* * * *
Lu rose early the next day, determined to get her trip to the docks over at once. If I hurry, I might even be able to catch Silveo before he leaves. Then I won’t have to speak to the captain or crew. Her memories of the grasping hands and leering stares of the crew on the journey from Sern made her shiver.
Lu moved through the streets of Seashine in the pre-dawn light, admiring the cheerful red-painted doors and white-washed buildings of the business district. Somewhere below these streets, she knew that other business was taking place. The underground—it was the natural byproduct of an old city, where fire, flood, or earthquakes occasionally devastated even the most well-planned buildings. New buildings were erected, and the old basements and lower levels were walled off and forgotten…until they were unearthed by less reputable business-shelts.
Some of the tunnels in the underground were practically as well-known and respectable as the street on which she now stood. But, whenever an area became too accessible to local law enforcement, Seashine’s darker element could always find new layers hidden behind false walls and secret doors.
Any territory worth having was quickly claimed by one of Seashine’s street lords. However, compared to Sern’s criminal element, Haplag’s was both tame and stable. Lu knew of shops that had been in business for years down there, quietly paying their rent and selling their wares. Could I ever have something like that? It seemed impossibly complex and grown-up.
Lu reached the docks and searched for Silveo’s new favorite ship. She spotted it half a row away. It wasn’t painted to Silveo’s taste, but it was impressive. Black sails, black hull, a figurehead of some kind of toothy beast, polished to a glossy sheen. The hull conspicuously lacked a name, but it might as well have said, “Pirate.”
Lu stopped before she reached the ship and straightened her clothes. She’d taken care to look as uninteresting as possible—plain, rough-spun pants, old boots to hide her cream and nutmeg spotted paws, long striped tail tucked into her pants, a head scarf to hide her thick, dark hair and part of her face with its striking ocelot markings. Her bright green eyes, heavily lined with natural stripes, were impossible to hide and had an arresting effect on those who hadn’t met many ocelons. However, if Lu walked quickly with her head down, she looked much like any courier in the city and might even be mistaken for a grishnard boy from behind.
Get in, leave the package, get out.
Dawn mist was still rolling between the ships as Lu trotted up the gangplank. It took her a moment to realize that the shelt who hailed her from the deck was not a grishnard. As he came closer, she was surprised to see mottled tan and black skin. His hair was speckled brown and black and gray, and he had a short, brushy tail, completely unlike the long, tufted tail of a grishnard.
Hunti... And that would explain the figurehead. A hyena. You could have warned me, Silvy.
Still, she decided that this was a good development. Dealing with hunti could be awkward, but they were generally respectful towards females and incurious about “exotic” species, like ocelons. “I’m here to see Silveo,” she told the sailor on watch. “If he’s not here, I’ll speak to the captain.”
The sailor looked unsurprised. “Captain’s in his cabin. May not be awake, though.”
So Silvy’s not here. Lu resigned herself to dealing with a stranger. “It’s important, but it won’t take long. I need to see one of them.”
The hunti shrugged. He whistled, and a young hunti ship’s boy came scampering out of the misty rigging, reminding Lu of the squirrel Silveo had killed the day before. The adult said something to the child in their native language, which sounded like growls and clicks to Lu. The boy disappeared towards the stern of the ship, and the sailor on watch motioned to Lu to stand by the railing and wait.
She sighed, stepped onto the deck, and made herself comfortable with her elbows on the railing, facing the ship. She didn’t want anyone sneaking up behind her. To their credit, this did not seem likely. The handful of crew that she could see were all hunti, and they paid no attention to her. Somewhere overhead, someone working in the lines whistled a pleasant tune. Lu could smell food cooking. Two more children seemed to be playing a game in the rigging, and Lu remembered that hunti ships were usually crewed by families. She smiled.
She’d begun to feel almost relaxed, when a shelt emerged from a hatch near the stern and came sauntering towards her. Lu blinked. A moment ago, she would have bet her life savings that the captain would be another hunti, but this person could be nothing of the kind. Even at a distance, his golden curls stood out against the darker colors of the ship, and his skin was a uniform cinnamon. She caught the elegant curve of his tufted tail, twitching as he made his way among the piles of rope. A grishnard? Captaining a hunti ship? She’d never heard of such a thing.
He came up to her, stretching and yawning in a very un-captain-like way. He rubbed his eyes. “Can I help you?”
“I brought a package for Silvy…Silveo.” The captain was wearing a loose, frilly white shirt, tucked into black pants, and unbuttoned to the navel. Lu’s height put her at eye-level with his bare chest. Face, she ordered herself. Look at his face. What is the matter with you?
His honey-gold eyes matched his curls, and his hoop earrings flashed in the morning light. Lowland grishnard, she thought. And again, Captaining a hunti ship? How did that happen?
He was peering down into her face with an odd expression. “Oh… You’re the apothecary. Silvy didn’t tell me that you were a…”
Lu raised one eyebrow at him. A what?
He straightened up suddenly. Lu thought she saw the beginnings of a blush creeping up his neck, but he turned around before she could get a good look. “I do apologize. I should have had someone waiting for you. I forgot. Just leave your package with the sailor on watch.”
I do believe you are babbling, Captain. Have I so unnerved you? Lu came trotting after him. She put a note of polite determination into her voice. “I’m afraid not, sir. I can’t hand it over to anyone else, but I will put it wherever Silveo directed. We’ve done this before. We have an arrangement. He should have told you where.”
The captain stopped, long tufted tail twitching. “Yes. Yes, he did. I just didn’t realize…”
Lu was beginning to feel annoyed. “You didn’t realize that I was an ocelon, but I can assure you that I’m just as much a professional as—”
The captain turned with an expression of alarm. “No, no! I didn’t realize…” He lowered his voice so that it wouldn’t carry to the rest of the deck. “I didn’t realize that you were a lady. My cabin is unsightly. I apologize.”
Lu blinked in surprise. Then she smiled. She thought, Well, I’m hardly a lady. But she found that she did not wish to break his charming delusion. Instead, she said, “My name is Lu. I am a healer and an apothecary. I work all over the city, and I assure you that no manner of domicile will startle me.”
He made a little bow. “Basil, ship’s Captain. Welcome to the Nightingale.”
Lu returned the bow. “A beautiful name for a beautiful ship. I’m surprised you don’t have it painted in gold on the hull.” It would match your eyes.
Basil smiled. She could tell that the praise of his ship pleased him. He made an airy gesture as he turned away. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll get around to it someday.”
Pirate or smuggler, thought Lu, but without malice. If you were the truly vicious type, you wouldn’t be in Seashine.
As he turned away, she took the opportunity to whip off her head scarf and stuff it in a pocket. Why did I wear such hideous clothes? She combed her fingers frantically through her hair, hoping that none of the hunti on deck were paying attention. As they descended into a hatch to the lower decks, Lu struggled to work her tail out of her pants. She tucked her shirt in, and, by the time Basil turned in front of his cabin door, she felt marginally presentable.
It must have worked, because he stopped, blinking at her in the soft light pouring in through a porthole windo
w. Lu grinned at him. She wished she’d worn flashier earrings. At the same time, a voice in the back of her head whispered, What are you doing? He’s got to be at least ten years your senior.
It wouldn’t stop Silvy, she told herself.
Correction, she thought a moment later, it hasn’t stopped Silvy. Oh, when will I learn not to get excited about anyone I meet through Silveo?
It was obvious why Basil had been embarrassed about inviting her into his cabin and why he hadn’t attempted to straighten it quickly. The room was strewn with Silveo’s things. Lu caught sight of a cloth-of-silver coat, trimmed in purple feathers that she remembered. There were also a lot of clothes she’d never seen before, but which bore the unmistakable mark of Silveo’s taste—boots trimmed with fur of questionable origin, silk shirts in green and red and teal, undershirts with lacy collars and cuffs, and a panoply of hats—all of a size much too small for Basil. Lu also spotted a little sea chest that had been in Malpin’s flat last she knew. Silvy must trust you, she thought wistfully.
Most of the clothes were piled on the floor, but one conspicuous trail lead to the bed, probably in the order in which they had been removed. Basil glanced at this as though seeing it for the first time and made a desperate attempt to shove the clothes under the bed—a truly grand, canopied affair in red velvet.
He turned to look at Lu, color rising again in his handsome face. There was a moment of awkward silence. Lu stood in the midst of the chaos and pursed her lips. “Maybe,” she said at last, “you could give him a closet?”
Basil barked a relieved laugh, and Lu laughed with him. She couldn’t even feel disappointed. He had a delightful laugh. “I have!” he managed through near-tears. “He filled up mine, and now he’s expanding onto any available surface.”
Lu nodded. “For such a little thing, he takes up a lot of room.” In every conceivable way.
Basil nodded enthusiastically.
Lu took a few hesitant steps around the room. It had a magnificent stern window. She took another covert glance at the bed and burst out laughing. There were mirrors around the inner canopy. “I bet he loves that!” Sex was always a performance art to Silvy. But gods help you if you want anything more than a performance.
Basil laughed a little more easily this time. Lu guessed that he’d never had this kind of conversation with a girl before. Well, there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there, lovely?
Stop it, she ordered herself. His tastes are clear. Let him be.
But, as she crossed the room to examine the window, she could feel his eyes on her. I do believe you’re admiring my bum, sir. She bent over to examine the chest, just to give him a good look.
“He actually said to leave it in there.” Basil had come up behind her, and he crouched to open the chest. He did this by putting his arms on either side of her. He smelled like brine and soap and just faintly of Silveo.
Well I’ll play if you will. Lu fished in her pocket for the lily tincture. At the same time, she shifted back, so that her hair brushed his face. Her long tail flicked against his inner thigh, and the side of one breast brushed his arm. “Did he tell you where to put it?” she murmured in his ear. Because Silvy would know where to put it.
Upon reflection, Lu decided that she might have overdone things. Basil almost lost his balance. He had to catch himself with his hands to avoid sitting down on her tail. He struggled up. “I do apologize,” he babbled. “So clumsy of me. Yes, he said to put it under the books.”
Lu was sure he was blushing again, but she didn’t want to embarrass him by looking up. She shifted the small pile of books in the bottom right of the chest. Unlike the rest of the room, the chest was meticulously organized. Underneath the books, she found a wooden box. Inside, was a red feather. Good enough. Lu placed a vial in the wooden box next to the feather, closed everything, and stood up.
She suppressed a sigh. Now to awkwardly extricate myself from this situation.
Basil was standing by the window with his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry to turn up in your cabin with so little warning,” she said. “I’ve known Silvy for a long time, and sometimes these things happen.”
Basil turned back to her with a smile. “Oh, I know. Or…I’m learning. Like you said, he takes up a lot of space.”
I know that look, thought Lu. But don’t get too attached to him. He’ll just break your heart.
To her surprise, Basil crossed the room and took her hand with an almost courtly bow. “If you come again, this place will be cleaner. I promise.”
If I…? To Lu’s horror, she heard herself start to purr. To purr intentionally was one thing. To purr accidentally in an unintended display of emotion was quite another. She stopped herself at once and hoped fervently that Basil hadn’t noticed.
If he did, he was kind enough to pretend otherwise. “Would you like breakfast?” he asked. “Or just tea if you’ve already eaten.” He thought for a moment and added hurriedly. “In the officer’s cabin, of course.”
Lu smiled. “I need to make several more deliveries,” she admitted, “but thank you for the invitation.” Her thoughts churned as she left the ship and went through the motions of dropping off her remaining parcels. He’s obviously in love with Silveo. You have no business interfering.
But Silvy’s relationships never last long. And they’re never exclusive. Silvy is probably seducing a target right now. Does Basil know that?
None of your business, Lu.
At least this explains Silvy’s attachment to this particular ship. He can probably get Basil to take him anywhere he needs to go to fulfill a contract. They’re sleeping together, and Silveo sees this as…paying the rent? Does Basil realize that?
Again, none of your business, Lu.
But Silvy doesn’t usually leave his most cherished possessions with casual partners. What does that mean? Is he in love with Basil? He hasn’t talked about him. And since when did Silvy get so many clothes? He must have done well with those last few contracts.
Was Basil flirting with me, or was he just being polite? Clueless? He doesn’t seem the clueless type. Maybe it’s not boys he likes. Maybe it’s just non-grishnards. Small species? A happy thought. Lu hummed to herself as she opened the door to her flat.
When he talked about me coming to his cabin again… Does he expect me to drop off more potions for Silveo? Come for a social visit? Something else?
Lu stared, unseeing, at her meager dinner. I don’t know why I’m even thinking about this. Basil is obviously in love with his ship, as well as Silveo. I hate ships. What use has a pirate for an apothecary? They don’t poison people; they stab them.
Lu made a face. She did not like to think of herself as a poisoner. I sell more healing potions than poisons.
Something was niggling at the back of her mind—some distant part of her brain that kept trying to get her attention. I should go to bed. Go to bed, and maybe it will all make sense in the morning. She gave herself over to happy reflections on Basil’s golden eyes and blond curls as she got ready for sleep. Scents of brine and soap and skin. Curly blond chest-hair that lead down and down…
Lu dreamed of Basil—shirtless, the lean, supple muscles of his arms and chest dappled with morning sunlight. They were having tea in the officer’s cabin. Silveo was there, too, wearing a frilly white shirt with lacy sleeves and collar, and a pale blue waistcoat that matched his eyes. His silver-white hair fell in a gleaming cascade over his shoulders, and his fluffy white tail chimed with tiny bells. “I told him everything you like,” he said to Lu, “for dinner, I mean.”
Lu giggled. She stopped giggling when she spotted something among the tea cups. A familiar vial sat nestled between the cream and sugar. Lu put her hand over her mouth. “That’s…”
Basil picked it up and tipped a few drops into Silveo’s cup.
Lu squeaked in horror.
Silveo sipped at the tea. “Don’t worry. It won’t hurt me. I trust you.”
Across the table, Basil winked at her.
Lu sprang to her feet, knocking cups and plates in every direction. “No!” she screamed. “No, no, no!”
Silveo’s cup hit the floor and shattered. He made a choking sound. His eyes shot to her face—desperate and confused. He tried to stand, toppled over, and began to convulse on the floor, his slender legs kicking like a rabbit in a snare.
Lu shrieked through her tears.
She was still shrieking when her eyes snapped open in the dark. Oh, gods! The distant alarm bell had grown to a roaring clang. Oh, gods, I gave him the wrong vial!
Lu staggered up from her pallet on the floor, flung open the window, and stuck her head out. Red moon was still low on the horizon, and yellow moon hadn’t risen at all. She caught distant sounds of activity from the streets. Still early. I haven’t been asleep for more than half a watch. When was Silveo going to meet his target?
Lu felt as though she couldn’t breathe, but she forced herself to stillness. Think.
He wanted the poison by today. He couldn’t have been going any earlier than tonight and probably not until tomorrow.
Lu threw on her clothes at frantic speed. She paused to snatch up the satchel that she kept by the door in case of medical emergencies. Although it’s not likely to do a lot of good if he’s already tasted what was in that vial.
She locked the door and took the stairs two at a time, nearly bowling over one of her neighbors. In the street, she started running—through the tenement houses, past a little branch of the business district, and on towards the docks. Please, please, please…
Lu bounded up the gangplank of the Nightingale and came to a panting halt as a surprised-looking sailor blocked her way. “I need…”she gasped. “I need…to talk to Silveo…or Basil.”
“Wait here,” said the sailor with agonizing languor.
Lu couldn’t stand still. She paced the deck.
Basil appeared more quickly this time. He was wearing a red waistcoat and cream-colored pants that were tight in all the right places. He had a drink in one hand and looked like he might have been in the middle of dinner. “Lu!” he called with no apparent irritation at her sudden appearance. “Did you change your mind about—”
Lu darted up to him. “Sir, I am so sorry to interrupt your meal, but I have to speak to Silveo. It’s very important. Is he here?” Please say he is. Then we can all have a laugh about this.
Basil’s brow furrowed. “Unfortunately, you just missed him. He left not a quarter watch ago.”
Lu screwed her eyes shut. No, no, no… She forced herself to look at him again. “I know you just met me, and this is asking a lot, but could I see his sea chest again. I need to know whether he took the vial I gave him. Please.”
Basil looked at her for a moment, his face dappled in light and shadow from the flickering torches on deck. He had just a trace of kohl, and it made his bright eyes look even brighter. He inclined his head and motioned for her to follow. Lu scampered after him. He seemed to sense her urgency, because he took the stairs as swiftly as any sailor in the midst of a boarding—graceful and cat-quick. They were down the hall and into his cabin a moment later. Lu went straight to the chest, opened it, found the wooden box, and…
She rocked back on her heels. Tears stung her eyes. The vial was gone. What have I done…?
She felt Basil’s hand on her shoulder. “Can I help?”
No, not really. I’ve just killed my best friend because I was too busy flirting with his boyfriend to pay attention to what I was doing. Lu gulped in air and raised her head. “Do you know where he went?”
“No…”
Of course you don’t. And he didn’t tell me, either. I’m sure he didn’t tell anyone. Except maybe Malpin, but there’s no time to find him.
Lu forced herself to stand up. He’s not dead yet. Probably. Think, Lu. “What was he wearing?”
Basil didn’t hesitate. “Dark blue waistcoat, gray linen shirt, silver earrings, lapis studs.” He thought a moment longer. “Not much kohl.”
Lu shut her eyes, considering. Subdued by Silveo’s standards. Dressier than what he’d wear for dirty work, but classier than what he’d wear to a tavern or gambling den. They’re probably meeting at the target’s home, and it’s a nice house within walking distance. Probably one of the big mansions on the west end of the bay. But that could still be so many places!
Lu opened her eyes again. “Did he do or say anything else that might give you an idea of where he went? It’s really important.”
Basil swirled wine in his glass, thinking. “He put on an odd scent.” Basil set down his drink on a dresser and rummaged in a lower drawer. He held up a dark brown glass bottle. “I thought it was unusual for him. I think he even put it in his boots…or maybe on them.”
Lu snatched the bottle. She thought she recognized it. She pulled the cork off and gave it a deep sniff. Scents of burdock and cardamom flooded her sinuses. She sneezed and her eyes watered.
Basil looked concerned. “It’s not a strong scent…to a grishnard, I mean. But it’s not pleasant, either. I commented upon it, and Silvy just laughed and said it wasn’t meant to be pleasant.”
Lu threw her arms around his chest, leaned up on tiptoe, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” she said breathlessly. She left him standing there with a stunned expression as she raced from the room and pounded up the stairs to the deck.
He only left a quarter watch ago. Maybe this will work. If I’m not too late.
Lu paused on the gang-plank, shut her eyes, and drew in a slow, deep breath. And there. There it was.
Lu had made the potion for Silveo last year. A client had required him to come to a location blindfolded, and he’d wanted a way to retrace his steps—a way that grishnards wouldn’t detect. The scent Lu had given him was faint to grishnards, undetectable in a crowded room, but it was powerful to the sensitive noses of foxlings and ocelons. For the right shelt, it was the equivalent of olfactory bread-crumbs.
Why was he wearing it this evening? Silveo was a better tracker than Lu, because his profession required it. If he thought he needed breadcrumbs, then he must be going somewhere confusing or unfamiliar.
Lu knew Silveo’s signature scent, but she could not have followed it through a busy street. However, Lu had trained herself to parse fine differences in chemical substances, and this substance had a distinct signature. Now that she knew what she was looking for, she was able to follow the scent—away from the Nightingale, through the harbor, and into the streets of Seashine.
Silveo had taken a circuitous route. Lu cursed him quietly for his caution. She was on the edge of the business district, and the streets were well-lit with a reasonable amount of activity. She still had no idea where he was going, when the trail lead down into a stairwell, and Lu caught sight of an iron-grated door.
Oh… Suddenly, things clicked into place. The underground. Of course. His target is probably a smuggler. That’s why he and his business partner didn’t handle their differences in a more legal way.
The door stood open this evening, and a bored-looking leopon lounged against the wall nearby. He said nothing as Lu entered, but she could feel his eyes on her back. She bristled against her clothes and knew that her tail must be fluffed up to twice its normal size. Priestess’s blood, Lu. Could you look any greener if you tried?
Lu had ventured into the underground during daylight to buy contraband supplies, but she much preferred dealing with the distributors in the market. Of course, that made the materials a little more expensive. The closer one came to the source, the cheaper things got. However, a teenage ocelon, particularly a lone girl, caused patrons of the underground to draw the wrong conclusions and to give her the wrong kind of attention. How does Silvy do it? He’s even smaller than me and younger, but somehow, he manages to seem three times as large. Maybe I really should wear flashier clothes.
The part of the tunnel in front of her looked like an extension of the streets above. Light fell through grates in the ceiling at intervals, and Lu co
uld see shoppers and merrymakers coming and going on the sidewalk over her head. Many of the heavy metal doors in the walls to either side of the passage stood open, emitting cheerful pools of lamplight. In some cases, a sample of the venders’ wares had been set out near the doorways to tempt shoppers. Lu saw grishnards and leopons and ocelons and even the occasional faun inspecting baskets of herbs and dried mushrooms and cheese and fish, leather goods and jewelry, clothing and toys. It didn’t look like the kind of place one was likely to be robbed or raped. With the exception of the unobtrusive guard by the door, it looked like any other commercial street in the city.
Nothing to be afraid of, nothing to be afraid of, Lu repeated to herself as she followed the scent of burdock and cardamom down the passage. It was harder to trace here with so many sharp, competing smells, but it was also fresher. Silvy wasn’t afraid of getting lost in this area, surely. Where are we going?
As she’d feared, the trail soon veered away down a side passage, then into a pipe in the wall. The pipe was roomy enough, but completely dark. It branched several times, and now Lu was glad of the scent trail to guide her. She emerged into a wet, dripping space amid a forest of brass pipes, which, from the smell, still handled some of the city’s sewage. It didn’t even feel like she was walking in a proper passage any longer. She didn’t hear or smell any other shelts, for which she was grateful. However, a moment later, Lu pushed aside a leather curtain and looked out and down onto a large room full of activity.
It appeared to be an underground bazaar with lines of tent booths, lit with smoky tallow candles. Silveo’s trail had brought Lu out near the ceiling, and she spotted a steep path leading down over jagged piles of masonry. Obviously, this is not the only way in.
She wondered whether Silveo had gotten this far on his own, or whether he’d been led by someone else. She cursed her own inability to make sense of the mingled smells on the cold, dirty stone underfoot.
Silveo’s trail brought her right in among the tents. Lu caught the scents of drugs that could get a sailor banned from port. She saw skins of zebras, gazelle, and pegasus, side-by-side with griffin and ocelot and leopard. She even thought she saw a “fox” tail so large that it could not possibly have come from the four-legged animal. Oh, Silvy, what are we doing here?
One shop appeared to specialize in blood-stained valuables—the booty that pirates could not easily sell to more reputable shops. Another pavilion was selling slaves of questionable origin, possibly including a few unlucky grishnards. Another sold beasts—terrified-looking zebra foals; wretched, molting pegasus; ocelots in wire cages; and even a couple of griffin cubs too old to be legally purchased. Yet another stall offered slave and beast “alterations”—branding, declawing, tongue removal, castration. Prostitutes wearing nothing but collars and bangles wove their way among the shoppers, and the thump of a drum drifted over everything.
Lu was getting a headache. The tallow candles had a rank odor that reminded her of death. She wanted to run. But then she saw again, in her mind’s eye, the expression of hurt and betrayal on Silveo’s face in her dream. No, no, that can’t happen.
As quickly as possible, Lu followed the trail across the room to a pavilion against one wall. A grishnard in neat cream and rush-colored livery was standing in front. He had a sword at his side and looked like he knew how to use it. Lu took a deep breath as she approached. Calm, calm. I’m a consultant. I’m a professional. I am not a terrified kid. Professional, professional.
She went right up to the armed guard and said, “Hello. My colleague, a white foxling, was to meet with your master this evening. I have information that they requested.” Lu tried not to hold her breath. She knew she was gambling, but she was running out of time.
The guard’s expression did not change. His eyes ran over her. “No one mentioned a colleague.”
Ah! So he was here. “I’m early,” agreed Lu, “but I think they will want to hear my news. It is critical.”
She could see him weighing her words against any possibility of trouble. Here’s where it pays to look small and harmless, thought Lu.
The guard motioned with his hand, and she stepped into the tent. It was just a foyer, really, hiding a door in the wall. The guard searched her. He took her bag. “You’ll get this back if the master says so.”
Lu’s heart sank. Some of the things in her medical kit had taken months to acquire or create. But I’d trade it all for Silvy alive.
The guard unlocked the door, and Lu stepped into the hallway beyond. A boy of perhaps twelve was standing on the opposite side of the door, also in fine livery. He had a leon slave brand—small and neat over his left eye. Lu tried not to grimace. Even in Wefrivain, facial slave tattoos were considered distasteful. The boy must have come from the Lawless Lands. Is this the home of the slave dealer? Any pity Lu had felt for Silveo’s target evaporated. She realized, also, that she’d been going roughly west the entire time she’d been underground. We’re probably underneath one of the mansions on the upper west side.
The scent of burdock lingered unmistakably in the hall. She wondered whether the leon child had noticed it. “This person needs to speak to the master’s guest,” the guard told the boy. “Please escort her to the library.”
Hope rose in Lu like the fragile scent off a flower. They wouldn’t behave this way if anything horrible had happened…would they? Or is ‘take her to the library’ code for ‘take her to the basement, cut out her tongue, and put her in the slave pen’?
No turning back now. Heart hammering, Lu followed the child down the hall, through several turns, and up a flight of steps. They passed through a heavy, iron door, currently unlocked. They stepped into a dimly lit stairwell, reeking of more tallow candles, and went up three more flights of steps. The boy opened another door—this one locked and so low that they had to stoop. Lu looked around, blinking. Now they were clearly in the basement of someone’s home. The tallow candles had been replaced by a single oil lamp upon a table. The flagstones underfoot were rough, but clean, and the door looked less like something out of a castle dungeon and more like a forgotten closet.
The basement was full of supplies, including strong herbs and spices. For the first time, Lu was not certain that she could detect the potion she’d given Silveo. What if he’s not even here? What if we’re going to the wrong place? But there was nothing to do except follow the boy around sacks of flour and dried beans to a steep set of steps in the wall.
They came up at last into a pleasant, tiled corridor. Red moon looked in through spacious, screened windows with curtains blowing softly in the breeze. As Lu had suspected, the house sat on the cliffs just west of town. The ocean glittered serenely in the distance—an absurd contrast to the bazaar going on far below.
Lu sucked in a deep breath of air that smelled of brine and lavender and jasmine…and, just faintly, of burdock. The boy trotted on ahead of her. Light spilled from a doorway further on. They walked through a tastefully appointed sitting room, awash in lush carpets, and stopped at last before a polished wooden door. The boy knocked. Lu realized, then, that he hadn’t spoken. Not once. She wondered whether he had a tongue.
Someone opened the door—a grishnard bodyguard, Lu guessed. He was big and dark-haired with olive skin—mountain grishnard. He filled the doorway. “The master is not to be disturbed.”
The leon boy glanced at Lu, and now she was certain that he could not speak. “I need to see your master’s guest,” she said as levelly as possible. “I’m a colleague, and I have information that will affect the night’s negotiations.”
The bodyguard looked at her suspiciously. “A moment.”
He shut the door. Several agonizing heartbeats later, he opened it again and stepped aside. Lu entered the room. Her eyes skittered over the scene. Silveo. Alive. Another shelt opposite him—a slender, bright-eyed grishnard, graying at the temples, impeccably dressed in subdued tones. They were sitting around a table strewn with papers. There was a wine decanter, drinking glasses, and the r
emains of a small meal. Distantly, she took in the rest of the room—curving wooden bookcases, gleaming in lamplight, the odor of sweet leaf smoke and incense, comfortably stuffed chairs, carpets on the floor.
Silveo looked up from the table, saw her, and went still. His face betrayed nothing. She forced herself to look at the grishnard across from him. Bright, cunning eyes met hers—a note of distant amusement. “Can we help you?”
Lu was suddenly conscious of her plain clothes, scuffed and dirty from her crawl through the underground. She wondered how Silveo had managed to stay so clean. Lu made a deep bow. “Sir, I am a consultant. Your guest asked my opinion of your…venture.” She wondered how much she could say in front of the bodyguard.
The grishnard laughed easily. “My, my… Consultant. Really? And what does she consult about, Fluffy?”
Fluffy. It was what Silveo told clients to call him when he couldn’t be bothered to produce a better pseudonym. Lu smiled and tried not to bare her teeth.
Silveo came to life. “She’s a street performer and pickpocket,” he said with a flip of his tail. “You’d be surprised at the things they hear. But I’m afraid there’s been a mix-up. Alia thought I wanted her to slip a poisoned handkerchief into his pocket, but it turns out that’s not necessary.”
“Poisoned handkerchief?” drawled the grishnard. “I would have thought a performer could find more certain ways to do the deed.”
Lu’s eyes flicked at the bodyguard, and his master waved a hand. “My valet is entirely trustworthy. You may be frank.”
Valet. Right. She’d caught sight of a sword as tall as Silveo dangling from the valet’s hip.
Silveo was watching her closely. Lu stared at him, willing the information to pass between them.
Silveo’s would-be employer sipped at his wine. “Do you think I could use a poisoned handkerchief? It sounds easier.”
“No, sir,” said Silveo smoothly. “The handling of such things can cause impotence. Ocelons are, of course, less delicate.”
The grishnard paused with his glass halfway to his lips. “Well,” he said, peering at Lu with renewed interest, “how…fascinating.”
Lu resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Silvy, if we get out of this alive, I may have to smack you.
“I’m glad you’re here, though, Alia,” continued Silveo. “My esteemed client feels that this task is best accomplished by himself. I am merely a consultant, here to show him how it’s done. Perhaps you’d like to offer your opinion as well.”
Lu almost giggled. How did you bring him around to that idea? The nerve.
Silveo reached inside his waistcoat and produced a corked vial similar to the one Lu had given him. However, this vial contained a violently green liquid. “This, my lord,” said Silveo, “is deadly. Handle with care.” He placed the vial on the table, where the grishnard regarded it as one might regard a rabid rat.
Lu had to agree that it looked deadly. She wondered what kind of food coloring Silveo had used. The green was nearly florescent. “We’ll practice with regular wine,” continued Silveo.
As he spoke, he produced another vial from his waistcoat. At a glance, it looked empty, but Lu knew better. It was full of clear liquid. He proceeded to fill the vial with wine from the decanter—tipping out the contents into the wine so neatly that even Lu, who’d been expecting it, hardly caught the movement. The target, on the other hand, had gingerly retrieved the vial of livid green fluid and was examining it in fascination. Lu suspected that the bodyguard was equally distracted.
Silveo poured himself and his employer each another tumbler of wine. Lu thought, for one horrified moment, that he was about to take a sip, but then the target asked, “How quickly will he die? He can’t keel over right there at the table. But he’s got to be dead before the new yellow moon.”
Picky, aren’t we?
“Of course, sir,” said Silveo. “He won’t get sick for about a day, and then it will look like gut-gripe. You will be wholly unsuspected.”
“You won’t get your pay until he’s dead,” warned the grishnard, “and only if he dies within the parameters I’ve described.”
“I understand, my lord,” said Silveo. “To that end, let us practice.”
He raised his glass in a toast. Lu stepped forward and took it from him. She could feel the blood beating in her ears, but she opened her mouth and words came out. To her surprise, they sounded calm. “Allow me to demonstrate a time-honored technique of street performers.”
The grishnard looked at her with undisguised disdain, but also a hint of lust. Lu felt certain that he cared not a whit for her poisoning techniques, but he would happily look at her all day. “Go on.”
“After dinner, as you are drinking and having a censor of sweet leaf, you poison your own drink.”
The grisharnd’s eyebrows rose. “Tricky…”
Lu winked at him. “Indeed. It’s much easier than poisoning anyone else’s. Of course, you don’t drink from it after that—”
“And then I switch it with his…” said the grishnard slowly.
“Well, that is one way, my lord, though I must say it lacks creativity. Another option is to walk around the room, gesturing, like so.” Lu paced about the library, making sweeping gestures with her drink. Silveo was watching her with that expressionless stare which meant he was trying to figure out what was going on.
“You say something amusing, perhaps involving the likely paternity of his children,” continued Lu.
The grishnard gave an amused snort.
“Then,” continued Lu, “as he opens his mouth to laugh, make a sweeping gesture, and…” She pirouetted and tossed her drink directly in the face of the surprised bodyguard. He stood there, blinking, wine running down his face.
His master burst into startled laughter, then set down the green vial to clap as though he were at a play. “I had no idea that training as an assassin could be so amusing,” he chortled. “I may have to do this more often. Alia, right? Are you available to hire for other types of…occasions?”
Across from him, Silveo’s pale face had gone a shade paler. Lu was certain that he’d gotten the gist of what was going on. One hand inched inside his waistcoat. In the same instant, there was a gasp behind her. Lu turned to see the bodyguard stagger against the doorframe. He put out a hand to steady himself, eyes screwed shut, shaking his head. Then he dropped to his knees, gagging, a thin line of frothy drool dangling from his mouth.
Lu whipped back around to see the grishnard client in the act of springing to his feet. She saw that he, too, was armed, and now he was drawing his sword. Silveo’s hand flashed out of his inner pocket, and the knife left his fingers before the grishnard had gotten his sword entirely free of its scabbard. The knife buried itself with a sickening thunk in the center of the grishnard’s throat. Behind her, the guard made a desperate attempt to draw his own weapon, but the muscle spasms were already beginning, and she doubted he could grip anything.
The master of the house stumbled back, mouth opening and closing like a landed fish—soundless. Silveo darted forward, delivering a vicious kick that knocked his victim to the floor. He jerked the knife free from behind, releasing a spray of blood, which Silveo entirely avoided. He pulled the grishnard’s head back by the hair and finished cutting his throat, muttering as he did so, “You should have offered more money. And you should have been less of an ass.”
The guard was in full-body convulsions now, and Lu felt sorry for him. His face contorted, the muscles of his neck stood out like cords, and his legs hammered madly against the door. Silveo crossed the room, cursing, to put him out of his misery. He threw the bolt on the door just as a voice from the far side boomed. “What’s going on in there?”
Lu was in tears now—whether from seeing her own handiwork, relief that Silveo was still alive, or fear that they would yet be killed, she could not say. Silveo rounded on her. “What—was—that?”
“Rat poison,” she said miserably. “I gave you the wrong vial, Silvy. I’
m so sorry.”
He stared at her, pale eyes wide. Lu wondered, belatedly, whether he would kill her. Silveo was not the most forgiving creature.
There was more furious hammering from the far side of the door.
Silveo shut his eyes and took a deep breath, fists clenched, jaw working. “Alright. Job’s done. Not as neatly as I’d like, but…job’s done.”
There was a boom as something heavy hit the door, and it leapt on its hinges. “They’re going to kill us,” Lu whispered.
Silveo crossed the room in half a dozen strides. “Always have three plans,” he muttered, “and three ways out.”
He dragged aside one of the thick, feathery pegasus skin rugs, and Lu saw a round port in the floor, looking much like the hatch of a ship. “Lots of back doors in this warren,” continued Silveo. “That’s what happens when you might have to run from the law at any moment. Come on.”
Lu jumped as another thud hit the far door and something cracked. She scampered across the room to follow Silveo onto a dark staircase. “Don’t bother putting the hatch back,” he called over his shoulder. “They’ll know where it is and how we left. Just hurry.”
Then they were descending—round and round in a tight spiral. Any light from above was soon left behind. Lu could hear Silveo’s patter just ahead of her and the heavier footfalls of their pursuers behind and above. She took comfort in the idea that the grishnards must have either wasted precious time grabbing lanterns or they were in the dark, too.
After what seemed an eternity, they reached level ground. Silveo seemed to know where he was going and struck off to their right. Lu tripped on something and nearly fell. “Silvy?” For one heart-stopping moment, she thought he’d left her, but then she felt his small hand close around hers.
He all-but-dragged her along, around piles of…something. Lu’s nose finally caught up with her frightened brain. Odors of saffron and mint and sweet leaf, cheese and seasoned meat and leather. We’re in the storeroom where I first came in.
Something bumped behind them, and someone cursed. That’ll be the guards.
Someone had removed the lantern on the table by the low wooden door. Lu’s sharp, cat eyes were beginning to pick out dim silhouettes. Silveo’s pale shape crouched by the door. Picking the lock. Let’s hope it’s not complicated.
She caught sight of hulking grishnard shapes coming around a pile of barrels, going carefully to avoid running into anything. The unfortunate creak as Silveo got the door open carried clearly across the room. “There!” one shouted, and they burst forward.
Silveo and Lu darted through the door and began a new descent. The unpleasant odor of tallow candles hit Lu’s nostrils, and she soon spied the flickering light of the disgusting things in wall sconces. So much for hiding in the dark.
Down and down. Lu was winded by the time they reached the final hall, but she thought that their pursuers might have taken a wrong turn in the corridors behind them. For her and Silveo, on the other hand, the trail of burdock and cardamom lead unerringly to the outside door, where the surprised-looking leon slave boy stood staring at them.
Silveo whipped out another knife, but Lu pushed his hand down. “He’s mute; leave him alone.”
The boy didn’t try to stop them as they raced through the door. They emerged into the pavilion amid the noise and stink of the bazaar. Two guards were standing there this time. Wyvern piss.
They looked at Lu and Silveo in surprise. Silveo waved the knife that he’d used to threaten the leon boy, and both guards took a quick step back, drawing their swords. However, instead of throwing it at them, Silveo lashed at the side of the tent. He grinned, made a little bow, and darted through the gaping hole, Lu close on his heels.
The rest was a blur when Lu thought about it later—racing through the bazaar with the guards hard after them, scattering merchandise and knocking over tents, pounding into the maze of tunnels that lead to the upper reaches of the underground. Each time Lu thought they’d lost their pursuers, she heard renewed cries from behind. The more respectable shops had closed by the time they reached the upper tunnels, which meant fewer places to hide and fewer shoppers to confuse the pursuit.
Silveo stopped just beneath the street. “You!” he snapped at a shop-keeper who was closing up. The shelt—a female leopon—eyed him warily and reached beneath her coat. Silveo trotted forward. “No trouble, no trouble!” he said, waving his hands. “But I want to buy your shop.”
She blinked at him. “Well…that’s—”
Silveo tugged on the chain around his neck and fished out the medallion that Lu had seen earlier. It was intricately wrought, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, and set with gemstones. The shopkeeper tried to keep a neutral expression, but Lu saw her pupils dilate.
“I can’t possibly make such a decision right now,” she began.
“Oh, yes, you can,” snapped Silveo. “That’s worth more than your shop and whatever you’ve got in it. And the first month’s rent. You know it. Now take it.”
The leopon sputtered.
Lu shifted from one foot to the other, glancing behind them. Any minute, she expected to see enraged grishnards charging out of the shadows.
The leopon took the medallion and examined it. She sniffed, took a thoughtful nibble. “Well…”
“Well, give me the key,” snarled Silveo and all-but snatched it from her. “There’ll be another like that one tomorrow if you come back, give us a tour, and sign the papers,” he continued, “but only if you never saw us tonight. Now go.” He grabbed Lu’s hand, and they plunged into the darkness of the shop. Silveo threw the bolt on the door behind them, and Lu heard him fastening a chain and what sounded like several additional bolts.
They stood still for a moment, panting. Then Lu heard the thud of footsteps in the hallway, angry shouting, and, after what seemed an eternity, silence. Lu leaned against the wall and shut her eyes. “Silvy, I’m sorry,” she whispered. You just spent all the money you earned for risking your life, because I made a stupid mistake.
Silveo snorted in the darkness. She heard his voice moving around the room. “Some kind of rat poison. Did you really get it in his mouth that way? I thought you were just being silly.”
She gave a shaky laugh. “It’s meant to be diluted with a lot more than half a decanter of wine. And, no, I wasn’t trying to get it in his mouth. It can be absorbed through the eyes. Faster than through the stomach, actually.”
“I see.” He paused. His breathing was becoming more even. “Good job taking out the big one first. How did you find me?”
“Basil told me you wore the burdock root concoction.”
“Ah! Yeah, it worked pretty well.”
There was an awkward pause. Lu felt her way across the room to the place where she’d last heard his voice. “Silvy, I am really terribly sorry.” She found his shoulder in the darkness. He was shivering—the after-affects, Lu supposed, of their brush with death. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to kill me.”
Silveo laughed. He reached up and patted her hand. “Lu…there are a lot of shelts in Wefrivain who’d like to poison me. But I can’t think of anyone else who would have come after me.”
She tried to hug him, and he let her. For such a little thing, you do take up so much space.
“I think Basil would come after you,” she said, after a moment.
“Maybe. Come on. Your shop must have somewhere comfortable to sleep.”
“My shop?” echoed Lu as she felt her way along behind him.
“Well, of course,” said Silveo over his shoulder. “What use have I got for a shop? Murder for hire? Forty percent off, just this afternoon? Which reminds me: if you’re going to kill your business partner, never do it on the cheap. That’s the lesson in all this.”
Lu giggled. “The only one?” After a moment, she said, “You’re serious about the shop?”
“Of course I’m serious. You just saved my life. Malpin says that one should reward loyalty.”
Lu shook her h
ead. I did that because I’m your friend. Not your loyal employee. But she didn’t say it, because she didn’t think Silveo would understand.
They found a cot in the backroom. It was probably a one-person affair for a grishnard or leopon, but Silveo and Lu managed to cuddle up on it together. They lay on their sides. Lu put her face against the back of his neck, her arms around his chest, and shut her eyes. She felt the warmth of his body through their clothes. This was the part she’d missed.
“So…Basil,” she began. “Is he a pirate?”
Silveo yawned. “Sort of. Privateer in Sern’s last war with Merdent. Occasionally an armed escort for a merchant ship. I won’t say he’s never done any smuggling, but he’d rather be fighting, I think. Likes adventure.”
Lu smiled. “He likes you.”
Silveo gave a nervous laugh. “Yeah, I guess. That, too.”
“Is it true love? I saw you moved your sea chest in there.”
“I don’t know. He’s nice enough, mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“He’s kind of an obnoxious drunk.”
“Obnoxious…like hitting you?”
“No, not like that. He drinks too much under stress.”
“Are you stressing him?”
Silveo snickered. “Don’t I stress everyone?” He hesitated. “Did he behave himself when you dropped the poison off? He said you’d come early. He’s not a morning person.”
“Oh, he was fine,” said Lu quickly. “I think I sort of embarrassed him.”
“Embarrassed?” echoed Silveo. “I don’t think Basil has been embarrassed a day in his life.”
“He seemed startled that I was a girl.”
“Oh…” Silveo snickered. “Yeah, he can be funny about that. He was raised by hunti. They picked him up in a burned-out village when he was four.”
“Really?” Lu was even more intrigued. “So he’s never been around other grishnards much at all?”
“Nope. And I think I’m his first boy.”
Lu perked up considerably. “You mean—” Then she thought about it. “Oh! Oh…”
Silveo was laughing silently. “Pretty strange, right? Hunti all look male to me, even with their clothes off…although I guess they can tell some small differences. Does he think of me as a girl? I have no idea. I do think I’m the prettiest person he’s ever had in his cabin.”
“But that could be said of so many people,” said Lu innocently, and Silveo gave her shoulder a pinch where he could reach it.
“He invited me to breakfast this morning,” said Lu, “but I couldn’t stay. Would you mind if I came some other time?”
Silveo sounded sleepy. “’Course I wouldn’t mind. Come for dinner. Stay all night; you know me.”
Lu felt a little sad. Basil likes you better than you like him. But she couldn’t help feeling excited, too. “I’d love to come…for dinner, at least. Let’s start with dinner.”
Author’s Note
You can read more about Lu, Silveo, and Basil in The Guild of the Cowry Catchers series. The story begins thirteen years after the events described in “Chemistry.”
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