For four days, Tillie had gone to the Botathora Sanctum hoping to hear of the Bone Priestess’s return. But for four days, she had heard nothing. She’d started to wonder if the woman was avoiding her.

  No, Tillie thought. Lady Cadence is much too straightforward for that.

  It was getting late. Rowan would be coming home from the schoolhouse soon. Just as she was about to give up for another day, however, Tillie caught sight of a tall black hat.

  “Lady Cadence!”

  She’d blurted it out without even realizing it as she flew through the trees and into the city to meet her. Cadence didn’t startle at all. Calmly she turned to look Tillie in the eyes.

  “Missus Boyce.”

  “What took you so long to come back? Did Dane do it? Did he do something?”

  Cadence raised an eyebrow. “Missus Boyce, do you not have somewhere else to be?”

  Tillie choked on words as she followed Cadence back through the trees and to the walkway leading to the Sanctum. “What? No, not really. Not yet. Rowan will play outside with his friends, probably, till it’s time for dinner and homework.”

  “Then I suggest you go home and you deal with that. This investigation is not open to the public.”

  “Surely you can share your findings with me!” Tillie said. “I was the one who tipped you off!”

  “Please, Missus Boyce, go home. I have work to do.”

  Tillie threw her hands out. “Well, what about Dane Sheltier? What’s going to happen to him? Can you tell me that?”

  Cadence got a few steps ahead of her. “Nothing. He checks out. The only crimes he’s committed are in Vaskio, so his fate is out of my hands.”

  “You can’t be serious!” Tillie chased after her. “There’s no way everything is just coincidental. Something else will turn up! It has to!”

  Cadence breathed in deep and turned around. She stood high up on the walkway that climbed toward the Sanctum and stared down at Tillie.

  “The only lead I have left is the Physician’s College, Missus Boyce. After that, if I find nothing, I will have to drop this case and chalk it up to a well-meaning mother’s overactive imagination.”

  “Oh!” She clutched at her skirts with trembling fists. “It is not overactive!”

  “Thank you for your concerns,” Cadence tipped her hat and turned back toward her hike. “This is farewell, Missus Boyce.”

  “Wait!” Tillie chased her again. “How will you approach this part of your investigation?”

  “What does that mean? I will go to Lord Deloren and I will ask him questions.”

  The Sanctum came into view as they continued along the path, passing through patches of sunlight streaming in through the trees. The entrance was marked by tall columns linked in a circle with peaked arches. Each column depicted a different form of Botathora—she was shown as the weaver with her spool and thread, as Death with her black shroud and silver curls cascading from a skeletal face, as Mother Time holding an hourglass in one hand and her child the Moon Goddess in the other, and other interpretations from around the world.

  “You can’t just walk in there with your interrogation, my lady. That’s not how it works, not there! They’re very tight-lipped and secretive to strangers, especially Lord Deloren. I’m afraid you’ll have to be a bit more personable to get your answers out of them.”

  “I do not need your advice.”

  Tillie was suddenly terrified for Cadence. She could picture it crystal clear: the woman marching in as she always did, throwing around her sour face to be intimidating only to be shut down by a group of equally stubborn old men.

  Aside from the columns and arches to distinguish the place, the Sanctum was a somber building. Appropriately it looked like a multi-storied stone mausoleum, just without the charm. Tillie had always wondered what exactly went on inside. She knew about the death ceremony and the Rite of Crossing—some people preferred one over the other and the only real difference seemed to be formality—and she knew that Botathoran initiates were all trained to perform it. But there was so much more to the Death Goddess and her followers.

  The Time Mages. The Bone Priests and Priestesses. The Weavers. Tillie had only ever heard about them in whispers. Her curiosity kept her stuck to Cadence’s side.

  “But I could help, my lady.”

  They stood by a thick wood and iron door that towered above them. Cadence did not go in.

  “You could help. By staying out of it.”

  “No.” Tillie shook her head. “You need an in. There’s no way Lord Deloren will warm up to you. But he’ll warm up to me. He knows me. I could almost say we’re friends.”

  Just when she thought Cadence would say ‘no’ again, the woman stayed quiet. She studied Tillie’s face as she thought.

  “You seem like the kind of person who will get carried away,” Cadence said. “I work better alone. But if I need you to secure this suspect for questioning, you must let me do the talking.”

  “We will not be securing a suspect for questioning!” But Tillie was all smiles as she shouted. “We’re visiting with good news and having a good chat. That’s all. You’ll have to sneak your questions into a normal conversation, if you’ve ever had one of those before. Can you do that?”

  Cadence’s mouth was a flat line. “Of course.”

  “Wonderful!” Tillie clasped her hands together and shook them. “Oh this will be great, Cadence de la Croix, I promise! Come by my place tonight and we will devise a plan!”

  The next night at seven o’clock, Tillie slipped into the most immodest dress she owned. It was perfectly appropriate for a summer night out. Sleeveless with a neckline that hid what she wanted while still showing off her décolletage, and a bodice decorated with black floral lace. She smoothed out her yellow skirts, then took a brush to her fly-aways.

  “How’s my hair look, baby?”

  Rowan, who also looked sharp in a clean black tunic, folded his arms and nodded. “Looks great, ma.”

  “Oh good. Alright, we’ve got fifteen minutes before Lady Cadence gets here and I have a feeling she isn’t going to be one second late.”

  “Do I look okay?”

  She wiped a smudge of dust off his cheek. “Perfect! Are you sure you want to go with us tonight? I wish you’d stay over at your friend’s.”

  “You need me to sell your act!” Rowan grinned. “Right?”

  “Right.” She pinched his cheek.

  At seven fifteen, Cadence de la Croix knocked on the door and Tillie wasn’t sure what she should have expected. There definitely was not a drop-dead gorgeous vixen under Cadence’s usual black coat.

  “You look uncomfortable,” Tillie told her. “Come in.”

  Cadence was in a cornflower blue dress that she could barely breathe in. Her arms didn’t quite fit in the short sleeves and her breasts were pushed up so high she’d probably be mistaken for a serving girl. She’d braided her shaggy hair and secured it into a bun with pearl pins, and one silver ring served as jewelry on her right index finger.

  “Did you borrow that from someone?” Tillie asked, gesturing at the dress as she ushered her in.

  “No.” Cadence glared at her and they went to the kitchen. “It’s mine. Haven’t worn it in fourteen years, though.” Her hands clenched tufts of skirts with a white-knuckled grip.

  “Do you like it?”

  “Hate it now. Hated it then, too.”

  Tillie sighed. “For gods’ sake, Cadence, why did you wear it?”

  “It’s the only dress I have and you said to dress up.”

  “I meant look nice!” She waved her hands in the air. “We’re going to a fancy restaurant! There’s no way you’ll be able to eat a meal in that. You’ll pass out!”

  “Then I won’t eat.”

  Tillie huffed and started to pace. She didn’t notice Rowan leaving to their room, but saw when he came back with clothing in his arms.

  “She looks about as tall as daddy, right Ma?”

  It was silent for a moment and Tillie swallowed hard. Rowan was beaming. She took a collared black tunic with a deep neckline from him and held it against Cadence’s torso.

  “She does.” Tillie smiled and sniffled. “Got his shoulders, too.”

  “Missus Boyce, I cannot wear your dead husband’s clothes.”

  “You can and you will.” Tillie shoved the shirt into Cadence’s hands. “Because there’s no way you can wear that dress. Go to the bedroom and change and I’ll fill you in on our story.”

  By eight thirty, Tillie, Rowan, and Cadence were about the starlit city at a restaurant called The Plaid Bonnet. The only parts of her outfit Cadence hadn’t replaced were her ring, the fancy heeled boots, and the pins in her hair—everything else was from Galen Boyce’s closet. Brown trousers, a tucked-in black tunic, and a black and tan gingham coat paired perfectly with Tillie and Rowan’s attire. Together they waited outside on the stoop for Lord Deloren of the Physician’s College’s Anatomy Wing.

  It was Cadence’s first time meeting him. His standing in the community was marked by a quality cloak despite the heat and an amber cane in the shape of a very specific species of hooded snake with venom that was rumored to cure terrible ailments. She figured him for a man with many grandchildren as he was old and in good spirits. But there was power in the way he stood. He was strong and lean and had many rich years of life ahead of him despite a slight limp.

  “My goodness, if it isn’t Missus Tillie Boyce and little Rowan!”

  Cadence saw the warmth in his eyes, but she did not like the shape of his smile. It was sharp.

  “Lord Deloren!” Tillie gave him a quick hug. “It has been so long since I’ve been able to see you, much less chat and have dinner!”

  He patted Rowan on the shoulder and regarded Cadence with an awkward nod. “You said there was a special occasion?”

  “Yes!” Tillie mirrored him and patted Cadence’s shoulder. “I’ve asked you out to dine with us to celebrate! You see, I’ve recently discovered I have a half-sister. This is Miss Candice Oliver! She reached out to me after our father—whom I have never met—passed away. She came in from Pitfight Valley, which as you know is only the next town over from Riddenholm. We’ve been writing each other nonstop ever since, and after the story of Galen’s death she has been moved to make a donation of her very own to the Anatomy Wing!”

  “My!” He took Cadence’s hand and shook it. “What good fortune to have found agreeable new family! Rarely does it ever turn out that way. Shall we go in and be seated?”

  Tillie couldn’t contain her grins and went up the steps and to the front doors. “Yes. I’m famished!”

  The Plaid Bonnet was full of class and merriment. Bright light from hanging lanterns shone off polished mahogany tabletops. Every waiter and bartender smiled and wore a plaid bonnet, regardless of gender. The floors were clean, and all the plaid seat cushions were free of rips and tears. Tillie took a peek at the bar and only saw expensive bottles. It left her breathless.

  “I’m suddenly not so sure I can afford this,” she said.

  “Cut that out,” Cadence whispered. “I told you I was going to handle it.”

  “Yes, but this was my idea, I—”

  “Ladies!” Lord Deloren beckoned them to a table where Rowan was already seated. “Please, allow me to get the bill tonight. Order whatever you want. Miss Oliver, your sister and her son are like family to me. I insist.”

  Cadence nodded. “If that is what you wish, my lord, I shall not fuss.”

  They were seated in a quiet corner with a good view of the whole restaurant. They saw the city outside through the windows and they saw the waiters coming by with glass goblets of foreign wines. Tillie let out a dreamy sigh.

  “I bet this is a nice place to work,” she said. “I miss restoring books, too.”

  Lord Deloren perused a handwritten menu of the daily specials. “What about you, Miss Oliver? What do you do in Pitfight Valley?”

  “I’m a hunter.”

  She watched goosebumps crawl up his neck.

  “A fine profession if you’ve the skill and the knowledge. Rabbit? Pheasant? Duck, perhaps?”

  “Elk. I supply a generous portion of Pitfight Valley’s venison. You ever have the Valley’s venison sausage, Lord Deloren?”

  “I can’t say I’ve ever been to Pitfight Valley.”

  “A pity. If you get the chance, ask for Candice Oliver’s meat. You’ll want my meat.”

  He cleared his throat. “I’m going to get us a bottle of wine and some service. Take a gander at the menu, won’t you?”

  He got up from his seat and Tillie swatted Cadence’s arm. “Will you stop being so aggressive?”

  “Will you hurry up and ask him what we came here to ask him?”

  “Don’t rush it!”

  Cadence didn’t care about the menu and let Tillie help Rowan pick something out. They’d be feasting on river shellfish soon and Cadence could take full control of the evening. She looked at all the people she didn’t know, wondering how many of them Tillie was friends with.

  She did recognize a pair just walking out, however.

  “Missus Boyce, are you familiar with the Tano family in Riddenholm?”

  Tillie shrugged. “Not really. They’ve been around since before my mother came to town. Maybe even before the Tutsons. They seem nice enough, but they’ve never wanted anything to do with me. Galen said they’re an elitist family of mages.”

  “Master Tano and his brother were just here. They’re about the only people from that town I know, and it is only because their reputation precedes them. The elitist mage one.”

  Tillie grinned. “Well, this is the fanciest place around for miles and miles.” She flipped the menu over. “Oh, bless the lords, they have dessert! Hot blackberry cobbler!”

  Cadence ignored her and went back to studying the crowd. She found Lord Deloren and his amber snake cane at the bar picking out wine. And four barstools down was Dane Sheltier.

  “Oh hell!” She pointed to him. “Would you look at that!”

  “Is that that good-for-nothing grave warden you said you spoke to?” Tillie asked. “Who’s that old woman he’s with? His mother? A date? If we weren’t already here for Lord Deloren, I’d say we have to talk to him again!”

  “I already told you Missus Boyce, he passed. If the law in Vaskio wants to pursue him down here for his crimes up there, that is their prerogative. But as far as I’m concerned, he’s committed no crime against the Death Goddess and therefore I don’t care where he ends up.”

  “Shouldn’t he be, you know, warding graves?”

  Cadence stiffened. “You’re right. I must confirm that he’s put someone in charge—”

  “Ladies, I’ve returned with an offering!”

  Lord Deloren hobbled back to the table with his cane. A bottle of wine was under his arm and three glasses were awkwardly in his grasp. He set the bottle on the table and showed off the label. It was from a quaint little monkling town in the south where the small humanoid race grew varieties of grapes no one else had ever been able to cultivate. He popped the cork and poured them each a serving of deep orange liquid.

  “Someone will be over in just a minute to take our orders. I’m told the baked clams are just delicious.”

  “I think I’ll have that!” Tillie said. “Rowan and I can share.”

  Cadence saw Lord Deloren’s mouth move again, she assumed to ask her about her own meal preferences, but all she heard was the shatter of glass. People screamed and fled from the windows and two more bricks were thrown, breaking the rest away for people in black wrappings to start jumping in.

  “What the hell is this?” Cadence yelled. She reached for her pistol—Tillie had only let her bring one of the two—and pulled the hammer back, ready to fire.

  But then there were smoke bombs and she could see nothing.

  “Stay low and get to the kitchen!” Cadence told the others. “There’ll be a back door and you can get the hell out of here!”

  Cadence didn’t have anything else with her. She had no way to reload. With one shot, fighting back didn’t seem worth it. And then she changed her mind and swung her fist into the nearest attacker.

  The Plaid Bonnet was a mess. Glassware fell, drinks and food spilled, chairs crashed over. Some people tried to fight back with the fallen furniture, but most crawled through the broken debris on the floor and tried to escape. The smoke stung Cadence’s eyes. She saw Lord Deloren on the ground, unresponsive.

  They had to be a bandit company, she guessed. What were they after? She couldn’t even tell what they were doing as they scattered about the restaurant. Some were fighting with patrons, but Cadence knew there were more around.

  Within minutes, it was over. Suddenly there was no one else left to fight. The bandits were gone, the City Watch had arrived in their blue cloaks, and healers from the Hesperan Hospice were carrying away the wounded. Cadence looked around for Tillie and Rowan.

  “Were there any casualties?” she asked to anyone listening.

  “No ma’am,” a blue cloak said. “Eleven injured that we’ve counted so far. No casualties.”

  Cadence couldn’t even find any of the injured bandits. “I don’t understand. Did they take something? Was anyone robbed?”

  “Too soon to tell, ma’am.”

  Tillie and Rowan emerged from the backside of the restaurant. Smoke poured out from broken windows. Patrons sat on the street, coughing, while the Hesperans tended to their wounds. Cadence came to her with a bold stride.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No, my lady. We’re fine, just a little shaken—”

  “Good. This was a stupid idea!”

  Tillie’s eyes were wide. She couldn’t find words.

  “Are you listening?” Cadence asked. She wiped her forehead. “I can’t believe this. I never should’ve listened to you. I should have done this my way!”

  “How dare you!” Tillie cried. “At a time like this? Have you no tact?”

  “What is the point of tact in my world, Missus Boyce? There isn’t one! All these pleasantries are for you common, romantic folk. I am a dedicant of the—”

 

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