He turned away and rubbed the scruff growing on his jaw. What if Sandis was right? Only wealthy men dealt in gold. Maybe this relative of Sandis’s could help him. What Rone needed was money . . . money he could preferably get without risking being thrown into Gerech himself. If Sandis pleaded on his behalf . . . maybe, depending on how much the guy was worth . . .
And who wouldn’t want to reward a man handsomely for returning his long-lost niece? And if Talbur didn’t turn out to be the charitable type, Rone could take it.
It wasn’t an idea he relished, but the city had taken so much from him over his twenty-five years. Maybe it was time to start taking back.
The city. “You’re sure he’s in the city?”
Sandis nodded, still watching him. He wondered what his face betrayed. But he wasn’t using her; he had planned to help her regardless, more or less. He already had, hadn’t he?
Then he remembered. “All the pilgrims sign a book before they leave. Maybe one of the priests will let you sort through the names.” It was worth a shot.
Sandis lit up like a candle. “Really?” She bit her lip, and Rone could see thoughts swirling behind her eyes. “Everyone makes a pilgrimage once in their life, surely. Maybe he’s there. Maybe he came recently!”
She grinned. Was it so easy to make her happy, even after everything she’d endured? Rone almost mirrored the smile. Almost.
“No one will question you if you keep your shirt on and watch what you say.” He gestured toward the door with his head. “Go. They’ll kick us out in the morning.”
Sandis jumped to her feet. “Thank you, Rone.”
The sincerity in her words eased the cramping in Rone’s middle. He nodded, and Sandis danced into the hallway, leaving him to his tangled misery.
Chapter 13
Sandis’s fatigue evaporated the moment her eyes found his name.
It was in the eighth book she’d tried, two-thirds of the way through. They were not small volumes. An acolyte no older than fourteen had brought her candles and helped her look through the well-kept records; he looked over when she gasped.
“You found it?” The boy set down the volume sprawled open in his lap.
Sandis licked her lips and nodded. Blinked tired eyes to make sure she had read it right. Talbur Gwenwig. He’d come to the Lily Tower over six years ago on his own pilgrimage. The entry didn’t list his sins or the like, but he had indicated his place of residence was District Three.
It wasn’t a true address, but it confirmed that Talbur Gwenwig most likely resided within Dresberg. This was the first true lead she had on her great-uncle. She’d narrowed down his location by seventy-five percent! Her eyes stung with a few rogue tears.
The acolyte leaned close. “Are you all right?”
Sandis nodded and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. “Yes, yes, I’m fantastic.” She scanned the entry again, ensuring she hadn’t missed anything. She even memorized the date and the jagged edges of his penmanship.
She closed the book and walked back to the shelves in the tiny room, where the pilgrimage records were kept.
“Get some sleep, miss,” the acolyte said. “It will only take me a few minutes to clean up.”
Sandis smiled. “Thank you.” She offered a bow—she’d seen several priestesses exchange greetings as such—and hurried from the room, taking a candle with her so she could find her way up the stairs. The higher she climbed, however, the further her success seemed to diminish.
Rone had looked so . . . miserable earlier, when he’d confronted the Angelic. His father. She could hardly imagine how much it must hurt to be swept away like that. To have family, and yet not have family. Like her mother before . . . but that had only been for a brief time.
A hollow pocket in her chest opened, and it ached for him.
She neared a room of priests chatting and sped up, shielding her light. Rone had assured her she’d be fine inside the Lily Tower, but she didn’t want to draw attention. Didn’t want to be asked questions, for fear of slipping up.
She pushed open the heavy door to the room. Rone stood at the window, his arms folded, looking out at the darkened sky. She had assumed he’d be asleep by now. Was he still thinking of his father?
He glanced back at her. Silent.
Setting the candle down, Sandis offered him her happy news, hoping it would help. “I found him. He lives in District Three!”
Rone straightened. “He does? Where?”
“I . . . that’s all the record said. He didn’t write an address.” Only about a third of the entries had one.
Rone frowned, an expression that looked deeper and longer in the flickering candlelight. “That’s not much.”
“But it’s something.” She smiled, wishing he would smile, too. “I feel so much closer. I’ll knock on every door in District Three until I find him.”
“That will get you caught in no time.” He looked back out the window. Specks of silver caught Sandis’s eye. Excitement built at the base of her throat, and she hurried over to the window, straining to see as far up as its large panes would allow.
“Oh, wow,” she whispered.
“What?”
She pointed. “Look at all the stars! I can see . . . seven of them!”
Rone snorted. “If you left Dresberg, you’d see a lot more.”
Pulling back from the cool glass, Sandis said, “Truly? How many more? My father once said that in the country there’s whole clusters of them, and they make shapes.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re like a kid.”
She rolled her eyes and looked back at the dusty black sky. “What’s wrong with loving stars? They’re so rare . . . but so bright. Even when you don’t see them, you know they’re there. And to think there’s more we can’t see . . . it’s like the Celestial is keeping them secret, and it makes you wonder why.”
Rone chuckled.
She looked at him. “Have you never lain back to look at the stars?” Sometimes, after a good rain, Sandis had been able to see a few stars from her old home. Never with the grafters. There, she’d been too far underground most of the time to even see the sky.
Rone pulled away from the window. “Come on.”
She turned. “What?”
“Just come.”
She followed him out of the room and back up the staircase. It wasn’t the same one that had led them to the Angelic—the steps were narrower and simpler. Unadorned. A servants’ staircase, perhaps. They reached a landing with two opposing doors. Rone hesitated before opening the one on the right, which led to a shorter flight of stairs. At the top of the dark passageway was a flat door, like the kind leading to a cellar. He unlatched something and shoved his shoulder into it to open it.
Cool air rushed down and tousled Sandis’s hair. Rone stepped out, then offered her a hand.
They were on top of the Lily Tower.
Sandis gaped, looking down at the roads and wide space behind the tower, the distant light of a town shining up behind a small hill in the distance. She turned back for the city. It was a dark bangle, an obsidian bowl filled with spots of light. She could barely see over the wall.
“That way, Sandis.” Rone pointed skyward.
Sandis dipped her head back. “Oh.”
There were so many stars speckling the black. A cloud of gray smoke swept by them, but the wind carried it away, letting the bluish lights shine through. Sandis counted quietly to herself. Thirty-seven! She’d never seen so many stars in her life.
Refusing to take her gaze from the sky, she carefully sat down, then lay back against the rough shingles atop the tower. She stared at the stars, absorbing the sight with reverence, trying to find shapes within them. A few clustered together looked like the head of a horse. She thought of Ireth and thought she felt a warm recognition from him in return.
Surely Kazen had lost her blood by now, right?
“What?” Rone asked.
He stood over her. She glanced up at him in question.
He shrugged. “You looked so happy for a moment; then . . . you didn’t.”
She offered him a small smile. “I am. Thank you, for bringing me here.” She let her vision drift back toward the horse head. “I was thinking about Kazen.”
Rone sighed. “Yeah. I’ve got to figure that out.”
“We will.”
“Hmm.” He sat down next to her and leaned back on his hands. “They’re all right. The stars, I mean.”