“That little pretender doesn’t have the piss to do anything against me.”
“Maybe,” the chief cook said, “but she’s one of them now, and I’ll bet that any noble who heard that you insulted one of their own—well, they might take it personally.”
Edith’s grin disappeared and the laughter vanished with it.
Cora returned with a tablecloth, which Ibis folded twice before wrapping around Arista’s shoulders. “I hope you have another kirtle at home, Ella. It’s gonna be cold tonight.”
Arista thanked him before heading out the scullery door. It was already dark and, just as Ibis had predicted, cold. Autumn was in full swing, and the night air shocked her wet body. The castle courtyard was nearly empty, with only a few late carters dragging their wagons out through the main gate. A page raced between the stables and the keep, hauling armloads of wood, but most of the activity that usually defined the yard was absent. She passed through the great gates, where the guards ignored her, as they had done each evening. The moment she reached the bridge and stepped beyond the protection of the keep’s walls, the full force of the wind struck her. She clenched her jaw to stifle a cry, hugged her body with fingers that were already turning red, and shivered so badly it was hard to walk.
Not skin worms. No. Not nearly bad enough.
“Oh dear!” Mrs. Barker exclaimed, rushing over as Arista entered Brisbane Alley. “What happened, child? Not that Edith Mon again?”
Arista nodded.
“What was it this time?”
“I spilled some wash water.”
Mrs. Barker shook her head and sighed. “Well, come over to the fire and try and dry off before you catch your death.”
She coaxed Arista to the communal fire pit. Brisbane Alley was literally the end of the road in Aquesta, a wretched little dirt patch behind Brickton’s Tannery where the stench from the curing hides kept away any except the most desperate. Newcomers without money, relatives, or connections settled here. The lucky ones lived huddled under canvas sheets, carts, and the wagons they had arrived in. The rest simply huddled against the tannery wall, trying to block the wind as they slept. So had Arista—that is, until the Barkers adopted her.
Brice Barker worked shouting advertisements through the city streets for seven coppers a day. All of that went to buy food to feed three children and his wife. Lynnette Barker took in what sewing work she could find. When the weather turned colder, they had offered Arista a place under their wagon. She had known them for only a few weeks, but already she loved them like her own family.
“Here, Ella,” Lynnette said, bringing an old kirtle for her to put on. The dress was little more than a rag, worn thin and frayed along the hem. Lynnette also brought Esrahaddon’s robe. Arista went around the corner and slipped out of her wet things. Lynnette’s dress did nothing to keep out the cold, but the robe vanquished the wet chill instantly in uncompromising warmth.
“That’s really a wonderful robe, Ella,” Lynnette told her, marveling at how the firelight made it shimmer and reflect colors. “Where did you get it?”
“A … friend left it to me when he died.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said sadly. Her expression changed then from one of sadness to one of concern. “That reminds me, a man was looking for you.”
“A man?” Arista asked as she folded the tablecloth. If anything happened to it, Edith would make Ibis pay.
“Yes, earlier today. He spoke to Brice while he was working on the street, and mentioned he was looking for a young woman. He described you perfectly, although oddly enough, he didn’t know your name.”
“What did he look like?” Arista hoped her concern was not reflected in her voice.
“Well,” Lynnette faltered, “that’s the thing. He wore a dark hood and a scarf wrapped about his face, so Brice didn’t get a good look at him.”
Arista pulled the robe tightly about her.
Is he here? Has the assassin managed to track me down?
Lynnette noticed the change in her and asked, “Are you in trouble, Ella?”
“Did Brice tell him I lived here?”
“No, of course not. Brice is many things, but he’s no fool.”
“Did he give a name?”
Lynnette shook her head. “You can ask Brice about him when he returns. He and Wery went to buy flour. They should be back soon.”
“Speaking of that,” Arista said, fishing coins out of her wet dress, “here’s three copper tenents. They paid me this morning.”
“Oh no. We couldn’t—”
“Of course you can! You let me sleep under your wagon, and you watch my things when I’m at work. You even let me eat with you.”
“But three! That’s your whole pay, Ella. You won’t have anything left.”
“I’ll get by. They feed me at the palace sometimes, and my needs are pretty simple.”
“But you’ll want a new set of clothes, and you’ll need shoes come winter.”