“How long will it take you?” she asked him softly.
His eyes gleamed. “Dunno,” he said with a shrug.
“Thank you, Cim,” she said, flashing him a quicksilver smile. His face remained impassive as he went to the door and unbolted it. He disappeared into the street beyond.
“You think you are so clever,” Mondargiss said with a sneer. “He is impervious to any woman. I could name him the king of stone. He feels nothing. He cares for nothing. For no one.”
Hettie felt her eyes tighten, but she managed to keep herself aloof. “What is Kiranrao training him for then? A Kishion?”
Mondargiss smiled wickedly. “I will not betray his secrets. You know that. I was his favorite once. You are so young. So pretty, but you are Romani. We understand each other, girl. Someday, you will be like me. You will ache at the thought of being useful again.” Her free hand tightened into a fist and crushed against her heart. “I was a singer once. I graced the stage, and I sang for princes and dukes and the wealthiest of Kenatos. My voice could transfix a man. I had many admirers back then. As do you, child, as do you. I did not want flowers. I asked for birds, birds of every kind. Someday, sooner than you wish, you will find that age has left you bereft of usefulness. And then maybe you will tend my menagerie and wait for scraps of paper!”
She started, head cocked, listening. Her face contorted with rage. “She is sobbing again! I hate it! I loathe the sound of it. I can hear her in the upper floor, next door. I will give you a thousand ducats, child. Go there and kill her. Stop her from weeping. Oh, how it torments me. A thousand ducats to kill her. Cim won’t do it. He says no one lives next door anymore. He is just too lazy. Too lazy. A thousand ducats. Will you do it?”
Hettie stared at the old woman, revulsion overpowering her. “I will return in three days. Kiranrao will pay for the pouch. He will pay handsomely for it. I must go.”
“Do not leave me alone, child,” Mondargiss pleaded, grabbing her by the hem of her cloak. “I cannot bear to hear the sobs when I am alone. The birds are too quiet. We must wake them. Then I will not hear her anymore. Help me rouse them.”
“Three days’ time,” Hettie said, shaking off her grip.
“Do not leave me!” she shrieked. “I was once the greatest singer in all Kenatos and Silvandom! I was famous once. The world demanded my music, and I demanded my riches. Even the Arch-Rike fancied me. Even he! I sang for him in private audience. I moved him to tears. If you had seen me, you would not scorn me now. Look at me, child! You will be here someday. You will wear this crown of thorns. You will not look so fine forever. Do not leave me! Cim! Cim! Bolt the door! Cim!”
Hettie shut the door solidly behind her, shivering with disgust and horror. Six rings in her ears. Six rings. The smell of bird droppings nearly made her retch in the street. Her first night in Kenatos, she had come to see Mondargiss. A Finder did not belong in such a muck-filled abode. She would not end up as Mondargiss. She promised herself that she would not.
But where would she stay for three days? Where could she rest and learn more about the explosion in the Paracelsus Towers?
She roamed away from the rank alleys and wandered north along the main roads higher within the city. Even though it was after sunset, the streets were crowded and full of trade. It was more active than she had seen in the past, as if a certain giddiness swelled the air. Pausing to eat a meat pie, she watched the ebb and flow of oil-skinned Cruithne moving through the crowd. The sight of Bhikhu robes caused her to start, but she did not recognize the man, nor was he a Vaettir. She did remember, briefly, Paedrin’s little lesson about the Uddhava and how just the presence of a Bhikhu could alter someone’s actions.
Hettie finished the pie and started through the streets, watching the spectacle of the city float past her. It was too noisy. She needed a respite from the crowds. Passing into a new quarter, she started up a steep climb of steps that brought her up to the next level. The din and noise of the crowds faded behind. There were plenty of lights atop metal poles on each side of the steps.
As she neared the top, she realized where her legs had taken her. The Bhikhu temple was before her, gates closed. What good would it do to see him again? She fussed and fumed with herself, standing awkwardly in the shadows, wondering what madness had driven her. Perhaps the dung from the birds had deranged her mind.