“Not directly. The Amicae representative who interviewed me had the list of questions with him, and brought it back to Amicae when he left.”
Still, she seemed to have calmed down significantly. Laura watched her re-pin her hair, debating before finally asking, “Why did you really go upstairs yesterday?”
Juliana’s hands stilled. “Haven’t I said it already? I got a little turned around. Puer’s second floor is a storage area.”
“If this one was Sweeper property, we’d have given you a tour.”
Juliana’s mouth quirked. “Really? Because it sounds as if there’s an armory I haven’t been to.”
Laura winced. “Honestly, not even Clae talked about it. I didn’t know it existed until just yesterday.”
Juliana huffed and went back to smoothing out her hair. “You didn’t expect him to keep all his gear in a tiny office like this, did you?”
“Well.”
Juliana looked up at her, wide-eyed. “Oh my god, you really thought that.”
“I thought he brought equipment here as soon as factories produced it,” Laura admitted. “In retrospect it doesn’t make sense, and he did talk about storage once, but I never put much thought into it.”
“So he didn’t tell you everything,” said Juliana, pensive.
“There wasn’t much time to. I only joined Sinclairs in May.”
At this, Juliana straightened very slowly. “Eight months ago? Not years?”
“You don’t have to sound so scandalized.”
“Eight months,” Juliana repeated, as if in a daze. “I’m … I’m impressed. I’m sure you met some of the apprentices in Puer when you visited. Some of them have come from long-established Sweeper families, and you easily outshine them.”
She fell into contemplative silence. While not in the plan, that exchange served well enough as “small talk.” Laura didn’t have her answer yet, but maybe …
“I’m sorry for what I said yesterday.”
Juliana’s head tilted. “What?”
“For accusing you of lying and everything. It was rude and uncalled for. I just get really protective over this place. Amicae practically crushed Sweepers out of existence, and Okane … well. We’ve got good reason not to trust people. It’s not easy to put that behind me, and I didn’t think before I acted. You are a fantastic Sweeper—if you weren’t, you wouldn’t have this position. And I know you’re very intelligent, and dedicated to doing the job right. You’ve already lost someone, so you know the gravity of this work, and it’s easy to tell that you’re dedicated to not letting that happen again. I want to trust you, but I can’t do that if you’re not honest with me and I don’t know what you’re doing.”
For a while they simply looked at each other. The longer time dragged on the more Laura wanted to take back what she’d said. It had come out more honest than anticipated. Juliana sighed. She pushed the glass flask aside and took Laura’s hand in both of hers.
“Tell me, Laura, why did you become a Sweeper? You were old enough not to be wheedled into it, and Amicae is hardly the place to glorify the job.”
“I’ve wanted to be a Sweeper since I was little.” Laura shrugged self-consciously. “It just took a while before I realized it was something I could do.”
Juliana paused again, regarded her solemnly before saying, bluntly, “Clae Sinclair had some kind of secret to his Sweeping. Unless he was literally birthed from the heavens, there’s no other explanation. Before he died, your kin was a hell of a lot stronger, wasn’t it? And once he died, it faded. It was obvious just by your reactions in that fight. Did he ever tell you what that kin secret was?”
Do not tell anyone about him. Disastrous consequences.
“No,” said Laura.
“Was there anything here that he was particularly protective over?”
“Everything,” Laura snorted, but gestured back at the black drapes. “Mainly he obsessed over the storage room, since that’s where the Gin is stored. The setup hasn’t changed since he died, though. Okane walked me through the system and he didn’t think anything was missing.”
Juliana’s eyes glinted. She leaned closer and said, “Perhaps it’s something the family itself keeps close? A Sinclair secret?”
“As far as Clae was concerned, any of his Sweepers were Sinclair enough to be in his good books.”
Juliana waved a hand. “That doesn’t mean much. Some of these well-established guilds are built around families, just like the upper class, and just like the upper class they see their core members as the only real heirs to their secrets. Dea’s Sweeper family won’t even let in-laws handle their kin recipes. If Amicae’s Sweepers go so far as to slap their name over the office, then surely they’re believers in the bloodline?”
“Clae was the last Sinclair left, and he knew it. He wouldn’t jeopardize the city by sitting on that kind of information.”
“Wall,” Juliana said simply.
“That had punishment of death if we talked,” Laura snapped. “Sinclairs tried. Sinclairs failed. Clae did everything he could within his boundaries.”
“I don’t doubt his intentions or yours. But if there were boundaries set by the city, maybe there were boundaries that existed in his mind and not in yours. I thought if there was a family secret, it would be located in a place only the family had access to. That’s why I went upstairs yesterday.”
“I’ve been up there a few times, and Clae was never protective of the house,” said Laura.
Juliana’s eyes flicked up toward the ceiling as a board overhead creaked. “Then perhaps it’s a secret held by a person instead of a page. An oral tradition.”
“Okane’s never mentioned—”
“He’s a Sinclair. Of course he wouldn’t have given that information freely. But if you asked him directly…”
Laura drew back, frowning. “Me?”
“He trusts you, doesn’t he? More than anyone else. If I asked he’d never answer, but you? If you wanted to I’m sure you could make him tell you anything. Could you do that for me?”
A chill ran down Laura’s spine, but she pretended to laugh. “Are you telling me to manipulate Okane?”
“You’ve got him wrapped around your finger! And don’t worry about thinking you’re taking advantage of him. We’re going to use that secret to protect this city, and protect him too. He’s still our teammate. He doesn’t risk losing that by talking.”
Juliana smiled warmly, and Laura did her best to mimic the gesture. She felt sick.
“I’ll ask him,” she said. “But for the record, I’m positive that he has no idea what the secret is either. If he did, he would’ve implemented it already.”
Juliana clapped a hand on her shoulder. “That’s my girl. We’ll get this office in shape, just you watch.”
And now someone was calling her “girl” again. Laura barely had time to feel frustrated before footsteps sounded on the stairs. Juliana drew back as Okane appeared on the landing.
“I just looked out the window,” he said. “Is there a reason Lester’s leading someone with a camera?”
“The reporter!” Juliana gasped. She straightened and patted down her clothes, as if they’d somehow come out of place during that short conversation. “We’re expecting them. Come on out, Okane! They’ll be happy to see other Sweepers.”
The door creaked open. Lester entered first, carrying a paper bag and chatting amiably with the two people behind him.
“Oh!” Laura leapt to her feet. “Annabelle!”
Reporter Annabelle Kilborn paused in the doorway. “Good morning! It’s good to see you again.”
“Likewise,” said Laura. “I knew a reporter was coming, but I wasn’t expecting you. I didn’t realize you did spotlights.”
“My coworkers decided I had the most experience with positive Sweeper articles,” said Annabelle.
“Well, we’re glad to have you,” said Juliana. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
She and Annabelle shook hands, and Anna
belle turned to introduce her cameraman. Lester stepped to the counter. Out of the bag came several bottles of vividly orange Fezziwig soda.
“Sorry for the surprise,” he told Laura and Okane. “It was a last-minute offer and Juliana’s eager to get on the public’s good side right now. It’ll give us more sway in negotiations. I hoped delaying them a little would give you some time to prepare.”
“I appreciate it,” said Laura, taking one of the offered sodas.
She popped off the cap and took a long drink as the others settled themselves. The cameraman snapped a picture of Juliana before pulling back. Annabelle and the MacDanels took the remaining stools, and Annabelle began reading out a prepared list of questions.
“So,” Okane whispered, eyes still fixed on the interview, “did - - - find anything out?”
“Not much beyond what we already knew,” Laura replied. “She knows something’s here, and she thinks you, as the last remaining family member, have the secret. Like an oral tradition. She wants me to trick it out of you.”
“I figured as much. What do - - - want to do from here?”
“Carry on?” Laura shrugged. “I don’t know that there’s anything we can do. I’ll tell her you didn’t know anything, she’ll suck it up, and we’ll move on. Hopefully for the better.”
She refocused on the interview. Annabelle had moved on from the basic introduction, and gone on to ask about Juliana’s previous Sweeping experience. Juliana had laughed through the tale of her and Lester signing up as apprentices at age fifteen, and now went into Amicae’s selection process.
“You know, I wasn’t even the person they were supposed to interview that day. It was totally luck.”
Annabelle paused. “You weren’t Puer’s recommended choice?”
“No, the head Sweeper there was very intent on sending you someone named Joan,” said Juliana. “Joan’s good, but I wouldn’t call her fantastic. If you put her in power she wouldn’t know how to use it. She ran so late for her interview, the Amicae representative almost left, but my brother caught him in time and asked if I could interview instead. They were so eager to talk to me, I was flattered! And when they said my old boss spoke so highly of me, I almost cried. Some men in charge are determined never to compliment you to your face, so hearing that—”
Okane glanced at Laura. “Joseph Blair didn’t strike me as someone who withheld compliments.”
“No,” Laura murmured. “I don’t think I heard him speak badly of anyone, even when he was stuck between the Sinclairs.”
Even at Clae’s wake, Puer’s head Sweeper had admitted his wife’s guilt but tried to defend her at the same time. Laura thought back, trying to match any instance to Juliana’s statement, and something occurred to her. Joseph had said he’d send a Sweeper to help them keep up basic training. Laura had assumed he meant Juliana, but it must’ve been Joan. Laura pulled one of the Dead Ringer pages back from under the counter and uncapped a pen.
Meanwhile, Annabelle had taken this in stride. “So you outshined even your city’s first pick. How does it feel to be the top Sweeper in Amicae?”
“It’s been a whirlwind so far,” Juliana chuckled. “It’s very different here than Puer. Clae Sinclair left little more than a shell of what a proper department should be.”
Blame the goddamn Council, not Clae, Laura wanted to rage, but kept her mouth shut and focused harder on her writing.
“We’re in the process of putting things back together and making improvements, so the citizens of Amicae won’t have to fear anymore. Their safety won’t be determined by a capricious head Sweeper or the whims of the mobs. It will be done professionally, promptly, under the Council’s authority.”
Words couldn’t describe how much Laura wanted to kick over Juliana’s stool. She jabbed her note extra hard at the end and tore the piece off its page. She slid this toward Okane. He squinted down at the message:
To Melody Dearborn—Are MacDanels approved?
“What’s this?” he whispered.
“A telegram I want you to send,” she replied just as quietly. “This whole situation stinks, and I want to understand what’s going on. I trust Melody to give us a straight answer.”
“I suppose if Juliana suspects - - - of sending messages, that wouldn’t go over well.” He slipped the note into his pocket. He paused, and she raised a brow.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just wondered whether she’s really the one to worry about.”
Laura looked back at the others. On the other side of the room Lester sat in silence, a pack of notes resting on one knee. If he’d tried using the Mad Dogs as a harebrained distraction once, there was no telling what else he’d do to support Juliana. Laura hoped he wasn’t stupid enough to involve himself deeper in the mobs, but he was like Juliana’s shadow, almost impossible to get a read on. Even now there was little trace of emotion or individuality on his face. He simply watched, with frightening intensity, as Juliana chatted her way through her next answer.
5
THE KEY KEEPER
The armory was located on a street called Fortore. The wide paved road and well-kept sidewalks marked it as a frequented route, but it held none of the clamor and traffic of a thoroughfare like Tiber or Acis. The quiet street hugged closer to the interior wall of the Third Quarter, its upscale location reflecting this in the form of tidy buildings, mostly residential but dotted with quaint shops. The armory building, obvious due to polished metal numbers on the front, stood three stories tall, three buildings in from a corner whose crossing street bore the lines of a trolley route.
The armory looked nothing like what Laura had pictured. It wasn’t in the Gothic style, of brick and barred windows, and it sat unassumingly between an apartment building and an upscale restaurant, perfectly painted a dark charcoal color with windows made of multicolored glass. The bottom level had no door but a garage wide enough to hold two automobiles. The proper door to the second floor required climbing a flight of decorative metal stairs on the outside of the building, between it and the rosy brick apartments. Small gingerbread patterns lined the edge of the sloped roof.
Laura surveyed this all from the other side of the street, studying the windows, then the apartments, then the restaurant’s sign advertising the best teccinia in the city, then looking back at the armory.
“It looks like a weird house,” she commented at last.
“It’s nicer than the shop.” Okane scratched his nose as he took in the sight. “Aren’t satellite locations supposed to be lesser quality?”
“You’d think.”
They eyed the building a while longer. Laura knew from frequent checking of her pocket watch that it was 10:00 A.M. Okane had arranged for them to meet with Elinor here any moment now; with Laura holding the only key to the premises, there was no other way for their estate administrator to continue her job. Laura felt around in her coat pocket and turned the key over in her fingers. No modern keys had hooks or spirals, but it matched the shape drawn in Clae’s letter, and Okane had confirmed that it was a key of some sort. A key for the armory and whatever was in that box.
“So how does this work? Just like a normal key?”
Okane shrugged. “I only remember people carrying them, not how they work. Maybe it turns the other way? Or maybe it doesn’t even turn?” He muddled this over, and Laura spotted the last person of their group.
Elinor turned the corner and walked along the path, past the restaurant. The Sweepers crossed the street to meet her.
“Hello,” Laura greeted.
“Hello.” Elinor didn’t face her; instead, she squinted up at the building in question. “This is the armory?”
“Judging by the numbers, yes.”
“Haven’t you been here before?”
“Actually, I never even knew this place existed.”
“It’s in his name,” Elinor muttered, opening her folder to check the print inside. “Someone else has been helping pay for expenses on it. It’s been repainted in t
he time since his death.”
“It has?” The paint looked immaculate, so Laura shouldn’t have been surprised.
“We’ll have to track that person down eventually. In the meantime, let’s see the inside.”
No one moved. Elinor had no key but looked to Okane, Okane watched Laura for what to do, and Laura came to the conclusion she’d have to play leader.
“Come on, then,” she grumbled.
The metal staircase was black, the railing wrought with designs of blooming flowers and curling vines that shone dimly in the morning light. Despite the spring décor, the metal chilled Laura’s hand as she climbed the stairs. Every step produced a loud retort, and the trio made a racket all the way up to the door, which loomed vaguely purple though a coat of black had been painted over it, bronzy knob and strangely shaped keyhole glinting bright in contrast.
Laura pulled out the key, eyed the curl, and leaned in to inspect the keyhole on the door. Thin, rectangular, looked the same size. She tried to fit the key, and it slid in easily. As soon as it fit, a click sounded from inside. The key froze in place, then wrenched ninety degrees to the right, one-eighty to the left, one-eighty right again, and back to its original position. At the first twist Laura tried to jerk back, but her fingers stayed glued to the key. She couldn’t let go. Groaning and clicking came from the door, as if tumblers moved throughout its entire structure. Eventually an odd pop sounded, and the door bounced ajar as if bumped off its threshold. Laura snatched her hand away as soon as she felt the pressure vanish.
“What kind of freakish machine is this?”
Okane had been eyeing the door dubiously, but looked at her in concern. “What do - - - mean?”
“It grabbed my hand or something. I couldn’t let go of the key.” She rubbed the hand in question, rueful.
“Is it okay?”
“Fine.”
Embarrassed, she kicked the door open further. It swung open with a groan. The room beyond was mostly dark, though pale blue and yellow lights glowed in its recesses. They squinted in.
“Do - - - think there’s a light switch?”
The Monstrous Citadel Page 10