City of Night (30 page)

“Haval—”

“I understand some small part of his purpose,” Haval told her gently. He, too, ate, and he ate with exquisite care; no hint of a crumb escaped either his plate or his mouth. “And while I am merely a designer and purveyor of fine clothing, it is not, in the end, a purpose of which I disapprove.”

“He’s told you what he’s doing?” She leaned forward in her chair, food almost forgotten.

“Ah. No, of course not. But I am a man—one of many—from whom he obtains information. He uses—and you must pay attention to this—several different sources. It is not, as it might at first appear, because there is no overlap in the information these sources might provide. Tell me why you think he does this,” Haval added.

With Haval, everything was a lesson. Jewel was not of a mind to be lectured, but he was feeding her, and he never did anything without reason. She chewed, swallowed, and thought. “Rath is serious about his privacy.”

“Very good. How is that pertinent?”

“He can’t ask for information without giving information first. Even if it’s insignificant. He’ll have to give you a name—or names—unless it’s a general request, but even if it’s general, he has to tell you what he needs.” She hesitated, and then added, “He could ask you for information he doesn’t need, as well, to muddy the waters.”

Haval’s grin was as good as applause. “He could, indeed. And that would serve what purpose?”

“Well, if he asked you for information about three things, and he already had decent information about two of them, he could figure out how good your own information is. He could also figure out if you were lying.”

Haval did clap, then, which bought Jewel time to eat two more sandwiches, and check her tea. It was still hot.

“And?”

“And in any case, you wouldn’t know which of the three things he already knew, and you would take note of all three things, in an attempt to discern some sort of pattern. If he wanted the pattern to be less obvious, he would choose things that were both interesting—because he says you’re a notorious gossip—and unrelated.”

“All these years, I thought you weren’t paying attention,” Haval replied. “Tell me why I might know some part of his purpose, given that he would be this careful.”

“Because you also talk to most of the City, and you know both rumors and the truth behind those rumors. You probably know—or at least suspect—the identity of anyone else he talks to, so you can filter out anything he doesn’t really need or want to know. Not all of it,” she added, “but enough. You can pick out a bit of a pattern, and you can enlarge it by making your own inquiries.”

“Indeed. You have earned a better lunch than I am giving you. Let us agree that I owe you a much better lunch, in a future month that does not include The Gathering.” He paused, and then said softly, “He knows what he does, and I believe he understands the risks. He is called Old Rath for a reason.”

“He won’t survive,” she replied. Just that, but starkly.

“And you wish me to convince him that his survival should be his only imperative.”

“Yes.”

“You cannot know that he won’t survive, Jewel. And even if you did, and I was certain of it, he wouldn’t listen.” He lifted both hands, after setting the cup down; it was a type of surrender. “I will be frank with you, although you will have to judge for yourself whether or not my earnest words are truthful. I have given him just such advice, and with varying degrees of seriousness. You credit me with too much influence,” he added, picking up his cup again. “Or perhaps it is just hope speaking.”

“If I’ve earned lunch, have I earned information?”

“Perhaps. What information? I will not tell you of Rath’s doings,” he added, as if it needed to be said.

“In the last couple of months,” she told him, “people have gone missing in the lower holdings. Not many, and a lot of them are people who wouldn’t be noticed by anyone who would care—I don’t think they have family, and they live wherever they can find a roof that hasn’t collapsed.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know where. I don’t know which holdings, but—it’s rumor. At the wells, and in the Common. I’ve heard it in the twenty-fifth,” she continued, “and some of the people speak of the thirty-second, the thirty-fifth, as well.”

He listened. “That’s not a question,” he told her.

“No. Let me try that again. Have you heard anything about people disappearing or bodies being found? There aren’t
more
bodies,” she added, because there were often one or two in the hot, dry months, dredged out of the river as it receded from its banks.

“I haven’t heard about bodies being found,” he said. He picked up a sandwich, paused, and said, “And your den are not among that number?”

“My den has me. And each other. If one of us disappeared, we’d make a lot of noise.”

He nodded again. “Understand, Jewel, that most of my information involves parts of the City that your den does not normally see. But this is not always the case, and I will keep an ear out. Have you moved?”

“No.”

“I will send word, if any word of interest reaches me.”

R
ATH MET JEWEL BY THE FOUNTAIN in the southwest of the Common. It had a couple of advantages as a meeting place, the most important one being that it was used by everyone
as
a meeting place. Standing around the fountain, or sitting on its edge, or even removing your shoes and dipping your feet in the water, were all commonplace, because inevitably some of the people gathered here were going to have to wait a while.

Because it was hot, Jewel was one of the people who did remove her shoes and dip her toes in the water, and because she was Jewel, Rath showed up the minute her feet were actually wet.

He didn’t look amused.

She apologized, retrieved her feet, and dried them with her socks.

“You came alone?” he asked, when she shrugged her shoulders out of the backpack’s cumbersome straps and handed it to Rath.

She nodded.

He looked, if it were possible, less pleased. He wasn’t stupid. He didn’t ask her what route she’d taken to get here, and she didn’t tell him. But they knew each other well enough to fill in the words. Instead, he offered her lunch. Since she’d already eaten with Haval, she was tempted to say no, but Rath had never liked discussions in public spaces, so she nodded instead, and followed him.

The Common boasted a number of restaurants without inns attached to them, and Rath chose the Bough, which was pricey enough that Jewel fretted in the entrance. Rath, however, was dressed decently, and if the owner cared about the condition of his dining companion, he didn’t so much as frown. Instead, he led them to a booth in the back corner of the room, where Jewel’s attire was less likely to be spotted.

When they were seated and the owner had gone away, Rath untied the strings that kept the backpack closed. He glanced at what it contained, frowned, and then tied the strings again. He hadn’t taken the candleholder out, but Jewel hadn’t expected that.

She had, however, expected the look that now settled into his familiar features.

“Where,” he said quietly, “did you find this?”

She hesitated. Thought about lying. Thought about how well it was likely to work. “I didn’t. Duster and Carver did.”

“You let them go to the maze without you.”

“It’s hard to stop them, Rath. Without being able to tell them
why,
it’s hard. We’ve been doing it for years. We’re careful, and we almost never go down alone. I know that you’ve said it’s dangerous. Duster was with me when—when part of the labyrinth started to collapse, and damn it, she’s not afraid to go back.

“They don’t listen if I don’t
feel
it. And they know the difference.”

He said nothing for a long moment. And then he relaxed. Or seemed to; his expression was still remote. “I will sell this,” he told her. “But after this piece, Jewel, it will become more difficult for me. You know better than to ask why.”

She did. It almost didn’t stop her. Of all the things she had dreaded hearing, this was the worst.

“Have you finished the books I left with you?”

“Almost. Teller and Finch have been helping me.”

“With?”

“The lists. The memorization. Teller’s better at it,” Jewel added.

“Because he’s interested in the content, no doubt. I’ll bring a few others by in the next couple of weeks, but I will be absent for much of those. If you need to reach me, leave me a message. Do not take the tunnels to my apartment. Come in whatever numbers you feel wise, but take the street.”

She nodded.

Everything tasted like dust, but she ate because he was watching.

Haval looked up when the chimes rang and the door was pushed open. He immediately set aside the beading he’d been working on, and set aside as well the glass that he wore to do the work; it was technically a jeweler’s glass, but it served him well.

“Ararath,” he said, nodding.

“Haval.” Rath was tired, and he looked older. He wore summer linens, and these were cleaned and, apparently, pressed; he wore a light jacket. And he carried a backpack that Haval had seen scant hours before.

“I’ve had some word,” Haval said, dispensing with idle chat entirely. He retrieved an envelope from under the volume of powder-blue silk that had occupied most of this week’s afternoons; he had graduated from purple silk, a color he disdained, as the day had progressed. He handed the envelope to Rath.

Rath took it, and placed it casually inside his jacket.

“Jewel was by,” Haval said quietly.

Rath frowned. “A social call?”

“A social call. She is not in a situation in which any of my other skills might prove useful to her.”

Rath nodded.

“She’s concerned about you, on the other hand. She thought that I might have some influence with you, where she does not.”

“And you offered her what comfort?”

“None. She is not a child.”

“You could lie.”

“I could,” Haval replied affably. “But any lie I tell her will comfort her for as long as she is in my presence, no longer. The truth will crush the delicate illusion that I build, and she’s not capable of maintaining that illusion, however greatly she desires it. I am, as you are well aware, famously lazy. I won’t go through the work of lying to her when it will serve so little purpose.”

Rath exhaled.

“You,” Haval said, “are also, I see, indulging in laziness today.”

“Oh?”

“You look haggard, Ararath. I’m aware that you could look hale and dangerously energetic if you so chose, and I am also aware that you intended this visit to last no more than a handful of necessary minutes. A few minutes of acting is not more than I have come to expect.”

Rath shrugged. “Perhaps on another day. Today, it’s beyond me. I came for information,” he added, “not a lecture.”

“No. No man ever comes for a lecture. I will tell you, however, that I think your Jewel is wasted here.”

“You’ve said that a hundred times. If we’re tossing accusations of laziness back and forth, you might come up with something more original.”

“Oh, very well. But remember, Ararath, that you insisted.”

Rath raised a pale brow, and his lips turned up at the corners in something that might, by a different man, be mistaken for a grin.

“She thought to ask me if I had word of any unusual disappearances, or the discovery of a larger number of bodies than would be usual, in the holdings.”

Rath cursed. “And you answered?”

“I explained as gently as I could that the holdings in which she currently resides are not my area of expertise. And no, before you turn grim, I did not explain that her inquiries and your own are not, in this case, that disparate.”

“Good.”

“Rath.”

Rath closed his eyes. “I know,” he told Haval.