I collected the files Valek and I had taken from Bavol’s residence. Ignoring the dark brown stains of my own dried blood, I returned to the office. During my initial pass through, I organized them into three categories—useful, useless and beyond my expertise. I marked the third pile for my father.
Getting comfortable, I read through the notes in the useful stack. Bavol had considered the grafting techniques that Leif said Owen’s unknown Master Gardener used to increase the production of Theobroma. He had sketches of how to cut into the tree’s bark and insert a limb from an older tree and then bind them together. The older limb would produce pods quicker than the new host tree, cutting down on the two-year wait for the tree to mature.
I wondered if Bavol had tried it. There hadn’t been any plants in his home or office. Would he have used another location? Maybe in the Council Hall? No. Not enough light. Perhaps the Magician’s Keep? The gardeners who worked for the Keep had an impressive amount of knowledge.
Another hour passed as I continued reading, marking some pages for my father to explain. But one sketch drove me to my feet. I ran to our rooms and hunted through my travel pack, hoping that it was still there after all the insanity of being captured by Bruns.
It was. Thank fate!
Dashing back to Fisk’s office, I compared Onora’s drawing from the Commander’s castle to the sketch in Bavol’s file. They matched. I sank into the chair, mulling over the significance. Onora had drawn the saplings that Owen had carried all the way from Sitia. He called them Harman trees, and they had to be important with a capital I. Now Bavol also had a picture of them, but there wasn’t an explanation to go with it.
I growled in frustration. So close! However, this could be a clue that Owen’s Master Gardener might have worked with Bavol at one point. And they needed a place to work close by. Maybe even one of those glass hothouses. I returned to my reading, hoping for another clue.
“What are you scowling at?” I jumped at the sound of Fisk’s voice. He stood in the doorway.
“Bavol’s notes. Did you have a productive afternoon?”
His light brown eyes shone. “I finally found Lovely Adara the perfect dress for her wedding.”
“You’re seriously excited about that? At a time like this?”
“Yes. She is extremely picky, and her father promised me double payment if I found her one within the week.” He tapped his bulging pocket and coins rattled. “He hated to pay, but once again I proved I can find anything in the Citadel.”
I grinned at him.
Fisk held his hands up. “Oh, no, what did I say?”
“Have you found a structure made of glass in the Citadel? Or maybe a building with lots of windows? Perhaps with greenery growing inside it?”
“No, but...” Fisk moved to his desk and dug through the drawers. “Tweet mentioned a green glass roof, but I thought I’d translated his report wrong.”
“I’m amazed you understand him at all.” Tweet’s tongue had been cut out at a very young age, so he communicated with a variety of hoots and whistles. Hence the nickname.
“We both grew up on the streets,” Fisk said, as if that explained everything. He withdrew a notebook and flipped through the pages. “Ah, here it is. Tweet tried to look inside, but a man spotted him and chased him off with threats of harm if he returned. I figured he’d found a skylight and was peering down into someone’s bedroom. People don’t like it when you spy into their private rooms.” His tone made it clear that the very concept amazed him.
I suppressed a smile. “Where was this glass roof?”
“Not far from here. I can have someone take another look.”
“I need to go and see it for myself,” I said.
“But Valek—”
“—said I can get some fresh air. Besides, once he kills The Mosquito, the others will be too frightened to come after me. Plus it’s close, and you’ll be with me. Right?”
“I don’t know.”
I tried another tactic. “We can bring along a couple bodyguards, if that makes you feel better.”
“Bodyguards? You do realize most of my people are underage.”
I stared at him.
He fidgeted under my scrutiny. “Well, I do have a few members who are skilled fighters.”
“Please, Fisk. I’m going crazy in here. Valek was okay with me leaving as long as we stay nearby.”
“If anything happens—”
“It won’t.”
“—Valek’s going to kill me.”
“I’ll kill you if I have to stay inside one more moment.”
“Sorry, but Valek scares me more.”
“That’s ’cause you’ve never seen me cranky.” I stood.
“All right, but we’ll need disguises. And if Valek asks, you forced me at knife point.”
“Chicken.”
“Damn right.”
*
Our disguises turned out to be a family. Fisk played the father, I took the role of mother and the bodyguards, Lyle and Natalie, were dressed as our children. The irony was not lost on me. With blond curls and chubby cheeks, Lyle was so adorable, I had to resist picking him up and hugging him.
As Fisk and I strolled hand in hand, I asked, “Are they even armed?”
“To the teeth.”