The Book of Athyra (49 page)

That done, I slipped out of the room, stopping long enough to erase any psychic traces of myself that I might have left. Then I locked the door behind me and very, very carefully released the spell that was holding the little wind-alarm. It didn’t go off. As the last step, I got a metaphorical spider back and had it cough up the one it had euphemistically eaten.

I looked around the rest of the area until I found what had to be Shortisle’s desk, judging from the size, the location, and his name appearing on plaques, markers, and papers all around it. Unlike the records, here there was a chance I could learn something if, indeed, Shortisle was the guilty party, and if he left evidence of his crimes lying around. Phrased that way, I didn’t think much of my chances, but it wouldn’t hurt to explore a little.

The alarms built into his desk were all sorcerous, and not terribly effective, which meant that he had nothing to hide—or he wasn’t hiding it in his desk, at any rate. I dismantled the alarms, picked the locks, and looked through the contents. There were, in fact, no notes saying, “Today I accepted a large bribe from Vonnith in exchange for allowing her to close her bank and run with whatever money she could scrape together.”

Oh, well.

The most irritating thing was that he had two small, hidden compartments in the desk, both of which required a great deal of time and effort to open, and both of which turned out to be entirely empty—not even a psiprint of his mistress. I took this as a personal affront.

When I finished with the desk, I realized just how exhausted I was. That’s the most dangerous part: when you’re all done, and you’re tired, and everything has gone well, it becomes too easy to let your guard down and make some little mistake that will bring the watch running or allow you to be found after the fact. I made myself go slowly and carefully in removing all traces of my presence, both psychic and mundane, then I made sure of the timing of the watch (judging by the footsteps, they weren’t the same pair who’d been there before) before I opened the last door between me and escape.

Even after I was past that, I was careful to avoid crowded places, and took little-known paths through the Palace, walking for almost two more hours until I could emerge from the Yendi Wing (just for the pleasure of giving the inhabitants something to wonder about) and teleported straight back home, where I poured myself a glass of the same kind of wine Vonnith had given me, drank it down at a single draught, and climbed into my bed, after which I slept soundly for several very pleasant hours that
were only marred by a few dreams in which spiders were banging on gongs.

When at last I roused myself late the next morning, I took care of morning things, broke my fast with warmed nutbread, maizepie, and Eastern-style coffee (which Vlad claims is too bitter for him), and teleported back to Northport. I found a large and busy inn very close to City Hall, so I went in, found a table in the middle of the room, and began to drink klava, with the intention of continuing until something either happened or failed to happen.

I was, in effect, making myself a target. With any luck, I’d have stirred up Shortisle, or someone in his office, and it seemed likely that, with a little work, whoever it was would be able to figure out that the visitor had been Kiera the Thief (although, to be sure, no one would be able to prove it), and I expected to be able to learn something from who showed up and what he did when he got here—I’d be surprised if I had to sit here for more than two days.

This was a part of the plan Vlad knew nothing about, because he would have wanted to be involved. I have a great deal of confidence in my ability to get myself out of anything I get myself into, but if you add a hot-tempered assassin whose blade is often faster than his head, it might be that I’d save myself a few moments of worry and, in exchange, lose a lot of useful information.

Vlad, however, would not have liked the idea of my doing it.

By noon I was tired of klava, so I switched to a “seaman’s ale,” as they call it in Northport, or “storm brew,” as it is called in Adrilankha, which is a very dark ale with traces of ginger; it was heavy, so I could pretend it was lunch. I felt very exposed at the table, and I hoped I wouldn’t have to wait there too long. I finished the seaman’s ale and ordered another, and considered asking for a bowl of whatever it was I could smell from the kitchen. People walked by the open window and often looked in, because that’s what one does when walking by an inn, and I kept wondering if any of these were people who were spotting me. I rubbed my eyes. At one point, I thought I saw Devera go by, but if so she didn’t recognize me, and it wasn’t very likely, anyway. I drank some more seaman’s ale. It was good. Two Jhereg came in, walked right up to my table, and sat down. They were Funnel-head and Mockman, both of whom had been in Stony’s office when I’d visited him. This was something I hadn’t expected at all.

Funnel-head said, “Stony wants to see you.”

“All right,” I said. “Now?”

“If you please.”

I left the ale unfinished, which was a shame, and stood up. They flanked me as we stepped out of the inn. They each had a sword, and Funnel-head, on my right, had a long dagger concealed under his left arm, and no doubt they each had a few other things that would help them not at all if I decided not to accompany them, but they didn’t know that.

Funnel-head said, “Shall we teleport?”

“I’d rather walk,” I said, because I don’t let strangers teleport me.

“It’s a couple of miles,” he said.

“It’s a nice day.”

“All right.”

We exchanged no more words until we got there. We walked right up past where Dor was very careful not to be, then Funnel-head clapped outside Stony’s door and said, “She’s here, boss.”

There was a muffled response, and Funnel-head opened the door and indicated I was to go in. I did so, stopping only long enough to hand him his dagger. “You dropped this,” I said. He stared at it, then gave me a glare into which I smiled as I closed the door.

I sat down. “What is it, Stony? Why the summons?”

Stony, apparently, couldn’t decide if he should be amused or annoyed by my interaction with his flunky; eventually he settled on ignoring it.

“I’m worried about you,” he said.

“Worried about me?”

“About you, and for you.”

I waited.

“Yeah,” he said. “You’ve been looking into Fyres’s death, and some people are getting itchy.”

“People?” I said.

He shook his head. “You know I can’t name names, Kiera.”

“Then what are you saying?”

He shrugged. “I’m saying you should drop this, whatever it is, or else be very careful, that’s all.”

“What about you?”

“I’m not involved,” he said. “I just heard that you lightened some files in some Orca’s office at the Palace, and some Orca with connections to the Organization want you to go swimming. I thought you should know about it.”

“You’re not asking me to back off?”

He shook his head. “No. As I say, this isn’t my game. I just thought you ought to be aware of it, you know?”

“Yes,” I said. “Okay, thanks. Anything else?”

“No,” he said.

“All right. See you around.”

“Yeah. See you.”

I got up and left. No one tried to stop me. I was glad Stony hadn’t asked about Vlad again, because I hate lying to friends.

I hastened back to the Awful Blue Cottage to tell Vlad what I’d learned. It was late afternoon when I got there. Buddy ran out of the house, and I had to spend a moment getting reacquainted with him and allaying his suspicions before venturing inside.

Hwdf’rjaanci was seated at the table next to Vlad. Savn was sitting up in the chair facing the hearth, and he turned and looked at me as I came in, which caught me up short. I said, “Hello, Savn.” He didn’t say anything, but returned to staring at the fire.

“Good evening,” I said. I gestured toward the boy. “I see some improvement.”

“Some,” agreed Vlad.

Hwdf’rjaanci nodded a greeting to me and asked if I wanted some tea, which I didn’t.

I was pleased, and even a bit surprised, to note that Vlad didn’t have any fresh wounds. He was drinking klava, and by the lack of sleep in his eyes I suspect he was on at least his second cup. Loiosh, on the other hand, was sound asleep next to Rocza, which was unusual for a jhereg in the middle of the day. “I have some information,” I said.

“Me, too,” said Vlad.

“Should I go first, or do you want to?”

“You might as well,” said Vlad.

I sat down next to him. Hwdf’rjaanci got up and sat over by Savn—I had the impression she didn’t want to know about any of this. I decided I couldn’t really blame her.

“Did you do it?” he said.

“You mean enrage the bees? Yeah.”

“Tell me about it.”

“All right.” This time I just gave him the brief version of my activities, especially the break-in, because the long version would have required telling him things I’d rather he didn’t know, then I gave him all the details on the rest of it. I sort of brushed over the part about making myself a
target, but I saw him press his lips together, so I quickly went on to discuss the conversation with Stony, and, before he could ask about that, I started in on the results of my inquiries the first couple of days.

I said, “I found a couple of them, Vlad. Three, really, but one had refused him a loan just because he didn’t like Fyres’s smell, so that didn’t help us any. But there were two of them who actually did the checking.”

“How many that didn’t?”

“A lot. He was very good at making people trust him.”

Vlad nodded. “Okay. Those who did check up on him—what did they find out?”

“That he was very good at making people trust him.”

Vlad’s smile came and went. “Yeah. What else?”

“Vlad, he didn’t have
anything.
He had a great deal on paper, but all of his enterprises, worth maybe sixty million imperials—”

Vlad looked shocked. “That’s right,” I said. “Sixty million imperials. Sixty million imperials’ worth of loans, that went for office space, marketing, buying up other companies that, in point of fact, he didn’t know how to run so they went into surrender of debts inside of ten or twenty years—all of this was based on a contract, and a contract never fulfilled, by the way, for five men-o’-war for the Imperial Navy.”

“House of the Orca, of course,” said Vlad.

“Sure, Imperial Navy.”

“I wonder,” said Vlad.

“Yes?”

“I wonder why legitimate banks were loaning him money at all. I mean, I can see the Jhereg, but—”

“Are you sure they were? We know about Vonnith, but do we know there were any others?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’ll tell you about it.”

“Okay. I don’t know the answer, though. But it makes sense. It explains why the loans were at bank rates, not Jhereg rates.”

“They were?”

“Yes. All of them.”

“Interesting. Maybe the Jhereg loans went through the banks.” He spread his palms. “Or the other way around, for all we know.”

I nodded.

He said, “But all right. The Jhereg is in it deep, then?”

“Lots of us, Vlad. All the way up to the Council.”

“Did either of your friends try to spread the word about the guy?”

“One of them tried to let a few friends know, but no one would listen.
The other, apparently, doesn’t have any friends, and figured he could eliminate a great deal of competition. He was right, by the way—some very heavy people will be going down over this.”

Hwdf’rjaanci got up and went outside, I suppose because she could still hear us. Buddy looked at her, thumped his tail once, but decided he wanted to stay and listen.

Vlad considered my remark and said, “That ties Fyres into the Jhereg without any question, but . . . how did he land that contract with the Imperial Navy, after having proved what he was twice before?”

“Ah,” I said. “Very good. That
is
the question, isn’t it? Because that brings the Empire into this. The answer is, I don’t know. Somewhere along the line, he talked someone into something.”

“Yep,” said Vlad. He was quiet for quite a while then—maybe a minute. Then he said, “And that someone screwed up and then tried to cover himself. And I think . . . yeah, it all fits, I’m afraid.”

“What does?”

“Here’s what I think happened—no, on second thought, I’ll tell you what I’ve been up to for the last couple of days, and see if you can put it together.”

“All right,” I said. “Go to it.”

L
ET ME THINK NOW
. When did you leave? A lot has happened since then. It was early afternoon, right? Okay, I’ll just take it as it happened.

After you left, I made an effort to get Savn talking again, and he went off on knives some more. I decided that it probably wasn’t healthy to keep him fixated like that, and the old woman told me the same thing a few minutes later, so that was about it. I couldn’t think of anything else to do with him, and eventually I realized that half the reason I wanted to was to avoid having to do something I was a bit afraid of. Let me explain.

I kept thinking about that banker, and what you’d said about the Jhereg connections, and what I couldn’t get away from was the idea that, if the Jhereg was connected to Fyres, and Fyres was connected to the Empire, then the Jhereg was connected to the Empire. If that was true, what was the connection, and how did it work, and like that? Now Side-Captain Vonnith—what’s a side-captain, by the way?—must have been tied into Fyres because she’d jumped ship, so to speak, within a week of Fyres’s death, and you’d proven that she was connected to the Empire, so I couldn’t help wondering if she was connected to the Jhereg, too.

The trouble was, I couldn’t go waltzing into Stony’s office and ask about it, because he’d kill me on the spot and because you’d be annoyed with me, which meant I’d have to work through either Vonnith or Loftis.
From what you said, I had the impression that Vonnith would bolt if she got any more jumpy, and that might be inconvenient, so that left Loftis.

Loftis.

I have to tell you, Kiera: I wasn’t all that excited about going up against him straight, and I wasn’t very happy about trying to put anything past him again. You’ve met him, too, and you know what I’m talking about—I think we were both lucky the first time we ran into him.