And there was need, as well. Olgun-a startlingly weak god, now, but a god nonetheless-needed her. Cared for her. Would never leave her.
She wasn't alone.
Adrienne rose to her feet, drove the rapier into its scabbard without looking, and laid it across the blanket with everything else. She tied her makeshift sack, hefted it from the bed. Within, everything she needed to survive, and nothing but that blade to connect her to the noblewoman she'd been for years. The noblewoman she now left behind.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Now:
Two years might change a person, but rarely a city. As Widdershins slipped through the darkened alleyways that flowed into Davillon's central marketplace, she couldn't help but remember that hellish night. The sights and sounds and scents were the same. People still shouted their arguments or whispered their black-market deals, and footpads still waylaid lone wanderers through the nighttime streets, taking money and lives.
And demons, Widdershins reminded herself with a shiver, still lurked in the shadows.
She'd escaped the confines of the Finders' Guild with ease-troubling ease, when she thought about it. True, Olgun had indeed remembered their route, guided her through the maze of passages. Still, she'd been certain there would be armed guards waiting at the exit, or skulking in ambush along the way.
But she'd met few Finders, and those she encountered allowed her to pass without incident, either having seen her moments ago with Hubert, or simply assuming that anyone this deep into the guild's headquarters must belong there. And it only got easier still. Near the front door, Widdershins encountered no sign of life, save the pained moans of the woman she'd dumped unceremoniously in the closet. It was just one more worry to add to her growing collection.
She lurked now across the street from the Flippant Witch, and wondered again if she'd been right to come here. Olgun swore he could hide her trail from the creature hunting her, at least for a while. But she knew there were other ways to find her, and she feared she might be putting Genevieve in terrible danger.
All the same, Widdershins felt a desperate need to know that her friend was all right.
“This is stupid,” she berated herself, as she abandoned her hiding spot, flickering across the street in a blur of motion. “I told her to find someplace safe until opening time; she's probably not even in there. Just Robin and the other servants…” Her hand closed on the door's tarnished latch.
“Pardon me, mademoiselle. I wonder if I might impose for a moment of your-”
Considering the evening's prior events, it's perhaps understandable that Widdershins reacted as she did. With a closed fist, she backhanded the speaker across the jaw before he could finish, knocking him from the steps. He landed hard, looking up to find her already standing over him, blade drawn.
“…time,” the young man finished with an audible swallow, his voice rising several octaves, one hand clutched to his bleeding lip.
Widdershins frowned. This gangly, brown-robed youth didn't look much like either a guild assassin or demon conjurer. Nevertheless, she kept her rapier rock-steady against his neck.
“Of course,” he continued nervously, “if that's too much to ask, I'm more than willing to negotiate.”
“Who are you?” Widdershins barked at him. “What do you want?”
“Oh. That is, my name is Brother Maurice. And as far as what I want, well, I imagine that the first priority would be to have your sword just a bit farther from my throat.”
She stepped back, moving the blade away from Maurice's jugular. “Stand up.”
He did so, and it was only then that she finally noticed the tonsure shaved into the top of his head.
Maurice brushed the worst of the dirt from his chest, attempting to salvage some modicum of dignity. He carefully smoothed the front of his robe and met Widdershins eye-to-eye, though he couldn't entirely hide the fear lurking behind his own. Widdershins reluctantly lowered the rapier.
“I wouldn't dream of speaking for you,” the young monk told her, “but I find this arrangement substantially more comfortable.”
“Did you want something, Brother Maurice?” she asked bluntly, eyes darting in all directions. This felt too much like a deliberate distraction.
“My instructions,” he said, taking refuge in duty and orders, “are to deliver to you an invitation. That is, assuming you are the thie-ah, lady called Widdershins?”
Lying just seemed more effort than it was worth at this point.
“Yes, that's me. An invitation from whom? And for what?”
“From the archbishop William de Laurent. Apparently, you made an impression at your first meeting. He's quite anxious to speak with you at your earliest convenience.”
Widdershins blinked. “He…I…Why?”
Maurice shrugged. “I couldn't say. He told me to deliver his request; he didn't confide his motives, and I don't make it a practice to ask.”
“No, you wouldn't.” Widdershins shook her head, finally sheathing her rapier with a hiss that masked the monk's sigh of relief. “How did you find me, anyway?”
“His Eminence told me what part of town to start with.” The young monk raised his eyes heavenward. “I wouldn't dare speculate on the insights made available to the archbishop in times of need, but I imagine that knowing your name and, uh, profession was helpful. After that, I asked around until someone mentioned that you frequent this establishment.”
“You…you just went around Davillon's poor neighborhoods asking random strangers about a known thief?! You're suicidal, yes? I knew taking the cloth had to do bad things to the brain.”
“The gods watch over me,” Maurice said stiffly. “I was in no danger.”
Widdershins wondered how the man could fit that much naivete into a frame that skinny. And yet-here he was. Nobody had harmed a hair on his tonsure.
All she could was shrug; given what she'd seen Olgun do, it wasn't as though she had any real standing not to believe. “All right, fine. Is there a particular place he wants to meet me?”
This, Maurice had been warned, was where it could get difficult. “The archbishop, unfortunately, is watched by too many eyes to go anywhere without being noticed. He apologizes for the inconvenience, but he fears you'll have to come to him.”
“At some House estate?” Widdershins's voice could have shattered glass. “Is he insane?!”
“He expressed his utmost confidence in your ability to arrange such a rendezvous, mademoiselle. Apparently, your ability to reach him the first time impressed him.”
“Yes, but that was before someone made an attempt on his life, Brother. He's being watched more closely than a free exhibition at a brothel and-oh.” Widdershins blushed, remembering belatedly to whom she was speaking. “Umm, sorry.”
“No trouble,” Maurice told her, hoping the heat in his own face didn't show. “I do understand your concerns,” he continued, “as does my master. But he assures me that this is most important, and there simply is no other way.”
“There never is.” Widdershins sighed.
She couldn't just sneak in. The repercussions if she was caught were too severe. Madeleine Valois could just ring the bell, but it would mean revealing her noble alter ego to the archbishop, and she didn't know how far she could trust him. So how to…?
Ah.
“His Eminence has nuns in his traveling entourage, yes?”
“Why, yes, but what difference does that-?”
“You,” she told him with a smirk, “are going to help me pick up a new habit.”
Maurice choked as understanding crashed down upon him. “Oh, gods. I'm going to hell.”
“Probably, but you're the one who invited me, and now I'm too damned curious to ignore it.”