The Madness Project (The Madness Method) (35 page)

“Sweet stars,” Coins said.  “You just…you just…”

“How do I look?  Do I look like a dandy?”

He just stared at me.  “Disappearing was one thing but
this…this!  That’s
fantastic!
”

“All right, wait here a moment.”

I strolled up to the gate, reminding myself to lose the
Shade swagger in favor of the easy grace of someone who’d been raised in
etiquette schools…of someone like Tarik.  I didn’t have a cane to knock with,
so I rapped on one of the bars with my knuckles.

The guard came slowly, calling, “Beat it!  No trespassers!”

“But I am welcome,” I said.

He didn’t stop and hardly glanced at me as he slid back the
bolt and opened the gate.  Once inside I hesitated, debating whether to go back
for Coins or leave him there and head on alone.  But I must have lingered a
moment too long, because the guard paused to peer at me through the shadows.

“What is this business?” he asked.

“Right,” I said.  “Hello.”

His hand reached for the gun at his hip, and before I could
stop myself, I threw an elbow at his head, grabbed him, and slammed my knee
into his chest.  He groaned and fell at my feet, and I gave him one last elbow
in the back of the skull.  His breath escaped in a puff and his face planted
into the gravel.

For a few seconds I just stood, breathing hard, hands up by
my face, blood and adrenaline burning up my chest.  A soft whistle trilled
behind me, then a voice, hissing my name.  I straightened up, lowering my hands
and drawing one long, thin breath, and turned to let Coins in.  He crept
through the gate and stood a moment staring down at the guard.

“Blimey,” he said.  Then he gaped at me as I brought my
features back to Shade’s, and said again, “Blimey!  You’re a madcap!”

I grinned.  “I do my best.  Shall we?”

We’d barely arrived at the front steps of the building, when
the door swung open and a tall, thin man appeared, silhouetted by gas light,
his wispy hair a cloud around his head.

“Who are you?” he asked.  “My master said only three guests
tonight.”

“We are welcome,” I said.

He narrowed his eyes.  “You are not the sort of guest we
usually receive.”

I swallowed hard, and, drawing on a lifetime of princely
education, I walked straight up to him and speared a hand toward his chest to
drive him aside.

“He’ll want to receive us,” I said as I passed him by.  As
the man turned with me, Coins slipped in and let the door close behind him.  “I
have information for him.”

“My master—”

“Where can I wait?”  I glanced into the room to my left, a
sitting room with rich burgundy wallpaper and a pair of low couches.  “This
looks splendid.  We’ll wait in here.”  I brushed past him and dropped onto a
tawny settee.  When the man just stared after me, I waved a hand and said,
“Well, go on.  I’ve got places to be tonight.”

The man hesitated, then tsked and bustled off.  Coins
appeared in the doorway, open-mouthed and paralyzed until I waved him in.

“That old duff let you in!” he said, sprawling into the
other couch.  “I can’t believe it.  I thought
I
was good.”

I snorted and leaned my elbows on my knees.  “I’m Istian. 
We don’t wait to be admitted.  We admit ourselves.”

He whistled.  “Still.  If I’d tried it…”

His voice died off with the sound of footsteps in the hall. 
He straightened up and stared anxiously at the door, but I forced myself to
stay still, hands clasped between my knees, eyes on the mantle clock, as if I
didn’t care.  As if my heart wasn’t hammering like crazy.  Because acting for a
bunch of slumdogs was one thing, but when it could cost me my life, it was a
different matter entirely.

“What is going on here?” a sharp, thin voice asked from the
doorway.  “Who the devil are you?”

Coins gulped and stared at me; the way he was so nervous, I
gathered he didn’t interact directly with people very often.  I got to my feet
and turned to face Vanek Meed.  He was as sharp and thin as his voice, ramrod
straight and silver-haired, its sheen stark against the black of his dinner
suit.  If I didn’t know he was a crook, I would have thought him a proper
gentleman, one of the entrepreneurs or inventors so worshipped in high society.

“Vanek Meed,” I said.  “I’ve heard you’ve got a problem you
need solved.”

“Who are you?” he asked again, coming close and staring me
straight in the eye.  “What’ve you heard?”

“I heard you’ve got a debt that’s tied your hands.  And I
want to cut you loose.”

His gaze sharpened, his lips disappearing into thin white
lines.  “I’ve got dinner guests,” he said.  “I’m being terribly rude to them,
as are you, boy, for intruding.”

I lifted my hands.  “I can wait, if you agree to talk.”

“Tell me why I shouldn’t have my man throw you out right
now?”

I hesitated on telling him that I’d already introduced his
man to the pavement; somehow I imagined it wouldn’t help my case.  Instead I
said, “Because I don’t think you want me sharing what I know with the world.”

Vanek impressed me.  He didn’t turn red, or pale; he didn’t
laugh or yell or swear.  He just stared at me very calmly, those ice-blue eyes
fierce as fire, and finally gave one short nod.

“I’ll talk.  After dinner.”

“You won’t invite us to dine with you?” I asked, giving him
my most charming smile.

“Don’t press your luck,” he snapped.  “Still.  Don’t think
the kitchen staff would mind you sharing their meal.  Wiks will take you down.”

He turned on his heel and strode from the room, signaling to
the butler as he went.  A moment later the man came and beckoned us with a
morose look.

“This way, I suppose,” he said, and led us down into the
scullery.

After the best meal I’d had in a week—savory pasties soaked
in gravy, with beer and bread, boiled eggs and custard—Vanek Meed summoned me
and Coins to his upstairs study.  I imagined he must have chosen the room
because it was one of the few on the second floor with its windows still
intact.  Mahogany panels on the walls and warm, steady gas lighting gave it a
sumptuous feel, and the massive desk was something even my father might have
envied.  But the leather on the three chairs looked a bit worn, and the desk
sported a few nasty gouges—secondhand stuff, obviously, but designed to
impress.  I wasn’t.

I slid into one of the chairs in front of the desk and Coins
dropped into the other, his eyes darting everywhere, swallowing every bit of
detail about the room. 

“Now then,” Vanek said, sitting down across from us. 
“Talk.”

“You live in a sanatorium?” I asked, leaning back to peer
out into the empty, sterile corridor.  The place gave me the creeps.

“What does my choice of residence have to do with anything?”

“Not a thing at all,” I said.  “So, the Bricks.”

He’d been squinting at me with his eyes creased up in thin
folds, but at my mention of the Bricks his face dead-panned.

“What about the Bricks?”

“I know you want them gone.  I know you can’t deal with them
because you’ve got an arrangement with their supplier.”  His gaze got colder
and colder, confirming that Coins had gotten the story right.  I leaned back in
my chair and folded my hands behind my head, and left it at that for a good minute. 
Then I said, “Reckon I could remove that obstacle for you.”

The silence ate away minutes.  Outside, the bare branches of
a chestnut tree scraped at the window glass, squeaking as the wind picked up. 
I could have sworn I heard someone sobbing down the hallway, but as soon as I
turned my thoughts to it, the sound vanished.  I barely repressed a shudder.

“So tell me…”  Vanek’s voice trailed off, and he looked at
me expectantly.

“Shade.”

“So tell me, Shade, why should I believe a word of what you
just said?  Even if any of it were true—which, I’m not saying it is—then why
would you be so eager to help?  Do you owe me something?”

“Not at all.”

He wriggled a finger in his ear and scratched the back of
his head, which I figured was the closest he would come to showing discomfort.

“Who’s pawn are you?  Who sent you?”

“Don’t belong to anyone,” I said.  “And I’m here for
myself.  Maybe we’ve got a mutual enemy.”

“You in Rivano’s crew?” he asked, gesturing at his face.

I leaned forward a bit, staring him in the eye.  “I told you
once.  I don’t belong to anyone.  Not Rivano.  Not you.  No one but myself.”

He nodded, slowly, his hand itching at the back of his head
again.  “Then what do you need me for?  If Alby Durb’s your enemy too, why’d
you come to me first?”

I smiled.  “I wanted you to see my face.  And I want you to
remember my name, and know it was me.  That’s all.”  I stood and flicked my
fingers at my side, beckoning Coins.  “Evening, Mr. Meed,” I said, and left the
room with Coins on my heels before Vanek could say a word.

Chapter 14 — Hayli

When Pika came running to find me, I was lying on my cot on
my stomach, with a cobbled copy of the day’s Herald spread open on my pillow. 
No news much worth reading, though.  The royal family had all gone, and we got
no stories of Vissery steam planes or faceless—literally faceless—murder
victims this time.  There was a bit of a piece about Istia, and something about
a summit or some such, but I couldn’t make horns or heads of it.

I was busy with a stump of charcoal, coloring a great big
mustachio on the face of some Minister, when Pika bounded up all wide-eyed and
speechless.  I sat up, tucking the charcoal under my mattress.

“Pika!  What’s got your tongue?”

Her hands clenched up in little balls.  “He’s back,” she
said, then turned and bolted.

“Hey, wait!” I called, but she’d already gone. 

He’s back?  Shade?

I scrambled off my cot and raced after her, down to the
lounge where most of the kids spent the evening hours.  It wasn’t a lounge, not
really, just a wide warehouse floor that we’d stacked with crates along the
walls—crates for chairs, double crates for tables, piles of huge crates for
climbing about on.  We kept the whole middle of the floor clear for games, but
no one was playing now.  All the kids had knotted together behind Derrin, who
stood with his arms crossed, cold and calm and indifferent.

A minute and we heard a pair of footsteps outside, then
Coins sauntered in with a wild-eyed grin.  Shade stalked into the room on his
heels, wearing Coins’s coat.  I held my breath.  Something about Shade made
everyone goggle at him, following his every move.  I couldn’t figure what it
was, especially as he had his gaze turned to the ground and wouldn’t look at
any of us.  Then he stopped and stared straight at Derrin, as if they were the
only two people in the room.

“Alby Durb,” he said, and without another word, he turned to
leave.

“Wait!” Derrin called.  Shade stopped at the door, but
didn’t turn around.  “Welcome to the Hole.”

A hushed muttering chased through the group.  Shade didn’t
come back, but nodded once and headed on out the door.  I gulped and glanced at
Derrin.

“Go on, Hayli,” he said.  “Make sure he’s got a cot and a
blanket.”

“Sure,” I said, and ran from the room.

I found Shade up in the front enclosure, standing in a
shifty patch of rare moonlight with his head tipped back, contemplating the
sky.  He must have heard me coming, but he didn’t move a twitch as I got near.

“Derrin told me to—”

“Shh,” he said, holding up his hand.  “Listen.”

I stopped beside him and cocked my head to the side, trying
to hear whatever he was hearing.  After a moment I caught the blare of the nine
o’ train whistle, faint with the wind blowing down from the north, sighing in
the fir trees beyond the wall.  Somewhere down an alley, a couple of toms
mewled and howled in a fight.

“What d’you hear?” I whispered, because I didn’t think he
was listening to any of those things.

“You don’t hear the music?”

I frowned and listened harder.  “What kind of music?”

He shifted and glanced down at me, looking a mite puzzled. 
“I don’t know,” he murmured.  “I thought I heard…I thought I heard a voice
singing.  Maybe just the wind.”

“Maybe,” I agreed, but I knew he didn’t believe it himself. 
“You got the supplier’s name,” I said then, and added, teasing, “We were
supposed to help with that.”

“Sorry, Hayli.  Had a chance and I took it.  Didn’t have
time to bring you on.”

“Coins helped you?”

He smiled.  “Yeah.  Don’t think I’d have got anywhere
without him.”

“Coins is dead canny,” I said, so warmly that he shot me a
quick glance.  I blushed and said, “I mean, he’s got a mad bent.  He’s one of
the best I’ve ever seen.”

“What’s his job?”

“Stars, what isn’t?  He’s a quick-finger and a spy, and he
can run buildings like no one else, so he gets sent off on courier jobs all the
time.”