“Yes, let’s do that,” said Tristanne.
Haid rounded on her. “Come now, Tristanne. You know that—”
“I know that you made me teach her how to pick a lock,” said Tristanne, pointing at Sefoni. “So, I know you don’t need me yet, not until the last day. Isn’t that what you said?”
Haid sighed. “Fine. Go sightseeing. What the blaze do I care?”
So, they did, right after they went to their inn. Haid had engaged an entire wing for them, containing six bedrooms. They’d discussed it, however, and both the couples said they’d be happiest sharing a room, so Haid and Sefoni would have one room, Pairce and Cadon another, and then Tristanne and Mairli would each have their own rooms. The final rooms would be used by servants that both Haid and Tristanne had seen fit to bring along. The rooms opened onto a vast sitting area, carpeted in deep blue. It was outfitted in creamy couches and chairs. There was a jeweled chandelier that hung from the center of the room.
Cadon had stayed in rooms this luxurious and more when visiting Rzymn, but Pairce had not, and he was gratified to watch her darting about the place, looking at everything, running her fingers over the fine furniture and the silken bedspread in their room.
Then they all went out into Rzymn, Tristanne eager and practically leading the way, only deferring to Cadon when it seemed obvious she had no idea where she was going. Mairli came along too, but she was silent and stayed to the back. Only a few comments here and there let Cadon know that she’d visited Rzymn herself.
He inquired about it, and she spoke in a halting voice. “Yes, I’m the daughter of a cownt. My father was the Cownt of Nottimen.” She lifted her chin as she said it, as if the name should have some significance to him.
And then he remembered the story. The cownt who’d gone mad and sent his daughters to murder the sons of a rival. One had managed it, and she’d been hung on the spot, but one hadn’t been successful. They’d been sent to the sons’ beds, and it was said that the surviving daughter had been too pleased with the ministrations of the son—Jacx Sair, he believed—to go through with the deed. But that didn’t make sense. He glanced at Tristanne and then back at Mairli. “Pairce says that the two of you are…?”
“That’s your response?” said Mairli, who was smiling for the first time since they’d gotten on the boat to Rzymn, near as Cadon could tell.
“Well, it seems implausible that you were so taken by the amorous advances of Jacx Sair that you didn’t kill him when you prefer women in your bed. So, something about that story doesn’t ring true.”
Mairli laughed.
He was surprised, but then he laughed too. He waited for her to say more, but she didn’t. “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I suppose it’s not something you like to talk about.”
“I don’t care,” said Mairli. “I used to try to hide it, but I’ve realized it doesn’t matter.”
Ahead of them, Tristanne, who’d gone rather silent during this exchange, turned back to look at them sharply.
Mairli raised her eyebrows at Tristanne, as if daring the other woman to say something.
Tristanne hesitated.
Pairce didn’t even seem to be paying attention to them. She was gazing up at a high tower that stretched toward the sky. It was composed of gleaming, polished white stone.
“The truth is,” said Mairli, “it was Tristanne in that bed, not Jacx Sair. She did a stint where she was working as a guard for the Cownt of Loth, and Jacx Sair liked to play cards with the guards. Apparently, he thought it was great fun to bet them things like a night in his bedchamber. Tristanne won, because she’s brilliant with cards, and so when I came in to kill Jacx, it was her.”
“Oh,” said Cadon, thinking that through. “So, is that how the two of you met?”
Mairli nodded.
“That’s almost as bad as Pairce and me.”
“How did you and Pairce meet?” said Mairli.
Cadon felt himself blush.
“Oh,” said Mairli. “I actually know this.” She cleared her throat. She was blushing too. “Apologies.”
“It’s all right,” said Cadon.
“It is,” said Mairli. “I thought it was very important, what people thought of me, my reputation. It’s not, though.”
“Well, I think very highly of all three of you,” said Cadon. “You helped rescue me. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”
Pairce was back, taking his hand. “What is that tower?”
“I…” He glanced at it. “I can’t be sure, but it’s something to do with the Order of the Flamme, assuredly.”
“What are you talking about?” said Pairce.
“I was just telling Cadon that I’m a disgraced member of the aristocracy,” said Mairli. “A woman with no reputation and no prospects, and it’s not nearly as terrifying to face that as I thought it would be.”
“Everyone’s a disgraced member of the aristocracy but me!” said Pairce.
“And Tristanne,” said Cadon, gesturing to her.
“I’m married, though,” said Tristanne.
“What?” said Pairce. “To a man?”
“I thought he was going to divorce you,” said Mairli.
“He’s too lily-livered for it,” said Tristanne. “He’s afraid he’ll burn in the blazes if he goes against its will.” She shrugged.
“I’m the only person without some sort of wretched secret past,” said Pairce, shaking her head.
“I don’t have a secret past,” said Cadon.
“You have a wretched past, though,” said Pairce.
“So do you,” said Cadon. “It’s like you’re always saying, it’s a bad world. So, let’s go get some jilato.”
Mairli laughed. “A good plan. I’m not convinced there’s a problem that jilato can’t—well, if not fix, at least alleviate somewhat.”
“What’s jilato?” said Tristanne.
They had to board a boat to get to the little shop that Cadon knew about, but the journey was approved of by all of the women, especially Tristanne, who couldn’t seem to stop making excited exclamations about everything from the oars to the man who stood at the front and steered with them.
Pairce wasn’t as vocal, but she beamed at him, a perpetual smile playing on her lips. He couldn’t help but enjoy her this way, because she seemed so free and happy, and they hadn’t had enough of that in their time together. Even these past months, though they had not been occupied often with danger or strife, had been consumed with the impending Rzymn job hanging over their heads.
Pairce’s house, where they lived, belonged to Haid, and this rankled Cadon in a way that Pairce said was ridiculous but didn’t feel ridiculous to him. Haid was everywhere. Everything was about Haid.
Perhaps Haid had never been in Pairce’s bed, but that didn’t mean that Haid wasn’t omnipresent in Pairce’s life. And it wasn’t that Cadon was jealous, not exactly, it was only…
He wasn’t sure he trusted Haid.
It was as Pairce had pointed out, the man was mad. Perhaps he had every right to be. After all, he’d watched his entire family slaughtered in front of him by his own father, and Cadon supposed such things left their scars upon a man’s soul, but…
Well, he’d be happy when they weren’t dependent on him anymore.
Now, however, in the spring sun and the city of Rzymn, it was like all that had faded away. And now the job was so close that it was no longer weighing on him like dread, but licking at his heels like excitement.
They were ready.
They had practiced and drilled, day after day.
All around him, he felt as if the air was full of something, as if the scenery knew what was to come and that it was building itself up along with his own enthusiasm.
They ate jilato out of edible cups made of some spun sweet concoction, and Cadon wasn’t sure if the cups weren’t as delicious as the jilato itself, which always seemed to melt into his tongue in a sugar sweet coldness that felt as if it had been made by magic itself.
Tristanne was quite taken with jilato. She made such moaning noises of delight that he began to wonder if she should have her privacy with the dessert.
Pairce thought it was wonderful as well.
They walked along the bridges and wooden walkways, which were up on stilts, surrounded by water, which reflected back the sun, and the air was full of salt and promise.
It was a good day.
HAID WANTED TO pace or fidget or do something, and he couldn’t afford to, because it would betray his nerves, and he needed to appear aloof and unconcerned.
He leaned against the wall in Madigain’s ballroom, casual, his expression blank, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off the tiara.
The tiara was on display in the middle of the ballroom, up on a dais made of polished marble, encased in glass. The glass was locked with a bejeweled padlock, which wasn’t obvious to the casual observer, but Haid knew it was there. He couldn’t see it from this angle, but if he walked around the room, it would come into view.
The tiara looked as lovely as it had ever looked. It was made of tiny strands of white gold, beaten and flattened and braided as if they were strands of a goddess’s hair. It was set with emeralds and diamonds. It was delicate and glittering and perfect.
He could walk up to that display case and put his fingers on the glass.
He could be inches from it.
Of course, he didn’t dare do that.
Madigain didn’t know what he wanted, didn’t know what this was even about, and Haid had taken pains to conceal that from him. He would not ruin that, even though part of him itched when he looked at the tiara, even though part of him longed to get closer to it.
The ballroom was set up with a vast seating area for people to come and watch the games. The seats were set up on a set of risers that had been brought in, and they curved in a semicircle around the far wall, so that the audience in the back row was up high enough to see over the heads of those in the front row.
The players were set up at tables in front of the tiara, shanj boards between them, settled in comfortable chairs with padded seats and high backs.
Games were being played today, two at a time. There were eight players now, and only four would emerge triumphant. There would be two games tomorrow, and then on the last day, there would be one game between the two finalists.
These two would be Madigain and Sefoni.
Of this, there was no doubt, because of the other players that Haid had managed to get into the finals here. None of them were any match for either Madigain or Sefoni. None of them would have made it thus far if he and Sefoni had not strategically thrown shanj games.
But their lack of skill was not their most important attribute. No, what mattered was that none of them were wont to practice.
Four of them did not because they were drunkards and spent most of their free time away from the shanj boards pursuing whiskey or bourbon.
Two of them were of the mind that their genius came from some ephemeral place outside of them and that they must simply challenge it, not prepare for it. Their success in the tournament had cemented their ideas, even though it was only because of Haid’s interference that they had done so well at all.
Haid was not supposed to be looking at the tiara. He was supposed to be watching Madigain, because Madigain was playing right then. Sefoni was playing also, but he wasn’t worried about her. She needed to win, and that was all there was to it. She could do that easily enough. He didn’t need to be concerned about her.
It was Madigain he needed to watch.
It didn’t truly matter, Haid supposed, if Madigain lost the shanj game against Sefoni on the final day. It was only important that he was engaged in the game when the activity of the others began. He couldn’t have Madigain free to wander, for instance, to go and investigate the disturbance Cadon and Pairce would be causing.
But Haid wanted him to lose, and there was some anxiety within him that Madigain would have employed all the information he’d gathered on Sefoni’s playing to mount some awful offense that Sefoni would be unprepared for.
So, if Haid could gather any intelligence on the man now, he should be doing it.
Instead, he kept looking at the blazing tiara.
Someone was going to notice his looking at it and guess the entire purpose of his trip to Rzymn. It wasn’t as if Madigain didn’t already expect him to be attempting to steal from him after all. He simply didn’t know what he was stealing or when or where.
Do not give it all away, he said to himself, forcing his gaze to Madigain’s shanj table.
Just in time to watch Madigain snatching up his opponent’s regx, a gleam in his eye.
The announcer crowed out the result, that Madigain had won the game and that he would advance to the next level.
Haid’s gaze flicked to Sefoni’s table, but it was empty.
He furrowed his brow, and then he realized that Sefoni’s name was already posted on the board across the room, written in flowing script in chalk as one of the four who would advance on. He’d been so distracted by the tiara he’d missed her being declared the winner.
He looked about for her and caught sight of her with a glass of sparkling wine.
Madigain was approaching her.
Haid pushed off the wall and started for the both of them.
Sefoni was all smiles, as was Madigain.
Haid was too far away to hear them speak, but he saw Sefoni throwing back her head and laughing as if Madigain had said something truly hilarious.
When got closer, they were shaking hands.
“I think it will come down to me and you,” Madigain was saying. “And I am looking forward to it.”
Haid stopped next to his wife.
Madigain turned on him. “Darain. Always a pleasure.”
Haid forced himself to smile. “A pleasure indeed, Madigain.”
Madigain’s smile deepened. “I do hope you get the chance to meet some of the locals here in Rzymn. I live here, you know. You are only a visitor, so you might enjoy making their acquaintance.”
“Having a home here that you visit for a week or two every few months hardly qualifies as living here,” said Haid.
“Well, you are clever, Darain, but you do not know Rzymn, not as I do, even if I do only reside here a handful of weeks of every year.” Madigain nodded. “Enjoy your time here.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“WHAT WAS THAT all about?” said Sefoni as they climbed the stairs to their private wing in the inn. She was tired, and her shanj game had been a bit of a joke. She could have won it in less than four moves, but she’d let it drag out a bit simply for the sake of appearances. It wasn’t the game which had tired her but rather the journey. They had been meant to arrive the day before, but delays on the seas had kept them from it. “Why did he go on about living here?”
“I haven’t any idea,” said Haid.
“Well, I think he’s planning something,” said Sefoni.
“Let him,” said Haid. “I have the utmost confidence we’ll pull this all off, regardless of whatever he thinks to do in order to interfere. I already know about the extra men he’s put on the vault, and we had planned for that. We are prepared.”
Sefoni stifled a yawn. “I hope so.” They’d had word that Pairce, Cadon, Tristanne, and Mairli had chosen to dine at a restaurant in the midst of the city which afforded them views of the water, but she and Haid were simply going to eat in their rooms. She was too tired to do anything else.
Besides, she needed to go back later on that evening, after the dinner hour, to practice in the ballroom. As one of the four winners, she would be playing a single game tomorrow, and she had already been assigned her board. She was permitted to practice for one hour this evening on that precise board, and it was imperative they take advantage of that.
If only she weren’t so blazing tired.
She yawned again.
Haid pushed open the door to their wing, and immediately, Sefoni knew somethi
ng was wrong.
She must have seen something out of the corner of her eye. She didn’t know. At first, what came into view was their sitting room, and it appeared empty, but she knew it wasn’t.
She pivoted, almost on instinct, and there was a man lounging against the wall. He was wearing a leather mask over his face and he was swathed in a floor-length cape. He was smirking.
Haid went for his sword, at his waist.
“Don’t,” said a female voice.
She appeared from behind one of the higher backed chairs on the other side of the room, a pistol in each of her hands. She also wore a long cape. Beneath it, she wore skirts, but she had a man’s jacket and waistcoat tailored to her curves. There was a neckbow at her throat, complete with a jeweled bowtack that resembled the crests that the deuxes wore in Briganne.
This woman’s dress marked her as someone of note, but the fact that she used pistols, well, that was highly irregular.
“If you don’t mind, hand that sword over?” said the smirking man, holding out his hand.
Haid glanced at Sefoni.
She could see that he was thinking through the consequences of her using living flame to burn these two people to death, whoever it was they might be. How it might cause damage to the room, how they wouldn’t be able to hide it, and how it might draw the attention of either the criminal underbelly of Rzymn or the Order, and how they didn’t need that trouble.
He gave his head a slight shake.
She nodded to say that she both understood and agreed.
Haid pulled out his sword and proffered it to the man, hilt first. “There you go. I have to say this is a somewhat threatening manner of introduction. I’d also be curious as to how you got into our rooms?”
“And where are the servants?” said Sefoni, who was worried for her maid. She’d be petrified by that masked man.
“Well, we should introduce ourselves first,” said the masked man. “My name is Chevolere Vox. They call me the Beast of the Barrens. I don’t imagine you’ve heard of me, just as I had never heard of the Lord of the Dead, Haid Vortinen. We do live on opposite sides of the realm, after all.”
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