“Your shirt was a total loss. I have your jacket over here. Do you feel any nausea?”
“I’m fine. Look in my jacket pocket for a list of addresses and bring it to me.”
Emerald set the bowl aside and disappeared from Michel’s vision for a moment, before returning with the list and holding it where Michel could see. Michel squeezed his eyes closed, focusing his energy, and lifted his left arm as high as he dared. Emerald put the list between his fingers.
Half the paper had been soaked through with Michel’s blood, making it impossible to read. But the top half was still intact, and Michel scanned his eyes across the addresses, trying to come up with some sort of pattern. “Kingston Street, where is that?” he asked.
“Lower Landfall, north of the plateau.”
“And Gorin Way?”
“That’s on the northern rim of Greenfire Depths.”
Michel licked his lips. There was a pattern to these addresses. He could feel it, but what it was remained just out of his foggy-brained grasp. “What do all of these addresses have in common?” he whispered.
Emerald suddenly leaned over him, staring at the paper for a moment before sitting back down and offering Michel another spoonful of gruel. “They’re the locations of the bombings that have been going on the last two weeks.”
Michel’s mouth fell open. “You’re kidding me.” He stared at the addresses, going over them again and again. He brought the paper closer to his eyes, noting a light pencil mark beside each address that he’d missed on his initial perusal. It was a number, seemingly nonsensical until he realized that it was the day of the month—this month and last—according to the Dynize calendar. Each day corresponded perfectly with each bombing at each address.
This wasn’t just a list of addresses. It was the Blackhat hit list. Either Forgula had been given this so that she could keep herself out of harm’s way, or it was a copy of a list of instructions she’d given to the Blackhats. Maybe even both. Michel’s eyes had trouble focusing, his breathing growing strained.
“You need to relax,” Emerald told him. “Otherwise you will set your healing back by days.”
Michel tapped the paper with his thumb. There was an address right where the blood began to soak the paper, only half of which he could read. “What does this say?”
Emerald took the paper from Michel, studying it a moment. “Seventeen Chancellor’s Court.”
“And the number next to it?” Michel’s hand began to tremble from the effort of holding up his hand.
This time, Emerald’s study took almost a minute. He got up, went to the gas lantern in the corner, and held the paper up at several different angles. “I think it says eleven.”
“The eleventh.” Michel struggled against his own sluggishness to try to get to his feet. He barely managed to move his head off the pillow.
“What is it?” Emerald asked.
“Forgula is using the Blackhats to eliminate Sedial’s enemies,” Michel whispered. “That address is Yaret’s Household. What day is it?”
“The ninth.”
“Shit. I have to warn them.”
“You’re not going to get very far in your condition. You might be able to walk in two or three days, but …”
“Then you have to warn them,” Michel hissed.
Emerald raised his eyebrows. “I don’t have to do anything. Certainly not something that will put me or my people in danger.” The words weren’t said unkindly, but his tone was firm.
“Send a runner! Leave an anonymous note!”
“I will have no communication on your behalf with the Dynize,” Emerald said. “I’m sorry, but it’s too much of a risk. Messengers can be recognized or followed. To be perfectly honest, I haven’t entirely convinced myself I’m not going to euthanize you and dump the body in the river so that you can’t be found here.”
Michel stared at Emerald, fear creeping in through the haze of the mala. His shivering, which he’d gotten mostly under control, suddenly returned.
Emerald continued with a sigh. “It is fortunate for you that I respect Taniel and Ka-poel more than I fear the Dynize. I will not chop you up while you sleep, I suppose, but I will also not do anything to risk any of my people. You can leave here once you can walk out on your own accord, but I will not involve myself in Dynize affairs.” Emerald clapped his hands, standing up. “You need to rest. My assistants will move you back to a proper bed now. I’m afraid they’re not used to carrying live bodies, so this may be slightly uncomfortable.”
Michel didn’t answer, trying desperately to come up with a way to convince Emerald to warn Yaret about the bombing. Yaret would die if his house was destroyed. Perhaps Tenik, too. Children would be caught in the explosion and, if it was big enough, dozens of Yaret’s Household.
It wasn’t until this moment that Michel realized he didn’t want to lose Yaret. Not just for the mission but because he’d been the most understanding master Michel had ever served.
And he was a good man.
Michel was still trying to come up with something to say when two of Emerald’s assistants put their hands beneath him—one under his shoulders, another under his feet—and counted down from three. They reached one and lifted, and all the warmth centered around Michel’s chest suddenly burst into a brilliant lance of pain that flashed lightning across his senses.
Despite the pain, Michel could think of only one thing: Yaret was going to die in two days. And there was nothing he could do about it.
CHAPTER 36
Vlora spent the next twenty-four hours attempting to catch sight of Prime Lektor once more. It was, at the heart of it, a game—Vlora spent every waking hour stalking the streets with her hat pulled forward and her collar up, trying to find Prime Lektor without him catching sight of her.
A dangerous game for certain, but it still felt like a game. She jumped at every Prime-shaped shadow and could barely sleep for worry. Prime was the key to all of this; she knew it in her gut. It seemed possible, maybe even probable, that he already knew where the godstone was. If she could follow him more carefully, he might lead her right to it.
She gave up late the next day, worried that she was becoming too scattered in her search, and headed up to Little Flerring’s place in the hills. She found Flerring inspecting barrels of saltpeter as they were removed from an ox-drawn wagon. Vlora waited until the inspection was finished, then drew Flerring aside.
“Have you been able to find out about anything strange going on around town?” she asked.
Flerring waved down the cart driver, slipping him several extra coins, before returning to Vlora and rubbing her chin. “You mentioned a madness thing last time you were here, right?”
“Taniel did. Apparently madness seized people at random if they spent too much time near the artifact.”
“Not a lot of weird stuff going on,” Flerring said thoughtfully. “Aside from the usual fights and killings and mining accidents. But a handful of miners up in Nighttime Vale have been hauled away raving mad over the last few weeks.”
Vlora perked up. This was the kind of information she’d been waiting to hear. “You couldn’t have mentioned this sooner?”
“I didn’t know sooner. Just found out a few hours ago. Miners are superstitious by nature, and Jezzy has been paying the local doctors a heavy fee to keep quiet about the whole thing.”
“Jezzy’s territory, eh?” Vlora swore under her breath. Burt, she might be able to bribe or cajole, but Jezzy probably didn’t feel all that kindly toward Vlora right now. “What can you tell me about the Vale?”
“It’s a canyon northeast of here,” Flerring answered. “Easy to miss, actually. The entrance makes it look tiny, but it opens up into a rather large valley. It would be a great spot for a summer home if there weren’t five hundred miners living up there blowing the whole thing to the pit.”
“Does Jezzy own the whole valley?”