Starwatch Page 13

  “I have a sneaking suspicion he’s been complicit in illegalities prior to us.”

  “Then he’ll know how to keep his poorly phrased words to himself,” Cyriana replied.

  He swung his legs over the edge and climbed off her bed. “What keys are we copying?”

  “Haven’t a clue. Ask Maylene if you’re curious. I’m only anticipating her requests, since I’m betting she’ll want some.”

  “I thought her answer to everything was to shove a narrow implement into a hole and twist.”

  “No, that’s just your answer to everything.”

  Thorkell glowered and directed his attention to keys arrayed on the tabletop. “You want me to run any downstairs for the swooning lovers?”

  “Give them nothing. I can’t have either one succumbing to burning curiosity or getting bribed to pass around keys. Each occupant gets one key to their room, and I’ll take the spare one to Zalla’s. We’ll hand them all over once we quit the city.”

  “Sensible. And our common room?”

  “Beyond me I haven’t decided who’s earned the other. You can try to woo me if you have a mind to pocket it. Though truthfully I’m leaning toward Eloran.”

  “Spit in my glorious face, why don’t you? To think, trusting that crotchety weasel more than a loyal friend like me.”

  “Try not to be so melodramatic, Thorkell. You’re not running a con with me. The reason is our walking wounded is likely to be here with the most regularity, since we only need him to splash ink onto paper. If both you and I are out no one will have access.”

  “Regrettably practical. You’ve made it difficult for me to be miffed.”

  “Soothing hurt souls,” Cyriana purred. “It’s what I do.”

  “If you have no further need of me, I think I’ll retire downstairs for a meal.”

  “I didn’t have a need for you to begin with. Honestly, I’m unsure why you’re even in my room.”

  Thorkell frowned and strolled for the entry as Maylene barged through and performed a curtsy. “A lovely evening to you, Cyriana. And I suppose you too, Thorkell. Though don’t make a habit of loitering in my room when I’m not here. How’d your day go?”

  “Lousy,” responded Cyriana. “Aside from a potentially productive conversation you just missed regarding facts I know nothing about.”

  “Then you’ll be pleased to hear I had a splendid afternoon.”

  “Elated. Was your day enough to cheer my spirits?”

  “Yes indeed, my friend. First, I came across a victim for my field trip with Desin.”

  “Happy to hear. Have a timeline for it?”

  “Hopefully tomorrow if all goes well. We’ll finally be able to put Eloran to work. But more crucially, I found us a patsy sulking in some tavern.”

  “Do tell.”

  “Every year at Starwatch is divided into three semesters,” Maylene said, “with time off between each and the year end culminating in final examinations. But despite what some ignorant chumps believe, living here isn’t free. Students are billed at the beginning of each semester, with the fees growing successively higher the longer they’re here. In fact, enrollment is so pricey that galen instructors might as well formally exclude anyone except noble families and those who own a trading empire. Sending a child here normally isn’t possible if you aren’t in either category. Moneyed folks often dump their younger kids here, the ones who aren’t in line to inherit mommy and daddy’s fortune. Plus having a galen in the family adds prestige. Into this environment came a young girl named Kimiko, born to a prosperous merchant family on Shodo Hai. She told me where, but I forgot because at the time I didn’t care. She’s the fourth child, meaning there wasn’t any chance she’d partake in the family gold. Her parents chose this route for her instead, hoping a galen in their flock might add stature to the clan name.”

  “Galens enjoy placing themselves on delicate pedestals for all to see,” Thorkell murmured.

  “The intention was for Kimiko to return to Shodo Hai and serve as the personal galen to some important lord. Her family could then parade her around and brag that their daughter was a galen and possibly squeeze favors in exchange for her service. Real loving parents, these ones are. But that’s not how things work around here. Trained galens are sent wherever Starwatch wants based on requests. Kimiko tried explaining that to her parents, but to no avail. Idiot mom and pop should’ve figured out a long while ago, since galens give up their family name and sever ties to better serve the order.”

  Maylene retrieved a clay bottle from the table and shook it in one hand. Dissatisfaction spread across her face when she heard no liquid sloshing around. “Trouble is some spat was brewing and this unwanted revelation didn’t help matters. In the end, she was disinherited entirely from her clan, including even their willingness to cover tuition. She has no means for paying beyond her next semester, but is desperate to stay right here. The girl’s damn malleable, so long as we dangle money before her eyes.”

  “Surely there are more prudent uses for our precious funds,” remarked Thorkell. “What can some waif who likes shoving her nose in scrolls do for us?”

  “Are you being serious?” Maylene glanced at Cyriana and shoved a bent thumb toward the Zyreni. “Is he being serious?”

  “False-facers are ever distrustful of the merits from bribery.”

  “Well bribery is the lifeblood of my profession, buddy boy,” Maylene chastised. “Best you grow accustomed to it now, because this won’t be the only instance. My first instinct is to throw money at a problem rather than lather on more cosmetics. You’d be amazed how many blokes are positively eager to turn a blind eye for a couple coins. Damn, I’m thrilled the world has so much greed and so little honor.”

  “Then enlighten the poor man who plays dress up,” suggested Cyriana.

  “The girl’s a kiddie galen, which means she can come and go anywhere on the Starwatch grounds as she pleases. She can tell us where locks or other obstacles are located, where guards routinely patrol, even the location for certain keys. The more gold we shove at her, the more she’ll be willing to perform. We might even be able to convince her to unlock a handful of doors in the minutes before we enter. Though involving them directly always entails risks we may not like.”

  “A thief with true talents is able to charm guards and nobles to open their doors for him,” Thorkell said. “We have no need for pawns.”

  “What’s this naysayer even doing in our room? Can I boot him out onto the street?”

  “Maybe later.” Cyriana entwined fingers behind her head and leaned backward on a mattress. “Back to the matter at hand. How much does one semester cost?”

  “Kimiko is a sixth year student. Passed her most recent examinations and progressed in rank from a novice to learner couple months ago. One semester for her should cost close to thirty silvers.”

  “Thirty silvers?” asked Thorkell. “For one semester? And they need to do that three times in a year?”

  “Why do you think only rich offspring are able to be galens?” quipped Maylene. “No education for those of us who grew up in hovels. Oh, and remember she’s also only a learner. Tuition practically triples by the time students reach adept rank. The eldest trainees had best bring gold or be ready to pack their bags.”

  “Give her that much, but no more,” Cyriana instructed. “We’ll keep the girl hungering for silver until we’re satisfied she’s fulfilled her end of the bargain. If she walks on us or doesn’t do as we ask, she’ll get nothing else. Her future academics depend entirely on our goodwill. Make that abundantly clear.”

  “Aye, will do. We’ll have the medicine lady in training skipping to our tune lickety-split.”

  *

  15 Kilessin

  “I don’t feel like I belong in here,” Desin murmured, tugging on his stiffened collar.

  Maylene eyed the posh clientele hobnobbing in this respectable alehouse. Tailored clothing made from the finest materials draped over perfumed skin lacking blemishes. Whi
tewood chairs encircled clean tables, illumined by ample lanterns arrayed around lacquered columns. Voices remained at a respectable volume and no alcohol splashed onto wooden floorboards.

  “You don’t,” she affirmed. “Neither do I, for that matter. Those muscled chaps out front wouldn’t have let you through if Thorkell hadn’t loaned one of his puffed shirts to you. And if I hadn’t donated three silver denarii to their pocket fund I’d have been booted on the street, too. All we can hope to do is blend in before snooty chaps get their hackles raised at our presence.”

  “Least we don’t need to worry ‘bout getting mugged in here. Most don’t even look like they’d know how to throw a punch.”

  “Fancy place like this, probably not. None of these blokes has a threatening air. Course they might pay someone else to clobber us once outside. Richest patricians can be the deadliest. Especially the ones who never need to see blood staining their own fingers. Trust me on this one.”

  “Where’s our fellow?” Desin inquired. “Is he even here yet?”

  She stared ahead to a central table occupied by four gentlemen. Only one held her interest, though the focus had nothing to do with attraction. Golden candlelight shone against a balding pate and jewelry looped around his broad neck. Dark hairs sharing more characteristics with wild thistles than a groomed beard enveloped his jaw. Maylene presumed the feral facial hair represented a poor distraction from his barren scalp. Surveillance and hefty bribery indicated he had a desperate need to be seen as virile and dominant. Hairless did not suggest manliness.

  Three women claimed the table alongside, each attired in silken gowns accentuated by ivory barrettes of matching hues. Cosmetics that would put Thorkell to shame caked their faces in white as though some pallid malady stalked them. Cardinal dollops adorned their cheekbones.

  “Oh, he’s here,” Maylene answered. She tapped a finger on the tabletop in his direction. “Second from the right in the black corduroy vest and untamed beard. Name’s Alander Tysir, originally from some dinky village on the Honeywater. His current employer is Vinaldor’s Banking and Lending.”

  “Ain’t that where our coins for the job are kept?”

  “The same. Don’t know precisely what his position is, but he’s among the highest echelon. Likely second only to the Vinaldor bloodline itself. Since the banking house is damned respected in this city, most valued employees like Alander are issued exemption papers for traveling. We’ll poach his.” She cocked her head toward Desin. “Understand your role?”

  “Not a tricky game we’re playing.”

  “Lovely. Remember, he stores them in the left breast pocket on his vest.”

  “Only idiots keep valuables in easy to reach places. I don’t ever get tired of it.”

  “Pray they never smarten up or you’ll need to put more effort into these activities. Now skedaddle and make yourself scarce so I can flaunt my wiles.”

  Desin vacated the table while Maylene unbound black hair and ruffled the strands to kiss her shoulders. She intentionally chose a table between Alander’s posse and the bar, where his every glance toward glittering wine bottles might settle on her. Thus far he had only employed a serving girl to fetch drinks, though she noted his roving eyes found her on occasion. A coy smile in his direction and Maylene wagered Alander could not resist strolling closer for an intimate word. What little she knew about the man suggested he had a fondness for chasing tail.

  She raised a knuckle to rub one eye and barely halted in time. On Maylene’s instructions, Thorkell had decorated her face with cosmetics and splashed some rosy concoction into otherwise dirty hair. She did not care for the experience and could feel gunk clinging to her skin with every facial twitch. Why Thorkell voluntarily subjected himself to this treatment was a mystery. She vowed to jump into Halfmoon Bay once this night ended.

  Choosing to sit alone invited notice, and Alander did not disappoint. His eyes lingered over Maylene with increasing frequency, eventually staying long enough to appreciate the sight. She encouraged such attention with playful glances of her own, meeting the man’s regard several times. Eventually she focused on him with an unapologetic stare and smirked once he observed her blatant interest.

  Alander offered a grin in return, though his suggested rapacious hunger rather than flirtation. The thought sent a shiver wriggling down Maylene’s spine. She flicked hazel eyes downward at her own table, beckoning him closer. Voicing a few words to his companions, Alander excused himself and stood. A lustful gaze never veered from Maylene while he approached.

  He halted and tugged muslin gloves from his smooth hands, slipping them into a scarlet belt. It was obvious those porcelain digits had refrained from lifting anything in years. “I couldn’t help but notice you’ve taken a fancy to me.”

  “Only because you were eager to earn my attraction.”

  “Quite true,” Alander admitted. “Care for company?”

  Maylene batted lustrous hair aside and breathed an exaggerated sigh. “I am feeling lonely. Thirsty too. Why don’t you procure some wine and we can put an end to both? Perhaps a bottle of Leygha chardonnay.”

  “You know your wines.”

  “Refinement is a virtue.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. Might there be a particular vintage you’re craving? None is beyond my means.”

  “Any ones later than 318 aren’t worth my time. Though 312 was a particularly strong year.”

  “Among my favorites.” A charming smile crawled through black scruff flecked in gray and he lifted one hand to signal a serving girl.

  Maylene reached forward and touched his hand, feeling a flush of warmth when she softly squeezed. “I prefer a gentleman who cares for me himself.”

  “If it pleases you, my dear.”

  “You’ve no idea how much it does.”

  Alander casually ran one palm over Maylene’s shoulder while he brushed past, and it required every ounce of self-control in her arsenal not to cringe. She watched him approach the bar and beckon to a tender scrubbing one mug with his cloth. It took her a moment to locate Desin through the crowded establishment, slinking closer without attracting attention. His mannerisms seemed to imply he was a non-entity not deserving even a hasty stare. Though garbed in Thorkell’s swanky attire, he appeared entirely without importance. What a practical use for his blatant lack of charisma. She had to admit the fellow elevated pickpocketing to an art form.

  Once their jovial banter ended, the barkeep perused his collection while Alander leaned an elbow on the counter and waited. Maylene directed a demure wave when he glanced back to her table, stifling the urge to gag. Desin crossed his path with a clumsy gait, as though he suffered a limp and had an excuse for languid movements. Maylene struggled to perceive her accomplice’s theft as Alander shifted his stance, but Desin was too efficient and flawless. He merely continued onward without changing pace.

  With Alander’s back still facing her, she shoved away from the table and meandered between aristocrats. An entry framed by stained-glass lanterns hanging beneath silver chains awaited. She bypassed a wooden pillar carved with whirling vines and pilfered a wine bottle from one table while its denizens looked elsewhere.

  Her only regret in all this was missing the bamboozled and vexed reaction from Alander when he noticed her abrupt disappearance. Seeing his face scrunched into confusion would have been a treat after enduring his unappetizing presence. Oh well, she still had a fun game to play before the night finished.

  Maylene rattled the bottle by its neck and heard splashing. Tilting it to her mouth, she was pleased to discover alcohol still resided within, since her objective was only to snatch an empty one. She stepped over the threshold into cool evening air and nodded to the brutes standing on either side.

  “Have a pleasant evening, boys.”

  Finishing the last trace of her unexpected drink, she followed the road a short distance and slipped into one passageway. Desin slouched against a brick wall, fiddling with ivory buttons on his borrowed shirt. The re
strictive buckram collar was already unfastened.

  “I feel dirty. Thank the gods Alander is a horny schmuck.” Maylene held out one hand and wiggled the fingers. “Give.”

  “Don’t think he felt nothing,” Desin affirmed, slapping a sheet into her palm. “Clean pull.”

  “His mind was focused on my eminently presentable assets. You probably could’ve tugged the rat’s nest on his chin without him cluing in.” She eyed nonsensical scribbles that presumably formed coherent letters and lifted a brow. “We should’ve brought someone along who’s actually frigging literate. Damn it all.”

  “I snatched it from the left pocket like you said.”

  “Never claimed you didn’t. But we can’t verify this by ourselves. Cyriana is going to laugh her arse off when she learns I somehow didn’t foresee this conundrum. Swell.”

  “What would you normally have done?”

  “Huh?”

  “If I wasn’t here. How would you’ve gotten the paper?”

  “Find a sturdy object that pleases me. Piece of wood, piping, stuff like that. Then whack Alander over the head, bind his arms and search until I nabbed my prize. Probably would’ve helped myself to his purse while I was in there.”

  “Damn.”

  “Oft times I have a tendency toward impatience. One of my flaws.” Maylene returned documents to Desin and wrapped her hair into a messy ponytail. “Take the exemption papers straight to Eloran and instruct him to start producing forgeries. Assuming they’re the real deal. If he complains and moans have Cyriana slap sense into the man.”

  “And you?”

  “Think I’ll tail our buddy during his stroll home.”

  “Don’t you already have what we came for?”

  Maylene lifted a grubby finger. “Ah, I have most of what we came for. Not all. The papers are good to have, no doubt. But we also need to know how Draugan legionaries on patrol respond to those without documents. Are they patient and lenient since we’re residing in a peaceful city? Or do they practice an unforgiving streak and smack around citizens who don’t conform? Facts like that might be vital to know down the line.”