The Confectioner's Coup

by Luana, Claire

  “I hope we find him,” Lennon said. “Between the Apricans attacking the wall and Guild members being snatched off the street, I feel like I hardly recognize Maradis anymore.”

  “I know. Was there another attack?” She hadn’t heard the bell. But she had taken the nap of all naps that afternoon, exhausted from the past few days’ excitement.

  Lennon nodded. “Skirmish in the south near the Central Quarter today. Beckett says the Apricans are testing our defenses. That area is so poor, Beckett says the king should be more worried about betrayal from the inside than the Apricans overpowering our walls.” Wren had been fretting about how to get Lennon to spill about his grandmaster, but it seemed it wouldn’t take much effort at all.

  “He thinks someone would betray Maradis?” Wren thought of Sim Daemastra’s request that she and Hale spy for him. Surely, if he had asked them, he would be making the same offers to others.

  “Aprican gold will start to look pretty good after a few months of siege. Or hell, even food. If people get desperate, it will get ugly.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Wren said, though she wasn’t sure how it wouldn’t. A quick end to the siege, or a long end…was there any end where the Apricans simply went home and left them in peace?

  “I wonder if we can defeat them,” she murmured.

  “I don’t know,” Lennon said. “If we’re smart…and lucky. Maybe we can outlast them. Beckett says we all need to be working together. The Guilds giving their full allegiance to the king.” His face was weary.

  “He’s pretty unhappy with Callidus, isn’t he?” Wren asked.

  Lennon nodded. “I’ve never seen him so up in arms. You tell Callidus to find a way to placate him, or there’s no telling what he might do.”

  “Beckett should be giving Callidus his full allegiance,” Wren said crossly, feeling strangely protective of her guildmaster. “Callidus is afraid if we give in now, the Guild will lose its autonomy forever. I think he’s right.”

  “I see his point. But autonomy won’t matter much if we’re all dead,” Lennon said glumly.

  They fell into uneasy silence. Their destination was near. The orphanage sat on the border between the Port and Industrial Quarters, an area composed mostly of brick office buildings and warehouses.

  Wren’s thoughts turned from the Apricans to the past. What were the odds that her life would have come full circle? Back to Brax and the orphanage, a person and a place she’d sworn to leave behind forever. If Wren believed in such things, she might have thought it a bad omen. Proof that no matter how hard you try, you can never escape your past.

  They turned onto the broad avenue that would pass the orphanage’s gates. Wren and Lennon walked by slowly, heads down against the breeze. The courtyard inside the locked wrought-iron gate appeared deserted.

  “There’re several inner courtyards,” Wren said without looking up. “You can’t see them from the outside.”

  The street was mostly deserted, but for a burly man unloading a wagon into the open door of a warehouse across the street. But then two Cedar Guardsmen rounded the corner from the narrow alley behind the orphanage, turning onto the main street.

  Lennon tipped his hat to them as they passed, but neither man smiled. One actually put his hand on his sword hilt.

  “Odd location to be patrolling,” Lennon noted.

  “Keep walking,” Wren said, and they passed the alley and continued to the next block. She pulled Lennon around the next corner, past a tall, sad-looking brick building that read “Excelsior Textiles” in faded white letters.

  “How do we get inside?” Lennon asked.

  “We don’t,” Wren said. “We just need to see inside.”

  “What do you propose?”

  Wren pointed up. “This building is at least two stories higher than the orphanage. If we can get inside, or even on the roof, we might be able to see in.”

  “I’m game,” Lennon said, an excited grin flashing across his face.

  The rusty padlock chaining the doors shut didn’t give easily. It took Wren a good ten minutes of sweating and cursing, jimmying Lennon’s pocketknife every which way, before it finally fell open. She stood with a groan, brushing off the gravel that had imprinted on her knees. “Ladies first.” Lennon gave a little bow.

  “How gallant.” Wren pulled the door open and slipped inside.

  The inside was like a dimly-lit belly of some giant beast. Low light leaked down from high windowpanes onto a floor empty of furniture. It smelled like chemicals and soggy wool, even after so much time. Their passage left footsteps in the dust on the floor, as they crossed to a metal staircase that led up to the balcony level.

  “Let’s see if we can find a ladder or door up to the roof,” Wren suggested.

  It was Lennon who found it, a thin ladder clinging to the wall, leading up to a trapdoor. Please be unlocked, Wren prayed. She didn’t think her lockpicking skills extended to opening a trapdoor while hanging from a spindly ladder.

  Her prayers were blessedly answered, and fresh air whooshed past them as Lennon opened the hatch. Splatters of rain were starting to fall as they climbed out onto the roof.

  “Nicely done, Wren.” He let out a low whistle. The orphanage nestled against the empty building, its courtyards open to the sky. They had just the right angle to see in.

  Wren ducked her head down, peering into the windows on the side of the orphanage to see if she recognized anyone. “A Black Guard,” she said, dropping down lower, suddenly worried he would peer out the window and lock eyes with her. Lennon crouched beside her, looking over the edge.

  “This has to be it,” Lennon said. “Why would a Black Guard be in an abandoned temple orphanage?”

  “It’s not enough,” Wren said. “We need to know for sure.”

  “What do you suggest?” Lucas asked. “Tapping on the window?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, smoothing her hair and twisting it into a makeshift knot. The rain had started in earnest now. “I just need to see one of them. Something. If we wait long enough, they’ll show themselves, right?”

  Lennon looked sidelong at Wren. “It’s only going to get colder. Maybe we should come back tomorrow.”

  Wren hissed in annoyance, ignoring his comment. She could handle a little cold. She needed to know. Needed to see…

  A guardsman in a black uniform walked under the covered walkway that passed from one building to another. She squinted to make him out and stilled with the shock of recognition. It was the green-eyed guard missing a finger. Another man trailed behind him, followed by another guard in black. The middle man was tall and willowy, with a mop of curly, blond hair.

  “Look,” Wren said, her heart in her throat. It was Thom, she knew it was. She could feel it in her bones. As the men continued walking, the face of the middle man came into view. A black eye colored one side of his face, and his lip was split and swollen. But even with the disfigurement, there was no doubt. “It’s Thom.”

  “Those sons of the Huntress,” Lennon swore. “What did they do to him?”

  Wren sagged down against the lip of the roof, letting its brick angle hide her from sight. They had done it. They had found where the king was keeping Thom and the other Gifted Guild members. The only question now was, how to get them out?

  “So you found him,” Callidus said, his voice soft, his fingers steepled before his face.

  Wren and Sable sat in Callidus’s office in the chairs across from Callidus while Hale leaned against the bookshelf on the far wall. With a twang of nostalgia, Wren realized the scene mirrored the first day she had arrived at this Guild. Only Kasper had been sitting across the desk, and Callidus had been leaning against that same bookshelf. His lean had been significantly more threatening than Hale’s.

  “How did he look?” Callidus asked.

  Wren grimaced. “A little worse for wear. He had a black eye. But fine overall. I just hope they’re feeding him enough. The man eats like a draft horse.”

>   “Agreed.” Callidus smiled a wistful smile, his gaze distant. Wren exchanged a look with Sable, who cocked one perfect black eyebrow.

  “Callidus, what would you have us do?” Sable said, bringing him back to the moment. “We need to free them, but we can’t do it alone. We need the help of the other Guilds.”

  “I’m already seeing to it,” Callidus said. “I’ve called a meeting of the other Guilds who have been with us in the Accord negotiations.”

  “Who do we have?” Wren asked. “Chandler, McArt, Bruxius, Pike… anyone else?”

  “No one else,” he said. “Five of ten. It could be enough. It must be enough.”

  “We’ll get him back,” Sable said. “When’s the meeting?”

  Callidus pulled his silver pocket watch out of his charcoal waistcoat. “An hour from now.”

  “An hour?” Sable said. “You don’t waste any time. Where are we meeting them?”

  “We…are not meeting them.” He emphasized the first word. “I am meeting them at the reading room in the Tradehall. The Trade Minister has set it aside for me.”

  “The Tradehall!” Hale pushed off the bookcase and came to stand behind Sable, resting his hands on the back of her chair. “That is far too public for a clandestine meeting of guildheads.”

  “I agree,” Callidus said, “which is exactly why it’s the perfect location. Plausible deniability. We wouldn’t dare meet in a government building to plot against the king. We’re merely interested guildheads discussing our mutual concerns over the Aprican siege.”

  “Huh.” Hale straightened, crossing his arms.

  “It could work,” Sable admitted. “By meeting somewhere dark and secret, you’d be all but shouting your nefarious attentions. But meeting in plain sight…”

  “It will work,” Callidus said. “The others have already agreed. But I go alone. Sable, I know you want to come, but having you there undermines my power as guildmaster. I won’t allow it.”

  “It could be dangerous,” Sable said. “You at least need a guard. Take Hale. He could wear a uniform.”

  Callidus snorted. “I might as well dress up a pig as a minister. Hale is far too recognizable.”

  Hale emitted a low growl, and Wren stifled a laugh.

  “I will take a guard,” Callidus said, relenting. Not for the first time, Wren was amazed at how much more…human Callidus had become in the last two months.

  A knock sounded on the door, and all four of their heads whipped towards the entrance, suddenly on alert. “I think we’re done here,” Callidus said, waving them out. Wren furrowed her brow, standing. There was the old Callidus.

  Hale opened the door first, revealing Grandmaster Beckett on the other side. His weaselly face pinched when he saw the three of them inside. “Planning a party without me?” he asked.

  “You know us.” Hale clapped him on the shoulder as he passed. “We hate parties.”

  Sable and Wren filed by without a word, Beckett watching them closely. Wren could see the wheels spinning in his head, calculating what reason could have brought them together for this meeting. Wren thought of Lennon’s comments. There’s no telling what he might do. Well, the Beckett problem would have to keep for a few more days because they had far bigger fish to fry.

  “So are we really not going?” Hale asked as they descended the stairs to the antechamber. It seemed the Cedar Guards were multiplying. The space was practically filled with them, come in to escape the rain outside.

  “You heard Callidus,” Sable said, pausing on the second level landing. “He has to do this alone. So we wait.” She squeezed Hale’s arm before turning and heading in the direction of their rooms.

  “How are you and Sable doing?” Wren whispered.

  Hale’s eyes were following Sable’s form down the hallway, such a plaintive look of longing on his face that she would almost think it funny if it weren’t so sad.

  “I think I’m wearing her down.”

  “What every girl dreams of,” Wren said, grabbing Hale’s arm and tugging him down the stairs. “Being worn down.”

  “You know what I mean.” He paused, and then sighed. “She’s proud, and it needles her to be romantically involved with a subordinate. She thinks she won’t be taken seriously.”

  Wren thought of Sable’s comment the night before, how it would be harder for Wren to rise in the ranks because she was a woman. She understood Sable’s concern. But Hale and Sable…there had to be an exception made. They were meant to be. “You’ll win her in the end. No woman can resist you for long,” Wren said, only half-joking.

  “You resisted me,” he pointed out.

  Wren scoffed. “That’s because you were never really interested in me. I’ll amend my comment. The right woman won’t be able to resist you. And Sable is the right woman for you. She’ll figure it out. Give her time.”

  Hale wrapped an arm around Wren’s shoulder and pulled her to him. “You’re the best. Now, are you sneaking into this meeting with me?”

  “What?” Wren asked. “You heard Callidus. He goes alone.”

  “I heard him say he has to appear alone. But I’ve been in that meeting room before and it has a large balcony. If we sneak in before the meeting starts, we’ll be able to hear everything.”

  Wren considered. She didn’t know if her ego could handle another lecture from Callidus or Sable about sneaking around. But…these were friendly guildheads. If they were caught, it would be a slap on the wrist. Plus, she did want to hear what happened during the meeting…

  “Comeoncomeoncomeoncomeon…” Hale pleaded. “You’re my partner in crime. It’ll be our last hurrah before we hang up our black masks to commence fine, upstanding lives.”

  Wren’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t have a black mask.”

  “Is that a yes?” he asked, his turquoise eyes wide.

  “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?” Wren said, fighting the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

  Hale whooped and swooped her into a hug, twirling her around.

  The Cedar Guardsmen in the antechamber all looked at them with confusion.

  “Just let me get my cloak,” she said.

  “Get the black one!” Hale called after her.

  It was a short block to the Tradehall, and they slipped in the front doors with little fuss. The meeting wasn’t set for another hour. Wren liked the building—it was austere and functional, not trying to be something it wasn’t. Tapestries woven in the colors and symbols of the ten Aperitive Guilds clothed the walls of the massive antechamber, while paintings and tapestries depicting the other Guilds lined the stairways and corridors. Masons, seamstresses, solicitors, and goldsmiths…so much of Alesian life was carried on under the patronage and protection of the Guilds. What kind of king didn’t see that there was value there?

  Hale led Wren into a large room lined with bookshelves. The room was furnished with clusters of desks and couches, designed to be a place where Guild members could come to meet and converse. A wrought-iron spiral staircase wove its way to a balcony level that ran the entire circuit of the room. Hale led Wren around the balcony until they arrived at a large stone fireplace, a plush highbacked sofa set before it. He sank into the soft eggplant cushions, patting the seat next to him.

  “This is your genius hiding place?”

  “Trust me,” Hale said with a devilish grin. “People down there can’t see you up here.”

  Wren wrinkled her nose. “Why do I suddenly think I don’t want to sit down on that thing…?”

  “I’m sure it’s been cleaned since then.” He patted it again.

  Wren sighed, sinking down beside him. She shut her eyes for a moment. It was a wondrously comfortable couch, no matter what young lady Hale had defiled here. It wasn’t the couch’s fault.

  Hale put his hand on Wren’s wrist and she opened her eyes quizzically. His finger was to his lips, and he was peeking over the tall back. “There’s someone here.”

  “It’s early for the meeting
, isn’t it?” Wren whispered back.

  “They’re coming up the stairs… flame it, she saw me,” Hale said, ducking back into the shadow of the sofa.

  Wren stilled her breathing, positing the question to Hale with her gaze. Who is it? she mouthed.

  “I should have known I’d find you two mice scurrying about,” Sable said, her hands on her hips. “Did it take you all of five minutes to disobey Callidus’s orders?”

  “That’s the pot calling the kettle black, now isn’t it?” Hale flashed his most winning smile and scooted over, patting the cushion once again. “You were just as curious as us.”

  Sable crossed her arms over her chest, tapping her foot. The moment stretched, but neither Wren nor Hale made a move. It was like being pinned by the gaze of a predator. Finally, she threw her hands up and flopped down between them. Hale patted her leg. “Good hiding spot, by the way.”

  “No one can see you up here,” Sable said, picking a piece of imaginary dust off the silk of her skirt.

  Hale laughed huskily. “Too right.”

  Wren rolled her eyes, suddenly wishing she were anywhere but on a couch with these two.

  The guildmasters arrived right on time. Callidus arrived first, impeccable in his signature severe black suit and tall coiffed hair. A wave of guilt washed over Wren; he had asked them not to come, and they had disobeyed him. Callidus paced the tiled floor, the heels of his shined oxfords clicking as he walked. Chandler arrived next, with his assistant Bastian with the pinched face. Bruxius and McArt came together, and the men exchanged handshakes and pleasantries.

  “So we wait for Pike, of course,” Callidus said dryly. “The man couldn’t be on time to his own funeral.”

  “Speaking of funerals already?” Pike’s voice carried a swagger that made Wren smile. She couldn’t see, but she would bet her luck that Callidus had a dark scowl on his face. Wren caught Sable’s eye and Sable grinned as well.

  “Is this a meeting or an invasion?” McArt asked in his drawl. “How many men did you bring?”