Мария Снайдер - Fire Study - Study 03
Valek had styled my hair. He worked in a cold and efficient manner, making it easier for me not to grasp his hands and pull him close. His deft fingers twisted the strands of my hair expertly, and a strange vision of fire melting his arms to stumps rose in my mind.
I banished the image and put my hood over my head. The north gate of the Citadel wasn’t as busy as I had hoped. In fact, once inside, only a few people walked the streets. They hunched over their packages and stared at the ground. The weather could be a factor, but the rain had ceased. The streets should be teeming with citizens hurrying to the market before the next squall.
Even the beggars were few and far between. Most of them wore expressions of worry as they glanced around, and none approached me.
The Citadel’s white marble walls looked dingy and dull. The green veins resembled streaks of dirt and the whole town felt as if a layer of grime coated it. The grunge had built up in the cracks, and soaked into the foundations. The shine was gone from the town. And it wasn’t due to the weather.
I missed a step when the first Daviian Vermin came into my sight. But soon they were everywhere. Hunching over, I mimicked the citizens’ posture, searching for an alley or side street free of Vermin. Blood throbbed in my ears. The Vermin’s gazes burned into my soul. When I entered a shortcut to the market, my legs wobbled with relief. But I kept out of view until I had studied the center square, watching the people scurrying around the market’s stands. The sense of fear even diluted the usual heady smell of spices and roasting meat.
The concentration of citizens meant more Vermin. I waited until I spotted my target and then joined the shoppers. When I drew beside a young boy of ten, I had to suppress a smile as I listened to him barter with the stand owner.
“Four coppers, take it or leave it,” Fisk said, sounding like an adult.
“I can’t feed my family for that!” the owner countered. “Since you’re my friend, I’ll take seven coppers.”
“Belladoora is selling them for four.”
“But look at this quality. Hand embroidered by my own wife. Look at the detail!” He held up the fabric.
“Five, and not a copper more.”
“Six, and that’s final.”
“Good day, sir.” Fisk walked away.
“Wait,” the stand owner called. “Five then. But you’re stealing the bread out of my children’s mouths.” He grumbled some more while wrapping the fabric in paper, but he smiled when the boy paid him the money.
I followed Fisk to his client. The woman paid him six coppers and he handed her the package.
“Excuse me, boy,” I said. “I’m in need of your services.”
“What can I do for you?” he asked. Then his eyes flew wide with shock before worry touched them. He glanced around with small furtive movements. “Follow me.”
He led me to a tight alley and into a dark dwelling. I stood in the blackness while Fisk lit a few lanterns. Thick curtains hung over the windows and only a few chairs decorated the barren room.
“This is where we meet,” Fisk said.
“We?”
He smiled. “The Helpers Guild members. We plan our day, divide up the money, and exchange gossip about our clients.”
“That’s wonderful.” Pride at what Fisk had accomplished filled my heart. The grubby beggar boy I had met on my first Citadel visit had transformed into a productive member of his family.
Fisk’s own pride showed in his light brown eyes. “It’s all because of you, my first client!”
Instead of begging for money, now Fisk and the other beggar children helped shoppers find good deals, carried packages and would do just about anything for a small fee.
His grin dropped from his face. “Lovely Yelena, you shouldn’t be here. There’s a reward for your capture.”
“How much?”
“Five golds!”
“Is that all? I thought it would be more like ten or fifteen,” I teased.
“Five is a lot of money. So much I wouldn’t trust my own cousin not to turn you in. It’s dangerous for you here. For everyone.”
“What’s been going on?”
“These new Daviian Clan members. They have taken over. At first it was just a couple of them, but now the streets are filled. Ugly rumors about their involvement with the Sandseed genocide has everyone frightened. People living in the Citadel have been questioned, and certain beggars have disappeared. Whispers about how the Council members have lost control have spread, yet they are preparing for a war.”
Fisk shook his head. He had wisdom beyond his years. I mourned the loss of his childhood. Being a child of beggars had robbed him of fun, wonder and the ability to make mistakes without fatal consequences.
“How about the Keep?” I asked.
“Locked down. No one enters or leaves except under the Daviians’ armed escort.”
The state of affairs was worse than I had anticipated. “I need you to get a message to one of the Councilors for me.”
“Which one?”
“My kinsman, Bavol Zaltana. But I don’t want you to write anything down. It must be a verbal message. Can you do it?”
Fisk frowned, considering. “It will be difficult. The Councilors all have an escort while out in the Citadel, but perhaps I could set up a distraction…” He rubbed his hands along his arms as he contemplated the task. “I can try. No promises. If it gets too hot, I’m out of there. And it’s—”
“Going to cost me. And you must not repeat the message to anyone.”
“Agreed.”
We shook hands on the deal. I told Fisk my message. He left to recruit a couple helpers. I returned to the market to purchase a few items and to eat, killing time without appearing to be.
My gaze kept returning to the Keep’s towers. Located within the Citadel’s marble walls, the Magician’s Keep occupied the northeastern section. Unable to suppress my desire to see the pink-pillared entrance gates, my path led to the Keep.
Instead of appearing warm and inviting, the cold stone seemed impenetrable and daunting. I longed to make contact with my friends and colleagues inside. Where were Dax and Gelsi? Had they been allowed to continue their studies? I felt blind and cut off, frustrated and lost. As if I had been exiled and would never see them again.
Daviian guards stood next to the Keep’s guards. Feeling too exposed, I returned to Fisk’s meeting room to await the boy’s return. Time crept along in mind-numbing increments. A small tan spider built its elaborate web in the corner of the room. To help the spider, I hunted for an insect to place on the sticky strands.
Fisk arrived as I stood on a chair, attempting to nab a moth. He puffed out his chest and declared the mission a success. “Councilor Zaltana said he would meet with you tonight in his home.” Fisk deflated a bit with his next remark. “He warned his residence is guarded by a Warper. What’s a Warper?”
“A Daviian magician.” I considered the complication. “What time?”
“Anytime, but if you’re out on the streets after midnight, the guards will arrest you. I would suggest after the evening meal. There is usually a flurry of activity as the shops close and everyone heads home.” Fisk sighed. “It used to be a good time to beg. People would feel guilty passing by a child without a home when they had a warm comfortable bed waiting for them.”
“Used to be, Fisk. That’s in the past. I bet you have a nice home, now.”
His posture straightened. “The best! Which reminds me. You had better leave before my helpers come back. We meet in the morning and again in the late afternoon.”
I paid Fisk, thanking him for the help. “If you ever get caught, don’t hesitate to tell them about me. I don’t want you to be hurt because of me.”
Fisk gave me a confused frown. “But you could be taken and killed by the Daviians.”
“Better me than you.”
“No. Things are bad and getting worse. If you’re killed, I have a horrible feeling life wouldn’t be worth living.”
Fisk’s dire comments followed me as I traveled through the Citadel. Keeping to the back alleys, I hid behind buildings until the streets filled with residents hurrying home, just as Fisk had predicted. I joined the flow, blending in as the sky grew dark and the lamplighters began their evening chore. When I passed Bavol’s dwelling, I slowed long enough to determine his house was empty.
I made another loop around the street to make sure, then slipped behind the building. Using my picks, I unlocked the back door and startled a woman.
“Oh my!” She dropped a rake. It clattered on the edge of the stone heath, and the fire she had been stirring to life dimmed.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” I said, thinking fast. “I have an urgent appointment with Councilman Zaltana.”
“I don’t remember him telling me about a guest. And certainly no guest would come creeping in the back door!” She swept up the iron rake and hefted it in her big hands. She wore a type of loose tunic the Zaltanas preferred, but it was hard to see in the semidarkness.
I chanced it. “We just set the meeting today. It’s regarding clan business.”
“Oh my.” She bent and raked at the coals. When a flame ignited, she used it to light a lantern. She peered at me through the glow. “Goodness, child. Come in then. Shut the door. This is all highly unusual, but I don’t know why I’m surprised. These are unusual times.”
The woman bustled and fussed about the kitchen, claiming the Councilman would soon be home and would want his supper. I helped her by lighting the lanterns in the dining room and living room. Bavol’s home was decorated with jungle art and valmur statues. A pang of homesickness struck me.
When I heard someone at the front door, I hid in the kitchen.
“His guard dog doesn’t come in the house,” the woman said. “The Councilman won’t allow it. The day that dog is allowed in will be the end of the Sitian Council.”
But would the Warper use his magic to scan the interior? Would I feel the power? I hovered by the back door just in case.
The woman said, “Call me Petal, child,” and invited me to join them for supper. She shooed away any protests about my limited time. “Nonsense, child. Let me tell the Councilman you’re here.”
“Ah, Petal,” I said, stopping her. “Perhaps it would be best if you just asked him to come in here? Dogs have very acute hearing.”
She tapped a finger to her forehead and then pointed to me before leaving. Bavol came into the kitchen with Petal on his heels. He greeted me with a tired smile.
“Smart to come before me,” he said in a soft voice. He rubbed at the dark smudges under his eyes. Worry lines etched his face and he stood as if he strained under a heavy weight. “If you’re discovered…” He sank down to perch on an edge of a stool. “You can’t stay long. If they hear or see anything out of the ordinary, the Warper will barge in and I will tell him everything.”
His matter-of-fact statement about his response to the Warper sent a ripple of fear through my body. What were the Warpers doing to gain information and cooperation?
“I’ll be quick then. Why did the Council allow the Daviians to come?”
Alarm flashed on Bavol’s face and he clamped his hands together in his lap. “Petal, could you please get me a glass of whiskey?”
