territory, wasn’t Kells’s style. If it had been the other way around, I could see it, but not like this. Kells was too subtle for this kind of a play. At least, he always had been up until now.
But if there was a link, or even the hint of one, Nicco would be on it. He’d go after Kells hard. And that would put me in the middle of it, in Ten Ways, in the fighting.
I groaned. Maybe it was best that Nicco was sending me in there to figure it out after all. Maybe I could even avert the looming disaster. But that didn’t mean I had to like it.
I shambled the rest of the way home in the early-afternoon light and collapsed into a dreamless sleep. I awoke sometime after midnight, chewed a seed, and dragged myself out into the streets long enough to scare up a late meal. I returned and slept some more.
Late-morning sunlight was pushing its way in past the edges of my room’s shutters when I woke again. Someone was knocking on my door.
I lay in bed for a moment, hoping the caller would think I was out.
He kept knocking.
Hell, might as well get up. I had to piss, anyhow.
“Bide a moment!” I yelled as I got out of bed and padded across the room.
Downstairs, beneath the sound of the knocking, I could hear the squeals and shouts of two little girls at play—Renna and Sophia. I smiled at the noise as I slipped on yesterday’s shirt and picked up my sword belt, the rapier still in its scabbard.
I put my eye to the peephole and looked into the hall. A clean-shaven face, framed by perfumed blond curls, sat atop a carefully embroidered jacket and half cloak. I recognized the livery badge on his chest and groaned.
“My Lord Drothe?” asked the messenger to the peephole. He sounded unsure of the question, and I found myself wanting to lie. But there would only be another flunky like him at my door tomorrow if I did.
I disarmed the spring trap, undid the double lock, and cracked the door open a finger’s width.
“Yes to the Drothe part,” I said, “no to the ‘lord.’ I’m not noble, and I didn’t marry into the blood like your mistress.” He looked startled at that last part, no doubt surprised by my audacity. Well, let him be. His mistress might be the Baroness Christiana Sephada, Lady of Lythos, but she was also my sister. The fact that only a handful of people besides her and me knew about our relationship didn’t change how I dealt with “her ladyship.”
I glanced past the messenger to the man who loomed behind him. His name was Ruggero, and he worked for me. He gave a brief nod, indicating he’d searched the messenger. I nodded back, and Ruggero retreated silently down the stairs. I looked back to the messenger.
“You’re new, aren’t you?” I said. “She’s never sent you before.”
“Yes, uh, no . . . I mean, I’ve never had the honor before, sir, no.”
“It’s no honor, believe me,” I said. I opened the door and waved the young man in. “What’s your name?”
“Tamas, my lord.” He remained in the hallway. I could tell by the look on his face he was unsure what to do next. I was probably violating every nicety of court protocol imaginable. While the poor kid had been trained to handle everything from sycophants to haughty nobles, it was clear no one had instructed him on the finer points of dealing with a thief who has just answered the door wearing nothing more than a shirt that barely reached his knees and a sword.
“The family downstairs has children, Tamas,” I explained, tossing my sword belt and blade onto the bed to make him more at ease. “I don’t want their mother after me in case their eldest daughter happens by and catches a view up my shirt. Understand?”
The messenger glanced over his shoulder at the stairwell as if I had prophetic powers, then stepped quickly into the room. I shut the door.
“So, what does she want this time?” I asked as I pulled down a pair of paned slops from a wall peg and sniffed them. Definitely cleaner than the ones I had been
But if there was a link, or even the hint of one, Nicco would be on it. He’d go after Kells hard. And that would put me in the middle of it, in Ten Ways, in the fighting.
I groaned. Maybe it was best that Nicco was sending me in there to figure it out after all. Maybe I could even avert the looming disaster. But that didn’t mean I had to like it.
I shambled the rest of the way home in the early-afternoon light and collapsed into a dreamless sleep. I awoke sometime after midnight, chewed a seed, and dragged myself out into the streets long enough to scare up a late meal. I returned and slept some more.
Late-morning sunlight was pushing its way in past the edges of my room’s shutters when I woke again. Someone was knocking on my door.
I lay in bed for a moment, hoping the caller would think I was out.
He kept knocking.
Hell, might as well get up. I had to piss, anyhow.
“Bide a moment!” I yelled as I got out of bed and padded across the room.
Downstairs, beneath the sound of the knocking, I could hear the squeals and shouts of two little girls at play—Renna and Sophia. I smiled at the noise as I slipped on yesterday’s shirt and picked up my sword belt, the rapier still in its scabbard.
I put my eye to the peephole and looked into the hall. A clean-shaven face, framed by perfumed blond curls, sat atop a carefully embroidered jacket and half cloak. I recognized the livery badge on his chest and groaned.
“My Lord Drothe?” asked the messenger to the peephole. He sounded unsure of the question, and I found myself wanting to lie. But there would only be another flunky like him at my door tomorrow if I did.
I disarmed the spring trap, undid the double lock, and cracked the door open a finger’s width.
“Yes to the Drothe part,” I said, “no to the ‘lord.’ I’m not noble, and I didn’t marry into the blood like your mistress.” He looked startled at that last part, no doubt surprised by my audacity. Well, let him be. His mistress might be the Baroness Christiana Sephada, Lady of Lythos, but she was also my sister. The fact that only a handful of people besides her and me knew about our relationship didn’t change how I dealt with “her ladyship.”
I glanced past the messenger to the man who loomed behind him. His name was Ruggero, and he worked for me. He gave a brief nod, indicating he’d searched the messenger. I nodded back, and Ruggero retreated silently down the stairs. I looked back to the messenger.
“You’re new, aren’t you?” I said. “She’s never sent you before.”
“Yes, uh, no . . . I mean, I’ve never had the honor before, sir, no.”
“It’s no honor, believe me,” I said. I opened the door and waved the young man in. “What’s your name?”
“Tamas, my lord.” He remained in the hallway. I could tell by the look on his face he was unsure what to do next. I was probably violating every nicety of court protocol imaginable. While the poor kid had been trained to handle everything from sycophants to haughty nobles, it was clear no one had instructed him on the finer points of dealing with a thief who has just answered the door wearing nothing more than a shirt that barely reached his knees and a sword.
“The family downstairs has children, Tamas,” I explained, tossing my sword belt and blade onto the bed to make him more at ease. “I don’t want their mother after me in case their eldest daughter happens by and catches a view up my shirt. Understand?”
The messenger glanced over his shoulder at the stairwell as if I had prophetic powers, then stepped quickly into the room. I shut the door.
“So, what does she want this time?” I asked as I pulled down a pair of paned slops from a wall peg and sniffed them. Definitely cleaner than the ones I had been
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