Chapter Three
Rynne squinted at the mirror as she tried to scrub the last of the paint from her face. Tonight the “Vivacious Vorani” had worn an over-the-top Sylethi ensemble, complete with war paint, ruffled hair feathers, and some type of harness that barely counted as clothing. She had attempted to combine some classic Sylethi chants with more modern Sunoan rhythms, and it had worked well…more or less. The crowd had left happy, which was really all she cared about. Well, that and the five-hundred shiny new drakes in her purse.
“You missed a spot,” Van said as he stepped inside the room.
“And you missed the show,” she replied tartly.
“Watching a few hundred men slobber over you isn’t my idea of a fun night.”
“But I need a big strong man to keep them off me.”
He snorted. “Right. Didn’t you start hiring Gran to do that?”
“Yeah, but he’s not as nice to look at,” she teased. “Besides, you’re cheaper.”
“That’s more like it,” he said, stepping in the door and lifting up the remnants of her outfit from the table. “Was this clothing at one point?”
Rynne put down the washcloth and stood. “Sort of.”
He shook his head in bewilderment. “Have you talked to Nate since you got back?”
“No, but I was about to head over that way. Why?”
“I was hoping someone might be able to talk some sense into him. Gods know it isn’t going to be me. I tried earlier and he just shooed me away.” He sighed and leaned against the wall. “I wish he wouldn’t get so excited about this. I still say it’s a sham.”
“Probably,” she admitted. After the initial shock and subsequent euphoria had faded, an ocean’s worth of questions had flooded into her mind. She wanted to believe this woman really was the Kirshal, but years spent working with Rook had tempered her once boundless idealism. In the thousand years since Septuria had supposedly plummeted from the sky, countless “adventurers” had claimed to find one artifact or another. Almost none of them ever turned out to be real.
“Personally, I think he’ll have a hard time getting his money back even if he manages to sell off that other junk,” Van said.
“I doubt that’s his main concern,” Rynne replied, taking a last glimpse in the mirror to see if she had gotten all the paint. As usual after a show, she had thrown on her favorite leather trousers and an open-collared white shirt. Her brown hair was tied up into a ponytail until she had a chance to soak it later.
“Well, let me know how it goes,” Van said. “I think I’ll go play some vintock.”
“So instead of coming to my show and making money, you decide to throw it away playing cards,” she mused. “Interesting choice.”
“Bah. I’ll talk to you later.”
Rynne smiled to herself as he left. Whenever Rook gave them a boring assignment—which admittedly wasn’t too often these days—at least she could always amuse herself by tormenting Van. He certainly had his grumpy moments, but he was also loyal to a fault, both to Rook and anyone who worked for him. Plus, he really was nice to look at. It almost made her miss the days when they had been together…
Almost. She shook away the thought and set off into the base. The complex was essentially a huge, sprawling assortment of interconnected passageways and rooms nestled beneath the Haven docks. None of the entrances to the surface were obvious, and all of them were well protected. It was as good a place as any to run the largest network of informants and smugglers in the city.
Nathan Rook the legitimate merchant had no use for such things. He had an indelible reputation as a shrewd but fair businessman who owned a variety of shops and shipping contracts around Haven. Nathan Rook the information broker, however, led an almost entirely separate life beneath the streets, directing an organization that had grown from only a handful of people to several hundred in only a few years.
Rynne had never expected to become a part of anything like this when she first moved to the city a few years ago, but then, she doubted Rook had envisioned things turning out this way either. It had all just sort of happened, and he had gone from a poor war veteran to one of the wealthiest men in the city. She, on the other hand, had come here as yet another aspiring Sunoan minstrel and evolved into the most coveted performer in the city.
For all its faults, Haven had treated both of them very well. She just couldn’t shake the feeling that this sleeping mystery woman downstairs might change everything…and not for the better.
Rynne forced a polite smile at the other employees she passed in the narrow, dimly lit corridors before eventually turning into the common area. It was undoubtedly the largest room in the complex, complete with a kitchen, larder, supply room, and many small tables for people to play vintock, drink, or just chat. Most of the others nodded to her as she walked by, and she had to remind herself to keep her body language calm and nonchalant—while almost all of them had heard about the big shipment Rook had bought, only she and Van knew anything about the special contents. Rook wanted to keep it that way, and for a very good reason.
If even the smallest peep of this escaped to the outside world, their life here in the city might be over. She wouldn’t be surprised if an entire platoon of Faceless stormed this place. Between the Edehans, the Balorites, and Gods knew who else, no one in Haven would pass up an opportunity to exploit this discovery whether or not it was genuine.
Eventually she crept down the long, narrow corridor on the western side and approached the room Rook had sectioned off. Everyone had been ordered to stay clear of it despite the fact it was actually empty—it was just bait to distract an overly curious employee. She smiled wryly at the barred doorway and continued on, maneuvering down two separate corridors to her real destination. This door was already cracked, and she gently pushed it all the way open and peered inside.
Rook was standing there, arms folded, staring down at the coffin and the mysterious woman inside it. Every once in a while he reached up to idly stroke his neatly trimmed beard or run his fingers through his short brown hair.
“You’re not going to be able to keep this under wraps forever, you know.”
He turned quickly at the sound of her voice but still managed to keep his composure. Rynne was surprised she had startled him at all; under normal circumstances, it was almost impossible.
“I know,” he said softly.
She stepped over to him and peered into the coffin. On one hand, it seemed like they should really take this woman out of it; the thing was ancient, musty, and hardly a fitting place for a divine being to rest. But on the other hand, no one wanted to touch her or disturb whatever magic was warding her body unless it was absolutely necessary.
Rynne let out a slow breath and reached out to the Fane. She wove a quick spell to sharpen her senses, and her vision immediately flickered. Suddenly she could see the lingering Fane energy hanging over the coffin like heat coming off a fire. What it did, however, remained a mystery. She wasn’t much more than a krata, unfortunately—a dabbler practiced in a few spells and tricks but unable to weave enough power to invoke the Flensing. Rook could have brought in one of the magi he contracted out occasionally, but he wasn’t going to trust a mercenary with something so sensitive.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Rynne whispered.
“She’s many things,” he said, “but mostly she’s just dangerous. Though I’m not convinced she’s actually alive.”
Rynne shrugged and released the sensory spell. It wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know. “I thought about that a little, actually. I’ve never heard of magic that could preserve someone for this long. But if legends are to be believed, the Septurian magi had all kinds of great and wondrous powers before the Sundering.”
“That’s a big ‘if,’” Rook muttered. “Legends aren’t exactly known for their accuracy. No one wants to hear a story about how the great revered figures of the past were flawed and weak people jus
t like the rest of us.”
Rynne frowned at him. “That sounded especially bitter.”
He waved a hand dismissively. “Maybe, but there’s truth to it. Every nation puts its founders on an unreachable pedestal; every religion does the same with its saints. All I’m saying is that there is plenty of reason to be skeptical.”
“Fair enough,” she admitted with a shrug. “But I was also thinking more practically. I mean, say Septuria really was this floating city in the clouds. Where did they stick their dead? A city like that wouldn’t exactly have a lot of burial space unless they were tossing bodies over the side.”
“Septurians were immortal,” he pointed out. “If you believe the legend.”
Rynne smiled wryly. “Well, you don’t seem to be in much of a believing mood today.”
Rook sighed and rubbed at his chin. “I’m hoping there’s another option because I don’t like this one.”
“Because it might force you to believe?”
“Because I understand the damage it would do,” he corrected. “To everything.”
She glanced down to the body again. “I know Ebarans aren’t particularly pious, but have you really just looked at her? She’s tall, fit, gorgeous…” Rynne shook her head. “I look at her and I just see power, don’t you?”
“I see exactly what I would expect from a woman who is supposed to be the Messiah.”
“And that worries you more, doesn’t it?”
He blew a thin stream of air through his teeth before nodding. “Honestly? Yes. I always assumed if the gods really did exist, they wouldn’t choose to look anything like us. I figured all the paintings and sculptures would be completely wrong somehow. We make them look like us because that’s what we know, not because we’ve actually seen them.”
“But we have seen plenty of other Septurian artifacts.”
“We can’t really be sure that’s where they’re from, can we?”
“If you doubt hard enough, you won’t be sure about anything,” she pointed out. “That’s no way to live.”
“Maybe not,” Rook said neutrally. “Anyway, the point is that if I were going to conduct a ruse like this, I would make sure my bait looked the part.”
Rynne knelt down over the coffin. His mood might have been a little sour, but he did made a good point. She ran cons often enough to understand how important simple expectations were in getting people to believe in something. “There has to be a way to find out for certain.”
“I had people do some digging. They gave me a small list of sages who might know something.”
“And can keep their mouths shut about it, I hope?”
“That’s the tricky part. The first one I’d like to check is Jonas Bale, a historian who lives over on the west side. I’ve heard the name before; he has a good reputation for being honest and discreet.”
“For whatever that’s worth,” she muttered, turning to face him. “I mean, you don’t trust most of your own people to keep this secret, but you’re going to trust this guy?”
“No. I’m hoping I can poke around and get some answers without explicitly telling him anything.”
Rynne snorted. “This I’d like to see. ‘So, a friend of mine found a perfectly preserved, thousand year old body of a beautiful woman—any idea what it could be?’”
Rook smiled. “I think I can do a little better than that.”
“I would hope so. You want me to go along? I have a way with older men.”
“You have a way with all men.”
“True, but that just makes my point.”
He chuckled, and she considered it a small victory. “We’ll keep it small: you and Van, and he’ll hang back outside. We’ll head over in the afternoon tomorrow.”
Rynne nodded and raised an eyebrow. “So what if Bale or the others can’t help us? What do we do then?”
Rook turned back to the coffin. “I don’t know, but she can’t stay here much longer. Like you said, I can’t keep this under wraps forever.”
“You could always give her to some diplomat or politician. Get some nice favors in the Assembly.”
He turned and cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t mean that.”
“Of course not,” she smirked. “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t considering it.”
“There’s no one in the city I would trust with this,” he said gravely, “especially now on the brink of this new treaty. A discovery of this magnitude could tear Haven apart in the blink of an eye.”
“And then all of Esharia not long after.”
Rook nodded solemnly then sighed. “You should get some sleep.”
“I will eventually. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t sitting alone in here talking to yourself.”
“Only a mumble here and there,” he said.
Rynne smiled coyly. “Besides, you missed my show again. I needed to nag you about it in person.”
“I’ll catch the next one,” he told her. “I promise.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” she said, squeezing his arm. “See you tomorrow.”
She turned back towards him once she reached the door. He hadn’t moved; he was still standing there staring down at the would-be Messiah. Rynne wondered what was going through his mind. He tended to see things none of the rest of them could, and he wasn’t one to volunteer information unless it was necessary. It was why he was the boss and quite good at it.
Rynne sighed softly and left the room, pushing the mystery behind her. For now, she was going to see if she could get in on Van’s game of vintock. Her purse was still feeling a little light.
The Last Goddess Page 5