“It is.”
“You don’t even know Mirnatha.”
“I don’t have to.”
“You really are a good man, aren’t you? Is that why the gangs hate you so much?”
“I expect so.”
She straightened up, smoothing her nightdress, then gave him a questioning glance. “Did you really turn down Ranalee?”
He bowed again. “Yes, Mistress.”
“Don’t call me that.” She smiled bravely, then darted forward.
Edeard felt her lips on his cheek. He was too surprised to pull back.
“The Lady bless you, Waterwalker.” She turned and scurried away down the hortus.
He walked back into Mirnatha’s nursery with his thoughts in complete turmoil.
“What’s the matter with you?” Dinlay asked.
“Why are they doing this?” Edeard asked, gazing around the room. He’d never actually seen so much pink in one place before.
“To screw you over,” Boyd said.
“It was a rhetorical question. They want me out in Owestorn because they think if I’m all by myself, they can kill me, right?”
“It’s what I’d do,” Macsen said, ignoring the exasperated glare Kanseen gave him. “They’ll have a small army out there. Even if we’re only ten minutes away, it’ll all be over by the time we can reach you. They’ll probably pick us off as well for good measure.”
“But that turns us into martyrs, like he said. That gives our cause strength. Possibly even enough strength to carry tomorrow’s vote.”
“Who said?” Dinlay queried.
“That’s not so good, then,” Macsen admitted. “Mirnatha won’t be coming back, either.”
“That way you get the blame,” Boyd said. “With no surviving witnesses, they’ll arrange it to seem like you tried something reckless. The city will believe you’re responsible for her death; after all, you had the ransom money. No criminal in their right mind would jeopardize that much coinage, especially after such a well-executed kidnap.”
“And the exclusion warrants end along with us,” Edeard concluded. “Clever.”
“So what do we do?” Kanseen asked.
Edeard turned to the small wooden bed, which was exquisitely crafted to resemble a swan, picturing a small sleeping child curled up daintily under the mauve sheets. “Find her.”
“Yeah,” Macsen said. “That would be good. Word of the kidnap is already spreading through the city. People are getting upset; you can sense that. Everyone is going to be looking for her; it’s a double sacrilege on this day. The gangs will have no sympathy on this. She’ll be hidden deep; that’s if she’s even still alive.”
“She’s alive,” Edeard said, taking a slow step toward the bed. “They need her until midnight. That’s how they control me.”
“Snatch Ivarl,” Dinlay said excitedly. “Fight fire with fire; they’ll never expect that. They’ll have to exchange her for him.”
Macsen gave Dinlay an astonished look. “Well, I certainly never expected to hear that from your lips. I’m impressed; it has the advantage of complete surprise. Edeard?”
“No. Anyway, Ivarl had no part in this.”
“How do you know that?” Boyd asked.
“He just told me.” Edeard stroked the bed’s canopy, still trying to imagine Mirnatha.
“He told you—” The rest of the squad were giving each other amazed glances.
“Yes. Do me a favor: Guard the doors; stop anyone from coming in here. I need to be alone for a while.”
“Okay,” Macsen said reasonably. “Do you want to tell us why?”
“I want to remember,” Edeard said.
They were good. They didn’t question him further. They had strong doubts—he could tell that—but they went out and stood beside the doors and started talking among themselves.
Edeard pressed himself to the wall behind the bed and slipped his farsight into the unyielding substance of which the mansion was fabricated. “I need to know,” he told it. “I need to see what you remember.”
Down at the very threshold of perception, attuned to the city’s slumbering thoughts, images shimmered like the recollections of a dream. People moved inside the nursery: himself and the squad. He followed the memory back. Julan was in the room, shouting in fury. Kristabel was crying as one would at a funeral. Farther back, the frantic guards and nurses. Beyond that, the nurse coming in to find no sign of Mirnatha. And then there she was in the dead of night, a delightful little girl clutching her fluffy bear as she slept, untroubled by dreams.
Edeard slowed his quest through the stream of memory and moved forward again. It was long after midnight when the figure materialized in the nearly lightless nursery. A man wrapped in a dark coat dissolved his concealment to stand above the bed. Edeard didn’t know him, but the features were vaguely familiar; if pressed, he would say the kidnapper was related to Tannarl, one of Ranalee’s army of cousins, perhaps. And his cloak was expensive, as were the boots. This was no ordinary gang lieutenant. The man took a pad of cloth from his pocket and splashed some liquid on it from a small brown bottle. The pad was pressed hard over Mirnatha’s face. She struggled briefly. Edeard clenched his fists, wanting to pound the kidnapper, to make him suffer before he died.
A deeply unconscious Mirnatha was lifted from her bed. The fluffy bear was dropped to the floor. And the man’s concealment enveloped both of them. A second later, the door opened and shut as if by its own accord.
“Oh, Lady,” Edeard exclaimed in dismay. No matter how many times he immersed himself in the memory, the mansion couldn’t see the kidnapper inside his concealment. He held the moment the kidnapper lifted the child from her bed, seeing it as plainly as if he were standing right beside them.
There must be some other way the mansion can remember him. Edeard didn’t have much confidence. He and the squad had experimented for weeks to see if concealment had a weakness, a way they could sense through it. They hadn’t found one yet. Akeem’s final gift appeared to be without a single flaw.
Now, studying the kidnapper, Edeard desperately tried to think what might betray the man’s position. The beagle had caught his scent in the House of Blue Petals, but the city didn’t smell. The air that moved as he walked back down the stairs? There was no memory of anything so slight.
He looked at Mirnatha’s face as she was lifted up, so pale, her hair dangling limply. The kidnapper’s face was drawn slightly as he struggled to accept the child’s weight.
“Weight!” Edeard shouted happily. And he was right. The floor remembered the weight, each and every footfall. Now, shifting through the vast pool of memories stored within the substance of the mansion, he concentrated on the sensation of weight alone. In his mind he could visualize the corridor outside the nursery, its floor a simple white strip, blue dents along the edge where expensive antique tables and chairs rested. A leaden maroon imprint appeared outside Mirnatha’s nursery door, and another followed; the imprints pattered their way along the corridor and into the main stairwell. The kidnapper spiraled his way down—
The squad gave Edeard a curious look as he came out of the nursery. It wasn’t right that he should be smiling.
“What in Honious’s name have you been doing in there?” Dinlay asked. “We’ve had our hands full keeping the family out. And Julan says the ransom is ready. The flag is flying over the Orchard Palace. A militia escort is saddling up to escort you clear of the city. You’re going to need a couple of ge-horses to carry so much gold.”
Edeard glanced up at the corridor’s crystal roof to see that the sun was almost directly overhead. Outside, the usual longtalk babble was subdued; Makkathran’s citizens were incensed by the kidnapping, their fear and hatred combining into a sullen resentment. This was not the happy Festival of Guidance they wanted.
He had no idea it had taken so long to filter through the mansion’s memories. It didn’t matter, nor did the ransom. “I know where she is,” he announced.
“Where?” Dinla
y demanded.
“No, how?” Macsen asked shrewdly.
Edeard gave him a level stare. “The city remembered.”
“The city remembered?”
“Yes.”
Macsen gave Kanseen and Boyd a very dubious look. “Uh huh.”
“She’s underneath a fish-smoking business on Layne Street in Fiacre. The family uses two levels of cellars under the building to smoke their fish, but there’s another level beneath that. Four chambers. They’ve taken it over.”
“They?”
“Ten of them, maybe more. Even I can’t farsight that accurately from here.”
Boyd clapped his hands delightedly. “Brilliant. We’ve got her.”
“Not quite. You don’t need ten people to stop one six-year-old from escaping from an underground prison. And they know we can work a concealment.”
“They’ll kill her,” Dinlay said forlornly. “There’s too many to take them by surprise.”
“I think you’re right,” Edeard said.
“So what do we do?” Kanseen asked.
Edeard smiled. “Take them by surprise.” He longtalked Ronark back at the station and asked for some weapons to be brought over.
“You’re sure she’s still alive?” Macsen asked.
Edeard smiled. “Yeah. She’s alive.”
“Finally, some good news. The city isn’t happy, Edeard. Today was supposed to be a festival. Everyone knows now, and there’s a lot of agitators out there blaming you.”
“Charming.”
“The Pythia is going to begin the service of Guidance with a plea to release Mirnatha,” Dinlay said. “That’s at midday, in ten minutes. Do you want to tell her before she begins?”
“Lady, no. We haven’t got Mirnatha yet.”
Kanseen shook her head as she broke off trying to farsight. “Lady, I can barely sense the smoking business from in here. I can’t tell what’s underneath.”
“They’re there,” Edeard assured them.
“So what’s the plan?” Dinlay asked. “We could surround the building. Once everyone knows Mirnatha is in there, the gangs won’t be able to do anything. They’ll have to let her go.”
“Come on,” Edeard said. He led them down the corridor, retracing the kidnapper’s footsteps. “They’re not going to let her go just because people don’t like it. These men were chosen because they’ll fight to the very end. They’re the ones we’ve already broken, people like Eddis who have nothing to lose. This is not about the girl; it never was. It’s about tomorrow’s vote and how to get the outcome they need.”
Mistress Florrel stepped out of the lounge doorway just as they reached the main stairwell.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she snapped at Edeard. “Running away, I suppose. Well, good riddance to you.”
“We’re going to get her back, actually,” Dinlay said hotly.
Edeard winced.
“You’re doing what?” She was trembling with outrage.
Edeard cleared his throat and looked calmly at his most persistent foe. “I might know where she is. I’m going to do my duty and bring her home. That’s what we all want, isn’t it?”
“You’ll do no such thing. If you know where she is, you’ll inform the Mayor immediately. A regiment of the militia will bring back my poor dear Mirnatha. They know exactly how to deal with anyone who dares to attack one of my descendants.”
“With respect, Mistress Florrel, they don’t. I will bring her back unharmed. You have my word.” Edeard turned to the top of the curving stairs.
“Come back here, young man,” Mistress Florrel said with quiet insistence.
Edeard couldn’t believe it. Thanks to Dybal’s recognition gift, his mind perceived her longtalk trying to insinuate itself into his consciousness, a soothing compulsion for him to come to her just as she had suggested. She was trying to dominate him.
He raised an eyebrow disdainfully as his mental shield closed. “Naughty,” he said, and wagged a forefinger at her.
She blanched, her hand pressing theatrically against her throat.
A smiling Edeard led the way down the stairs.
“Bet we never make it out of the mansion,” Macsen said cheerfully as they reached the ninth floor.
“Outside?” Boyd said. “That’s ambitious. We’ll never make it to the bottom of the stairs.”
“Do you know who took the girl?” Kanseen asked.
“No.” Edeard gifted them the vision of the kidnapper. “Do any of you?”
“He’s a Gilmorn,” Macsen said. “Or sired by a Gilmorn at any rate. Look at that nose.”
“Maybe we should tell Julan we’ve found his daughter,” Dinlay said with a hint of anxiety. “I mean, surely he deserves to know. If we’re going to put her at risk, he must have the final say.”
“I’m not telling him what I can do,” Edeard said flatly. “I don’t know where his allegiance is.”
“Well, he’s hardly going to be on their side,” Boyd said.
“Not today, no. But let’s face it, we don’t even know who they really are, do we?”
The squad had reached the third floor when Grand Master Finitan longtalked Edeard. His telepathic voice was directed so skillfully, it was as though the Master were standing beside him on the stairs, whispering into his ear. “Edeard, whatever have you done to my least favorite aunt?”
“What did she say I’d done?”
“Well, arrogance and incompetence were the mildest complaints. I’m supposed to be longtalking you out of rescuing Mirnatha. Apparently she thinks I have ‘influence’ over you.”
“Are you going to?”
“Certainly not. Do you know where the poor girl is?”
“I think so.”
“Edeard, I hate to be unpleasantly harsh on poor little Mirnatha, but you do understand what’s at stake, don’t you?”
“Tomorrow’s vote.”
“There is another tactic I could use in Council. I’ve hesitated before now because it looked like we could win a straight challenge.”
“What tactic?”
“A plebiscite. There will be enough Masters to support that motion. Many of them are troubled. They see the progress you’ve made in Jeavons and Silvarum, and there is enormous pressure from the general population to continue your campaign. But Mirnatha’s death would give them the option to vote down the warrants. If we were left in uncertainty for the Council meeting tomorrow, then they would jump at the chance to defer the decision and be able to place blame elsewhere.”
Edeard paused on the stairs. “You mean do nothing?”
“It’s a long way to Owestorn. You might be able to ensure that news took an equally long time to come back.”
“Sir, I cannot do that. More than anyone I want the gangs out of this city. But I cannot play politics with the life of a six-year-old innocent. I know where she is, and I know what has to be done to bring her back to her family. Right now that’s all that matters.”
“Of course. You’ll have my support no matter what. May the Lady be with you this day.”
“Thank you, sir.”
They were on the last flight of stairs when Julan’s voice echoed down from above. “Stop! Stop, I forbid this. You must not do anything rash. I have the ransom. Waterwalker! Come back. The flag flies above Orchard Palace as they asked.” His longtalk was added to the plea. “You promised me. You said you would bring her back.”
Edeard looked up to see the broken Master leaning over the rail far above. “I will bring her back to you, sir. Trust me.”
“No, no. There is to be no fighting. Pay the ransom. That is the only way she will come back unharmed.”
“I give you my word I will not endanger her. If it takes the ransom to release her, I will carry it to them for you.”
“Wait. You know where she is, don’t you?”
“I’m not sure.”
“My aunt says you do. Wait, I will come with you.”
“Oh, Lady,” Edeard groaned.
&n
bsp; “We can be there before he even gets down here,” Boyd urged.
“No, we can’t,” Macsen said through gritted teeth.
Edeard looked down. Homelt and a number of guards were standing at the foot of the stairs. “Does nobody want this girl to live?” he growled.
“We do, Edeard,” Kanseen assured him.
“Right, then.” He took the last flight of stairs at a run.
“I have my orders,” Homelt said as the squad confronted him. His hand rested on his pistol holster.
“What are they?” Edeard asked reasonably.
“Not to let you leave the mansion. It’s not just Master Julan. I could maybe ignore that on this day. But Lorin backed him up, and he does have his wits about him. I’ll say naught about Mistress Florrel.” The guard captain glanced up. Several people were on the eighth flight of stairs, making a commotion as they wound their way inexorably down.
“Fair enough,” Edeard said. “Don’t let us out.”
Homelt flashed him a hugely relieved look. “You’ll wait for the Master?”
“Not quite.” Edeard leaned forward. “She is alive. I know where she is.”
“I will come with you, Waterwalker,” Homelt said softly.
“No. This is not the help she needs. Already the news is spreading. We have to be quick. You know they’ll kill her, and you know why.”
Homelt’s anguish was visible for all to see. “What do you want me to do?”
“Take us down to your deepest cellar. The one on the northwestern corner of the mansion. And we’ll need your pistols, too. Hurry, man, or it’ll be too late.”
Homelt glanced up the stairwell. Julan was on the seventh flight of stairs. “Quickly, then.”
The cellar door was ancient wood, long since blackened so that no grain showed. Nails holding the hinges against the city’s original open arch were in need of reinserting; the city’s substance had rejected over half of their length. That looseness made the heavy door swing about unsteadily as Homelt drew the bolts back and opened it. Barrels and crates cluttered the small room, caked in decades of dust and fil-rat droppings.
“I don’t understand,” the guard captain said, peering into the gloomy space. “What’s in here?”
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