“Try out the bench,” Herse says. “I want to see something.”
Rego sits, back upright, head held high. He shrugs and is about to say, “I don’t understand,” when his butt shifts. He shifts it back, and it shifts again. Herse smiles. Rego says, “I can’t quite get comfortable.”
“The little trick of little men,” Herse says. “You can’t tell in this light, but the seat is deformed. And there’s only one, which Chelson will insist we take, so he can loom over us.”
Chelson slides through the doorway followed by Red Eye. He says, “My footman should have invited you to sit. If you will.” He holds out his arm.
Herse says, “We’re fine.” Rego can feel the tension in Herse’s chin as Chelson looks up at it. Herse says, “I think we can solve our mutual problem. Rego.”
Rego describes the cinnamon deal. “Omer probably dealt with Livion.”
Herse says, “Do you know anything about this?”
“No,” Chelson says, “but such deals aren’t uncommon. The rider would get a finder’s fee.”
“What if Livion planned to cut you out of the deal?” Herse says.
“He wouldn’t do that,” Chelson says.
“You said something similar before Council,” Herse says. “And this deal was nothing for the Shield, but it might mean twenty purses to Livion, a nice sum for a junior with a new home and a partner with aspirations.”
“Indeed,” Chelson says.
“What if,” Herse says, “Omer cut Livion in, and Livion decided to cut him out? I saw the rider’s wounds. No dragon made them. Nor did a dragon kill his servant, who might have stumbled into the middle of things. He was the last to see both.”
“Are you saying he killed them?” Chelson says. “Over some cinnamon?”
“I’m just drawing a picture,” Herse says. He glances at Red Eye’s hatchet. “One man’s cinnamon is another’s city.”
Chelson’s face darkens to Herse’s satisfaction. Mystery solved.
“So why didn’t he complete the deal?” Chelson says. “What happened to that other maid?”
“He had no chance,” Rego says, “given what happened at Council. And she wouldn’t be the first person to fall prey to the night, then to the rats.”
“Do you have any proof?” Chelson asks.
“Proof is in the eyes of the Council,” Herse says. “Ject’s search for the dragon may have been fruitless, but it’s left the city confused. Once you say there’s a dragon, there’s a dragon. If we say Livion’s story was meant to cover up murders, that will discredit him, and we can get on with business.”
“Ject would never go for it,” Chelson says. “However compromised he is.”
“If Livion’s lies distracted Hanosh from defending itself,” Herse says, “then it’s an army matter. We can argue jurisdiction later. Call another special council. And I’ll have the material brought in to sweeten the pot.”
The footman appears. “Your son-in-law is here,” he says.
“Bring him in,” Chelson says, deciding something. To Red Eye he adds, “Holestar, have your men join us. And fetch a head sack.”
8
* * *
Tristaban winds her way down through Artisans. She hasn’t decided what she’ll tell Livion, if anything. She doesn’t need a chance encounter to complicate matters.
She doesn’t know the district as well as she imagined, and finds herself in Workers with its streets missing half their cobbles and alleys full of eyes. She tries to get to a Hill street, but the lack of streetlamps and the bizarre layout of the houses drains her nearly to the Rookery before spilling her out across from Servants.
She crosses the street, sees her horrible neighbors from Blue Island wobbling out of a quick nip, and ducks into a lane running behind a dormitory. It’s barely better lit than those across the street, but at least she knows the way up.
Two stairways, a lane, and an alley later, she stands beneath a dim streetlamp and realizes she’s lost. She decides to make her way to the Quiet Tower. Surely a guard would escort her home.
It’s oddly quiet here. Most day servants should be home or coming home. Or is she beyond their quarters? Surely they can’t be hiding from a dragon. It hits her: She’s done with Livion. How can she stay with the Boy Who Cried Dragon? She’ll be a laughingstock. No one would blame her for dissolving their partnership. Her father would make it simple.
She descends a long flight of stairs into darkness and finds herself behind a warehouse. She turns west and after a few dozen yards finds another stairway switchbacking up. The Quiet Tower looms not far above its top.