Pasting on a friendly smile, Tess pinched at the material. Or tried to. She’d already taken in the cursed thing twice, but nothing short of casing herself like a sausage was going to please Avaquis. “Not without the buttons gaping,” she explained, smoothing a hand over the pinned closure that was threatening to do just that. Even with bone reinforcing the lining, some things were impossible within the bounds of nature and imbuing.
It was a problem of Tess’s own making. Renata had predicted last winter that her tailored cranberry wool coat would be in demand. As sure as one of Ren’s patterns, Tess had been inundated with requests for such coats the moment the weather threatened to turn.
But half of being a good tailor, Tess was learning, was convincing clients that what looked fetching on one body was not meant for everybody. Tess had tried to sell Avaquis on a higher-waisted design that could have been the new trend of this year, but the woman was having none of it. “Couldn’t you sew on more buttons?”
Tess’s smile stretched near to breaking. And some bodies look best floating facedown in the Dežera. “Let me see what can be managed.”
Far too many modifications later, Tess finally made her escape from Fintenus Manor with the mangled body of her mockup in her tailor’s bag. The towers chiming the fourth bell of sixth sun chased her across the Pearls to Isla Traementis. Crone’s crooked teeth, over three hours since she’d waved Renata off to Vargo’s house? She was meant to meet Pavlin at seventh, and she still had to dump her bag and make herself pretty. Though at the moment, she’d settle for less frazzled and murderous.
“Best he get used to it,” she muttered, making her way along the deserted walk that ran behind the manor house. “You’ll always have cuffs making unreasonable demands.” Not every client could be as malleable and cooperative as her sister.
Lost in thoughts of new designs she could stuff Ren into, and how to modify them when they were demanded by those without Ren’s shape, Tess failed to notice the sedan chair and bearers waiting in the back lane until she was almost upon them.
“You’re late,” one said, blocking her path. The other peeled away from the wall and shifted behind her before she could scarper.
“I’m sorry.” The apology slipped out before Tess could think on it, and once it was loosed, she saw no reason not to follow it. “If I’d known two fine fellows were waiting for me, I’d have hurried my step.”
While the men traded a grin at Tess’s easy naivete, she slipped a hand into the bag at her side and closed it around her best scissors.
“En’t no matter,” the man blocking her way said, crowding her back against his associate. “Long as you come quiet with us now.”
A glance into the empty kitchen yard told Tess there’d be no point in screaming. But that didn’t mean she’d go quiet.
“Of course. Let me just—”
Whipping her bag at the man in front of her, Tess pulled out the scissors and plunged them into the one behind her. She must have struck something, if the grunt and warmth wetting her fingers were any indication. Before she could take advantage, though, her wrist was caught in a vise. The scissors dropped from numb fingers. Hauled off balance, she practically fell into the burlap sack bagged over her head. She choked on dust, darkness, and her own muffled shouts as the men bound her wrists and ankles and shoved her into the sedan chair.
Isla Traementis, the Pearls: Canilun 18
House Traementis’s ruined finances had forced them to sell off their bay villa when Giuna was ten. By then their register had withered to just her mother, her brother, and four remaining cousins; Donaia’s protective instincts were already strong. The notion of letting Giuna risk herself on the open water or in the fields around the city—or even in the city itself—was too much for her to bear, and so began years of Giuna near constantly mewed up in their Pearls manor.
Compared to that, even the Bay of Vraszan felt like a foreign land. Giuna had grown so accustomed to the ever-present scent of river mud that she didn’t even notice it until it was gone, replaced by salt tang and clean rain. The low rocks of the bay islands were as exotic as mountains beneath her feet, and the flat, open expanse of water made her feel dizzy enough that she had to sit down. But it was a good dizziness, and she wished she could have spent more than a few days out there with her mother. She even found herself entertaining shameful thoughts about how long it would take House Traementis to recover enough to buy their old villa back from House Aldassare.
We have to find some way to thank Scaperto, Giuna thought as the Quientis yacht eased up to the Pearls river stair to let her off. Then an impish grin overtook her. Though perhaps my mother’s thanks will be enough.
She climbed the stair and began wending her way through the islets toward Traementis Manor, with a Quientis servant carrying her small travel case. She couldn’t remember a time when her family had paid for a splinter-boat or a sedan chair to carry them this last leg of the way, and even now that they could afford it, she didn’t see the point.
“Please, visit the kitchen and take some refreshment before you go,” Giuna said after the servant put down the case in the front hall. As Colbrin took her light cloak, she asked, “Who’s at home?”
“No one, alta,” Colbrin answered. “Altans Meppe and Idaglio are in Dockwall on business, and Alta Renata is out as well.”
“Where did she go?”
The majordomo bowed in apology. “I’m afraid I don’t know. Tess keeps Alta Renata’s calendar, but she has also gone out.”
Giuna pursed her lips. It was almost like dealing with Leato again—a thought that would always carry a sad sting. Renata didn’t come home pretending to be drunk, and so far as Giuna knew she wasn’t climbing through her bedroom window at night, but she was constantly out, often with no information on where she’d gone. She’s still not used to being part of a family. A proper one, not whatever thin mockery Letilia had given her.
So it would be lunch alone. Giuna headed for the kitchen. In most noble households it was a scandal and a disturbance when one of the family showed up in that sacred precinct, but House Traementis had lost concern for such niceties when they dwindled. In every season but summer, the cook was used to making a tray for Giuna to eat while she read in the corner nearest the oven.
When she entered, though, she found a disturbance already underway. One of Captain Serrado’s constables was there—the handsome one. Pavlin Ranieri, that was his name. He wore ordinary clothing and a look of utter distress.
“—outside and look; you’ll see. Unless you sent one of your kitchen maids out there to slaughter a chicken?”
The bitter desperation in his voice brought Giuna alert. “What’s going on here?”
The cook sighed. “My apologies, alta. This man is Tess’s fellow, and he’s distraught because she didn’t meet him as promised—”
“And because there’s blood outside!” Pavlin shouted. Then he dragged his voice down with visible effort. “Alta Giuna, may—may I speak with you privately?”
“Show me this blood,” she said. “The rest of you stay here.”
The back lane was foreign territory to her, but she immediately saw the rusted spatters on the stone. Not enough to be serious, thank the Lumen. “Yes, I see. What is it you wanted to say, Constable?”
He wrung his hands. “It’s your maid, Suilis. Tess told me she’d been snooping around, asking lots of questions, poking in Renata’s room—that sort of thing. She asked me to look into her. I mean Tess asked—”
Giuna laid a calming hand on his shoulder. “I understand. Did you find anything?”
“She’s one of the Oyster Crackers,” Pavlin said, then swallowed the rest of his explanation when Giuna’s lips parted in recognition. “And—I’m so sorry for saying this, alta. But Suilis has worked more than once for Sibiliat Acrenix.”
Giuna kicked the canal wall, and then had to sit down on it when pain shot up her leg. She’d hoped that Sibiliat might take her threat seriously—at least seriously enough to
give her pause before she tangled with Renata. Again.
Instead, Giuna’s public rejection might have driven Sibiliat to tangle harder.
But why Tess? Did Sibiliat think she could get at Renata’s secrets that way? Tess might know them, but she would never spill them. The bond between those two went well past an alta and her maid.
Unless Sibiliat, in her frustration, took extreme measures to make Tess talk.
Giuna shot back to her feet. “Constable, I’d like to exercise my right as a noblewoman to request Vigil help.”
Pavlin’s expression crumpled like wet paper in rain. “I’m not a constable anymore. The captain and I—I mean, Grey and I, Master Serrado and I—we quit. A lot of people did, because of what’s been going on there.”
She’d heard bits of that from Nencoral. Not enough to put the whole picture together, but enough to realize that if the people she trusted were no longer hawks, she couldn’t rely on the Vigil to help. Not if Suilis might be working for Sibiliat.
Besides, what if Tess didn’t have that much time?
“You don’t know where Renata is, do you?” she asked. Pavlin shook his head despairingly. “Then it’s up to us.”
Her determination was a facade over uncertainty and fear, but it had the effect of straightening Pavlin’s spine. “I know where the Oyster Cracker base is,” he said. “I don’t know if Tess is there, but—we could try.”
“I’ll get Meatball. Suilis was always afraid of him. And—” Giuna stopped helplessly. Once they found Tess, whether among the Oyster Crackers or not, what then?
Pavlin hesitated, visibly biting down on an idea. Then he said, “Will you protect me, when this is all done?”
“Of course! Why?”
He headed for the kitchen door with ground-eating strides. “Because Tess was making me a coat.”
Eastbridge, Upper Bank: Canilun 18
The bag over Tess’s head left her eyes gritty and her nose stuffed with snot. The men dumped her in a corner of some building with only creaking floorboards and muffled conversations for company. And a temple clock, so close it made her own temples pound as it rang seventh sun and then the bells that followed. Leaving her to let fear soften her, Tess reckoned.
By the time someone saw fit to pull off the burlap sack, Tess’s mouth tasted of sawdust and stewed fury. Scrunching her eyes shut against the grit, she spat to one side and coughed up the phlegm that had been building in her throat.
When her eyes cleared, she took in her dimly lit surroundings. She’d never seen the room before, but it was familiar nonetheless. Ondrakja had been fond of keeping luxuries she liked or that couldn’t be fenced, and it seemed the Oyster Crackers were no different. The carpet covering most of the floor was as fine as anything Ommainit could produce, if you ignored the three conspicuous burns scorching the pattern. A teak bathing screen carved in the Isarnah style hid what was probably the closestool in the corner opposite Tess, while lightstones in lanterns of cut tin and colored glass limned the furnishings in an amber haze. At the far end of the room, stairs spiraled up toward what Tess assumed was the clock tower, and down toward what she hoped was escape.
She lifted her chin to glare at Suilis.
“Here’s how it’s going to be,” Suilis said, straddling a stool just out of kicking range. The bright shell of her usual cheerful facade had cracked into a cynical half smile. “We’re done playing around. You’re going to tell me where your mistress hides her best jewelry. Not the usual stuff, but the things she really wants to protect. I’ll keep you overnight, and if I find what I’m looking for, you’ll walk out tomorrow morning with nothing worse than a night of lost sleep—and you’ll forget we had this conversation. Understand?”
Tess dropped her gaze as though cowed. Jewelry? That was what this was about? No, Suilis was looking for something specific. Which meant Sibiliat was looking for something specific. Which meant that family heirloom she’d been asking after—the one Ren lost months ago.
Would Suilis believe the truth? If she’d gone to these lengths, it meant either she was lying about letting Tess go, or she’d given up returning to her role as a maid. This was the last act of a desperate woman.
Tess wasn’t Ren, but she’d been a Finger long enough to know that desperation meant leverage. You just needed to show you were strong enough to use it.
“I’ve a counterproposal for you,” Tess said, raising her head and straightening her shoulders. She couldn’t look intimidating, but sometimes it was enough to show you weren’t afraid. “You tell me what Sibiliat Acrenix wants with an old lump of bronze, and my alta will cut you free of whatever leash they’re using to make you their dog.”
She let that thread spool out long enough to catch Suilis’s curiosity, then came in with her needle. “And I don’t tell Vargo where the Oyster Crackers lodge these days. Seems to me he’s always looking to catch another knot in his web.”
Suilis recoiled so hard, her stool toppled with a clatter. “You don’t know anything to tell.”
“Isla Cospicho.” Tess cocked her head as though listening. “Inside the Eastbridge Quaratium, sounds like. How does your knot sleep at night with these blasted bells going off all the time?”
“Wax in our ears,” said a woman coming up the spiral stairs, followed by the two bullies that had jumped Tess. “Though we use our nights for things other than sleeping. I thought you said you’d take care of this?” That last was addressed to Suilis.
Suilis scowled. “I am taking care of it. I thought you said you’d leave me to it.”
The woman shrugged one-shouldered and approached Tess. “Sounded like your harmless little maid has some fire in—Tess?”
What the room’s shadows and eight years’ time had obscured, the burn searing the woman’s cheek and temple unveiled. Tess was still a pinkie when Ondrakja shoved a boy’s face into the coals for cutting himself out of the knot, but it wasn’t something any of the Fingers soon forgot.
“Es—” Tess swallowed the name, not certain it fit any longer.
“Esmierka now,” the woman said with a wry smile.
“Esmierka.” Tess let her own smile bloom into a laugh. “Maiden’s knickers, Sedge never said you’d made it into the Oyster Crackers.” Though it wasn’t surprising. It was the dream of many Fingers, and Esmierka had a knack for breaking numinata.
“Little Sedge? He still kicking? What’s he up to?”
“Fog Spiders, under Vargo. Finally grew into his shoulders, to hear some tell it.” Tess shot a sidelong glance at Suilis.
Who scowled back before snapping at her knot-mate, “You know her?”
“Tied together in the Fingers.” Esmierka righted Suilis’s stool and took it for herself. It was too short for her long limbs, but she paid that little mind, folding up in sharp angles. “You the one who knifed Pito?” She jerked her head back at one of the men—the one bearing a bandaged forearm and a scowl.
Tess lifted her chin. Esmierka might seem friendly enough, but the Fingers were years in their past. Tess had shucked one of her fellow Oysters, and only one person could forgive that. “You the boss?”
A shake of Esmierka’s head killed that hope. “The boss sent me to deal with this.” Her unflinching gaze took in Suilis as well as Tess. “Been going on too long with nothing gained. Time to set it to rest.”
“But my brother—” Suilis’s voice cracked. She looked off at the Isarnah screen, but not before Tess caught sight of tears.
Sighing, Esmierka turned to Tess. “You know the piece the Acrenix are looking for?” At Tess’s nod, she asked, “You know where it is so we can swipe it? Or maybe you can just swipe it for us?”
Tess hesitated. A lie would free her, but Suilis’s desperation gave her pause. This wasn’t a usual lift for the Oysters. “The Acrenix have your brother?” she asked Suilis.
For a heartbeat she thought Suilis wouldn’t answer. Then, in a voice frayed almost to breaking, Suilis said, “He’s being held in one of the prison hulks. Due to be s
old in Ommainit. They said they’d get him freed if I get them what they want.”
Tess’s relieved giggle earned a glare. She would have waved it off if her hands weren’t still tied. “Sorry, but that’s easy as anything to take care of. My alta can do it better than the Acrenix can. And I’ll see she does—if you let me go and tell me why Sibiliat wants that pendant so much.”
“I don’t know why.”
“Then find out. You can—”
A pounding from below and a muffled shout of “Open for the Vigil!” made Tess groan. Everyone in the room went tense and wary.
“This is what the boss was afraid of,” Esmierka hissed at Suilis.
“The Vigil answers to Caerulet. They can’t—”
“Caerulet’s already lost his patience. Isn’t that why you bagged Tess? Come on.” Esmierka drew a knife to cut Tess’s bonds. “Lie for us, and I’ll make sure you walk out of here.”
Like Tess wanted to tell the truth to any hawks, after what happened with Pavlin and Captain Serrado. She nodded, and with Esmierka following, she went downstairs to the back entrance of the Quaratium.
When the door opened, it was hard to tell who was more surprised: herself, or Pavlin and Giuna. They gaped at her; she gaped at them; Esmierka stared at them all—and then got knocked against the wall as Pavlin charged forward.
“No, don’t!” Tess grabbed him by the back of his coat. The coat she’d been sewing for him, and didn’t that make sense; of course he’d pretend to still be a hawk in order to rescue her.
There’ll be time for swooning later, she told herself sternly.
“Tess, you’re all right!” Giuna almost let go of Meatball’s leash, then clutched it tight again to keep him from charging into the fray Tess was trying to prevent. Over his barking, Giuna said, “We thought—”
Tess had missed her meeting with Pavlin. They must have found the signs of her struggle. “I know,” Tess said. “It’s all right, though. Well, it didn’t start that way, but it is now. I was just about to make a deal with—” She caught herself short of saying Esmierka’s name. Though whether that mattered, them having come to the Oyster Crackers’ hideout and all, who knew.
The Liar's Knot Page 61