Revenant Winds Page 10

  Niklaus placed the glass back on the crate. He thought about making more small talk, but what would be the point? He was set on his course, and it was best to get any unpleasantness over with quickly. That way he could forget about it as soon as possible.

  He beckoned the two carers he’d bribed. The skinny one pushed a wheelchair over, and the muscular one lifted the woman into it.

  Niklaus arranged the blanket on her legs and patted her wrinkled hand. “We’ll get you some more medicine before you go so you’ll feel better. Then we’ll be off.”

  “Good. Just make sure to pack my things. They must be in my room, wherever that is. I can’t remember. Why can’t I remember?”

  The skinny carer took a flask from his pocket and poured a thick yellow liquid into the glass. Oil of poppy mixed with a few other alchemical ingredients, Niklaus had been told. It was supposed to knock her out for a few hours. The skinny man urged the woman to take a few swallows, then nodded to Niklaus. Already, her head lolled, and her eyes had a glazed look, as if she stared into another realm. A trail of drool leaked from one side of her mouth and down her chin.

  The carers wheeled the woman to a side entrance where the litter Niklaus had hired was waiting. They bundled her inside and propped her up in the seat. Four thickset men with muscular legs stood ready for the order to depart.

  “One moment,” Niklaus told them, then jerked a thumb toward the side door. “Inside,” he said to the carers. “You’ll get your payment away from prying eyes.”

  The fools grinned greedily. They hadn’t considered anything could go wrong, even in this disused section of the building. The moment the door closed behind the three of them, Niklaus drew his short sword. One thrust, two, and it was done. They didn’t even have time to shout. He wiped the blade on the skinny one’s shirt, sheathed it, and went back to the litter.

  The goddess’s sword wouldn’t do in situations like this. He would use it only for her work. To do otherwise defiled the blade and his complex relationship with her. Though it had been ages since he had felt her pull, seen her signs. He was still trying to work out what his purpose was in coming to Caronath. He felt like he was wandering, directed only by shadows, whispers, and the goddess in his dreams.

  And he was sure most of his dreams were of his own making. When she came to him, when she really showed herself, she was exquisite—both in body and mind. Niklaus’s hand tightened on the stingray-skin grip of his short blade. Clamped down on it hard until his knuckles ached. He ached for her, even when he wasn’t dreaming.

  ~ ~ ~

  The litter bearers stopped in a dingy alley at the rear of Eckart’s residence. A nondescript wooden door at the top of a rickety staircase denoted a second entrance.

  Niklaus knocked, waited, knocked again.

  Eckart opened the door and took in the litter and Niklaus with one look. His face broke into a smile. “Excellent. This is perfect.”

  Niklaus rubbed his eyes. “Just get the job done, sorcerer.”

  He felt dirty. He needed a bath and a few drinks.

  Chapter Seven

  Deep Waters

  “TWO SILVERS,” SAID THE librarian, a pinch-faced young woman. She licked her lips, glancing to either side to make sure she wasn’t overheard.

  “It was one silver yesterday,” protested Kurio. “And the day before.” She held out a silver royal. “Here, take it and don’t be greedy.”

  “Two,” the woman said firmly. “I’ve had some unforeseen expenses.”

  Kurio’s gaze took in the librarian’s frilly new dress and the silver hair clip in the shape of a swallow that held her mousey-brown hair away from her face. Maybe I’ll find it today, she thought, sighing with resignation.

  “Two, then,” she agreed. “And remember not to tell anyone.”

  She toyed with a lock of her shoulder-length red hair to draw attention to it. If anyone asked about her, the greedy librarian should remember the color. The wig didn’t suit her, and she’d been meaning to get rid of it, but thought she might as well get one more use out of the thing. She was dressed as a wealthy student, in a smart dark gray skirt and cream knitted shirt, and dark gray boots with silver buckles. She’d chosen the disguise to be allowed access to the library, but the librarian obviously thought it meant Kurio could afford to pay more.

  The librarian wrinkled her nose. “I’m not looking to get thrown out. Though perhaps I should get you to pay me three just in case.”

  And I should throw you off a tall building.

  “If you ask for three, I’ll not come back.” Kurio dug out another coin. “Take two, or I walk away.”

  The woman sniffed, then snatched the coins from Kurio’s outstretched hand. They quickly disappeared into the folds of her dress. Kurio strode past her before she could utter another word.

  The library was dark and musty, and there was a rank stench in the air the librarians didn’t seem to notice. Rotting paper and glue, Kurio surmised. And probably mice and rats.

  She did an entire circuit of the large room, making sure the windows she’d unlatched previously remained so. It wouldn’t do to be blocked by a locked window if she had to leave in a hurry. There was no way she’d have been able to smuggle her crossbow inside, so she’d left it back at her new apartment. A dagger strapped to her thigh and another tucked into the back of her skirt made up for it.

  Satisfied, she made her way into a side annex. Here, she again checked the windows, wishing she could open a few of them to let in some fresh air. But the librarians would throw her out, as the parchments and tomes in this room were ancient and had to be protected. Not that the librarians were doing a good job of that: most were covered with a layer of dust, and some were in advanced states of decay. One scroll had practically fallen apart in her hands when she picked it up, and she’d hastily gathered the scraps together and left them in a pile on one of the shelves. She’d even seen a book in one dark corner covered with a white mold that looked a bit like coral.

  Alchemical lamps burned in chandeliers hanging a few feet above the shelving. Their pale yellow light wasn’t the best to read by, but it was enough if she squinted. Three days of research, and she was no closer to deciphering the Skanuric script written on the paper she’d found underneath the cube. Someone had considered it important enough to hide it under the cube in an impenetrable ironwood chest banded with ensorcelled orichalcum, and secured with an obscure Sandoval lock. If that didn’t signify value, she didn’t know what did. Kurio smelled opportunity, and she was never one to let it slip through her fingers. With the Night Shadows probably hunting her, this paper could lead her to a stack of gold royals—enough to flee the city and start anew elsewhere.

  Kurio had invested most of her ill-gotten gains and didn’t have much coin on hand. And if she divested herself of some of those investments now, she’d come out with less than a tenth of what she’d put in. She just couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  Besides, the Skanuric script intrigued her. Whatever it said, it had to be linked to the metal cube. And Willas and his bearlike companion had paid a goodly sum for her to snatch the cube. Unfortunately, most of that money was gone, as she’d had to pay for new lodgings and make them secure.

  Kurio wandered to a bookshelf at the back of the room, reached up to the top shelf, and took down two books she’d secreted before leaving yesterday. Both looked promising: a text listing Skanuric words translated into their modern Dakuni equivalents, and the other on Skanuric symbols and their multitude of meanings. Now all she needed was a translation manuscript from Dakuni to some other language she could speak, plus texts on idioms and subtleties for each.

  A lot could get missed through that many translations. She could spend days or weeks on it and come up with a final version that made no sense. Or she could just find someone who could read Skanuric … A scholar perhaps.

  As she stood there thinking, a cockroach crawled out of one of the books and over her hand. She yelped and jerked away, causing the books to tumb
le to the floor in a puff of dust and the cockroach to disappear into the shadows. She sneezed and wondered what the hells she’d been thinking. She wasn’t spending any more time here. Four silvers wasted, and she was no wiser. There had to be a better way.

  Leaving the books on the floor, she went around the room and relatched the windows. She didn’t want anyone noticing and taking steps to ensure they remained locked.

  As she passed the librarian on her way out, the young woman frowned at her. “Found what you’re looking for?” she said in a disappointed tone.

  “Not yet,” lied Kurio. “So there’ll be plenty more royals for you.”

  The woman smiled.

  Maybe the greedy girl will spend more than she can afford, Kurio thought as she walked away. It’d serve her right.

  ~ ~ ~

  The letter was waiting for her when she arrived home—if home was what you could call her current bolthole. It had been slipped under the door. A crisp, expensive, cream-colored envelope with Kurio written on it in an elegant hand.

  The problem was, no one was meant to know about this place.

  After bolting the door, Kurio stared at the envelope as if it were a poisonous snake. It couldn’t be from the Night Shadows, she was certain of that. If they knew her location, she’d be dead or trussed up like a feast-day pig and just as likely destined for hot coals.

  Well, there was no point delaying.

  The envelope was sealed with a dark crimson wax imprinted with a square divided into four smaller squares. Gannon Chikaire. Though the symbol was missing the Skanuric runes his ring bore, it was easily identifiable.

  That reminded her: she should look up the runes and translate them. Kurio shook her head. Time enough for that later, after she’d read the letter.

  That Gannon had located her set her nerves on edge. Strangely, it also set her heart pounding with excitement. It had been a long time since she’d experienced such stirrings for any man. He intrigued her, of that there was no doubt. And, dare she hope, it seemed she also intrigued him.

  Moreover, he was mixed up in something with Willas, which could prove useful if she knew more about it. Thievery filled her pockets and taught her many skills, but it wasn’t enough for Kurio to live from one job to the next. If she was to set herself up for life, to be entirely independent, she’d need far more capital than she’d gathered over the years. And connections. She knew how the dark underside of business worked, and unless you knew the right powerful, wealthy, ruthless people, you might as well be pissing into the wind. She sensed an opportunity here that might provide some advantage.

  Kurio broke the seal. The same hand had penned the letter inside, which was on even better-quality paper than the envelope. She wasn’t even sure where to buy such stationery.

  Miss Kurio,

  I hope this correspondence finds you well. Please forgive both my familiarity and the method of delivery of this correspondence. The direct approach may unsettle people of uncertain temperament, but I believe you are not so easily disconcerted.

  My thoughts keep returning to you and our conversation the other day. I will be lunching alone in two days’ time at midday at The White Rabbit, and it would be my pleasure to entertain your company, if you should so desire. It is my fervent belief that you will find the assignation stimulating. I do hope you accept.

  Leaving our engagement entirely in your hands.

  Faithfully yours,

  Gannon Chikaire

  Kurio refolded the letter and slipped it inside the envelope. She strode to her desk and deposited it in a drawer, then poured herself a shot of alchemically enhanced wine and downed it in one swallow. It slid down her throat cold, then exploded with warmth in her stomach.

  She noticed her hands were trembling and poured herself another drink, intending to sip this one slowly.

  Well, well, well. How did Gannon find out where she lived? He must have extremely competent retainers, but even so … She couldn’t think of any way they’d have found her.

  She shouldn’t go to the meeting. But Gannon was intriguing, and she found his lure hard to resist. She had to see him again. She wiped her damp palms on her skirt, her eyes moving involuntarily to the drawer that held the letter.

  The White Rabbit was an exclusive club for the obscenely rich, built on the bank of a manmade lake in Lichfields, a district almost wholly populated by the wealthy and their mansions. Membership at the club was on her to-do list, though so far down it was among the least likely, below Own ten merchant ships. Money wasn’t enough to buy your way into The White Rabbit; you had to have connections. And here was one, fallen into her lap.

  She had to know more first.

  It was late, though, and she was tired. The sun had set hours ago. Kurio rummaged through her nightstand drawer for her bedside clock. Although it had been expensive, it ticked too loudly for her liking. It would be midnight soon. She debated with herself, then shrugged.

  A few minutes later, she’d changed into her dark, nondescript work clothes, loaded her gear into her backpack, primed her crossbow, and was on her way.

  ~ ~ ~

  Gannon Chikaire’s residence was easy to find and surprisingly unremarkable. It was situated at the termination of a dead-end street, with similar dwellings to the left and right.

  Kurio tugged her hood closer about her face as a man wheeled past a barrow of what looked like bloodied heads wrapped in hessian cloth. A thin trail of liquid leaked from the barrow, and the man pushing it had to walk with a wide stance to avoid getting his boots wet. Kurio wouldn’t be surprised if the barrow did actually contain severed heads. She’d heard human heads sold for quite a bit of coin to the right people. As did other body parts of the freshly deceased. She’d put that business in the “too risky” basket, but the Night Shadows had their hands in such trade up to their elbows, as they did with everything.

  The front of Gannon’s building was flat and uninviting. It was three stories high and constructed from brown bricks, with sandstone around the doorway and windows. Two iron-encased alchemical lamps on either side of the black-painted door kept the darkness at bay, but judging from the lack of light in the windows, the servants were all asleep. Their master had to be out or residing somewhere else tonight.

  Still, Kurio waited. Rushing a job was the surest way to make mistakes and get caught. And she was close to the main entrance to the Northern Catacombs, so there would be all sorts of people about at night.

  A short time later, one of the windows on the second floor opened, and a man dressed in a nightshirt leaned out. In one hand he held a pipe, and in the other a burning taper. When he proceeded to light and puff on the pipe, Kurio knew Gannon had to be absent. No servant would display such a blatant breach of etiquette if their master was home.

  Satisfied, she made her way down dimly lit streets to the rear of the house, where a wall topped with iron spikes loomed up from a narrow back lane. A servants’ door and a wider delivery gate were set into the wall. Her footfalls made barely a sound across the cobbles, though she had to skip over the sludge-filled gutter running down the center of the lane, and around piles of refuse.

  After a quick glance around to check she was unobserved, she bent over the lock in the servants’ door. It was old but obviously frequently used. Her nimble fingers had it open in a few moments, and she slipped inside. Keeping to the shadows, she made her way across the paved inner courtyard to another narrow door. Peeking through the window beside it, she saw it led into a kitchen. The door wasn’t locked.

  Lazy, she thought as she crept inside.

  A faint orange glow came from coals in the fireplace. Kurio took a few moments to note where everything was. If she came through here in a hurry later, she didn’t want to run into anything. Large jars of flour sat on a sturdy table along one wall, surrounded by smaller containers of salt, sugar, and various spices. Recipe books were stacked neatly in one corner.

  An entire wall was covered with shelves containing baskets of vegetables and
fruits. It seemed Gannon ate healthily, which didn’t surprise her. Sausages and hams dangled from hooks set into the ceiling; and a covered plate contained baked biscuits, each with a nut delicately placed on the top. Kurio took one and nibbled on it as she crept to the doorway on the far side. It was good. If she had time on her way out, she might acquire a few recipe books.

  Popping the last of the biscuit into her mouth, she found the servants’ stairway and ascended to the second floor in pitch darkness. At the top, light filtered in from a hallway window. Not much, but enough that she didn’t fear bumping into any furniture or tripping over a cat.

  With the servants all asleep in their quarters at the back of the house, all she had to do was avoid the man who was smoking—and probably his master’s tobacco too. From the placement of the window, he was in the second room on the left.

  Kurio peeked in the first room, which seemed to be a snug of some sort. Good for relaxing with a cozy fire and not much else.

  She tiptoed past the second door, fervently hoping it wasn’t Gannon’s study, as that was her goal. Luckily, the third door opened into a room dominated by a large mahogany desk finished with a marble top laden with ledgers and stacks of papers held down with polished stone weights. Bookcases stuffed to overflowing covered the walls, and there was a medicinal scent in the air. Whatever cleaning solution the servants used, they were overzealous with its application.

  To her surprise, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. It was an uncomfortable feeling, creepy and frightening at the same time. Her talent was telling her to beware, but of what?

  Taking a length of cloth from her pack, she stuffed it into the gap at the foot of the door to block any light, then vigorously shook her alchemical globe. Within seconds it began to glow with a soft, pale blue radiance—just enough to read by.

  After ten minutes of riffling through Gannon’s ledgers and papers, she hadn’t found anything of interest. Household expenses, bills, details of income received from various investments—a good deal of money, but nothing suspicious. Reluctantly, she gave up. If Gannon had any secrets, she’d need a more thorough investigation to reveal them.