‘Are you sure you won’t share one of those bricks?’
‘No.’ Eva kept a firm grip on the stone hot water bottle that rested at her side; the other one was hidden under her skirts, warming her feet. ‘I warned you. You mocked me before; now you must pay the price!’
‘Yours is a vengeful nature, O Revered Employer.’
‘You didn’t have to come along. I told you I don’t need you for this part.’
‘I can’t let you wander off alone. Especially when I have no idea where you’re going.’ He shivered again and wrapped his arms around himself.
‘Never mind. It will be warm in Brun’s house.’
‘Brun?’
Eva ignored that question. They were already pulling up outside of a large house, as plain and unlovely as the rest of the city, though she knew it to be an expensive property in Ullarn. Tren stepped out as soon as the carriage came to a stop, politely handing her down after him.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured, smoothing down her skirts. ‘How do I look?’
‘Er.’ Tren stared. ‘Is that a real question?’
‘Of course it’s a real question. I have a reputation to uphold here.’
‘Um. You... you look more beautiful than ever.’
The teasing tone she expected from him was absent. He was looking at her with a hint of awe and a great deal of regret.
She suddenly realised that bringing him here had probably been a huge mistake. She should have asked Limbane to find him something else to do.
A sigh escaped her. ‘Let’s go in.’
She stepped up to the great door and rang the bell, listening as it resounded through the house. Footsteps soon approached and the door was opened by an immaculately uniformed woman.
‘Is Ambassador Recender at home, please?’
‘Whom shall I say is asking?’
Eva gave her name. The woman’s eyes widened.
‘I’m sure he’ll wish to see you, my lady. Please come in.’ She stepped back, opening the door wider. Eva stepped briskly inside, adopting her haughty noblewoman’s air.
‘I’ll tell the ambassador that you’re here.’ The woman’s eyes flicked to Tren, but she didn’t say anything further. She dropped a curtsey and disappeared up the stairs.
‘Ambassador Recender?’ Tren’s whisper held a strangled note.
‘What of it?’
‘We just walked into the personal home of Ambassador Recender? Are you crazy?’
‘I know exactly what I’m doing.’
He snorted. ‘You couldn’t have warned me about this?’
‘No, because I knew you would react in exactly this way. Now you have no choice but to go along with it. You are going along with it, aren’t you?’
Tren’s only response was a despairing groan.
‘Hey,’ she reminded him. ‘You were the one who insisted on coming.’
‘I might not have if I’d been suitably informed.’
She lifted a brow at him. ‘Really?’
‘Fine, fine, you win. I still would’ve insisted on coming.’
The ambassador’s servant returned. ‘He’ll see you, my lady.’
Eva beamed at the woman. ‘Of course he will.’
The ambassador was in his drawing-room. He wore a fabulous silk dressing-gown and matching slippers, his gleaming brown hair perfectly arranged. His black eyes watched Eva’s progress across his drawing-room floor with interest.
‘My lady. An unexpected pleasure.’
He spoke in Ullarni. Eva replied in kind, with a silent apology to Tren. ‘I was passing, my lord, and thought to pay you a visit.’
‘Passing?’ He grinned. ‘One does, I suppose, “happen” to pass Wirllen once in a while.’
‘Frequently.’ She returned his grin, allowing hers to become mischievous.
‘Who’s the passenger?’ Recender jerked his chin at Tren.
‘My factotum. I drag the poor boy everywhere, but he’s so useful.’
‘Another of your thralls.’ Recender’s lips twitched.
‘A willing one, my lord Recender.’
He stood abruptly. ‘You’ll stay the night with me, of course. I suppose I can find somewhere to stow your boy.’ He crossed to the door, opened it slightly and snapped his fingers. A maid appeared almost at once, dropping a hasty curtsey.
‘Have a room prepared. Nothing too grand.’ He dropped his voice to a low murmur and gave some further directions which Eva couldn’t hear. Then he closed the door again and returned to her with a smile.
Eva didn’t realise his intention until it was too late to avoid it. His arms went around her and he pulled her close, trapping her in a long kiss. She heard Tren shift uncomfortably somewhere behind her.
‘My departure from your fine city was too precipitate last time,’ said Recender. ‘I regret that, for our friendship was terminated at an inopportune moment.’
‘Then let it be renewed now. Though I fear I may only stay a brief time myself. Business, of course.’
‘Ah,’ he said regretfully. ‘Then we will make the most of it.’
He was every bit as handsome as she remembered. Awarding him a smile, she said, ‘That we shall. Oh, Brun? We’re going to need clearance to stay for a few days. You know how testy the authorities can be. Make up something plausible, hm?’
‘Naturally.’ He began kissing her neck.
‘For my factotum as well. Don’t forget, please.’
‘Anything you like,’ he replied. ‘Later.’
Eva waited until she had Recender in a state of perfect satisfaction before she presented her next request.
‘I’ve a small problem, Brun, with which I was hoping to enlist your help.’
He stopped in the process of kissing her arm, casting her a wry smile. ‘I should have expected that your ladyship would not visit without a reason.’
‘We all do as we must. You’re usually the first person to say that.’
He sighed. ‘Fortunately for you I, too, am a willing thrall. What may I help you with?’
For an instant Eva felt a crawling sensation of disgust with herself. In thrall. He had no idea how true that observation was. And now she manipulated him deliberately, turning the force of her will on him as well as her charm.
It was disgusting, but she did it willingly.
We all do as we must, indeed.
She turned her smile back on. ‘I have a few names on my list. Difficult people, hard to find. I’ve reason to think they are all Ullarni citizens.’
Brun Recender marred his handsome face with a frown. ‘I cannot assist you in pursuing Ullarni citizens, Eva. You must realise that.’
‘Brun, I swear. This is nothing to do with politics. It holds no bearing on the relationship between Ullarn and Glour. It is more a personal matter.’
He looked at her silently, obviously troubled. ‘Powerful I may be, but if it became known that I have helped you in such a way I could lose a great deal. You understand that as well, I hope.’
‘I do. I will not be revealing your assistance, and my visit here is not known.’
‘And your “factotum”? What of him?’
‘I trust him as I do my own self.’
‘Do you indeed. And he is what to you?’
She pulled out of his embrace. ‘That is hardly a relevant question.’
‘Forgive me. I am sadly prone to jealousy. I realise I will always have competition; I seek to establish how much.’
Eva steeled herself to say the words. ‘He is nothing to me. An employee, nothing more.’
He shook his head, a dangerous glint appearing in his eyes. ‘That, I think, is a lie. Such care you showed for his comfort. And he was displeased to see you with me.’
Eva’s heart fluttered oddly. She suppressed the feeling, keeping her features smooth of expression. ‘His feelings are his own business.’
He gave a soft laugh at that. ‘So ruthless, my lady. I love you for it. Very well, I will help you as I can. You will give me the nam
es and I will enquire. Discreetly. It may take a few days.’
‘I must leave in two.’
‘Must? Or are determined to?’
‘Some of both,’ she admitted.
Tracking Tren down the following day was no easy task. When she finally found him, he had the hollow-eyed appearance of a man who hadn’t slept. She inspected him with some concern.
‘Are you sick? What ails you?’
‘Nothing physical.’ Tren backed away from her scrutiny without looking at her.
‘I’m going in search of Mr Iro Byllant. Are you well enough to come, or would you prefer to go back to the inn?’
‘Are we going on this search alone?’
‘As in, without the ambassador? Yes. Of course.’
‘Then I’ll come.’
She felt a rush of relief, though she was careful not to show it. ‘Right away, then.’
Tren was uncharacteristically silent in the carriage. They were heading for Wynn Street and the warehouse that Ocherly of Lawch & Son had named for her. It was situated on the outer edge of the South District, so the journey took some time as they inched through the traffic. Tren rode for half an hour without looking at her, directing his attention out of the window instead.
Eva remembered Brun’s words. He was displeased to see you with me.
It wasn’t long since he’d talked to her of love. The ambassador’s worship of her was, she knew, a product more of manipulation than anything else. He was indeed, as he termed it, a thrall. In his case her guilt was minimal; he was the type to use and drop people as he saw fit. It wouldn’t hurt him to undergo some of the same treatment.
Tren, though, was different. Always different. She now had sufficient control over her Lokant side to withdraw what Limbane called her “charisma” in his presence, but it was too late. She wished she’d learned of it before, when there might still have been time to avoid enthralling Tren. His affection for her might be largely imposed, but apparently it still hurt.
‘Tren?’
He reluctantly turned his face to her.
‘There were reasons why I wanted you to stay behind last night.’
‘So I imagine.’ He turned back to the window.
The conversation seemed to be over with that, but a moment later he spoke again.
‘An old paramour, I suppose?’
‘I suppose so. Yes.’
‘How many of those have there been?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t count.’
He turned cold eyes on her. ‘Do you have any affection for them or is it all practicality?’
She pondered that. ‘Would it make it worse or better if I did?’
‘Worse,’ he said promptly. ‘No, better. I don’t know.’
‘I don’t really have any affection for Recender. He’s not that type of man. But we understand each other.’
Tren snorted. ‘I’m sure.’
She welcomed the flash of irritation that burned away her guilt. ‘You’re telling me you’ve never bedded anyone without feeling affection for them?’
‘That’s different.’
‘How can it possibly be different?
‘I wasn’t using them for anything!’
‘You were using them for your own entertainment. They were using you for the same. Just now I’m using Brun to advance our cause; his contacts will get the job done much faster than we could alone. He in turn uses me to amuse himself for a day or two. Is it different?’
Tren looked bewildered. ‘I’m just surprised.’
‘I thought you said you knew me. Everything about me.’
‘I thought I did.’ He turned away from her and in this gesture she recognised rejection.
Well, she thought. That solves that problem.
She turned her face to the traffic as well, resolutely swallowing the lump that rose in her throat.
The warehouse had an unpromising air of abandonment about it. Eva checked the address for the third time, her hopes sinking. Wynn Street, Wirllen South. Number eight. Windowless and boarded up it might be, but this was indeed the right building.
Tren had pulled himself together as they left the carriage. He was back to his normal self, or something near it. It was a fragile facade, but one she was grateful for. They had work to do.
‘What’s the plan?’ Tren stood looking up at the roughly boarded windows doubtfully.
‘Search it. In a moment.’ She nudged Rikbeek with her thoughts, instructing him to check for threats.
He didn’t move.
Rikbeek. Budge.
His miniscule brain registered stubborn refusal. He was cocooned somewhere in her skirts, determined to be asleep.
‘Sorry,’ she said aloud. ‘Not an option.’ Finding his small, dark-furred body, she plucked him off the fabric and tossed him into the air. His wings opened just in time to catch himself and he flew off, blazing indignation.
‘Don’t tell me there’s insubordination in the ranks?’ Tren had watched the exchange with a grin on his face.
Eva snorted in reply. ‘Always.’
They waited for the few minutes it took for her gwaystrel to make a circuit of the building. He didn’t detect any other humans nearby.
‘Okay. We can go.’ Eva walked around the building until she found a door that didn’t have planks nailed over it. It was locked, of course.
Tren pushed her gently out of the way, and bowed. ‘Allow me.’
She stood back, puzzled. Tren had never mentioned a talent for picking locks.
Apparently he scorned such delicacy. Instead he simply ran at the door and kicked the hell out of it. It took him a few tries before the door fell in.
She walked past him as he stood, breathing hard and looking slightly dazed.
‘Feel better?’
‘Much,’ he panted.
‘Excellent.’
The interior was in full darkness. Tren produced a tiny light-globe from somewhere and activated it. It was the portable type that resourceful people hung on their belts or kept in their handbags; Eva was glad to find that Tren was one such practical-minded soul as she hadn’t thought of it herself.
She was less impressed when she saw the feeble glow it emitted.
‘Well,’ she said. ‘You made an awful lot of noise back there so we’d better be quick. Try not to crash into anything.’
‘Ma’am.’ Tren found his way back to the door, taking the globe with him. She waited, trying not to feel unnerved by the darkness. It was almost absolute; even her night eyes could barely see anything.
The sound of a lever being pulled broke the silence, and a light came on in the ceiling far above.
‘Lights still work,’ Tren observed redundantly.
The building really was empty. It didn’t even have furniture. The large expanse of bare floor stretched before them, devoid of clues.
‘Fake address?’
She sighed in annoyance. ‘Must be. Curse it, I really hoped for something here. Brun had better deliver.’
She turned to leave, but Tren stopped, dropping into a crouch on the hard floor. He ran his hands over the cold stone, then rubbed his fingers together.
‘What have you found?’ She crossed to him and crouched down beside him.
‘Hold out your hand.’ She did so and he sprinkled dust into her palm.
‘Dust.’
‘Look more closely.’ He sent the tiny light-globe to hover directly over her palm.
Eva gasped as indigo lights shone from her skin. ‘Dusted draykon bone?’
Tren nodded. ‘I reckon so. That globe at Lawch & Son? I bet that’s how they made it. Mixed this with the glass formula.’
‘Hmm. I wonder how they discovered that.’
‘And what else they’ve discovered.’
An interesting thought. The Seven Realms could be flooded with small technologies like the light-globe, things that were unlikely to reach the attention of the authorities. And if they did, Mr Byllant had an old, long-abandoned address to cover his
tracks.
Whoever Byllant was, he must be making a fortune at this venture.
‘He has to be linked to Krays,’ Eva said. ‘How else could he be getting quantities of draykon bone?’
‘But why would Krays be gathering draykon bone just to spread it around like this? Can someone like him care about money? Why would he need it?’
‘I don’t know,’ she admitted.
‘We shouldn’t get fixed on that theory. There’s nothing here to link any of this to Krays.’
‘True.’ She thought back over all the information they’d gained. She had nothing but a name and this address, and no way to access any of Ullarn’s bureaucratic records to find out the rest. She would have to trust Brun for that.
And she had nothing else. Nothing on Byllant, nothing on Ana and Griel. She didn’t even have last names for the latter two.
‘Brun had better deliver,’ she said again. If he didn’t find something for them to go on, they had hit a dead end.
Chapter Twenty Four
Aysun dropped his voice-box back onto the desk with a grunt of irritation. Three days he had been trying to reach her, and his wife hadn’t accepted the call.
She had forgotten to carry it around with her, he supposed. It lay somewhere in the house, out of hearing so she never knew when he was trying to get through. Or the box was broken. That was a possibility.
Or perhaps she had actively decided not to answer. She was avoiding him for some reason. His irritation grew greater at the mere thought.
All of these conclusions he drew and steadfastly clung to in favour of the notion that something had gone wrong. He was of a protective nature, and frequently over the years he’d been gripped with fear when his wife had been late or absent and he’d become convinced that some catastrophe had befallen her.
She’d laughed at him for it. Every time.
He gave the call one last try, listening sadly as it beeped on without Ynara’s beloved voice cutting in. At last he set the voice box aside and left the room, sore at heart.
Through the window he could see Orillin in the garden with Graaf. The orboe had never left, sticking to the tousle-headed boy with endearing stubbornness. If you could call it endearing. The creature was as enormous as ever and looked just as unfriendly to Aysun’s eye. He still had to restrain himself from rushing to the boy’s aid when his slight form disappeared under Graaf’s huge, shaggy body. But always the maddening boy emerged unscathed, laughing his irrepressible laugh, tumbling on with the orboe as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
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