The Fall of Ventaris (7 page)

She knew little about the Color War — even Minette refused to say much about it — but from what little she’d heard the conflict had begun over a dispute about the respective rights of the Red and the Grey. That fight had ended over fifteen years ago, but even today any member of the Grey who felt that the Red had overstepped could “call the color” and summon his cloaked brothers (and sisters) to his aid. Such a conflict would result in a loss of coin and life, and could possibly invite imperial attention, which would be disastrous, so the members of both sides took pains not to tread on any toes. That explained why Julius dared to tweak the nose of a redcap, and why it was dangerous for her to intervene. “I’m sorry to hear of your...misfortune,” Duchess said carefully. “I could find a jeweler who could quietly make you another ring...”

Antony shook his head.”I need
that
ring and no other. Rosamile was with me when we took it to be engraved. She’ll know the difference. Besides, Julius has been blabbing about how he’s gotten the better of me, so sooner or later she’ll hear about it.”
 

Duchess was amused that Antony was so fearful of his fiance, and more so that he seemed certain Duchess could save him from her wrath. “Julius still has this ring?” she said, refilling his cup.

He nodded curtly. “He won’t sell it back for any price. Normally I’d have cut his throat for him,” he said as if talking about the weather, “but there’s enough trouble in the Deeps without making more in the Shallows.”

“Trouble?” She wanted to buy time to think, and in any case Lysander would never forgive her for passing up the chance to winkle some news out of a redcap. “The Deeps gangs are always trouble, I’m sure.”

Antony shrugged, taking another drink. “They are, but now they’re working together...and bearing steel, although Mayu knows where they’re getting it. Haven’t seen anything like it since the damned War of the Quills.” Duchess perked up. The last time Deeps gangs had been armed and organized had been at the instigation of her father, in his struggle against the nobles. In the end the guildsmen he’d led had gotten representation on the imperial council, but the cost was his life and his House. It was disturbing that so similar a situation should arise. Conflicts between the Colors and weapons in the Deeps...too many cases of history repeating for comfort, it seemed.

“I could pay you,” he went on before she could pursue the topic. “I offered Julius twenty florin, more than the damned thing is worth. I could give that to you to give to him.” He looked at her, his expression of desperate hope so out of place on a face normally so blunt and threatening.
 

She thought quickly. If Julius were willing to anger a redcap over a gambling debt he was unlikely to be open to persuasion from her. She was also reluctant to risk her fledgling status on the Grey by developing a reputation for involving herself in petty disputes. Yet did she dare risk Antony’s ire, or the Uncle’s, by refusing? She was still living on the Uncle’s florin in a rent-free apartment, a fact she was sure had not been lost on him. On the other side of the coin, this was a chance to get into Antony’s good graces, an investment that might prove as profitable as her dealings with Jana. Besides, gold was gold, and if she could somehow get back that ring for less than twenty florin she could pocket the difference. That decided her. “Antony, my friend,” she said soothingly, “put your worries aside. The ring will be yours.”

*
 
*
 
*

She sat up a long time after Antony had taken his leave looking at the small pile of florin he’d left. Three plans, two promises, and not one notion of how to make good on any of them. Commitments to Jana and Antony, not to mention her little scheme about Pollux...perhaps Lysander was right. Perhaps she truly
was
mad.
 

Noam had once said the only way to eat a flock of sheep was one bite at a time, and since Antony had put gold on the table, she’d make recovering Rosamile’s ring the first item on the menu. Although Julius was no redcap, he might still be dangerous. She wasn’t going to brace him without further information, and she knew of at least one person who could tell her all that she’d need.

And, now that she thought on it, not just about Julius.

Chapter Four: A thorn amongst roses

Despite the name, the Common Gardens were anything but. Only those with sufficient title or wealth could obtain space there in Temple District, and it was mostly given over to petty nobility — those with an interest in cultivating plants and flowers but without a large enough estate to support a garden of their own. That morning, Duchess found the wide stone pathways thronged with the wives of the well born, moving sedately and directing attendants in weeding, watering, and pruning. The silk and satin of their gowns were no less colorful than the floral blooms of yellow, red, and orange.

The gardens were enclosed by thick stone walls and a glass ceiling, which kept the area warm in winter and stifling at any other time. Despite the airways created by panels propped open here and there, Duchess mopped sweat from her brow, but Minette seemed untroubled by something as unseemly as perspiration. In no case would someone from the Shallows, particularly one who owned and operated a brothel, be permitted a plot in the Common Gardens.
 

Nevertheless, Minette had a plot in the Common Gardens.

She moved among her botanical charges even now, with Duchess trailing behind, carrying a basket half-filled with an explosion of blossoms in white, red and pink. Yarrow, Minette said they were called, and Duchess thought them quite pretty. She remembered them from the garden on her father’s estate, and that they had been Marguerite’s favorites.

“So when do I find out what’s got you practically
bursting
with questions?” Minette murmured, bringing Duchess out of her memories. The elegant woman was taller than Duchess and far more full-figured, yet she moved amongst the flowers with a comfortable agility. Her freshly powdered face was a stark white in the rare Rodaasi sun, particularly against the black ringlets of her hair and her even blacker eyes.

“Don’t tell me I drew you away from a good song,” Duchess replied archly. A gentleman had been serenading the Vermillion’s mistress when Duchess had shown up earlier that day, desperate for a meeting. Her request had been granted in exchange for assistance in gathering flowers, hence the trip to the gardens.

“Anything that’s got you in such a state is worth missing a verse or two. In any case, Marvis had just about used up his time.”

Duchess gave her a look. “His time? Don’t tell me he’s a
client
?”

Minette lifted an elegantly arched eyebrow. “Don’t look so surprised, my dear. Not every man who passes my parlor ends up between the sheets. Some want only to be held, others simply want someone who will listen to their woes. Marvis, for example, loves the thrill of the hunt but the prey holds no special interest for him. He loves the idea of love. He comes to the Vermillion not to be fulfilled but to be tantalized: eyes met, words whispered, a stolen touch. The game of romance and not its reality, in so many words. He’s not unusual. Some of my visitors are happy to pay me simply for the pleasure of my company. Which is more than I can say for others.” She glanced at Duchess significantly as she fingered a cluster of orange daylilies.

Duchess reflected that since her own elevation to the Grey Minette had certainly been more forward. She threw up her hands in surrender. “I don’t come empty-handed. You have one of my marks in your desk, and I have another in my pocket for you if you’ll answer two questions.”

“Only two? Well, don’t hold back. Waiting makes my mouth dry and there’s no wine to be had in the Common Gardens.”

“No wine? Did the empire lose a war?”

Minette smiled. “Only with the gods. The radiants felt that spirits served here might induce the wives to do something presumptuous. Of course, some would say this city could use more presumption from its wives. Now, your questions?”

Duchess shifted the basket to her other arm. “I’ve been hearing about someone named Julius, who hangs about the
Grieving Bier
.” She fiddled with the yarrow, hoping Minette would fill in the rest, but as usual the woman was too wise to fall for such maneuvers, damn her. “He runs a dice game there. Does he own the
Bier
?”

Minette laughed. “Good gods, no. He’s made arrangements with the owner to host his game — one of several he owns — but that’s all. Honestly, I can’t imagine how a man as unpleasant as Julius managed to make even that small a deal.” She produced a small pair of garden shears and cut daintily at the daylilies. Duchess imagined that Minette knew quite well how the deal was struck, but she doubted the older woman would tell her for only one mark. “Apparently, there’s been some recent nastiness between him and the Red.”

So Minette already knew about Rosamile’s ring. Duchess resolved that one day she would surprise the wily woman. “I’ve heard lots of nasty things about Julius.” She’d done some
fruning
since her talk with Antony.

“Julius wouldn’t have it any other way,” Minette said, handing her some of the daylilies. “Even with
fruning
the trick is determining what’s true and what isn’t.” She smiled enigmatically, and Duchess was amazed that Minette had made even circuitous reference to the Highway. Most of the Shallows believed the madam was Grey, but to Duchess’ knowledge she’d never confirmed that belief...or denied it.

“I heard he and Pete the Pearl had some sort of falling out over one of those games.” Pete owned the largest circle of floating games in Rodaas, which moved like some traveling circus amongst the winesinks and alehouses of the lower city. In addition, he was rumored to own a great deal of property in nearly every district, and was reportedly in the highest echelons of the Grey, if that fellowship
had
echelons. Duchess still wasn’t clear on the hierarchy of the order she’d joined, although if the Uncle were to be believed, there was somewhere a secret leader of the Grey. Not that Minette would confirm or deny
that
, either.

Minette chuckled. “My dear, to have had a
falling out
with Pete, Julius would need to have first fallen
in
. However, there was some difficulty there that’s really not important” – Duchess was sure it was – “but after some byplay Pete had unloaded a lesser game on a man desperate enough to take it.”

“Then Julius is all bark?”

“Oh, he can bite, certainly. He’d not have his position if he were
utterly
toothless. But a man who brags about an entanglement with Antony is barking entirely too loudly.”

“Is he reasonable?”

Minette laughed. “My dear, in Rodaas
everyone
is reasonable...for the right price. You’ll simply have to find his.” She finished with the daylilies and placed the shears back in the basket. By that last comment, Duchess guessed Minette had heard about Antony’s visit to her apartment, but how much she really knew was an open question.

Duchess decided to change the subject. “Enough about Julius. I need a priest.”

Minette glanced at her inquisitively. “Have you gone devout on me, dear?”

Duchess shrugged. “They tell me a woman should always be concerned with the state of her soul. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve looked for answers on the Godswalk.” She could be enigmatic too.

“Any priest in particular?”

“A keeper.” Minette blinked, and Duchess felt a small satisfaction. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually seen Minette
surprised
. She’d try to remember it.

“I see,” Minette said, considering. “You seem quite hale, my dear. You aren’t planning to die any time soon, I trust?”

“I guess that’s up to Mayu. I’m just looking for a little professional assistance.” She decided to be a bit more forthcoming, lest Minette come to the conclusion she was planning to have someone assassinated.
That
kind of reputation she did not need. “I just want a quiet conversation with a keeper who is, ah...
flexible
. Do you know of such a man?”

“Flexibility is a virtue, is it not?” Minette surveyed her plot for more flowers. “As a matter of fact, I do. There is a keeper of no minor rank who frequents my own humble establishment and who, as it happens, has a fondness for Daphne.” Duchess was surprised. Although keepers were not by tradition celibate, few would care to be seen in an establishment like the Vermillion.

“Can he keep a secret?”

“That would depend on the secret, I suppose.” Minette moved on to a light blue cluster of phlox. “I happen to know that Jadis is of late rather occupied, having just risen to primacy in his order.” Minette crouched elegantly, clipping here and there. “His superior died recently, as did his chief rival for the title. In fact, with so
many
keepers interested in advancement it took some time to work out the succession. Jadis prevailed in the end, but the effort no doubt exhausted him financially...and otherwise. I imagine he’d be grateful for any chance to replenish his coffers.” She smiled and handed Duchess some phlox. “Is that flexible enough for you?”

“This is
First Keeper
Jadis?” Duchess hesitated. She’d hoped for someone less prominent, but then the more important the man the more help he’d be able to give. Of course, if Minette’s hints were to be believed the man had murdered his way to the top. Did she truly want to take up with someone like that? On the other hand, Antony and Uncle Cornelius had probably sent more men to Mayu than an imperial headsman, and that hadn’t stopped her from cutting a deal with them. “I’d like to meet him,” she said at last, putting away the flowers and handing Minette a triangular piece of silk embroidered with a
D
. “You’re going to die a rich woman, Minette.”

“I’d prefer to
live
as a rich woman,” Minette replied, tucking away the mark. She hunted amongst her flowers for other prospects. “You know, Jadis’ recent promotion came about quite suddenly. The death of his primary rival was unexpected for one so healthy.” Duchess’ ears perked up. Minette was in a mood for gossip, never a thing to miss.