“You bet we wouldn’t make it here?” Arista asked.
“Most everyone did, yes,” Polish replied, smiling.
“’Cept Polish and I,” Quartz said happily. “Not that I thought you’d make it either. I just liked the odds and the chance for a big payoff if you did.”
“Great minds, my dear,” Polish told her as he also put his share away. “Great minds, indeed.”
Once his treasure was safely locked in a chest, Polish turned with a more serious look on his face. “Quartz, take Set and visit the Nationalists’ camp. See if you can arrange a meeting. Take Degan Street. It’ll be the safest now.”
“Not to mention poetic,” Quartz said, smiling at her own insight. She waved at Set, who grabbed his cloak. “I know exactly how much is in my trunk,” Quartz told everyone as she dropped her purse in a chest. “It had best be there when I come back or I’ll make sure everyone pays.”
No one scoffed or laughed. Apparently, when it came to money, thieves did not make jokes.
“Yes, yes, now out with you two.” Polish shooed them into the sewer, then turned to face the new guests. “Hmm, now what to do with you? We can’t move around tonight with the city watch in a frenzy, besides which, the weather has been most unfriendly. Perhaps in the morning we can find you a safe house, but for tonight I’m afraid you’ll all have to stay here in our humble abode. As you can see, we don’t have the finest accommodations for a princess.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said.
Polish looked at her, surprised. “Are you sure you are a princess?”
“She’s becoming more human every day,” Hadrian said, smiling at her.
“You can sleep over here,” Carat told them, bouncing on one of the bunks. “This is Quartz’s bed and the one below is Set’s. They’ll be out all night.”
“Thank you,” Arista told him, taking a seat on the lower berth. “You’re quite the gentleman.”
Carat straightened up at the comment and puffed up his chest, smiling back at Arista fondly.
“He’s a miserable thief, behind on his accounts, is what he is,” Polish admonished, pointing a finger. “You still owe me, remember?”
The boy’s proud face dropped.
“I’m surprised they already named a street after Degan Gaunt,” Arista mentioned, changing the subject. “I had no idea he was that popular.”
Several people snickered.
“You got it backward,” an older man with a craggy face said.
“The street wasn’t named after Gaunt,” Polish explained. “Gaunt’s mother named him after the street.”
“Gaunt is from Ratibor?” Hadrian asked.
Polish looked at him as if he had just questioned the existence of the sun. “Born on Degan Street. They say he was captured by pirates and that’s where his life changed and the legend began.”
Hadrian turned to Royce. “See? Being raised in Ratibor isn’t always such a bad thing.”
“Duster is from Ratibor? Where ’bouts did you live?”
Royce kept his eyes on his pack. “Don’t you think you should send someone with that message about Etcher back to Colnora? The Jewel will want to know about him immediately, and any delay could get people killed.”
Polish wagged a finger at Royce. “I remember you, you know. We never met, but I was in the Diamond back when you were. You were quite the bigwig, telling everyone what to do.” Polish allowed himself a snicker. “I suppose that’s a hard habit to break, eh? Still, practice makes perfect,” Polish said, turning away. “There are dry blankets here you can use. We’ll see about better arrangements in the morning.”
Royce and Hadrian rooted around in their bags. Arista watched them enviously. Etcher had taken her bundle with him. Maybe he needed it as proof, or perhaps he had thought there could have been something of value in it. In any case, he had known she would not need it. Most likely, he had forgotten her pack was still on the horse. The loss was not great, a mangled and dirty dress, her nightgown and robe, her kris dagger, and a blanket. The only thing she still had with her was the only thing she cared about—the hairbrush from her father, which she took out. She attempted to tame the tangled mess that was her hair.
“You have such a way with people, Royce,” Hadrian mentioned as he opened another pack.
Royce growled something Arista could not make out, and seemed overly focused on his gear.
“Where did you live, Royce?” Arista asked. “When you were here.”
There was a long pause. Finally, he replied, “This isn’t the first time I’ve slept in these sewers.”