Sword Catcher (Sword Catcher, #1)

“Astonishing news,” said the Ragpicker King. “I’ve always said I should keep better track of major holidays.” He crossed his arms. “I’ve a meeting going on, in case you can’t tell.”

Ciprian Cabrol shot a single glance at Lin. “Irrelevant. She’s Ashkar, who will she tell? My powder—”

Andreyen rolled his eyes. “Ciprian, this is Shenzan black powder we’re discussing. Surely you understand the importance of transporting it carefully. Besides. The Roverge ships will be in the harbor for another two weeks.”

Roverge ships? Lin felt her eyes widen. The Roverges were a Charter Family, dangerous to be at odds with.

“But it needs to happen soon—on Ascension Day,” Cabrol insisted. “At the stroke of midnight. All the nobles will be gathered for that banquet. Roverge and his rotten son will be there. I need them to see my vengeance written in fire across the sky. The harbor will shine as though the lights of the Gods have returned. As though their magic still burns across the waters.”

“That was surprisingly poetic,” murmured Ji-An.

“You are being very theatrical about all of this,” said Andreyen disapprovingly.

“Says the man who goes about in a black carriage with wheels painted the color of blood,” said Ciprian. “Theatricality has its purpose. After what they did to us—driving a family from their home for daring to own a small business selling ink—”

“It wasn’t that small a business,” said Andreyen. “Honestly, I’m surprised, after what’s happened, that you and your family are still in Castellane. The Vigilants—”

“My family is in Valderan for now,” said Ciprian. “Only I am here. And I’m safe enough.” He glowered. “I expect that powder tomorrow morning,” he said, and stalked out of the room. After a moment, Ji-An followed him, no doubt to make sure he made directly for the exit.

“This business with Cabrol and the Roverge fleet,” said the Ragpicker King. He looked down at Lin, eyes unreadable. “It is not information you can share. Do you understand? Not with anyone in the Sault. Not with Mayesh Bensimon. Cabrol is rude and careless, but he is a customer. And I have a certain interest in him getting his way.”

“One question,” said Lin. “Will there be people aboard those ships? The ones Cabrol wants to blow up?”

“No,” Andreyen said. “Everyone will be in the city, celebrating Ascension Day. And they’re moored halfway out to Tyndaris. Besides, that night is your Tevath, isn’t it—your Goddess Festival? You and yours will be safe in the Sault.”

“I am a healer,” said Lin. “I would have difficulty keeping a secret that I knew would lead to injury or death, whether the victims were Ashkar or not. But the fleets of the Castellani nobility are not my concern. Besides,” she added, thinking aloud. “If I were to tell anyone, how would I explain how I had come by the information without revealing things I do not want to reveal?”

“Like your association with me.”

“You must know a great number of people who do not wish to reveal their association with you,” said Lin.

“Indeed, and I find we all get along handily. In the meantime . . .”

“I know,” Lin said. “Keep looking for the book.”

Later, after she had left the mansion and was on her way back to the Sault, she glanced over at the harbor, a strip of blue in the distance. How odd it would be if Ciprian Cabrol succeeded in his mad plan, and sometime during the Goddess Festival the gold light of his explosions illuminated the sky over the harbor.

But that was what it was to be Ashkar. Whatever happened inside the Sault, they would always be surrounded by malbushim, by their machinations and their madness. If Cabrol managed to enact his plan—and Lin had her doubts—it would be the most exciting thing that had happened at a Tevath in some two hundred years.


Kel had returned to Marivent to find that Conor and Lilibet, Bensimon and Jolivet, were locked away in the Shining Gallery with the delegates from Sarthe. He could hear shouting from behind the doors. He tried to get close but was shooed away by Benaset. “Not your place, Anjuman,” he said. “Jolivet told me expressly to make sure you stayed away. Go amuse yourself elsewhere.”

Kel was furious, but he restrained himself. He headed back to the Castel Mitat to collect his thoughts; besides, he could at least change out of the wretched velvet coat he’d been roasting in all day. (Lilibet’s desire for him to represent Marakand in velvet and brocade was rarely practical where the realities of Castellani weather were concerned, and it had been a depressingly beautiful day, the sky arching overhead like a dancer in pale-blue satin, the sea a sheet of unbroken teal-green glass.)

He expected to find the courtyard of the Castel Mitat empty, but it was not. The small Princess, Luisa, was there, playing along the edge of the tiled fountain. Kel and Conor had done the same when they were children; on hot days, it was a good way to cool down. The memory sent a piercing sadness through Kel: for his old self, for Luisa now.

With her was the bodyguard, Vienne d’Este. She did not seem at all bothered by the heat. She was walking alongside Luisa as the girl bounced a ball against the statue of Cerra in the fountain’s center, catching it as it rebounded and giggling when it splashed into the water.

They both turned to look at him: Vienne with a cool suspicion, her eyes flicking down (So there’s a blade in your boots, he thought, I know your tricks, bodyguard, though you will not guess why I do), while Luisa glanced at him, smiled, then frowned and said in rapid Sarthian, “Mì pensave che xéra el Prìn?ipe, el ghe soméja tanto.”

“She thought you were the Prince,” said Vienne. “She says you look very like him.”

Kel turned to Luisa. “Cosin.”

Luisa smiled her gap-toothed smile. “Dove xé?o el Prìn?ipe? Xe?o drìo a rivar a zogar con mì?”

Vienne retrieved the ball from the fountain where Luisa had dropped it. “The Prince can’t come now, darling, he has business. I am sure he’d rather be playing.”

That’s probably true, Kel thought drily, though not in the way you mean.

“I’m Kel Anjuman,” he said. “I’m at your service, and, of course, the service of the Princess.”

He swept a bow, which seemed to delight Luisa. Vienne, holding the red ball in her hands, seemed less charmed. “Well,” she said. “If you wish to help, truly—”

Kel raised an eyebrow.

“The quarters we have been given were decorated for someone much older than Luisa,” she said, rather stiffly. “If you could find some old toys, perhaps, or a few pretty things she might like—that would be helpful.”

It was clear on her face not only that she was the Princess’s bodyguard, but that she loved the girl like a little sister. She had handed off the ball to Luisa, who was dancing along the fountain’s edge. The hem of her pinafore was draggled by water and mud.