Starwatch Page 12

“I think I do. Try me.”

  “Okay, tough gal. What shouldn’t you add to Rover’s Nectar unless you’re in the mood to kill yourself or an unwitting customer?”

  Kimiko wrinkled an olive brow and stuck her tongue past slender lips. “Um, Queen’s Spore, right? Some reaction in the seed makes it fatal for humans. Not to dogs though, but don’t ask me why.”

  “At least one of us doesn’t have to worry about her chances.”

  Her visage saddened as she lifted the page held in one hand. “I might need to.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A letter from home.” Kimiko let folded parchment flutter onto the sill and fidgeted with her fingers. “And not a pleasant one either.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “My parents disinherited me from Clan Akiyama. The family has one less daughter today than they did yesterday.”

  Aryll placed a hand over Kimiko’s and squeezed. “I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.”

  “I knew they were angry with me, but I didn’t think…” She wiped moisture from one eye and sniffled. “This choice can never be undone. I’m clanless and unwanted.”

  “You’ll always have me,” Aryll affirmed, wincing after the words left her mouth. “Even though I know that sounded less lame in my head.”

  Kimiko attempted an unconvincing chuckle, but Aryll knew the response was not genuine. Dimples carved into her friend’s cheeks whenever she truly smiled.

  “Do you know if you’re able to continue studying here?” Aryll inquired.

  “No, I don’t. Gods, I love this place and I’m afraid I won’t be able to stay.”

  “This may be a sensitive topic, but how much money do you have? Enough for the next semester?”

  She folded petite hands into her lap and stared at carpeted flooring. “If I hoard the small amount left in my name, I barely have enough for one more.”

  “Have you told our professors yet?”

  “You’re the only one. It’s not a fact I’m eager to share.”

  “Should they know about this? Some might be willing to help you.”

  “They won’t lower tuition for me because I don’t have money,” Kimiko asserted. “The professors can’t be lenient to one person without inviting criticism and claims of favoritism. Equal fees for equal education and all that. I’d need to abruptly be a prodigy for them to give me special consideration, and I don’t feel unusually intelligent.”

  “Do you know what you’re going to do?”

  “Not today I don’t. Maybe I can beg the kitchen staff to take me on as a scullery maid or something.”

  “Listen, the next time I write a letter home I can ask my parents to help with your tuition. At least until you figure something out.”

  “Your parents have a hard enough time scraping money together for you. I appreciate the gesture, Aryll, but I won’t be a burden to your family.”

  “You can’t make the money you need scrubbing dishes, and you’d never have the time for studying even if you tried. You’d wear yourself out with nothing to show for it.”

  “Maybe I should ask for a loan.”

  “You’d be indebted for the rest of your life with the lending rates here. It’s not worth it.”

  Kimiko leaned back against stone and wrapped arms around her knees. “I came here because I wanted to help people. I still want to. Even if I’m not allowed to stay, I’ve learned enough that maybe I could apprentice with an herbalist or apothecary. It wouldn’t be the same, but at least I’d be doing good. And you could come visit me.”

  “We’ll think of something, Kimiko. This semester doesn’t end for nearly two months, and we can get through the next one if we’re careful. Have faith.”

  *

  Cyriana surveyed the quaint inn and spread her lips in a smug grin. Nestled amid a grove of juniper trees and accessible only by a lone dirt road, the Dawning Repose fulfilled her every requirement. Verdant ivy entangled a wooden trellis leaning against one wall alongside rippled glass windows. Gray stone gave way to lumber on the second story, faded beneath the sun’s unforgiving notice.

  Striding over tufts of grass eking out a living amid parched soil, Cyriana walked through the entryway. She sniffed clean air and breathed a contented sigh that no cloying coppersheaf smoke lingered. Naught but bubbling stew fragranced a sparse dining area populated by several patrons. Scattered dirt and hay morsels were strewn about scuffed floorboards, trekked within from the adjoining stable. Cyriana sauntered to a counter tended by one man wearing a stained apron over his bulbous paunch.

  “That’s an appetizing smell, if I do say.”

  “Haven’t met anyone makes a tastier stew than my dear wife. The one you’re sniffing is potato and pheasant. Nary a soul can nibble a spoonful and not buck at the knees.”

  “I believe you,” Cyriana concurred.

  “Can I tempt you with a bowl?”

  “You may. But first I have some business to conduct. Might you be the proprietor?”

  “Aye, me and my wife both these last twenty years.”

  “Have any rooms available for renting?”

  “We do at that, friend,” replied the jovial barkeep. “Are you thinking on staying the night?”

  “I have a longer residency in mind, as it happens. How many rooms in total can you offer?”

  “Five, but two are rented for the next day.”

  “Then I’d like to have three rooms beginning now,” Cyriana said, “along with the other two when they become available.”

  “I don’t want to be causing undue strain, but rooms need to be paid for in advance. Ten folles a night for each one. I can’t permit boarding otherwise.”

  “Nothing to fret over. I have enough coin for the duration.”

  “Know how long your stay might be?”

  “Don’t know. At least a month, perhaps two.”

  Almond eyes gleamed in response to her words. Cyriana had glimpsed that hunger for coins often in her life and knew it to be an unfailing stimulus. Proprietors unable to keep a pitiful five rooms occupied could not afford to decline such an offer, even after she shared her unusual provisos.

  “A…month?” he stammered.

  “And not a day less. That won’t be a problem for you, will it?”

  “By the gods it won’t. You’re welcome to our rooms for all the nights you want.”

  “Glad to hear it, though my generosity comes with conditions. While we’re here none of the upstairs rooms are to be disturbed or entered at any time, even for cleaning. We need absolute privacy and no meddlesome inquiries.”

  His wife scuttled cautiously nearer from the kitchen, her hand stuffing a rag into one wet pewter mug. “Begging your pardon, but this sounds a mite suspicious to my ears. We don’t want trouble with the Draugans.”

  “I can see why you’d think that. I’m conducting business on behalf of an investor and need a quiet place to stay beyond the noisiest city streets. You’ll have to trust my word that none of this is illegal.”

  The married couple exchanged a wary glance with one another. “And if we’re nervous about trusting your word?”

  Cyriana dumped a cloth bag on the counter. “I had one of my more educated comrades throw some numbers together. We counted on almost fifteen bronze a night, so this is more than enough silver and gold to rent all your rooms for one month. After that we’ll talk about extending our stay for another.”

  The woman lifted grungy hands and flicked eyes to her husband. “We haven’t agreed to this yet.”

  “I’m certain you will by the time our dialogue comes to an end. Let me ask, are you robbed frequently?”

  He grumbled and scratched a bulbous nose. “Yeah.”

  “I thought that might be your answer, out here away from the city proper. I’d reckon legionaries don’t bother watching over you and others living in the outskirts. Then it’ll sweeten the deal for you to know that crap won’t happen while we’re boarding. One of us will usually always be here. We have a tale
nt for discouraging thefts, you might say.”

  Apprehensive wrinkles continued to crease the woman’s moist forehead. “It’s a tempting offer…”

  “I can see you’re fretful,” affirmed Cyriana. “But I’m promising you a full inn for an entire month without fearing petty theft or vandals. You’d be a fool to eschew my patronage.”

  “Unless we aren’t keen on the risks.”

  “Think back to the last time each room you owned was occupied for an unbroken stretch lasting a month. Have you ever known such prosperity?” At their tentative glances Cyriana spread her hands and offered a charming grin. “I didn’t think so. One month is what I ask for. Once we’re finished I’ll even pay for an additional week, as a parting gift for your hospitality.”

  “And in exchange we don’t pry none or have a looksee into your rooms,” the man said. “That about right?”

  “My only requirements.”

  The married proprietors shuffled beyond earshot and jabbered in hushed tones. Cyriana calmly sat atop her stool and awaited their decision, offering an innocent smile when the woman cast an eye in her direction. Finally the discourse ended and they returned. “You can stay here.”

  “Happy to hear it,” Cyriana replied, reaching one arm over the counter. “My name is Tala.”

  Grasping her palm in a clammy hand, the husband said, “Aridon. My wife is Jenian.”

  “I’m pleased we can do business together. I promise this arrangement will be a beneficial one for all involved.”

  “Even if we’re stricken by concerns?”

  “You won’t be,” Cyriana affirmed. “But we can revisit our agreement if you have a genuine misgiving.”

  “Truly?”

  “I give you my word. That should alleviate some qualms you might have, yes? I’m the pinnacle of fairness.”

  “So you say,” murmured Jenian.

  Cyriana snapped her fingers together. “Oh, and while I remember, tomorrow I’ll hire a locksmith to change each room lock upstairs.”

  “I don’t think there’s a reason for that.”

  “I told you, absolute privacy and nothing less. I’ll be the one paying for those services and you’ll get brand new locks in exchange. Not a raw deal for you, I’d say.”

  “I suppose not,” Aridon admitted. “Will you be wanting to eat here?”

  “Now there’s a question to tickle my fancy. There’re seven of us, and unless we say otherwise assume we want breakfast about an hour after dawn. Bread, eggs, sausage, whatever you have on hand. I’ll toss more silver your way if it broadens our selection. Other meals we’ll discuss day to day, but it’s a safe bet at least some will also want dinner. We’ll eat our food down here in the common area or take it back to our rooms. Don’t bring it to us upstairs, understood?”

  “That ain’t a surprising notion.”

  “I apologize if my requests seem strange or unreasonable, though I can assure you I’m neither. We’re merely engaging in what might be deemed politically sensitive. And that means it needs to stay quiet. Beyond that we’ll be model tenants.”

  Jenian flicked eyes still etched in wariness toward her husband. “If we hear anything worrying, we’ll alert the Draugans.”

  Cyriana flashed her most comforting smile. “If I glimpse illegal activities I’ll notify the Draugans personally. I promise you I don’t make a habit of running afoul of the law.”

  *

  Maylene nudged one boot against a bedpost flecked in grime and touched the windowsill. She fiddled with groaning shutters that refused to close properly, then surveyed wooden walls visible through scattered cracks and holes in the paint. “This’ll do.”

  “I’m pleased it meets your exacting standards,” said Cyriana.

  “Well enough at any rate. Comfort wasn’t a selling point for us.”

  “Could’ve fooled me,” Eloran grumbled. He eyed the sparse chamber and prodded one mattress with a crooked finger. “One might surmise we could’ve found more luxurious accommodations if we’d tried, since that wealthy benefactor is financing this scheme.”

  “Without a doubt,” responded Cyriana. “Except those posh locales are never private. Folks believe charging an exorbitant fee entitles them to snoop whenever they wish.”

  Thorkell leaned against a door jamb with arms crossed over his chest. “The proprietors here understand our delicate situation?”

  “They understand nothing of the sort. The lad and lass know not to wander upstairs or poke heads into our rooms.”

  “And you trust them to obey?”

  “Business isn’t booming at this site,” Cyriana explained, “given its position amid the outskirts. They see the benefits to keeping us happy. Whether I trust them is immaterial. I don’t think they’re stupid enough to risk us leaving and taking our coins with us. That’s enough for now.”

  “Folks are predictably pliable when you dangle purses in their faces,” Maylene said. “We doing something about the locks?”

  “Already made an appointment with a locksmith for tomorrow. Every lock is being changed while I watch. Including the rooms currently being rented. The occupants think it’s regularly scheduled maintenance and won’t bellyache. They’ve been encouraged to travel into town while the chore is done.” Cyriana cast a disapproving eye to fellow thieves and lowered her voice. “This shouldn’t need to be said, but their possessions are sacrosanct. No one steals even a worthless copper piece while here. This whole place and everyone in it is untouchable. Understand?”

  Nods affirmed their acceptance, though Maylene smirked as though plotting larceny regardless.

  “Four bedchambers for sleeping,” Cyriana continued, “and one will serve as our common room. No grousing over your chamber mate, since they’re non-negotiable. Maylene and I will be in room one. Thorkell and Desin, you’re in two, with Eloran and Baskaran in three. Zalla, you’re odd woman out.”

  Blue eyes perked considerably. “Does that mean I get my own room?”

  “Yes. Number four.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  “Remember folks, this is a long running scheme. Try not to piss off your chamber mate, since you’ll be spending a whopping amount of time with them.”

  “She means you, Eloran,” declared Maylene. “Before saying something stupid, don’t forget your roomie is only here to stab people we take a disliking to.”

  Evidently unwilling to respond with words, Eloran offered a rude gesture that seemed particularly odd compared to his otherwise grandfatherly deportment. Cyriana shook her weary head and continued with dispensing information.

  “We’ll return to the Widowed Moon for tonight and transport our belongings here first thing tomorrow morning. Zalla, Thorkell and Desin, you’ll all need to stay at the Moon for one extra night, until each bedchamber here is vacated. After that we’ll only maintain one room in town for whenever we deem necessary. Get comfortable here, because the Dawning Repose is our home for however long this heist lasts. Let’s not mistreat her.”

  Chapter 9

  Give me a legion of Draugan troops and I could conquer half the known world, too. The Empire might have brilliant strategists in its ranks, but the backbone of their nation will forever be the lowly legionary. Though foul-mouthed and unapologetic, this courageous, disciplined, selfless soldier possesses no equal and humbles all others.

  Gawain Bracken, Grand Duke of Aerondell

  Circa 304 Black Ruin

  14 Kilessin

  Cyriana eyed the stooped locksmith, undertaking a chore all but incomprehensible to her eyes. Deft hands skittered over wood and cranked brass into place while a pallid tongue lolled against his slimy chin. Finally the gangling man stood, slurped a flopping gray worm back into his lipless mouth and deposited a bundle onto one table.

  “Your new keys,” Morran uttered, wiping moisture from a hooked nose. “Two for a room. No more’n that.”

  “Thanks for your timely work.”

  He shrugged and folded a rawhide satchel closed. “Thanks fo
r your shiny coins.”

  “Would you be adverse to conducting more business with us?” questioned Cyriana.

  “Other locks needing a change?”

  “Not this time. We want a key copied.”

  Morran snorted mucus from his nostrils into a swelling mouth and swallowed. “One key?”

  “I might have a hankering for more, but for now yes.”

  “Know the lock, the manufacturer?”

  “Truthfully this isn’t my area of expertise. Our companion can provide all the details as you require. She’s something of a lock enthusiast, you might say.”

  “Kindred spirit, eh?”

  “An aficionado after your own heart. I can assure you the lock would be exceedingly well crafted though. Name me the most talented locksmiths and artificers in Asdor and I’d wager the quality will mirror their own.”

  The man scratched greasy hairs dangling over his temple and scattered white flakes. “You got Malrin Theran down Mellifera way, Too-Swift Thaddeus in Asdor City, Kimura Akari, though she comes from Shodo Hai…”

  Cyriana lifted a hand and refrained from groaning. “I didn’t mean to literally name them.”

  “Ah. Well, not knowing the lock means I can’t give a price that ain’t guessing, you know? Ain’t nothing but uncertainty elsewise.”

  “Understandable. But a range would suffice.”

  “Cheapest keys’ll be five bronze, ‘less you want shoddy crafting. Those might crack in the lock, and then where’ll you be? Others might run you a silver, two silvers. Can’t know ‘til I see what I’m working with.”

  “A fair deal. And what might the cost be for you to ask no questions and tell no others about the work?”

  Morran sucked chipped teeth and furrowed his greasy brow. “I reckon I follow. Five silver, not counting cost for the key.”

  “We have an accord.” Cyriana shook a dank hand and beckoned him into the hallway, wiping moisture from her palm onto one trouser leg. “I’ll be in touch when we’re ready to begin.”

  “Better have the friend who knows what she’s about do the talking.”

  “Aye. It’d be for the best.” She shut the door once again and faced an amused Thorkell lying on her mattress with his legs crossed.