A Conjuring of Assassins, page 22
He grinned. “Certain. If I can see the thing I want well enough, I don’t have to parade through the halls like you did. The harder I work at it, the more direct I can go. When I stole those rubies last year, I walked from the street straight into the illuminator’s chamber.”
He didn’t need me to remind him that the harder he worked at it, the quicker he would deplete his talents—or that rash decisions could have life-changing effects. Those rubies had cost our father his hand.
“All right then.” Using a charred stick that had clearly been used for such before, I sketched the plan of Egerik’s reception chamber in one of the few bare spots on Pix’s wall. I described it in exacting detail as I drew. And then I sketched the shelf under the windows and the glass candle lamps, the brass handbell, and the cloisonné box. Neri recited it all back to me.
“Egerik doesn’t want Baldassar there,” said Placidio when we rejoined him and Dumond. “Wants to buy him off. Buy her, maybe—have his own diviner right alongside his own whatever this Cei is. I’m not sleeping at Dumond’s tonight, so I’ll need you, lad, to fetch my sleeve knife and my boot knife before we meet tomorrow.”
“I will,” said Neri, “and your sword, too, and have it ready to bring to you. I could stay on to help, as well, if the dire comes. But certain, we need a signal, so I’ll know which to do. Maybe an explosion like last time?”
Only Neri’s ferocious exuberance could have sparked smiles in the face of such a mission.
“Going to set you to work on signals,” said Placidio with a quick laugh. “Explosions may be a bit too noticeable. I’ll think on it this afternoon.”
“Moving on to another subject before Neri gets overheated,” said Dumond. “The lad and I had a fruitful exploration. There’s no unguarded crevice within three streets on any side of Palazzo Ignazio, so if you’re being chased out of the house—or need to extract a prisoner—there’s no safe route for you to get free. We came near getting caught more times than I’ve got daughters.”
“But there’s tunnels,” said Neri.
“Aye, and we found that tunnel that goes right between the kitchen house and main house like on the map. Got into it from a cave Neri knew off in the rough. Seems to be well shored up, but we don’t know what’s beyond the kitchen house, nor whether it goes all the way to the palazzo cellars. Looks like a dead end, but we didn’t push our luck. It’s pitch down there and the map shows a maze of tunnels we could get lost in. We’ll need better light than we can make from magic, seeing as how we don’t want to get ourselves too used up to do the more important things. I’m off to fetch my paints and a lantern. We’re going back this afternoon to fix a safe way out for you two and the prisoner if need be.”
“Well done,” I said. “Do the tunnels go beyond the Palazzo Ignazio grounds?”
“The map says we should be able to get all the way to the Merchant Ring. We found where we think it must have come out at one time—a part of the Merchant Ring wall that’s collapsed and been repaired over time. The wall foundation might block that end and be too thick for my simple door magic to penetrate. But I’ve another method might work.”
The metalsmith drained his mug of ale as if girding his loins for battle. “Between now and time for you to go in, certain, I can fix us a trapdoor where you can find it in the ambassador’s kitchen yard for getting down to the tunnel, and another in a good place to exit. It will just take us some time to figure out where. But we did find something more…”
Dumond gestured for Neri to take another turn.
“Bodies!” said Neri. “Corpses … hundreds … thousands of them down there.”
“Plague bones,” said Dumond. “None that’s new.”
“Maybe that’s why Egerik’s got the willies.” Neri’s color was high. “Maybe he has relatives down there. Or he could have hid one under them.”
A tap on the inner door and the cheerful, russet-haired youth poked his head in. “The glass has turned, noble Groaner. You know the rules.”
“Indeed so. Express my thanks to Pix yet again.”
“Fortune’s benefice upon you all.”
“Virtue’s hand, Guide.” Placidio reached for his cane.
“So we have our tasks,” I said. “I hunt more information on what Egerik and Rossi are up to—or ways I can shape a divination to find out. Neri spooks Egerik with playthings. Dumond fixes our way out and maybe finds out if there’s some route between the house and the tunnels, just in case we can’t get out to the garden. And Placidio rests his injuries so Papa Baldassar won’t melt into a puddle because his belly aches.”
“It’s just the cursed rib,” said Placidio, “unless someone sets a lead-weight chest on my gut. Do you all know the olive grove next to the Quartiere di Lustra boundary?”
“It’s where we met before we did our thieving at Palazzo Fermi.” No surprise Neri would remember. That had been the night he first used his magic in a purpose beyond his own desires, a deed of daring and courage.
“That’s it. Be there in the morning an hour before midday. Neri can bring my weapons, and we can all report on our tasks.”
All agreed.
Placidio pushed himself to standing. “The grove’s not so far from Palazzo Ignazio and Egerik,” he said, “yet it’ll not reveal our destination should any of us pick up a follower. I had a sense on our way over here…”
The swordmaster scratched his head, exhaled long and slow, and glanced round at the three of us. “Likely it’s naught but Lady Fortune’s stepchild breathing cold down my neck. Were it not for all of you—I never knew the gift could be offered, as you did. It’s something to add if we were ever to create our own book of lore.”
Neri and Dumond’s faces reflected my own somber understanding. Placidio had just admitted that his wound had been as dangerous as we’d feared. Lady Fortune’s stepchild was Death.
“We’re glad you’re still with us,” I said.
Placidio and Dumond walked out to the alley still confirming details of Egerik’s kitchen yard. Neri hung back as I wiped my needles and returned them to the new bag Dumond had ready for them.
“I don’t like the sound of this Egerik,” he said, “or you going back there with Placidio not at his best.”
“I don’t like it either,” I said. “But even hampered as he is, Placidio has his magic. He’ll sense a move coming, and he understands how to fight when he’s hurt.”
“He should never agree to a duel without referees. He can afford the fees.”
But it wasn’t the cost. We both knew why Placidio agreed to go without referees if the other party was willing. He wanted to be free to use his magic to control the outcome of the duel. The more familiar with Placidio’s fighting, the more likely an observant referee would become suspicious of his uncanny ability.
I flashed a smile at Neri as I tied the needle bag to my belt. “Just think, we might save a thousand lives tomorrow. Then we can go back to scribing and tossing drunkards at the Duck’s Bone. But I wonder…”
Both Egerik and Rossi were so smug. So confident.
“There is something more to all this. It’s been weighing on me since I came back to myself. I just … I have this sense that Egerik is more than a simple conduit of dangerous information, more than a bribe or an extortion attempt waiting to happen so Cinque the spy can go free. I wish I knew what he was.”
I had shoved the feeling aside because the four of us had so much we had to get straight. The fires, the momentary art. Cei. The vacant plinth, adorned with a rose, a knife, and a drop of blood. None of these were accidental. And then there were the reports of salacious activities in Argento. Some connection was lurking in the back of my mind, but I couldn’t put a name to it.
“I know someone who might be able to explain whatever this is that makes Egerik cocky beyond his wealth and position. I hope to find out what that is.”
“I’ll be in that tunnel,” said Neri. “Won’t rest till you’re out. And I’ll come looking if you don’t. Just wish we had some kind of magic to signal when you need help.”
“A magical messenger bird,” I said, as he pulled the Limping Bull’s back door shut. “That would be fine. When we finish this, we’ll work on it. For now, just be there. I’m counting on it.”
As Pix’s lock clicked behind us Neri raced after Dumond, who awaited him at the corner of the alley. Placidio had made it about half that far. I joined him, and we watched Neri disappear around the corner.
“I want to trust him,” I said.
“He’s a good lad.”
“Thanks to you.”
“You gave him a purpose, plus a bit of adventure, which is a fine thing. Did the same for all of us.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I moved on to the mundane. “You’re going to rest until we meet tomorrow, right?”
“I told Dumond to send the kieyu and the bearers home. Thought to go round the corner to the Limping Bull proper. Now don’t get your back up … I’m not going drinking.”
Clearly his eyesight was not impaired.
“Pix has some beds that are better than the back room benches. Thought to sleep a bit. The gut is merely tender, believe it or no. The magic works. Can’t put salts and fire to bone, though, even with the magic, so I’ve no remedy for the rib but time and sleep. I can do what needs done.”
“I need to introduce you to Teo. I’ll swear his broken nose and ankle healed overnight. And no, I’ve not told him about us—or about you. No names. Nothing of any of our magic. I truly believe he’s no threat. But he’s gone now, and I don’t think he’s coming back. He took offense at the candles around his bed. Wouldn’t say why.”
Placidio’s head did not turn, or did he speak, but he could have. I could read my swordmaster at least as well as he could me. Someday, I would have it out of him.
We walked slowly toward the alley corner. “Pix is interesting.”
“Mmm.”
That humming grunt signaled another barrier. I didn’t interrupt his weighty silence.
“About the fish man,” he said at last. “If he returns and you feel … discomforted … in any way, bring him to me at the Bull.”
This was deeper than just a man asserting his protective notions about females. I preferred handling problems of my own making myself, but in this case there was legitimate reason to question my own judgment. And a size issue. Even wounded as he was, Placidio could likely tie Teo into a knot.
“I will.”
“And lest the event, I’ll show you the way to the Bull’s front door.”
We turned into the corner of the tidy alley. Placidio was indeed moving more easily.
“Why does Cei gave you the shudders?” I said. “Monette thought him very attractive. Did you notice that Egerik never spoke to him? Never even looked at him.”
Perfect. Unblemished. Had those been Monette’s observations or my own, so strong as to break through the magic? Certain, I shared the unsettled feeling that came after, thinking of Egerik the collector.
Placidio paused, leaning on the horse-head cane, a thoughtful frown shadowing his face. “Don’t know exactly what got under my skin. The way he never looked at us, maybe. The way he moved so quiet—more than the others. No shoes. Groomed to his eyelashes. Have you ever seen a wolf who’s been tamed to the leash?”
I shook my head.
“They’re not. Tamed, I mean. They’re always wild no matter how well they heel. Look in their eyes and you’ll know.”
“I can see that. Yes.” Maybe that was what bothered me as well. Several things bothered.
“Back in Egerik’s chamber,” I said, “did you see the items left on the plinth in that gold-lined alcove?”
“Rib didn’t approve turning round all that much.”
I picked at Pix’s bandage on my hand. “It was an odd arrangement. The more I’ve thought about it, the more I believe I’ve seen something like before. Something that gives me the willies, as Neri would put it. A single budding rose, a small, very sharp, narrow-bladed knife with a curved tip, and a drop of blood. Does that mean anything to you?”
We rounded the corner, stepping carefully between a fetid puddle and a bold rat chewing on something unidentifiable.
“Nay. But from everything else I saw in that house, I’d guess it means something very particular to the ambassador. Maybe that lawyer could make some more inquiries for us.”
“Mantegna must remain a last resort. But I’ve an idea of someone else to ask. Not sure I can get to him … or if he’s still where I think he is … or if he’ll even see me. But whatever’s nagging isn’t going to let me loose until I get an answer. So rest well, swordmaster, and I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
The Palazzo Segnori bells began their noontide clangor.
I left him frowning, and had gone only a few steps when he called after me. “But where are you going? Someone ought to know.”
I returned and folded my arms in front of me, considering. “I’ll tell you, if you’ll tell me why you are allowed to patronize the Limping Bull and the rest of us are not.”
He donned his I-really-don’t-like-your-prying expression. “All you want’s the reason?”
“Yes. And then I’ll tell you where I’m going to find out about the rose and the knife.”
He wrestled with it. “All right. Only duelists are allowed inside. Working ones like me. Or retired. Crippled. Traveling. No students. None that’s unregistered. Every city has a place. We like it kept private.”
“That makes good sense.” There were a number of people a duelist wouldn’t want intruding on an hour of relaxation. Angry clients out to avenge a loss. Upstarts who hadn’t yet made the Dueling List thinking to make a name for themselves. Vengeful families.
“To find it just go farther down the lane to the next alley past this one—that’s Swagger Alley. No signboard, but the Bull’s got a blue door. I’ll tell Pix to fetch me if you show up. Now you.”
“I’m going back to the Moon House.”
18
ONE DAY UNTIL THE PRISONER TRANSFER
NOONTIDE
The ancient sweet chestnut tree shading the stone bench where I waited was so large the four partners of the Chimera together could not have wrapped our linked arms around its bole. Rich green moss blanketed its gnarled roots and had crept into the deep folds of its bark.
The chestnut grew in a green swale at the western edge of the Merchants Ring—a bit of countryside in the city. It overlooked a string of tranquil ponds where water birds posed and floated. On the hillside across the swale, just past a stone fence, sat a small but elegant house of pale ocher stone.
Few who sought tranquility at the Domata Ponds or marched their wedding processional along the gravel paths to ensure their future prosperity likely knew what went on in that serene setting. Inside those vine-draped walls, young unblemished girls and boys, taken from the streets or bought from desperate families, were stripped of their names, groomed, and educated in seemly and unseemly ways to become treasured companions for the wealthy. Tutors used willow switches, confinement, isolation, deprivation, and pain of any kind that would not mar the body to teach them everything from how to clean their teeth and sweeten their breath to writing in each of the classic forms of poetry.
Once I left that house at fifteen, it had taken me only a few months of Sandro’s gentle tutelage to gain a true joy in learning. What a waste that so much of worth had been forced down my throat with pain.
The Moon House. Never had I thought to return there.
The harsh clanging of a handbell signaled midday. For the next two hours, everyone would be occupied in the refectory, younger students serving a meal to the older, older students serving the tutors, so all could learn how to present or eat delicacies they hadn’t even known existed. Proctors would observe, ready with their willow switches.
One of the senior tutors had always elected to take his midday meal in his own chambers. He disliked the hammering instruction, and the inevitable shouting, tears, and whippings that destroyed what he believed should be a peaceful time. His objection always seemed a bit ridiculous, since he was the House Disciplinarian, the one who administered true beatings for egregious offenses like hitting a tutor or scarring another student. The Disciplinarian also served as the instructor in some of the more distasteful of the unseemly arts. Moon House courtesans were precious and valued, but they were also expected to fulfill their owners’ every desire with grace and obedience.
Wrapping my red-and-black gown in Vashti’s sober black cape, I left my bench and hurried up the gravel path to a place where a marshy gully had undermined the stone wall before I’d been brought here. I wasn’t sure whether the Moon House Grand Mistress and her staff had simply neglected to repair the wall, or had decided that the public punishments of students who used it to run away were more useful than preventing the violation.
With a silent apology to Vashti, I hiked up the muddy hem of my gown and traversed the marsh from stone to stone, then followed a path through the animal yards and kitchen garden to the musty stone stair that led to the main house basement. Four times in my five years at the Moon House, I had used this path to sneak a visit to my family. Twice I’d been successful in escaping detection. Twice not.
This time I scurried up the students’ stair to the top floor, hoping to elude unwanted gossip, rather than punishment. I ghosted past the deserted chambers of those tutors and proctors occupied in the refectory, to the corner of the house overlooking the Domata Ponds. A brass plate bearing the single ominous label DISCIPLINARIAN centered the otherwise unadorned door.
Rather than inviting a refusal, I opened the door softly and walked inside. A spider-limbed man in soft gray hose and charcoal-hued doublet sat in a comfortable chair beside the open window. He looked up from his reading. The neatly trimmed hair and beard that framed his narrow face were grayer than I recalled, but the keen eyes glared quite as ferociously as they always had.
“You may turn around and leave as quietly and quickly as you entered, young woman.” The crisp articulation of his thoughts had not changed either.
