Kazen would have found her missing by now. She didn’t have much time to disappear.
Little had changed in Dresberg since Sandis was fourteen, but she found herself getting turned around anyway. Her attention kept focusing on people rather than places. She didn’t want to find any familiar faces. A familiar face would mean a grafter. It would mean they’d already caught up with her.
She pulled the hood of her stolen coat tighter around her head and paused under an eave as a wagon driver whipped his horse and shouted at passersby to get out of his way. Many shouted back—one even threw a broken cobble at him. It went wide. Sandis filled her lungs with a deep breath and looked up, attempting to gain her bearings. She vaguely remembered which bank Kazen had taken her to less than a day ago. Her life depended on finding it.
Checking the street—the faces—one more time, Sandis hurried across the road, feeling the mortar between each cobble through her thin shoes. An older woman made eye contact with her; Sandis looked away. There—she recognized that key shop. She knew where she was. She could do this.
She wiped clammy hands on her pants as she wound around the block, crossed another street, and took a shortcut down an alley—only to find it closed off at the end, a new building shoved into the space. She retraced her steps. The bank was on the eastern edge of the city in District Two, so she at least knew which direction to travel. She hiked up a hill, staying close to the storefronts, weaving through people milling about between their factory shifts. Everyone in Dresberg worked in factories. Sandis and her brother had, too, before Kazen. The poor manned the lines, the middle class managed the poor, and the rich owned the lot of them.
The sun peeked between clouds, its color a mustardy yellow from the smoke. Brighter than usual. Sandis stared at it a long moment, until her eyes burned and watered. She so seldom came outside during the day. She’d always loved the sun. No matter how hard things got, the sun was a bright constant against the city’s smoke and fear.
She blinked her eyes clear and saw a tip of bronze over the high wall that surrounded the city. It belonged to the Lily Tower, where the head of the Celesians, the Angelic, lived. It was the only structure that rivaled the size of the Degrata, the building at the center of the Innerchord. The government tower was rumored to be the tallest building in the country. Perhaps that was why the Lily Tower sat outside the city walls. To forbid contest. Alys had said a person could take refuge there, even if the scarlets wanted them for a crime. It was a right granted to the Angelic on behalf of God—the Celestial—one not even the triumvirate dared take away. Could Sandis hide there? Would they hurt her if they discovered she was a vessel, or simply kick her out?
The tolling of a clock-tower bell startled her forward. It was warm outside, but Sandis clutched the coat around her, feet moving as quickly as the crowds allowed. By the time the clock rang the next hour, she’d found the bank. She stretched her sore calves before heading in.
The first thing Sandis did was search every face inside the building. She wasn’t sure what Kazen had done to the bankers two nights ago . . . and she’d rather not dwell on it . . . but she did need to ensure no one here recognized her.
All were strangers. She pulled down her hood and smoothed her hair before approaching the first teller. She kept her chin up and shoulders back. Tried to emanate the quiet confidence that simmered around Kazen like heavy perfume.
“Pardon me,” she said to the woman. She looked tired but well kept. Possibly the same way Sandis looked, for she hadn’t slept since her escape. “I made an exchange of gold here last week, and my records don’t match my receipt.” Sandis had practiced this story all night long and into the morning. Practiced a more Kazen-like dialect so she’d sound like someone who went around making exchanges in gold. “Might I see the record?”
The teller looked her over. Sandis wished she could hear her thoughts. “What is the name on the account?”
“Talbur Gwenwig.” It was the first time she’d said the name aloud. Chills ran down her arms. When the teller looked up again, Sandis added, “He’s my uncle.”
He very well could be. Though as far as Sandis knew, her parents had no living siblings. Her heart beat quicker.
“One moment.” The teller rose from her chair and disappeared through a door in the wall behind her. Sandis licked her lips. Heard another person enter through the heavy front door and glanced behind her—a stranger. Relief engulfed her in a cold embrace. She faced forward. Tapped her toe on the gray-tiled floor, caught herself, and stopped. Wrung her hands together. Glanced around again. The shadowed stairs in the corner were the same ones she and Kazen had taken to the earlier “meeting.” Part of her wished Ireth had allotted her memories of it . . . but perhaps it was better if she didn’t know. Some of the things she’d seen, things she suspected . . .
Don’t think about that now.
The teller returned, carrying the very book in which Sandis had seen the name. She wanted to jump across that desk and grab that book, flip through its pages until she found it . . . but she clenched her hands at her sides and forced herself to remain calm. As calm as she could be, at least. Any information, anything, would help her find— “There’s no exchange for Talbur Gwenwig in here.” The woman flipped a page, then another. “You said it was last week?”
Blood drained from her face. “Y-Yes, last week.”
She’d seen the name. Talbur Gwenwig. She was sure that was it. The writing was burned into her memory like a brand.
The teller shook her head. “I . . . oh. Hmm.”
Sandis grabbed the edge of the desk and leaned in. “What? What is it?”
The teller set the book down. “There’s a page missing.” She fingered the tiniest nub, almost too small to notice, at the bottom of the book. The remnants of a page torn out.
Sandis stared at that nub for too long. Missing? How could it be missing? It had been there two nights ago— Her blood turned cold. Kazen hadn’t taken it out, had he? But why would he have? She’d been so careful not to stare, and he still thought she couldn’t read . . . didn’t he?
Yes, she was being paranoid, surely. He’d come here on business related to his accounts, not the gold exchange.
But one often had to be paranoid, with Kazen.
The teller began opening drawers full of files. She searched through one twice. “I don’t see an account here under Gwenwig.” She clucked her tongue. “Let me ask my supervisor.” She stood and disappeared behind that door again.
Sandis grabbed the book and turned it toward her, scanning the pages, searching for her surname. It wasn’t there. She touched the nub. Nothing.
Had Kazen expected her to come here looking for Talbur Gwenwig?
A hard beat of terror pulsed in her chest. Sandis dropped the book as though it were hot iron and backed away from the desk. Turned around, scanned faces. She thought she felt Kazen’s cold fingers on her neck and jumped.
The need to leave pressed in on her.
She ran out the door, back into the city. Searched for him—her master. Spotted the dark-scarlet uniform of a police officer instead.
A reminder that it was illegal to be involved in the occult, as the Celesians called it. Illegal to be what she had been forced to become.
Sandis turned the other way and jerked up the hood of her coat. Bumped into someone as she hurried away, but her apology caught in her throat. Where would she go? Where else could she find the name?
What if it didn’t exist?
No. Don’t think that. She knew what she’d seen. This unknown relative had to exist, or else she had no one to turn to. Nowhere to go. She certainly couldn’t go back, not without severe punishment for both herself and the others.
She had no hope. She needed hope.