Emily lifted her eyebrows. “You think they might try to scry for us?”
“The king may have a sample of Jade’s blood.” Cat frowned. “Does he have a sample of yours too?”
“I…I don’t think so,” Emily said. She’d been very careful with her blood. That lesson had been drummed into her the hard way. “I don’t think he’s had an opportunity to take one.”
She considered it for a moment. She’d probably had her period at one point, when she was in the castle, but she’d always been careful to collect and destroy the blood afterwards. Hell, thanks to the potions, she simply didn’t bleed very often anyway. It was vaguely possible that she might have been scratched, but…surely, she would have noticed. And her mental defenses were very strong anyway.
“No,” she said, finally. “I think I’m safe.”
“Best to be careful, anyway,” Cat said. He passed her a piece of chalk. “Draw out the runes and wardlines on your side, then check mine.”
“Understood,” Emily said. She watched Cat for a moment, drawing out the lines with a confidence she could only admire, then focused on her share of the work. The floor felt clammy to the touch–she promised herself that she’d clean it when she had a moment–but the chalk was charmed. It stayed firmly in place once she was done. “I think that’s my side.”
“Check mine,” Cat ordered. “We can’t afford a mistake.”
Emily nodded and walked over to Cat’s side of the room. His lines were strong, with nary a hint of wasted chalk. He’d probably cast the spells several times in the past, while he’d been apprenticed to Master Storm. The older man had probably made him draw the lines time and time again until he could do it quickly and efficiently. Lady Barb had done the same for Emily.
“Good,” she said. “Mine?”
“No mistakes,” Cat said. “Well done.”
Emily felt herself flush as Cat held his fingers to the chalk and muttered a spell. It was a very low-power spell–it might pass unnoticed, even if they messed it up completely–but it worked. Emily’s head swam, just for a second, as the wards settled into place. Anyone who tried to peek at them with magic would see nothing more than an empty room, unless they looked very closely. And if they did, the alarms would sound. There would be a chance to run before the guards arrived.
“Now,” Cat said. He cast a spell. The air became noticeably cleaner. “We should be safe using magic now.”
Emily smiled and cast a spell of her own. A light-globe appeared in front of her, bathing the room in pearly-white light. She felt her smile grow wider, even though the light revealed things she’d rather not know about the room. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d miss magic until she’d found herself unable to use it for a couple of weeks.
“Well,” she said. “What now?”
Cat grinned at her. Emily found herself flushing again.
“I suppose we can wait for Jade,” he said. “And hope the silly bastard gets back before it’s too dark.”
Emily smiled, then sobered. “What do we do if he’s late?”
“I’ve only been here once,” Cat said. “What would you do?”
“I don’t know,” Emily said. She’d had contacts too, but she doubted that anyone who’d know her was still walking around freely. Imaiqah’s surviving family would probably have been arrested too, unless they’d managed to get out of the city in time. “We might have to think of something from scratch.”
“Then start thinking,” Cat said. “We don’t know how long we have before they find us.”
Emily tensed. “You think we’ll be betrayed?”
“I think it would be unwise to count on a man who can be bought,” Cat said. “And if the Black Daggers start tightening the screws, the innkeeper might start talking.”
His face darkened. “And then we will have to fight and run.”
“And we’ll be no closer to finding Alassa,” Emily added. She leaned back on the bed, casting an insect-repulsion ward. “We’d better come up with something quickly.”
Chapter Eleven
EMILY HADN’T MANAGED TO COME UP with much, if anything, of a plan by the time Jade returned. They just didn’t know enough to come up with a real plan, starting with Alassa’s current location. Or Imaiqah’s, for that matter. Aristocratic prisoners were normally kept in the Tower of Alexis–she knew that much–but Alassa and Imaiqah were very special prisoners indeed. They might be kept in the castle itself…or they might already have been sent out of the city, well away from anyone who would try to free them. The former Duke of Iron had been locked in his country estate for the last five years, after all.
“I couldn’t get a sense of either of you from the outside,” Jade said, as Cat let him into the room. “You did a good job.”
“It’ll hold, as long as they don’t look too closely,” Cat grumbled. “There is such a thing as a room being too empty, you know.”
Emily nodded, studying Jade carefully. He looked fine, as far as she could tell, but…she was all too aware that the city wasn’t the one they knew. The rules had changed. The slightest mistake could mean discovery–and death. King Randor wouldn’t keep Jade alive, not once he realized who he’d caught. Jade wasn’t a woman or helpless or someone the king was sure wouldn’t be a danger. He’d be quietly executed before he had a chance to escape.
“If they start paying too much attention to random rooms in shitty little inns on the docks, they won’t be paying attention elsewhere,” Jade said. He sat down on the bed. “I managed to find a handful of my contacts.”
“Good,” Emily said.
Cat didn’t look too impressed. “Are you sure they’re your contacts?”
“We need information,” Jade said, curtly. “And we also need”–he produced a set of papers with a flourish–“some new chits. My sources weren’t clear on just how many guards were actually demanding papers, but we can probably expect to be asked for them when we go near the Royal Mile. Thankfully, there’s already a growing trade in fake papers.”
Emily took one of the chits and examined it, quickly. It wasn’t much, just a confirmation that the bearer had permission to reside in Alexis. The handful of biographical details were so vague they could have belonged to any young man between eight and twenty-eight, as long as he was unmarried. Jade or Cat or whoever used the chit would have to pose as a merchant family’s son, someone old enough to be out on their own but too young to be trusted with anything really important. Perhaps it would be better if they posed as younger sons. A firstborn son of their age would already be being groomed to take over the family trade.
“I thought about claiming noble blood,” Jade said. “But we’re going to have to be very careful if we assert such claims.”
Emily nodded. Zangaria’s nobility was simply too big. Everyone with a claim to a title asserted it, and the rights that came with it, as often as possible. There were impoverished men and women who still looked down on the richer merchants, even though they barely had two coins to rub together, simply because they had a title. It was quite possible that they could pass as the scions of a much-reduced family line, but they’d be in real trouble if they met one of the Grande Dames of High Society. Someone who knew the aristocratic family trees like the back of her hand would have no trouble penetrating the deception.
And we would have to explain why we weren’t fighting for the king, she thought, ruefully. An impoverished noble family might see advantage in fighting for the king, if only for the rewards Randor would lavish on his supporters. And if we didn’t come up with a convincing explanation, we would probably be arrested as enemy spies.
Cat frowned. “Still no paperwork for Emily?”