvara, this is…quite an unexpected honor. But though I fear very much to refuse your hospitality, I also fear that it might possibly interfere with my ongoing work on our behalf.”
“Oh, come, Lukas,” said Lorenzo. “It’s four days hence; you said you’d be supervising loading the first galleon for the next few days. Take a rest from your labors and come enjoy a very singular opportunity. Sofia can show you around while I press some of my peers for the loans I need. With that money in hand, we should be able to set out just a few days after that, correct? Assuming you’ve told us of every possible complication?”
“Yes, my lord Salvara, the matter of the second galleon is the only complication we face other than your, ah, loss of fluidity. And, at any rate, even its cargo for Balinel will not be in the city until next week. Fortune and the Marrows may be favoring us once again.”
“It’s settled, then?” Doña Sofia linked hands with her husband and smiled. “You’ll be our guest at Raven’s Reach?”
“It’s accounted something of an honor,” confided the don, “to bring an unusual and interesting guest to the duke’s celebration. So we are eager to have you with us for several reasons.”
“If it would give you pleasure,” said Locke. “I fear that I am not much for celebrations, but I can set aside my work for a night to attend.”