“Well, that’s sort of good news,” I said. “Not that it does us much good with Cedric locked up.”
“It doesn’t do anyone any good because he too wants some kind of authentication.”
I groaned. “And here I thought these colonials would be easy marks.”
“Well, the good news is that the other man wanted an art expert to verify it. This new one will settle for ‘any knowledgeable and cultured Myrikosi who can tell the difference between dross and gold.’ His words, not mine.” Walter paused, his gaze falling meaningfully on Mira. “And I heard you have a Sirminican friend. Sirminicans look a lot like Myrikosi.”
Mira glanced between us in confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but if you’re trying to include me with art experts, I don’t think I’m who you need.”
“You’re exactly who we need,” I said eagerly. Cedric had described Walter as someone who would always figure out a way to close a deal, and now I understood. “You can do a Myrikosi accent. I used to hear you do it back at Blue Spring. All you have to do is meet this guy and tell him the painting he’s interested in is an authentic piece from one of Myrikos’s greatest masters.”
“Is it?” she asked, looking impressed.
“Um, not exactly.” After weeks of no movement on the painting, I had a brief surge of excitement over this. Mira in her finery could certainly pass herself off as an upper-class Myrikosi woman, and sell this man on the painting. Then reality hit me again. “But it’ll have to wait. I can’t chase down the painting sale right now. The money from it was supposed to help us build a life together. It won’t do us any good while Cedric’s locked up.”
Walter cleared his throat. “Begging your pardon, but there’s never really a time when money won’t do any good.”
“He’s right,” said Aiana. “I don’t understand the means either, but if you have access to significant money of your own, it could come in handy. You don’t know what you’ll need to do while this trial goes on.”
I didn’t quite follow, but Walter was more blunt: “Never underestimate the power of a good bribe.”
“Maybe . . . but there’s no time. At least not right away. You said you’re leaving town tomorrow?”
Walter nodded apologetically. “For a week, down in Lyford Colony. Other people in need of my services.”
“And I need to be at the courthouse in the morning,” I said. “No one can go with Mira.”
Mira looked between both of us, puzzled. “Why do I need anyone to go with me? I’ve just got to meet this man and act like I know about art? I can do that.”
“It’s too dangerous,” I insisted. “We’ll wait for a better time.” Although, as I spoke, I wondered if there’d ever be a better time for anything.
“Actually . . .” Aiana’s brow furrowed in thought. “Tomorrow might be the best time. There’ll be a lot going on the first day of the trial. Everyone will be distracted. If Mira disappears for part of the day, it’s less likely to be noticed.”
I still didn’t like it. Not because I didn’t think Mira could pull off anything—but because I couldn’t handle the thought of another friend going off into danger. “I’ll be back,” she said, knowing what I feared. “Go to court tomorrow. We’ll take care of this. You can give me the information?”
Walter produced a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “Here’s his name and address. And that’s the location of the man holding the painting right now.”
“You don’t have it?” I exclaimed. The second address was in a neighboring town in Denham.
“I survive in this business by making sure nothing’s ever linked directly to me. The painting’s safe, but certainly not hanging in my own bedroom,” he said. “If he agrees to the deal, you can complete the transaction yourself or wait until I’m back to do it. Just don’t spend my commission.”
“We’ll help you with the rest,” said Mira. “We’ll make it work.”
“All for money that may or may not help Cedric,” I muttered.
Aiana rested a hand on my shoulder, a steely look in her eyes. “Having a backup supply of money isn’t just about helping him. You need to accept that there’s a chance Cedric may not get out of this. And if he doesn’t, you’re going to need your own resources to escape.”
Chapter 29
Aiana put together a makeshift pallet in the corner of her sitting room. When I woke the next morning, she was gone, and I set about preparing for the day. The dresses Mira had brought were nowhere near the extravagant affairs of the Glittering Court, but they were still something an upper-class Denham woman would wear. The one I chose was made of ivory cambric scattered with sprigs of pink and purple flowers. The dress felt foreign to me after a month in rough gear, the fabric dangerously delicate. I didn’t mind being back in something nice, but it was a reminder of how much my life had changed.
I just had finished arranging my hair when Aiana returned. “I thought you were going with Mira,” I said.
“I’m going with you. I saw her off—she’s on her way.”
Again, I felt that nervous pang about losing another friend. “Is she alone?”