The Firemage's Vengeance (15 page)

“Oh, just get it over with,” said Lilith.

Ebon could not help but smirk at Kalem, and even at Lilith. “I may not be a commoner, exactly, but the two of you are too easily flustered, I think. They are only underclothes.” He joined Theren in disrobing and looked over the clothes hanging before them. Several thin wooden rods ran from one side of the cabinet to the other, and on these had been hung a variety of outfits. He chose a pair of pants of dark, muted blue, and a light grey tunic under a vest of black. Theren took a dress of yellow that reminded him of his family’s colors, much to his surprise.

“Could you …?” she muttered, turning. Ebon reached for the strings that tied it at her neck, but they were intricately laced at the back, and his fingers fumbled over them.

“Oh, let me,” said Lilith. Theren hesitated only a moment before turning to let her take them. Ebon saw how Lilith’s cheeks darkened still further, and she kept her eyes fixed rigidly on the strings. He could not help a secret grin.

“Perhaps … I think I shall wait outside,” said Kalem, who sounded ready to die from embarrassment.

“Come off it,” said Ebon. “Live like the rest of us, royal son, and get yourself dressed. We do not have all night.”

His face was a portrait in discomfort, but Kalem did it—though he made sure to select his entire outfit before he disrobed, and did it as quickly as possible. Lilith acted much the same, and if anything, she seemed more uncomfortable than the boy was. Theren and Ebon stood back, looking at each other with raised eyebrows and little shakes of the head. But while Ebon kept his eyes studiously averted, respecting the others’ discomfort, he noticed Theren’s eyes continued to wander, and she swallowed hard and often.

seventeen

ONCE THE BUSINESS WAS DONE, Lilith rushed them out of the room. Their Academy robes they left strewn on the bed. “They will not be disturbed, and we will return for them,” said Lilith.

They went out upon the streets. Lilith had given them all cloaks of brown, plain, but lined with fur. They drew their hoods up around their faces, and now Ebon noticed that they no longer drew the half-curious looks that Academy students did when walking about. At last he thought he saw the reason for the deception.

“No one remarks upon us,” he said.

“And why should they?” said Lilith. “We could be anyone—merchants, cobblers, even beggars.”

Theren snorted. “You are blinded by your own coin purse if you think any beggar wears clothes this fine,” she said. “But they draw the eye less readily, perhaps, than the Academy’s black.”

Lilith took them north and west and made no attempt to set their trail to winding—she was not, it seemed, afraid of being followed. Ebon began to get a familiar sense, as though he had been in this part of the city before, but he could not place it. Then it came to him: they were very near to the inn where he had once met an agent of his family’s and delivered the uniform of a palace guard. For a heart-stopping moment, he was afraid that they made for the same inn. But then he spotted the street where it lay, and Lilith passed it by. He let out a sigh of relief.

Theren glanced at him. “What is it?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

At last Lilith stopped them, before the black-painted door of a tavern. Here she paused for a moment, looking in every direction from beneath her hood.

“We will enter and move straight to the back,” she said. “There is a private room there where Farah is waiting. Do not glance up, nor meet the eye of anyone else. The fewer remark upon our arrival, the better.”

Ebon heard the sounds of conversation and laughter from within. “It sounds a fair crowd inside. I doubt we need worry of drawing much attention.”

“Let us hope you are right,” said Lilith, and she pushed the door open.

They all studied their feet as they pressed into the bustling interior. Lilith led the way between the tables, and Ebon was only partially aware of the patrons they passed. Indeed, his guess seemed to be right—as far as he could tell, no one gave them so much as a first glance. Soon they had passed through the crowd, and into a short hallway ending in a door. Lilith opened it without knocking and drew them all inside.

At last Ebon looked up and threw back his hood. He found himself in a small room, with every wall showing its bare wood, and exposed beams above that looked to form the underside of the building’s second floor. They gave the ceiling a little extra height, so that it felt less cramped than it should have, considering its small size. Lanterns burned in the corners, filling the place with a warm light. There was also a window in the back wall, and though the curtains were drawn across it, he could feel a slight breeze that told him it was cracked open.

In the middle of the room was a table, and at the table was a woman. She looked similar enough to Lilith—not only the same rich, dark skin, but the pronounced cheekbones and the haughty, discerning brow. But she showed more fat than Lilith, and also she filled out her rich green dress more. She seemed less severe, and more motherly, though that was belied by the sharp glint in her eyes as she took them all in.

“Good eve, I suppose. Sit. Or do not, for it is no matter to me. There is wine.”

Ebon bowed. “Well met, Lady—”

“No, no, no,” said the woman, clucking her tongue. “You know my name, knew it before you came here. I know yours as well—especially yours.” She gave Theren a sharp nod. “So we need not introduce ourselves, for who knows what ears may be lurking? And who knows how little time we have? Sit, and take wine if you will, but let us get on with this as quickly as we may.”

Kalem gave Ebon a wary look. Ebon shrugged and dragged out a chair to sit across the table from Farah. Kalem sat beside him, and Theren to his left, while Lilith took the chair on Theren’s other side. Farah leaned forwards and opened her mouth to speak—but paused as Theren reached for the bottle of wine. Theren noticed, and poured the wine far more slowly than she might have. It made Lilith smirk into her cup, while Farah’s lips pursed in annoyance. When her cup was full to the brim, Theren turned.

“Do you care for a cup, Ebon?”

“I do,” said Ebon. He snatched the bottle from her hand. “Though I will pour it myself. And you may carry on with what you meant to say, Fa—er, my lady.”

Farah raised an eyebrow. “A quick study. That is good. I have little to say, and much to hear. Tell me what you have seen of the girl Isra, and what you have not seen but have heard about. The more you know, the better. The less you guess at, the better.”

Ebon was about to speak, when Theren took her first sip. She slurped at the cup and smacked her lips when she was done. “Mm. You goldbags drink the finest stuff.”

At the word goldbag, Farah’s nostrils flared. Kalem’s glared deepened. “Enough, Theren. We all know of your disdain for the wealthy, and if our host did not know it before, she knows it now. Consider your point made, and let us get this over with as quick as we may.”

Theren’s eyes widened, and she pressed a hand to her breast. “Me? I am wounded. And besides, our host has been most clear that she wishes for no names to be used—including mine. Please, I ask that you honor her wishes.”

“My apologies for my companions,” Ebon interjected. “We will tell you what we know, and be as thorough as ever we can.”

He proceeded to tell her everything they knew of Isra—that is, the “official” version of what they knew of Isra. Of course he told her nothing about Xain’s home, nor about the amulet of Kekhit—which Theren concealed even now beneath her dress. But he told her about their fight in the kitchens, painting it so that it sounded like Theren managed to catch Isra by surprise.

When he said that, Farah’s eyes drew to pinholes. “Very fortunate,” she said. It sounded as though she meant to say more, but she did not.

“Fortunate indeed,” said Ebon, meeting her eye without flinching. Then he went on to tell her all the rumors that had floated about the Academy since—including a rumor that the faculty were investigating to see if anyone were helping Isra from within. Lilith seemed surprised at that. Of course, that was not truly a rumor, but something they had learned from Dasko.

When they had finished, Farah pursed her lips and steepled her hands. She sat that way for a little while, reaching for her wine cup every so often, her eyes studying Ebon’s. Ebon tried not to look uncomfortable, though he was not quite sure he succeeded.

“Our family’s particular trade goods have been on the move recently,” said Farah, speaking suddenly and from nowhere, in a tone that suggested she was answering a question, though no one had asked. “They were long held in reserve, for no one wished to traffic them after the attack. Now they move again, though slowly, nowhere near so brazenly as they once did.”

Theren leaned forwards. “And where are the mage—”

“No!” barked Farah, scowling at her. “No, we do not discuss them. They are our family’s particular trade goods. That is all they are to me, and to you, or this conversation is over.”

“We understand,” said Ebon. He fixed Theren with a look. “And we will take that into consideration as we ask our questions.”

He could see the visible effort she exerted to keep from rolling her eyes. “And where are your family’s particular trade goods being moved to?”

“Here. There. It is never wise for them to move always from one place to another, for that makes them easy to find. Predictable. But someone is moving them, and some are disappearing. Those, I would imagine, are what you seek.”

“Where are they disappearing to?” said Lilith. “I would not imagine they could simply vanish without repercussion.”

“Not unless those who mete out punishment for such things know where they are going, and thus restrain their hand,” said Farah. “That, I think, is what goes on here. I spotted it, of course. I saw that the numbers did not add up, that one hundred packets would leave and only ninety-five packets would arrive. But when I told them—the ones who mete out punishment for such things—they thanked me for my diligent work. And then they told me to return to it. And no punishment was meted out.”

“Yet you do not know where,” said Ebon.

“I do not know where,” said Farah. “But that is not the right question. There are five questions, only five and always five, and one leads to the next.”

“Where,” said Lilith. “When, how, why, and whom?”

Farah sniffed.

“Who, then?” said Theren.

“A name,” said Farah. “The only name, tonight. A name banished by the family, and then reclaimed. A name that renounced another name to regain favor in the eyes of the King’s law. A name that has used that favor to violate the King’s law again, thereby putting our clan in danger once more, as though he did not learn the lesson the first time. Gregor.”

Lilith sucked in a sharp breath. But to Ebon, the name meant nothing, and looking at Kalem and Theren, he saw they knew nothing more than he did.

“What is it?” said Ebon. “Who is Gregor?”

“She will tell you later, for we draw near the end,” said Farah.

“But wait,” said Lilith. “I thought he was banished, along with—”

“Only one name, tonight,” said Farah. “Only one name, now, that matters.”

“Very well, but in any case, he was exiled.”

“He returned and threw himself upon the High King’s mercy. He told her … things. Things that seemed of great value in the coming war. Did he tell her the truth? How can we know, unless we, too, know the truth? But it earned him forgiveness. And now, when I see one hundred become ninety-five, I see also the name of Gregor.”

Abruptly she pushed her chair back and stood. “Thank you for your words, and for the meanings behind them. I hope you have found my words as valuable. But now we must leave, and I doubt we shall ever speak again.”

Ebon found his feet at once. “And thank you. We will breathe no word of this.”

“If I thought you would, I would not have come,” said Farah. She looked hard at Lilith for a moment. “You did right to come to me. Make sure you never do it again, or both our lives may be forfeit.”

She swept past them with the billowing of a green cloak, and left them looking at each other around the table. Theren noisily swallowed the last of her cup and moved to pour another.

eighteen

LILITH [8]

Lilith led them back to the street, and then southeast towards the inn where she kept her room. The moons had risen high now, and the sun was almost gone, so they walked in a mostly silver light that reflected into their eyes from the snow. For a while they were all silent, staring at the ground, except for Kalem, who looked up at the stars. But after a while Ebon raised his head.

“Thank you, Lilith, for helping us.”

She shrugged, not meeting his gaze. “It is the least I could do, I suppose. What do you plan to do now, after what you have learned?”

“I have friends who can find Gregor. They were already looking for Isra, but she must be in one of the darker holes upon the Seat. Let us hope Gregor is not so well concealed.”

“He most likely is,” said Lilith. “Gregor is a man of both means and wit—not the clever kind, but the cunning, ruthless kind, the kind that leaves corpses in its wake. I think he will be much harder to find than some student exiled from the Academy.”

“I also have some people of means and wit,” said Ebon, a little annoyed.

“Mayhap, but you do not have Gregor.” Lilith shivered, though they were tramping doggedly through the snow and their blood was up. “I have heard only a very few tales of him, and yet they paint him as more of a monster than a man. Once he accompanied a caravan through the Spineridge. They were waylaid there by a storm, a freak summer snow that forced them to take refuge in a little town. Somehow, during their stay, the townsfolk discovered the magestones they were transporting. Some curious child poked their nose into the wrong wagon. When word got about, Gregor spoke to the townspeople, promising to pay them to keep their silence. The townsfolk agreed readily enough, for the Yerrin party already paid well for their food and lodging. So for a week the caravan remained in the town, and the guards slept in the town’s inn, and drank in the town’s tavern. They likely bedded some of the townsfolk.