by Neil McGarry
“Be at ease,” Duchess told her. “We’ll speak quietly and no one will be the wiser.” It was the first time she’d seen the girl in the light of day: honey-brown hair that hung halfway down her back, large eyes, a heart-shaped face. She could see why Finn had been enamored. “No one will remember that we talked unless you act like they should.”
The girl sniffed. “I can’t think of anything I have to say to you,” she said, prudently keeping her voice down. “As for the other night: it never happened.”
“Never.” Having had a nightmare or two about that terrible encounter herself, Duchess was pleased to agree. “In any case, I’m more concerned about what’s been happening above the hill; specifically, your little business with Finn.”
“What are you talking about?” Her almost-green eyes bored into Duchess’.
“I thought we’d start with graverobbing,” Duchess whispered, returning the gaze, “and then we’d move on to the kind of trouble you could get into if anyone found out you’d been poking around where you shouldn’t.” Darley was surely aware that the Ossuary was strictly off-limits. “But I hate trouble, don’t you?” Lifted almost verbatim from the Uncle, but she didn’t think he’d mind. “I think it would be better to settle things quietly, just between us girls.”
Darley weighed her with her eyes, and Duchess could almost hear her mentally ticking over her options. “What do you want?”
“Nothing you haven’t done before.” She stopped smiling, for fear of blowing the game. “I think I know where you found those maps you used to navigate the tunnels so well. Hidden safe atop a shelf in your father’s library, right?”
She started. “How do you...? Never mind, of course you know.” She shook her head. “Clearly Finn and I are not as good at this as we’d hoped.” She looked away, focusing her attention on the window before her. “If you want the maps, I can’t help you. Father would notice them missing immediately.”
Duchess raised a hand, palm out. “Not at all. As far as I’m concerned I’ll be satisfied with what you can remember of them.” She looked through the window, feigning interest at the bolts of cloth on display. “But what I’m more interested in is what else might be in that safe.”
Darley shrugged. “Not gold, if that’s what you’re after. The only thing kept beyond the maps are my father’s work papers.” At Duchess’ nod, she sighed and went on. “Inventories, value assessments, deeds for properties...”
Duchess’ heart leaped. “What properties?” She dared not say the name of her father’s estate, not here, but perhaps if she could get Darley to offer it...
“How would I know? I was hardly doing an imperial audit. I was trying to see where Father was holding back the gold he surely isn’t spending on us.” She held up a hand. “And before you ask, no, none of those properties belonged to him. They were held in trust by the empire.”
“How do you know that?” Duchess asked, unable to hide the urgency in her voice.
Darley laughed. “I’m a scholar’s daughter. I can read and write.”
“Well then, you can write down a few things for me. I want to know about every tunnel that runs under the city, whether built by Domae or Rodaasi. I want to know how to get in, how to find my way around, and how to get out.” She had no plans to go exploring, but one never knew when knowing a secret way of getting around the city might come in handy. The request would also camouflage her real objective. “I also want you to get back into your father’s safe and learn everything you can about those properties in trust. Jot all of it down and bring it back to me. I can read as well.” She fixed Darley with a level gaze, to ensure the girl knew how serious she was. “Can you do it?”
But Darley was staring at Duchess with a mixture of wonder and disbelief. “Didn’t I used to see you pushing a cart around, selling biscuits?” Darley shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m being blackmailed by the bread girl.”
Duchess smiled. “They call me Duchess, and you still haven’t answered my question.”
“I can sketch out most of the tunnels,” she said warily. “Hells, I memorized every one of my father’s maps so I wouldn’t get lost down there. The other documents will take longer. It’s not easy to get to the safe, you know. During the day the maid might catch me poking around and she’d tell, and most nights Father’s working in his office. I can’t exactly walk in and ask him to look away while I raid his secret papers. It’ll take some time.”
“Of course...as long as it doesn’t take too much time.”
“Hold a moment,” Darley crossed her arms. “I haven’t agreed to any of this, you know. I’ll want good silver for whatever I dig up. On delivery. You don’t get anything for free.”
Duchess bowed her head. Given her success with Julius, she could afford to be generous. “Nor would I expect it. When you’ve got something, just stop by Ferroc and Nieces in the Shallows. Ferroc can get a message to me.” She thought she could rely on the tight-lipped tailor for at least that much. “Then I’ll come with silver in hand.”
“May I go now?” Darley regarded her with those cat-eyes, and although Duchess was looking forward to the end of this little meeting, she was curious about one more thing.
“How did you get mixed up with Finn in the first place? It’s not like he spends his time in Scholars.”
Darley shrugged. “Everyone knows about Finn...well, everyone on my side of the hill. He’s the one people go to if they need an embarrassing problem dealt with. Savant Leopold used him not six months ago when his daughter got herself with child before she got herself a husband. Finn sneaked her into Wharves to a midwife who spoke no Rodaasi and wouldn’t go telling tales.”
Stories of the petty nobility, parties and rumor and scandal. The same stories, regardless of where one stood on the hill. ”I think we’re done here. I look forward to hearing from you, and I’ll keep my purse handy.”
Darley gave her a look. “While you’re at it, keep your mouth shut. If I hear any rumors about me and Finn...” She left the threat unsaid, but Duchess heard it all the same. Toothless, to be certain, but she restrained herself from laughing. Minette would no doubt say that if Darley thought her intimidated she was unlikely to get up to further trouble. No, she and Darley were not so very different after all.
Still, as she left the Silkway she found herself smirking in a way she was certain Castor would not approve.
Chapter Sixteen: The cost of doing business
Watching Zachary lead their strange parade down the hill, all Duchess could think was what a motley crew they made. He’d arrived on time, grin at the ready, accompanied by two lightboys who were apparently both named Thomas. All three were ragged and dirty, and the Thomases looked as if they had not eaten a decent meal in years. Duchess couldn’t do anything about the first two, but she had brought along a few loaves of bread that should amend the third. The Thomases fell upon the food like Shallows dogs on a dead cat, while Duchess went over what was to be done. “If you want your coppers when we’re finished, you’ll keep a polite tongue in your heads when you’re around Jana.” She regarded them sternly. “And if I hear any particularly funny jokes involving Domae, I’m going to take that bread back. The hard way.”
“What, you’re worried about me?” Zachary asked, eyes wide.
“I’m worried especially about you.” Zachary might appear the very picture of boyish innocence, but Duchess wasn’t fooled. No lightboy kept a clear conscience for long, and as the leader of the Tenth Bell Boys, Zachary had lost his earlier than most. Still, he had been helpful to her in the past, and he got on well with Lysander, so Duchess trusted him more than most. She was less certain of the Thomases, but they seemed wary of Castor, perhaps sensing the authority that came with the uniform he no longer wore. Or perhaps it was just a reaction to the long sword at his side.
They weren’t the only ones eyeing the former White. Lysander had been cool enough with Castor the other night, but that seemed to have passed and he was now in full flirting mode. �
��I never noticed those eyes the other day. Gray as a summer storm,” he remarked, loud enough for Castor to hear. “Rain on me.” Castor’s gaze settled on him but he made no further sign he’d heard. Anyone else would have been intimidated, but Lysander, reared in the Deeps, was harder to cow.
“Let’s get moving, boys,” she said before he could formulate another quip. At her gesture the lightboys took up the two large wheelbarrows she had procured for the occasion. Having contacts in the market was always helpful, and Bartlow the fruit dealer had been happy to lend her the use of the barrows in exchange for news about when the candlemaker’s husband was out of the house. Duchess needed the equipment and had no love for the husband, so she was happy enough to oblige. “I want to get this done before the beggars clog up the street.” They’d steal half the contents of the wheelbarrows if given the chance, and already sunset was approaching and they’d soon be making their way back to the Deeps.
The lightboys pushed and Duchess and Lysander fell in behind. Castor brought up the rear, silent and watchful as always. He might not wear a red cap, but after his performance against the dead, Duchess was confident he could handle any thugs who might cross their path. They had a long way to go; it was a good distance from Jana’s current home in the Deeps to the new lodgings Duchess had secured in Wharves. Tyford had agreed to rent the building readily enough, which was suspicious given that the old man normally took any opportunity to give Duchess a hard time. Still, the space and location were satisfactory so Duchess had set her fears aside and paid the rent.
“How’s your side?” Lysander asked quietly, slapping Zachary’s palm away from his purse. The boy guffawed and ran ahead.
“Healing up well enough, but don’t ask me to go exploring any time soon.”
“I’m not the one dragging you out on adventures. How about when this little bit of business is done we take a night off and get drunk?”
“Deal.”
“Think our new friend will want to join us?” he purred, just loudly enough for Castor to hear. “I must say you’ve outdone yourself this time. The other day I was too distracted to notice, but now...if I’d known they were growing Whites like that, I might have taken the color myself.” Castor gave no sign that he had heard, but that did not deter Lysander. “We’ll have to see how good you are at tossing about that sword of yours,” he said, more loudly. “Or anything else you’d like to swing in my direction.”
Duchess laughed quietly. “Stephan would be so disappointed. But who knows? He might give you a chance if he thought you could give him another son.”
Lysander grinned wickedly. “I’d be happy to try...as many times as he likes.”
She giggled and took his arm. “All right, all right...maybe I can get you some one-on-one time with him.” She felt good. It was a fine night, and she was looking forward to working with Jana. She hadn’t had a close female friend since her real sister Marguerite, lost long ago. Lysander was the good half of her heart, but it was nice to have another woman around.
They reached the last downslope before Jana’s apartment, and before Duchess could stop them the lightboys gave the wheelbarrows a mighty push and then leapt upon them, Zachary on one and both Thomases on the other. The carts clattered down the hill, rapidly picking up speed, and folk on Beggar’s Way cursed and scrambled out of their path. Shrieking childish battle cries, the boys zoomed down the hill, the barrows bouncing dangerously over broken cobbles and through deep ruts. Duchess winced, expecting at any moment for the wild ride to come to a bone-shattering end, but the boys brought the barrows to a halt with a daring leap and a quick grab. She shook her head in wonder. They said the gods favored the bold and the righteous. She supposed the lightboys fit at least one category.
By the time Duchess, Lysander and Castor had caught up with them, Jana was peeking out her door. She smiled and waved at Duchess, then beckoned her upstairs. “Probably best for you to wait down here,” Duchess said to Castor and Lysander. “The steps are as rickety as they look, and I’m not sure they’ll hold anyone heavier than me.” Lysander would appreciate the alone time with Castor, she was certain. She turned to the lightboys. “All right...let’s get moving. And remember what I said about teasing.” Zachary and the Thomases, flushed with excitement from their ride, followed her amiably up the stairs.
Inside, Jana had tied her belongings into tight bundles, and was in the middle of disassembling her looms. She smiled ruefully. “I would offer you tea, but...” she gestured to the parcels scattered about the room. “I am nearly finished, as you see. Only my looms remain.”
Duchess couldn’t imagine how she would even begin to dismantle those strange frames, so she left Jana to it and generaled the lightboys. Zachary and the Thomases carried rugs, tapestries, bundles of cloth, a small chest, dying vats, and other supplies down the steps, where Castor and Lysander packed them carefully on the wheelbarrows. Jana worked placidly in the midst of the bustle, but when one of the Thomases made to shift one of her looms she showed some unexpected fire. One of her brown hands darted out to prevent him, and she gave him a warning look from her dark eyes. “Those are not for you to be touching,” she said sharply. “Duchess and I will carry the looms, none other.” The Thomas backed away, cowed, and Duchess smothered a chuckle. Silk she might appear, but it would seem the Domae weaver had some Steel of her own.
Finally the small room was empty, and all of Jana’s parcels were secured on the wheelbarrows and ready to move. Jana looked about the room, making sure nothing had been left behind, but to Duchess’ eyes she seemed nervous. “Something wrong?” Duchess asked.
Jana bit her lip, looking abashed. “It is just...you have said so much about your friend Lysander that I am nervous to meet him. He seems very” — her hand moved in a slight circle as she searched for the word — “...he knows much, for one so young.”
Duchess laughed. “Don’t tell him that. He’s arrogant enough already.” She regarded the empty room one last time. “Let’s go introduce you.”
When they got down to the street Castor was securing the last of the bundles, Lysander and Zachary had their heads together in some gossip, and the Thomases were throwing stones at a dead cat lying in the street. “Jana, this is Castor, who is, uh, in my service,” she said, seeing no other way to introduce him. If Jana thought this curious she gave no sign, smiling warmly, and Castor, sparse as always, simply nodded. “And this,” she said, feeling a tickle in her belly, “is Lysander.”
Lysander and Jana regarded each other, him with blue eyes and her with brown, and she felt suddenly nervous. Jana was from a different part of her life; what would happen if she and Lysander did not get along? After a moment, Lysander said, “So you’re the other half of the business. A real, legitimate business?” Jana nodded uncertainly, but Lysander’s face split into a wide grin. “Good. It’s about time I got some help civilizing this one.” He jerked a thumb in Duchess’ direction. Jana’s eyes went wide, but when Duchess giggled at the familiar banter she relaxed into a smile.
Zachary snorted. “I don’t know nothing about civilized, and unless it’s something you do with your pants down in an alley, neither does Lysander.” Jana gaped, but Lysander smiled and the Thomases burst into raucous laughter.
“This is normal.” Duchess took the weaver’s arm. “For us, anyway.” She saw that Beggar’s Way was already bustling with those unfortunates who trafficked in the Shallows but called the Deeps their home, and — Duchess cursed mentally — the beggars themselves were returning from their day in Temple. They’d have to keep a careful eye out for light fingers. The barrows were heavier now, so all the lightboys plus Lysander moved to take one, and Duchess, Castor and Jana the other. A few of the beggars pushed forward, hands outstretched, and she heard Lysander say, “Nothing for you here. On your way.” The few who disregarded him stopped when Castor laid a hand on his sword and fixed them with a gimlet eye. The ragged men and women knew prowess when they saw it, and gave the barrows a wide berth.
; All except three. Castor stiffened at her side. “Those are no beggars,” he said in a low voice, and she followed his gaze. Two men were making their way through the crowd, but they seemed better fed and better groomed than any beggar had a right. The first was prematurely graying, and the second was darker of hair and expression. They were accompanied by a boy of perhaps twelve, clad in ragged leathers, who pointed in their direction, and Duchess’ heart nearly stopped when she recognized Malleus and Kakios.
Duchess had not seen the Brutes since Baron Eusbius’ party, but she would never forget them and their whispered threats, and that awful moment of decision between her mission and her beautiful Lysander. She glanced at him and saw that he, too, had recognized the pair. Jana blinked in confusion.
The gray-haired man moved to the front of the beggars. “What’s this, Kakios?” His voice was soft and gentle, but every head turned in his direction. “Look at all the people.”
“Indeed, Malleus,” came the equally genial reply. “Strangers all...but I think I know that one.” He pointed at Lysander. “Our little rabbit, do you remember?”
“Oh yes,” Malleus crooned. “It got away from us before when the baron’s pretty son got in the way, but there’s no baron here, and no pretty son.” He regarded his companion. “Can we play with it now?”
Kakios smiled innocently. “Soon, soon. First to business.” His gaze swept over them all, finally settling on Duchess. In the growing dark his eyes were pits of darkness. “She’ll step away from those barrows like a good little doll and we’ll let her run back to her Shallows. She can even take the lantern rats with her, and the Domae bitch.” Jana’s grasp of Rodaasi was not perfect but she knew that word. She paled, and the beggars drew back, wary but not quite frightened enough to miss this scene. The Thomases exchanged a glance, and Duchess knew that they’d bolt at the first sign of trouble. A few loaves of bread and Zachary’s leadership were not sufficient to make them face the Brutes. Castor moved to her side, hand on his sword, and regarded the pair blandly.