The Hermlin Black was open, though, as some customers were lodgers, as well, in the less finely appointed rooms on the second floor of the place. Mikael came in through the back door of the blessedly warm kitchen, surprising Synen’s wife and son as they loaded a tray with ale.
Gasanen sat quietly at the table, reading a book, directly in front of the pennant that bore the sigil for prosperity, making Mikael wonder if that counted as a portent. When Mikael approached, he rose and tucked the book in a coat pocket, depriving Mikael the chance to know what sort of books the man favored. It had looked like a novel. Gasanen swept one hand toward the table and indicated that Mikael should join him. “Mr. Lee, a few arrangements.”
The barmaid carried off the tray of glasses as Mikael sat, and Synen’s wife studiously concentrated on an excellent-smelling curry, the smell of which reminded Mikael again that he hadn’t eaten dinner. “What do you need from me?”
“You have a man placed in the commissioner’s stables, a fellow named Pamini,” Gasanen began.
Mikael did his best to keep his reaction off his face. This man could likely read him, but Pamini wasn’t his, or a man, exactly, so Gasanen didn’t know everything. “And?”
“I need a distraction in the stables,” Gasanen said, “to get one of my men into the house.”
Mikael was fairly sure Pamini would be amenable to that, although he hadn’t spoken to her since that day at the hotel. “Such as?”
“A fire might do it,” Gasanen said, one dark brow lifting. “For what it’s worth, your man won’t be working there after that night, so he needn’t worry about repercussions for whatever he does.”
Apparently, Gasanen planned for the police commissioner’s downfall to be swift. “I am not sure my man would be willing to risk the horses.”
Gasanen’s brows rose just a bit.
“I am serious about that,” Mikael added. “If you need a fire, you need a plan for getting the horses out safely.”
Gasanen tapped one finger on the table. “Fine. Find out how many horses there are, and I will arrange for handlers to move the horses to another location.”
Interesting that he knew Pamini was working in the stables, but not how many horses there were. His spy was stationed outside the household, most likely. “When do you plan this raid of yours to happen?”
“Raid is a rather grand word,” Gasanen said. “One man, in and out.”
Mikael wasn’t sure why Gasanen didn’t simply pick a time when Faralis went down to the court or the stations to yell at the police officers. The whole idea seemed . . . off. But if he was supposed to cultivate this acquaintance, he shouldn’t ask too many questions. Not yet. “When?”
“Tomorrow night. So hurry. Leave word for me here. If you get me the numbers first, I’ll get your man a time.”
The large Larossan bodyguard stepped inside the kitchen. This time he wore a dark tunic and trousers with an overcoat atop it, but a sash about his waist barely concealed the pistol hidden within. His sharp eyes flicked from Mikael to Synen’s wife to the back door. “Sir, now.”
Mikael nodded to the man once. This wasn’t a Family guard, but he did the same work. Gasanen rose, so Mikael rose with him.
Someone was evidently out in that taproom who Gasanen felt shouldn’t know about his presence here. That tempted Mikael to look over the crowd but doing so might give away with whom Gasanen had met.
The bodyguard handed over the second coat. Gasanen swept it on, then lifted the hood. It was dove-gray, and could be mistaken for a police overcoat, Mikael reckoned. A moment later, Gasanen and his guard strode out the back door.
He didn’t like the plan, such as it was. Gasanen could surely hire a good thief to break into Faralis’ house. He didn’t need a fire in the stables to do that. The man had to have a reason for that request.
Synen returned to the kitchen then, his round dark face worried. “Are you in trouble, Mr. Lee?”
Synen had always taken care of him, one reason Mikael had been willing to hear Gasanen out in the first place. Synen wouldn’t let the man in here, surely, if he was likely to harm Synen’s guests. “What can you tell me about Mr. Gasanen?”
Synen’s mouth pursed. “We were in trouble a few years back. A fire in the stable burnt right through the wall to the bedrooms. About to lose the tavern. He lent us the money to repair it, get back on our feet. After about a year, our debt was forgiven.”
“Officially?” Mikael asked.
“Stamped and everything, boy. The word down here is that he’ll lend money to people like me, but if he sees you’re working to pay it back, honest-like, not mistreating your workers or your family . . . he might forgive the debt.”
And in return Gasanen received? Respect, perhaps? Or perhaps the man simply wanted to help others less fortunate than himself.
Or perhaps he saw a source of information, people whom others might pass over—like Synen and Dimani—who, when properly motivated, could find out things Gasanen needed to know and pass them on.
How is what I do any different? It was a depressingly cynical thought.
Chapter 27
* * *
MIKAEL WOKE WHEN someone rapped on his door. Once he’d stumbled his way over there, he opened the door to find the same young sentry who’d appeared there a week before.
“Mr. Lee,” she said, “someone’s downstairs at the office, waiting to see you.”
Mikael blinked a couple of times. “Uh . . . fine. I’ll be down in a moment.”
The sentry left to pass on the message while Mikael crossed to his window to double check. It was still dark outside. Cold bled off the windowpanes, so he shoved the heavy drapes back into position. True, the sun rose late this time of year, but this visit was still early.
He managed to get dressed and down to the office within fifteen minutes anyway.
Tossa Pamini paced back and forth in the hallway before the office doors, apparently dressed for work already in a tired brown tunic, along with trousers tucked into low boots. Much tattier than the last time he saw her.
“Have they got you cleaning stables?” Mikael asked as he unlocked the office door. He trusted the sentries in this hallway, but there was no point in discussing this subterfuge in front of them.
Pamini followed him into the office. “Start on the bottom rung, so I get to muck out the manure.”
That did not sound enjoyable. Mikael turned up the light in the office entryway, then shut the office door.
“Why did you ask me to come?” Pamini said.
“I’ve been offered a deal. The information needed to bring down Faralis in exchange for your starting a fire in the stables.”
Pamini crossed her arms over her chest, head tilting. “Who?”
“Esil Gasanen,” he admitted.
Pamini’s dark eyes closed. “Ah. He’s Melanna’s father, isn’t he? That explains . . . a great deal.”
She’s fast. How does she even know what the man looks like? “He didn’t deny it, and I didn’t ask for details.”
She peered at him through narrowed eyes. “I’m not . . . I don’t like the idea of setting a fire. Too much could go wrong. People get hurt, not to mention the horses.”
“I guessed that. I told him the horses all had to be pulled out first, you wouldn’t help otherwise. Also, he thinks you work for the Daujom, and are a man.”
She shrugged. “That’s fine. But why a fire in the stables?”
Mikael sat down on the edge of his desk. “Supposedly as a distraction so he can get a man inside the house.”
One of her brows rose, but she said nothing.
“Yes, it sounds off to me, too. He also agreed that he would have men there to help remove the horses if you would let him know how many are in the stables.”
Pamini crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. “Seriously?”
“I don’t know anything about horses or stables,” Mikael admitted.
Pamini snorted. “I’ve figured that out. There are ei
ghteen horses there. If they’re haltered, we’d need . . . at least nine men to grab them all? And where would they take them?”
“I don’t know.” Mikael hadn’t considered that the horses would need somewhere to go. “Army headquarters?”
Pamini made a sound of disgust. “And get the colonel written up for theft? Nine of them are valuable racers. Faralis is supposedly housing them for someone else until they’re moved to their stables at the track. More likely evading taxes. At least, that’s what I was told.”
Mikael had a vague idea that there was a track somewhere in the city—in the newer, flatter parts of town to the west—but he’d never bothered to seek it out himself. “Evading taxes? How do you know that?”
“I don’t know, but it makes the most sense. No one houses race horses where there’s nowhere to exercise them,” Pamini said. “The other grooms don’t talk to me about it, but there’s definitely something odd about the arrangement.”
“I’ll have to take your word for that. Are you willing to go along with the plan?”
“This whole thing is very vague,” Pamini said, crossing her arms over her chest. “When?”
Mikael sighed. “He said it had to be tonight.”
“Tonight? During the big party?”
“Big party?”
“Faralis is having a party tonight,” Pamini said. “Couple of dozen guests, mostly coming by cab but we’ll have some carriages in the stable court, too.”
Oh Hel. That was why Gasanen was set on doing this now. “Of course, he is. Look, I’m supposed to contact Gasanen, and he’ll get back to me with more information.”
Pamini sighed. “Fine, but tell him the horses had better be taken care of. I need to get to work soon, so can you send word when you have more of a plan?”
“Whenever I do.” He let her out of the office, wising he had some idea of what game Gasanen was playing.
The man didn’t need his help; Mikael felt almost certain of that. What evidence was Gasanen hoping to find in Faralis’ home? Something that would point to whoever had asked Faralis to kidnap Shironne? That would be worthwhile, particularly if it meant the case wouldn’t be dragged into a Larossan court. Even so, Mikael hated feeling like he was a sheep being herded swiftly to the butcher’s shop.
* * *
The morning had passed slowly. Shironne could feel Mikael’s worry about a Daujom issue niggling at the corner of her mind. A quick foray into his thoughts suggested he was being forced to work with someone he didn’t quite trust—Melanna’s true father. But Mikael was also intrigued by the puzzle the man presented, and thus was forcing his worries down into a box.
Aware that she was under the metaphorical eye of several sensitives, Shironne decided she shouldn’t dig further. They would have questions again.
It wasn’t until they were in their final class for that afternoon—history—that something odd happened. The air, always faintly in motion, stilled. A hush fell over the room. Tingles of anxiety arose from the others around her.
The drill.
“You know what to do,” Master Elias reminded them.
Shironne rose from her seat and, among all the others, shuffled to the wall. She felt Norah next to her, tightly holding her fear against her. Norah, she had learned, was afraid of the dark. She took the taller girl’s hand with her own gloved one. “It’s all right. This is normal for me,” she whispered.
She felt Mikael’s chagrin from some other place in the Fortress. He’d gone down to meet with Deborah and was caught in the drill. He’d hoped to avoid it, but Deborah wouldn’t let him out of it, no matter what he claimed he needed to be doing. Shironne wanted to laugh, but decided she’d better contain it.
Her yeargroup started filing along the wall out of the classroom. Shironne went with the faint pressure of other bodies, letting them lead her. Somewhere ahead, someone giggled, and Eli whispered hushed instructions to cease in that direction.
They moved far more slowly than she would have done had she been alone. Eventually they reached the main hallway. The person in front of her reached back and fumbled for her hand, and she placed her free hand in his, joining a long line of children heading out of the classrooms and toward the nurseries. The fear was stronger here—the young children afraid of the darkness, she realized—and it began to tear at her, replacing her own normal calm.
The ambient began to edge toward panic. The darkness must be complete, she realized, so dark one couldn’t see the person next to them in line. Her heart pounded harder.
I have no reason to fear the dark.
Shironne stumbled on forward, trying to force her breath to slow.
I have no reason to fear the dark.
The fear in the ambient was growing, terrors of being eaten by cleaners whispering into her mind, trapped alone in the dark, unable to find the way out, the Fortress growing colder, left behind alone—the deepest unspoken fears of children.
Shironne tried to think calm at the others, wishing Mikael was there to calm them as she knew he could.
It stunned her when he complied.
A blanket of calm spread through the hallways. Her emotions leached away, leaving only thought behind. The fear around her faded, the youngest children’s whimpers stilling.
People’s feet slowed in surprise and she found herself standing still for a moment, caught between Gabriel’s and Norah’s unmoving forms.
She’d felt this before, when Mikael actually chose to use his talent. He’d used it on her to keep her calm. She’d simply never realized he could have this profound an effect on so many people at once. It stunned her, even when she had no amazement to feel.
And how did I not know, since he does this when he dreams? This is what it’s like when he does it with intent—with control.
This was what Master Seth feared. This was why the elders kept Mikael under such tight rein—because he could do this to the Family. The ramifications of it tumbled through her mind as her feet started to move again.
“Wrong direction,” someone ahead of her said. Another protest followed.
Gabriel released her hand and grabbed at the misdirected person, clearly intending to drag them along toward the refuge. Shironne reached out and caught an arm, realizing even before she touched the girl exactly who would flee in the confusion.
Maria seemed strangely able to fight against Mikael’s hold on the children, her annoyance flaring through Shironne’s touch on her arm. Shironne forced her awareness past the impediments of her glove and Maria’s sleeve, trying to dig through and discover what it was that Maria intended.
A hand slapped her face. Shironne stumbled back, her head cracking painfully against the hard wall. She gasped. Norah grabbed at her, keeping her from hitting the floor.
Gabriel let Maria go. She brushed away past Shironne and through the unseen crowd of children, carrying her anger with her.
“What happened?” Gabriel asked, finding Shironne’s hand again.
“How much farther?” she asked in return. Her cheek stung.
“We’re close to the light,” he said, expecting she would understand.
The light, she realized, meant the lights in the refuge. The lines began moving more quickly now, filing into the refuge for this floor, the nursery wing.
She could tell when they’d crossed the threshold into the refuge. The air wasn’t still there, the faint breeze on her face again. The refuge was a completely separate portion of the Fortress, like two tree trunks growing side by side, fused together yet wholly discrete: separate air, water, heat, and lights, all in case the other side should fail.
“This way,” she heard Eli say. He directed those from their yeargroup to the main floor of the nursery. The edge of fear had died off completely under Mikael’s imposed calm.
“I feel like my head is under water,” Gabriel noted.
“Everyone, sit down,” Eli instructed.
Gabriel pulled at her hand and she slowly settled to the floor. Tabita worked her way to Shiro
nne’s side and sat between them.
“Maria got away from me,” Tabita said, her normal worry missing.
“How much longer will this go on?” Shironne asked. This closely packed together, the scent of damp wool and perspiration was unpleasantly strong.
“The drill?” Tabita whispered. “They run about half an hour, which allows children coming from the far side of the Fortress time to get here. They’ll shut the doors, then.”
Closing off any connection between the main Fortress and the refuge. It should upset her that slow movers might be left outside. That was their worst fear.
Shironne had never been to this area; carers like Ruth taught small children on this level of the refuge, so there had been no reason for Tabita to show it to her. It wasn’t cavernous like the chapel one level up, though. Judging by the echoes and the number of whispering voices, Shironne decided it was the size of their commons room. Shironne tried to locate Melanna in her mind, and realized her sister was only one hall away, already sitting with her temporary yeargroup in the maze of the carers’ domain.
Normally Melanna would have been frustrated by the inactivity. At the moment Shironne could sense only calm.
“Maria’s out there,” she whispered then, recalling one person who wasn’t scared to be outside the refuge.
“Did you touch her?” Tabita asked.
“Yes,” Shironne whispered back. “She intended to leave the Fortress.”
Tabita shook her head, close enough for Shironne to feel the movement.
“Can you make him . . . stop this?” Tabita asked then.
“What?” She didn’t understand what Tabita wanted.
Her hand tugged Shironne’s sleeve. “Mr. Lee. You made him stop dreaming, didn’t you? Can you make him stop this? Without going upstairs.”
If she should succeed, Tabita, at least, would know for certain that she had some sort of connection to him. How many others of the yeargroup suspected? Shironne did her best to talk to Mikael anyway, the strange one-sided barrier between them confounding her. She didn’t know how to surmount that.
In Dreaming Bound Page 24