“Thank you,” Hettie said. He shrugged, finding his way back to an overstuffed couch that was split at the seams and spilling its stuffing.
“Yes, and here is your dinner, little Apathy. And yours too, Vengeance. My, aren’t we hungry tonight. Craven and Meek, you are lovely. Tsk, tsk. Don’t be rude. Yes, I know. I know. She is weeping next door again. Curse her. Always weeping and chanting spells. Look at you, Glutton. If there was ever a parrot which lived up to its name, it is you. You should be more like Meek. And now we have Precious and Sated. There you are, my lovelies.” She reached into a pouch belted to her waist and stuffed another cracker into the slot between the bars. The birds pecked at each other, and the woman clucked her tongue at them.
“How are you, Mondargiss?” Hettie said, running her fingers down the firm metal bars of a cage. The finches trilled at her and bobbed their heads furiously, looking for crumbs or seeds from her.
“Well enough, child. Well enough,” she said disdainfully. She cooed at more of the birds. “Pretty Vespers. I like you the best. What a lovely song you have for me. If only…” She stopped, scowling, and stamped her cane on the ground. “Cim! She is weeping again! Can you not hear her? I am all fury with the sound of it.” She stamped her cane again. “Cim! Go next door and bid her be quiet!”
Cim stared at the woman, his eyes full of loathing, and did nothing but wait. In a moment, Mondargiss straightened, her eyes shifting from cage to cage as if she could not remember where she left off. “Pout, did you get a cracker? I do not believe so. I can’t remember. Here is another one. You are not as fat as Glutton, so maybe it will be all right if you had more. And look at you, little Cheer. How quaint.”
Hettie let the reek of bird scat wash over her and she sighed, waiting for the ritual to be over. She did not advance deeper into the room until invited. It took quite a while, for Mondargiss was thorough. When she had visited the last cage with a compliment, she turned at last to Hettie. Her eyes narrowed.
“You returned sooner than I suspected. Did you fail, girl?” She started wobbling toward her, face painted as if she were ready to perform on the stage. A dribble of smoke-colored sweat trickled down her cheek.
“I did not fail,” Hettie replied coldly. “There is a new assignment from Kiranrao.”
“Ahh, you failed then. Pretty thing. He will forgive you your blunder. You are too pretty to be cast aside. Too young. Only one ring in your ear? Poor lass. Would that we could trade places.” She parted her honey-dyed hair and revealed six gleaming rings in her own ear. “What I would not give to be useful again. Useful and young.”
Hettie stared at her with contempt. She had been a beauty once. Now it was a husk, an illusion. “You are useful to Kiranrao, which is why he bids me seek your help. I need information, Mondargiss.”
A wicked smile played on the older woman’s lips. “Of course you do, child. What do you seek?”
“There was an explosion in the Paracelsus Tower recently. The tower of Tyrus Paracelsus. You know of it?”
Mondargiss slowly closed the gap between them, shuffling forward lamely. Her eyes were dark and cunning. “We felt it explode. It shook the entire city. Windows shattered. Glass on the floor. My little doves were so upset by it. I knew Kiranrao would wish to know of it. I sent my swiftest little one.”
There was a flapping of wings and then a dove flew in from the window, landing in a dovecote above.
“Cim!” she shrieked, but the young man was already moving, climbing up a rickety ladder until he reached the dovecote. He fussed with the bird a bit and then brought down a tiny slip, which he handed to Mondargiss.
The woman craned her neck and studied the small scrawlings. She chuckled gleefully. “An ill wind from the east. An ill wind from the west. An ill wind from the north. My, what a storm that will brew. Yes, my darling, what is it that you need?” She reached forward and flicked some of Hettie’s hair teasingly.
“Tyrus left something behind, likely in the rubble. It is a sturdy leather bag with three unfinished stones. Not cut gems, but likely polished. It would not have been destroyed.”
Mondargiss shook her head knowingly. “Little stones, you stay. Little uncut gems. There were weapons found. Spirit-touched blades. Arrowheads survived, but the shafts did not. They are selling for many ducats and being stolen away to Havenrook for bidding. But you know that I cannot go near the Paracelsus Towers, my dear. Not myself.”
Hettie bridled with impatience, but kept her temper. The woman’s eyes were always cruel. “Surely I did not believe you were scavenging the rubble, Mondargiss.”
“Not even when I was younger. Any number of boys would have gladly searched the rubble at my command. But they will search for me again. Cim! See to it. If someone has captured the stones, bring them to me, or bring me word of who has them.”
The young man rose from the dilapidated couch and shrugged. Hettie stopped him before he passed her.