Julia Vanishes (23 page)

Liddy has never once mentioned my mother in all the time I've known her, not since she plucked me out of the market, a ragged little apple thief, and handed me over to Esme.

“Did you know her?” I ask, stunned by this possibility.

“Everybody knew her,” says Liddy. “Those who didn't know her knew
of
her, at least. I met her once or twice.”

“You never told me that.”

“There is little to tell,” Liddy replies. “I thought of it now only because when I knew her, she was in trouble. I never saw so much of her in you as I do now.”

“Trouble? What kind of trouble?” I have to grip the edges of the chair so I don't leap up and try to wring the answers out of Liddy. Her eyes are disappearing into the wrinkles of her face, her lips tightening; she is shutting up like a clam again, and I can't bear it.

“Ammi thought she could change the world. She was an idealist. She tangled with forces too strong for her, but she did so with open eyes, and those who cared for her could find some peace in knowing that. She knew what it might cost her. It was a risk she was willing to take.”

I feel suddenly dizzy and have to put my head down to my knees. When I close my eyes, I see Theo's face staring out at me before Pia shut the door. Yesterday I wanted only to survive this, but I didn't know then all the ways there are to die inside.

I feel Liddy's hand, cool on the back of my neck. Shuddering there in her back room, trying not to throw up again, I have two thoughts. The first is that if what Liddy says is true, it was not fair for my mother to risk her life and leave us orphaned in a place like Spira City. What chance did we have, Dek marked by Scourge and both of us marked as the children of a convicted witch? What choices did she leave us with? The other thought is that I am not hopeful or brave like my mother. I've caught a glimpse of the powers that trample the rest of us, and I am no idealist, just a thief and a spy.

Still, like her, I've tangled with forces stronger than I am, and they haven't killed me yet. I may not be able to change the world, but I am the best thief and spy this wretched city has ever known, and I reckon I can bleeding well steal Theo back.

The dizzy spell clears. My heart slows. My shaking hands go still.

I call a meeting, and by noon we are all assembled in Esme's parlor. Gregor is sipping from a flask again, Csilla fidgeting with her gloves. Esme sits like a statue, arms folded across her chest, her face a thundercloud. Wyn is still giving me this hangdog look, while Dek is all furrow-browed concern.

“What I did—it wasn't about the silver,” I say, almost pleading right off the bat. “Pia threatened to do such terrible things, and she would have too…” I stammer, then come to the point: “What's done is done. Now I've got a job prospect that'll see us not just through this winter but well beyond.”

“You're finding the jobs now?” asks Gregor. “Nameless One help us.”

“What do you know about our former client?” I ask him.

“More than you, I'll wager,” he hedges, looking uneasy.

“I doubt that,” I say. “Do you know who she works for?”

He just stares at me, slack-jawed. “Look, I know she's not to be meddled with, that's all.”

“Pia is just a slave,” I say. “She works for a man named Casimir. Not quite a man, in fact. He's one of the Xianren.”

Silence, and then Wyn gives a short laugh. “You've gone bonkers,” he says.

“Ask Liddy, if you don't believe it,” I say. “There are three of them, and Mrs. Och is one too. They can do magic without touching a pen. I don't know much about all that, but I do know they are very, very rich, and I know it wasn't just Casimir after that kid. Agoston Horthy wanted him too. There's something about him that's got them all chasing him down. Casimir paid me a lot of silver to snatch that boy away, and I'll bet you Mrs. Och will pay us even more to get him back.”

There. That's it. I clench my fists and sit rigid to keep myself from trembling, for I can't do this without them, and they won't do it if they're not to be paid for it.

“Well,” says Gregor heavily. “None of us liked how it ended up, but you did what you were paid to do. Turning around and undoing it sounds bleeding unprofessional to me.”

“You've stolen paintings and sold them back to the owners,” I say, cool as I can. “This is no different.”

“Hold up, hold up,” says Dek. “Are we really talking about the Xianren? This is sounding a bit…well, isn't that just an old story?”

“Some old stories are still around,” mumbles Gregor. “More of them than you might think. Liddy is sure of it?”

“She's sure,” I say. “And with the things I've seen the past few weeks, so am I.”

“Has this Mrs. Och asked to hire us?” says Esme.

I shake my head. “She's never heard of us. All she knows is that I took him. If you'll all agree, I think we should set up a meeting. I have a plan, but I need Gregor and Csilla to be part of it.”

“And what of the rest of us?” asks Wyn. “Are we needed?”

“I don't know yet,” I say, avoiding his eyes. “Probably. It will depend on Mrs. Och.”

“I don't like it,” says Gregor. “We do not want to cross Pia, let alone one of the Xianren, if that's who she's working for. Our lives will be worth nothing.”

“They won't know it was us, and frankly I don't think it was a good idea to cross Mrs. Och and Bianka either,” I say. “What do you think, Csilla?”

“It sounds rather dangerous, getting mixed up with these sorts of people,” she says, winding a flaxen curl around her finger. “How much silver are we talking about?”

“Maybe gold,” I say. “But we have to meet with Mrs. Och to get an offer.”

“Csilla, I don't like this,” says Gregor.

“Go on, bossy boots, there's nothing wrong with a meeting,” says Csilla, smiling up at him. “And look at Julia's lovely fur coat!”

“Let it go, Julia!” Gregor looks at me imploringly. “You've got your silver.”

I shake my head. He stares at me wordlessly for a minute or two, then throws up his hands and leans back in his chair. “Does everybody want to do this?” he asks. He looks at Esme. “Do
you
want to do this?”

“There's no harm in a meeting,” she says, suddenly brisk.

“There might be,” grumbles Gregor, but he won't fight Esme.

“We'll have it somewhere safe, neutral,” she says. “I'll talk to Liddy. We could use her shop.”

Once Esme has spoken, it is settled. She leaves the room without even looking in my direction.

T
hey stand side by side on the dock, watching a small ship approach. He is nearly twice her height, wrapped in a long fur cloak. His storm-cloud eyes never break their hold on the boat, as if he can draw it to him by watching it. And perhaps he can—who knows what he can do? She wears a coat of gray muslin and a scarf wrapped around her head. Small and hunchbacked, she appears in every way the weaker of the two, though it would be a mistake to think so.

“You are all that I was told you were, and more,” says Casimir. “You have done all that I asked. If you can do this final thing, I will keep my promise to you.”

Does she tremble a little at that? It is a moment before she answers, and her voice is steady: “Thank you, my lord.”

“I wonder how he did it,” he goes on. “I would not have thought it possible.”

“He had help, my lord,” she says.

“But whose?” says Casimir. “Who in this world, besides you, could do such a thing?”

“There are others besides me who could do it,” she says. “But perhaps none other who could undo it.”

“You are confident, then?”

“I am, my lord. The vessel makes no difference—be it lake or tree or child, the unbinding is the same.”

“How long?”

“The unbinding itself, an hour perhaps, but I will need some days to prepare.”

“Not more than a week?”

“Not more than that, my lord.”

“Good. That is good.”

“My lord—you understand, I take it, that the vessel will not survive the unbinding? To separate them, either the text or the vessel must be destroyed.”

“I am sorry to hear it,” he says.

“If you wish me to look for another way…”

“Is there another way?”

“No, my lord. There is no other way.”

“Then do what you must, and I will honor our agreement.”

“Yes, my lord.”

They both look to the boat bobbing closer, everything they have been waiting for and working toward drawing at last into view.

I
t is late afternoon and the sun is getting low in the sky. There aren't enough chairs for us all to sit down, so we stand around awkwardly in Liddy's shop, drinking coffee and not speaking much. Dek suggests a game of King's Heir, and Wyn joins us in the back room. I play without looking at him; I play carelessly and fast and I lose every hand until there is a knock at the door and we fumble the cards away and go back out into the shop.

Liddy opens the door and says to the group assembled on her doorstep, “This place is mine, and you are welcome here.”

At first this seems to me a very odd greeting, but then I wonder if it has something to do with the rhug. Esme told me nobody would be able to do magic in Liddy's shop, and I hope she's right. In they come, into my world, where I am not Ella the illiterate housemaid, but Vanishing Julia, thief and spy, kidnapper of Baby Theo. Mrs. Och is followed by Professor Baranyi, Frederick, and, Nameless One help me, Bianka.

Bianka's eyes fall on me and my knees go loose. I think I'm going to be sick. I have never seen such raw hatred in a person's eyes before. They are all looking at me, of course. Mrs. Och, though as always it is impossible to know what she is thinking; Frederick, with a sort of stunned sadness; and Professor Baranyi, with almost friendly curiosity. I try to meet Bianka's gaze, thinking to show her I am not afraid, but have to look away immediately. What does it matter if she thinks I am afraid or not? She can crush me with a stroke of the pen.

Esme steps forward, towering over all of them, even Frederick. “I am Esme,” she says. “Julia works for me.”

“Julia,” says Mrs. Och, looking at me again. “That is your name?”

I nod.

“Julia
what
?” hisses Bianka.

Nobody answers her. I have a sudden wild hope that she needs my full name to curse me. I will ask Liddy as soon as I have a chance.

Mrs. Och turns back toward Esme. “Who asked you to place a spy in my house? Was it my brother Casimir or the prime minister?”

“Pia got in touch with me,” Gregor answers, sitting back in the only comfortable chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him. “She'd heard a rumor about Julia, wanted to know if I really had a vanishing girl in my employ. But Julia tells me that Pia works for Casimir.”

This surprises me. I hadn't realized that Pia knew of me before approaching Gregor. I didn't think anybody knew about me. I'm not sure whether to be pleased or alarmed that I've acquired, apparently, a reputation.

“Who are you?” asks Mrs. Och.

“Nobody much,” says Gregor. “But crooks know other crooks. Julia was the obvious choice for the job.”

Mrs. Och looks at me curiously. “Yes. This ability to go unseen. It is interesting.”

“It didn't work on you,” I say.

“No,” says Mrs. Och. “I should have realized something was wrong when I found you in my study. But then, I have never heard of a skill such as yours, and I have been around for a long time, as you may know.”

She gives me a questioning look, as if asking how much I do know. I don't answer that. I want to apologize to them all, but it would sound so stupidly feeble, and I can't, anyway, not in front of Bianka. Because, of course, I can't apologize to her. I glance at her and look away again. It is like touching flame.

“Where is my son?” she says in a voice not at all like her own. It is a hoarse, trembling, dreadful voice. Not a young woman's voice.

She takes a step toward me, and it is everything I can do not to turn tail and run. Professor Baranyi catches her arm, and Wyn moves quickly in front of me.

“I handed him over to Pia,” I say, more to Mrs. Och than to Bianka. “She'll be taking him to Casimir, I reckon. He lives on a Sirillian island called Nago, doesn't he?”

Bianka looks at Mrs. Och, who nods briefly, raising an eyebrow at me.

“I came to your house on a job,” I continue. “There was no malice in it. I did what I was paid to do, that's all. Now the job is done, and we're available for more work. We can get into any place and steal anything. Including Casimir's place, and including Theo.”

“That is confidence indeed,” says Mrs. Och.

“With a little more information, we can do it,” I say.

Bianka's eyes widen. I think her pupils actually tremble. She looks at me and then at Mrs. Och. There is in that look both the desperation of the prey and the ruthless hunger of the predator. A long moment passes, and then Mrs. Och says, “What of Mr. Darius? What was his part in this?”

“I don't know anything about that,” I say. “You know who he is?”

She nods.

“Perhaps he was still working for Agoston Horthy,” I suggest.

“Impossible,” says Professor Baranyi. “He
did
work for the prime minister, it's true, but after his accident—”

“The wolf bite,” I say, and now his eyebrows go up.

“It seems you know as much as we do. He came to us for help, but I failed him.”

Something about this doesn't sound right to me.

“Why would you help somebody who was working for Agoston Horthy? Best I could tell, he was some kind of high-level anti-magic officer. Not really your kind of fellow.”

“Yes, true.” He glances at Mrs. Och and she nods, as if giving him permission to continue. He clears his throat and explains: “His daughter is a witch. He worked for her sake, to keep her safe. The real payment for his work was her life. If he becomes a wolf, he will no longer be any use to Agoston Horthy and her life will be forfeit. So he came to us in secret, and he promised secrets in exchange. We thought it might be useful to have a man on the inside. We said we'd help him in exchange for information on Agoston Horthy's activities and targets and started working toward getting his daughter out of the country. But he disappeared the same day you did.”

This is a loose end I don't like, but I don't know what to make of it.

“What does he matter? What about
Theo
?” Bianka's ragged voice puts an end to this line of questioning.

“I will need to hear your plan,” says Mrs. Och. “How would you approach the island undetected? How would you enter Casimir's castle? How would you find the boy and release him? How would you make your escape?”

“Julia,” says Esme, giving me the floor.

I clear my throat. I can hardly bear Bianka's hungry gaze. It is worse than her fury. I am finding it difficult to look at Frederick too, so I address myself mainly to Mrs. Och.

“I had in mind a pleasure boat with rich, lost honeymooners aboard, docking by accident, maybe shipwrecked. Would they not be given shelter, at least?”

“Perhaps,” says Mrs. Och.

“The castle doesn't worry me,” I say. “If we can get onto the island, we can get inside the castle. I'll scout ahead, unseen, and figure out what we need to do to get Theo.” I don't say
if he's still alive.
“We can get past any locks or guards, whether it's stealth or force that's required. We will be out and away before they know what has hit them.”

“It won't work,” says the professor. “Casimir's castle is like a fortress! This isn't some pretty West Spira house.”

“The Duke of Cranfell's castle was highly fortified, but we went in and took the duchess's morasanti diamonds from her locked dresser while she slept,” says Gregor breezily. He shaved this morning and is only very slightly drunk. “The collector Lord Elrich keeps his most prized art objects in a safe under guard, but those too ended up in our hands. We stole Izza's
Misty Dawn
from the very wall of the Anderov Scole Museum.”

“
You
took
Misty Dawn
?” cries the professor.

“It was the Crown's gold that bought it back,” says Gregor.

“Hounds,” says Frederick, staring at us. “You don't look like much.”

“That helps, actually,” says Gregor.

“You are bragging of exploits more than a decade past, and none of it means anything, dukes and museums and so on,” says Professor Baranyi. “Casimir's fortress is different. It won't work.”

“We shall see if it works or not,” says Mrs. Och. “Casimir's forces are mostly abroad; he cast a wide net in his search for Theo. He knows my usual contacts, would see them coming. This, at least, is something he will not expect, and we are short on time. Can you be ready tomorrow?”

I look at Dek, and he gives a brief nod.

“We'll take the train to Nim,” says Esme. “We can find a boat there.”

Mrs. Och looks us over. “Is there a witch among you? Do you have any other unnatural powers?”

“Only Julia's ability,” says Esme. “And it goes no farther than you know.”

“There will likely be enchantments protecting whatever Casimir wishes to keep hidden,” says Mrs. Och. “You will need Bianka if you are to break them.”

My skin prickles with alarm as Bianka turns her eyes on me, slowly. I do not want to do this job with her at my side.

“We will come with you,” says Mrs. Och. “I can help the boat to approach the island, but I cannot get too close, or he will know. There are some smaller, uninhabited islands nearby, and I will wait for you on one of these. Bianka can cope with enchantments within the castle itself.”

I look desperately at Esme. She says, “Fine. But I'm in charge of this job, and you'll all need to do as I say.”

“Name your price,” says Mrs. Och.

“Fifteen gold freyns,” she replies.

Wyn covers his exclamation with a cough, and I wonder if she's joking or trying to sabotage the job, but Mrs. Och only nods.

“We would need four gold freyns up front,” Esme continues. We all goggle at her in amazement. Mrs. Och reaches into her purse and counts out four large gold coins. We all stare at them on the table, and then Esme scoops them up.

“We will leave for Nim tonight,” says Mrs. Och. “Agoston Horthy is coming to my house this evening, and I would prefer not to be there. I will give you an address and you will join us tomorrow. Julia!”

I jump.

“What were your instructions in my house? Why did you wait before taking the boy?”

“I didn't know it was him they wanted, at first,” I say. “I mean to say, they didn't know either. Pia told me I was to find a shadow but that it could look like anything.”

“A shadow,” she repeats. For a moment she looks quite lost, like an old lady who has wandered into the wrong place and can't remember what she's doing there. Then her eyes clear, and she says, “Casimir has been assembling a bit of a collection. Theo will be the priority, of course”—she glances at Bianka—“but Casimir stole something from me too, some time ago. If you can retrieve it, I will double your payment.”

A long, stunned silence follows this. Then Esme says, “What is it?”

“A tree,” says Mrs. Och, and then she smiles wryly. “But it could look like anything.”

The conversation turns to boats, weapons, lockpicks, and so on. My nerves are shot and I need a breath of air, even if it is a freezing cold breath, so I slip outside. Frederick follows me, hands tucked away inside his wool coat.

“Julia,” he says, trying it out.

I say nothing. What can I say?

“It's a pretty name,” he says. His voice has a cool edge that is new to me. “Hard to get used to. It suits you, I suppose. It's odd, though—I find myself missing Ella. I liked her a great deal. Now it turns out she doesn't exist.”

“I don't miss Ella much,” I say.

“She and I were friends,” he says. “You look just like her, in spite of that ridiculous dress, but I don't know you at all. You're a stranger, and what I do know of you ranges from the unsavory to the horrifying.”

I shrug. Absurdly, I am a little stung by his dig at my dress. I pull the fur coat tighter around me. He keeps talking, this new Frederick, with his remote, hostile expression.