“Wait, what?” Eloran stuttered. “You threatened to have him hanged?”
Maylene rolled her eyes. “We obviously didn’t in the end. Don’t be so sensitive. What I’m saying is that his loyalty isn’t a sure thing. He’ll turn on us without hesitation. Time to consider cutting our losses and disappearing.”
“We didn’t come all this way to shrivel and slink back with tails between our legs.” Cyriana growled and jabbed a finger at stained bandages dressing her stomach. “I didn’t get fucking stabbed to retreat this late in the game.”
“Desin might be squealing all he knows to bargain for his otherwise meaningless life,” Thorkell declared.
“Or he might have passed out drunk facedown and drowned in a gutter. Could’ve got squeamish over the whole scenario and buggered off into the night when we weren’t eyeing him. We don’t know and I’m vexed you want to walk away on a suspicion.”
“Is this worth getting pinched over and rotting in some Draugan gaol?” Maylene questioned.
“And is it worth abandoning all we’ve worked toward when you might be wrong? Gods above, this is why I choose to work alone. I needn’t worry about pleasing or convincing others.”
“You’re welcome to return to that life, lass,” asserted Thorkell. “I might not have the memory capacity that dear Zalla does, but you recruited us for this. You chose not to go it alone. And now that you’re stuck with us, it seems to me leaving all decisions to one burdened mind isn’t the wisest course. We have a say, too.”
Cyriana glowered at the others, annoyed that she was prone atop the mattress. The enfeebled position ruined her chance at dignity and authority. “During my forced sabbatical, did anyone ponder what our benefactor might do if we fled empty-handed after wasting all his money? Speaking from experience, having a bounty on one’s head is not a pleasant way to live.”
“Didn’t you threaten to leave if the heist became too dangerous?” asked Maylene. “This precise situation comes to mind as a valid reason for following that route.”
“I did. But I always intended it to be an idle threat to maintain control over decisions. Our chipper Shiylan seemed cooperative enough, but I’ve since wondered what his response would be if we actually ran. We know he has one fellow spying on us. Why not four or five? Should we flee beyond city limits without a reason, we might find ourselves filled with arrows like hapless straw dummies.”
“Lovely, Cyriana. Simply lovely. You coerce all of us into this game with the promise we can walk if it turns dicey. And now you tell us we don’t even have that luxury. What a swell caper this has turned out to be. Happy to play an unwitting part in it.”
“Let’s switch to a happier train of thought and try to recall what Desin knew. I think we all recognized the cutpurse was low man on the ladder. His knowledge regarding certain details was patchy at best.”
“He knew what night we plan to strike,” Baskaran stated. “Enterprising thief I am not, but even I’m aware that may be the most crucial detail.”
Cyriana pointed a forefinger tipped in red at him. “The sword swishing man is right. And we can’t choose another time at random. The entire ploy hinges on us being able to waltz into Starwatch. We either commit on the night they might be expecting us, and risk walking straight into their merciless arms, or we run and forever keep one eye poised over a shoulder.”
“I agree the Fete is still our only option,” replied Maylene.
“Desin didn’t know where or how anyone planned to enter,” Zalla ventured. “At least, not that I ever heard.”
Cyriana snapped an eager finger and thrust it toward the girl. “See? There’s a gap in knowledge we can exploit.”
Thorkell tapped his chin and faced Zalla. “Your uncanny mind is required for another query, darling. Have our Fendrel and Blaer personas been compromised? What precisely did Desin know about that ruse? Because our alter egos are vital for the heist and I don’t care to ponder about getting nabbed the moment we saunter up to a gate.”
“We should be okay. Most planning was done with only us and Cyriana. Desin didn’t ever sit in or eavesdrop on our conversations when we discussed specifics. He knew we were planning something, but I don’t think he has enough pieces to assemble a whole picture. And I have no memory of mentioning our fake names to Desin. Did you?”
“Don’t reckon I did, but my recollections are considerably fuzzy compared to yours. Can’t imagine why I ever would’ve conversed with him regarding that aspect though.”
“I think it’s unlikely. Desin never had the pleasure of meeting Fendrel or Blaer. At least not officially. He glimpsed us in our outfits, but nothing more.” Zalla glanced at Cyriana and shrugged. “Even though I wish I could say this with more confidence, those identities should be secure.”
“More good news. I don’t know why you chaps started letting doubt eat at your minds.”
“I have a disagreeable revelation,” admitted Maylene. “Desin knew I was impersonating a Starwatch guard hired for the Fete. If we believe he was captured then he’ll reveal that nugget to whoever is up for listening. He can describe me in detail. They’ll seize me the moment I begin my shift. I have no choice but to abandon that role.”
Cyriana scratched her clammy brow and frowned. “That sours my mood a little. We’ll just need to find a new strategy for getting you inside the tower. I’m not overly pessimistic concerning our chances.”
“Damn it all to hell. I know what route you’ll suggest for me.”
“Then you’re already halfway to accepting its merits.”
“This part of the caper has no virtues.”
“Don’t fret, dearie. I have a plan that’ll let you slip in through the scullery rather than lavatories. Regarding the rest of us, even if the guards suspect a grand theft is in the works they can’t neglect watching the hundreds of other revelers who might be plotting a little robbery. Crowds attract pickpockets and swindlers like locusts. Time for us to use that to our own advantage and keep their ranks spread thin. Distractions will be key. Let’s go out and hire some untalented cutpurses to work the festival and get caught. Maybe we can even whip up a frenzy somewhere needing guards to quell it. Oh, the possibilities are endless.”
“We could get Baskaran to insult some hoity-toity fellow and force a duel,” Thorkell suggested. “That’ll attract a crowd.”
“I love it.”
Baskaran frowned and glanced toward Maylene. “Would Starwatch even permit duels during a religious festival?”
“There were two last year,” she answered. “You might be standing on ground sacred to the galens, but we’re still in Asdor.”
“Before my arrival here I wouldn’t have thought bloodlust was this high in a country famed for its luxury goods.”
“You have no idea.”
Baskaran folded arms across his broad chest. “Not that I want to question our obstinate leader, but might it be wiser for Cyriana to sit out the heist entirely? I don’t think she’d ever admit it, but she is wounded.”
“I won’t be some sidelined invalid bemoaning my tragic fate,” Cyriana retorted. “I’m not Eloran.”
“Make that claim when you’re my age, brat. Assuming you ever live this long.”
Cyriana flopped one arm onto a mattress sprinkled with her own blood. “Can’t imagine why I wouldn’t.”
“I won’t question your heart,” Maylene said. “Or intractable stubbornness for that matter. But you don’t have the strength for grueling work. You’d collapse into a shivering wreck if you tried even standard thieving. And what happens if carelessness tears open that slash on your gut? You start bleeding all over galen rugs, and folks will get suspicious.”
“She might also die should that occur,” noted Baskaran.
“Yeah, there’s that, too.”
Cyriana narrowed her eyes. “You can’t expect me to stay here.”
“Of course not,” Maylene conceded. “Short of tying your arms and legs to the bed, I have no way to enforce it. But if you par
take in the festivities with us, you’ll go where I tell you to be and stick to simple tasks I assign. Coordinating basic elements on Starwatch’s front lawn, for instance. You’ll need to take directions for once. Think you’re up for it?”
“Am I likely to have a choice in this?”
“Nope. Glad you caught on. And remember, the decision to bind you in place is still an option if you get quarrelsome. You don’t have the muscles to resist. I’d wager even Zalla could pin and hogtie you.”
“Now there’s a tasty thought,” Thorkell mumbled.
Maylene thrust a forefinger at the closed doorway. “You can go ahead and leave. Unless you believe our party should have yet another cripple in its ranks.”
“I enjoy my mobility just fine, thank you.”
“Then keep sick fetishes inside your head.”
Without invitation Thorkell walked closer and leaned over Cyriana’s prone form, fiddling with strands of her hair while she glowered upward.
“Continue to paw at me and I’ll take your hand.”
“Begging your pardon,” Thorkell said. He let curls drop from between his fingers and stepped back. “I believe you have need for an aesthetic change. Not many folks with red hair in Asdor, and that’s the first trait Desin will describe about you. Luckily I’m ideal to undertake the transformation.”
Cyriana felt her shoulders sag. “Ah, damn it. I despise how much sense you’re making.”
“Nothing to fret over. I’ll use thythian nox. It’s extracted by boiling a certain sea snail into mush.”
“You want to smear snail guts into my hair?”
“I assure you it’s harmless. I’ve used the dye on several occasions myself. And the foul odor is barely noticeable after an hour or two.”
“Ignorance would have been preferable, in this case. The gunk will wash out?”
“Over several days, yes. I reckon you’ll make a lovely black haired woman.”
“I almost wish I hadn’t woken from my knife wound.” Cyriana swung her legs over the bed and climbed into a sitting position, wincing against sharp pangs. “Seems to my mind we’d be wise to change other details, too. Slap together a few surprises, in case someone is leaning hard on Desin to spill our scheme.”
“We haven’t been totally inactive, I’ll have you know,” claimed Maylene. “Whipped up a couple tweaks he won’t see coming. Plus we kept our clueless distractions in the loop and made all the arrangements with them. Figured your diabolical brain could peruse our alterations and fiddle some more.”
“Ah, delightful. I feared you’d all shirk from duty with me drooling in a stupor. Then we’ve got three days to let our creative selves shine and conjure some tricks to keep the folks in Starwatch on their toes. We improvise.”
Maylene groaned and touched a hand to her forehead. “What happened the last time you improvised on a dangerous operation?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“No, I’m interested in hearing this,” Eloran declared.
“She burned a crime lord’s manor to the ground and got a bounty placed on her head,” answered Maylene.
Cyriana waved a carefree hand still stained with her own blood. “All in the past. This time will be different.”
“How do you figure?”
“I’m less likely to be stupid and impulsive when others are with me. Now then, I don’t want to associate with any bashful chaps tonight. Whatever fiendish ruse comes to mind, spit it out. Because if those galens suspect we’re coming, they’ll anticipate caution. Time for us to flip the notion on its head and delve into the audacious instead.”
*
19 Nashrenir
Chaereas tented fingers atop his desk and hunched fatigued shoulders, eyeing the man standing atop a carpet now coated in ash. “The conflagration is under control?”
“Aye, finally,” answered Almar. “We managed to keep it contained only within the scullery, without collateral damage to surrounding chambers or structural integrity.”
“Was anyone hurt in the accident?”
“No, thank the gods. All kitchen staff evacuated and my guards responded admirably. Even though it must be said fighting fires was never meant to be included in our mandate.”
“A small measure of good news.” Chaereas directed a finger toward Almar’s forehead. “You have some ash beneath your hairline.”
He touched skin coated in blackened gray and brushed gritty flakes off. “The bathhouse will be full tonight, with all the soot clinging to us.”
“Be certain to clean your boots as well. They’ve dirtied my carpet.”
Almar glanced down at powdery footprints stretching from the hallway. “I have another pair.”
“How curiously apropos your ancestors earned Graycloak as a familial name several generations ago. You’ve certainly honored the concept in spirit, if not intent. Were you wearing your cloak by chance?”
“I’d have to be an idiot to fight against fire while donning a cape.”
“How unfortunate. You could have re-sanctified the name.” Chaereas lifted hands from his desk and claimed a chair. “Returning to the matter at hand, have you learned how this mishap occurred?”
“Seems everyone is in the habit of thrusting blame onto others. Seneschal Tranon accuses the scullery maid of allowing too much grease to accumulate and catch fire. But one of the cooks believes the spitboy is responsible for failing to properly tend a fire, while the chandler is confident a member of the between staff is at fault, likely a careless hall boy.”
“Those responses are dreadfully tangled. Is there no compelling evidence that suggests one person is guilty over all others?”
“Not that I’ve uncovered. Every account I’ve heard is contradictory and circumstantial, yet we can’t afford to discipline all the ones potentially responsible. We’d be left with a skeleton kitchen staff two days before the festival.”
Chaereas drummed fingertips against a mahogany surface. “You’re telling me I can’t reprimand anyone, even considering the severity of their carelessness?”
“Unless we can unravel the conflicting explanations, no. You do always have the option of choosing one person from the flock for punishment as a message to the others though.”
“I won’t chastise an innocent employee on questionable hearsay. Warranted or not, the tactic is patently unfair to the one who suffers. We also shouldn’t breed animosity among those who prepare our food.”
“Admittedly wise.”
“Pray tell, what’s the fallout from all this?”
“The scullery is unusable for at least several weeks,” responded Almar.
“Repairs can’t be expedited in order to finish prior to the festival?”
“Not a chance. Much of the stoneware is too fire damaged for use and we can’t acquire new ones on such short notice. Cracks have also formed in the terracotta floor, threatening to collapse under excess weight. Until we can assess the danger, I have no choice but to recommend we keep everyone from entering.”
“I’ll accede to your wishes. The room will remain off bounds until the festival concludes and you’re able to properly survey the hazards.”
“It’s for the best.”
“Though you understand we can’t prepare all the food required for festival guests in our kitchens alone,” Chaereas said. “The scullery is an essential overflow.”
“I don’t admit to having much knowledge in those areas, but the staff did seem a little agitated when they heard.”
“For good reason. I suppose we were fortunate the fire did not spread into the pantry or larder. The loss of our stockpiles would have been nothing less than a disaster.”
“Small victories,” Almar uttered. “What do you want us to do?”
“Contact respected restaurants in the city and arrange for them to shutter their doors in order to prepare dishes for us instead. We will pay for their services. I’d wager most lose business when we invite the citizenry here for complimentary fare. They may find the terms agreeable. Hav
e Seneschal Tranon coordinate between our staff and theirs. It might also be necessary for certain tasks to take place in the pantry rather than elsewhere. Peeling vegetables, plucking fowl and the like. We’ll have to find space wherever we can. Instruct our chefs to be creative.”
“Cooks love an opportunity to spread their wings.”
“They also grumble when outsiders try dictating requirements. We’re boorish louts in their eyes.”
A grin peeked through blonde hairs swaddling his jaws. “Won’t be uppity when they’re too busy crouching over buckets in the larder.”
Chapter 17
Don’t speak to me of female weakness. As any woman can attest, nothing in this world is more fragile than the male ego.
Shiara Thirith, Squabbles Old and New
87 Black Ruin, Year of the Drowned Mariner
21 Nashrenir
Sopping mud swallowed one leather boot and Maylene growled, ripping her foot from unyielding mire. She trudged along the shoreline through lapping tides and atop uneven rocks coated in algae, a burdened haversack flung over one shoulder. Seaweed wrapped around ankles sodden with clinging mud, making each stride feel like strenuous exercise. Perversely enough, this was likely to be the most enjoyable aspect in her evening.
She touched one hand against a furrowed cliff face to steady her footing and continued on, reaching the primary outfall for Arroyo’s sewage system. Carved straight through bedrock and running beneath the city, Maylene could barely glimpse Starwatch Tower perched on the cliff above if she craned her head enough. Or rather a shimmering orange glow from fires and lanterns ringing the edifice and its grounds. The tower itself was invisible against a night sky, discernible only where it veiled stars.
Brown fluids trickled from the round drain between clumped obstructions like pitiful creeks. Filth pooled beneath the outfall into a dark mound resistant to gentle tides, accumulating over a stretch of time lasting centuries. She did not care to envision how much lingering waste dated to before her birth. Plodding through decades-old sewage already ranked among the most unpleasant incidents in her thieving career without reflecting even more on the experience.
Starwatch Page 27