The scratching in Grevail’s skull was a constant reminder he was wasting time. His feet itched to move toward it, almost as if he were tethered to the relic by an invisible rope. He’d nearly left his hiding spot several times to surveil Seirod’s home rather than this man Alisia had tasked him with, yet ultimately forced himself to stay put. She was right, those guards would have an eye out for him.
He stared at the squat shop across the street that emitted a dark plume of smoke twisting upward into a cloudless sky. He’d kept watch for two days, beginning at sunrise and ending at sunset. His instructions were to follow the man if he left, but there’d been no sign of who Alisia described; Aramis the smith.
Aramis’ building was in the southwest of the city where warehouses and shops hugged wide dirt streets traversed by wagons loaded high with goods. It was a rougher area than the rest of Tamirra, but not nearly so rough as Lowtown. Grevail felt more at ease here than among the large mansions near the north wall—they reminded him of Hightown, though the watch didn’t sneer at his merit like they would in Eudan.
An old man entered the smith’s shop and the ringing of hammers poured through the open door before it closed behind him. Aramis’ business seemed healthy, and many customers came and went during the time Grevail watched. Why would someone who appeared so well-to-do entangle themselves in such dangerous plots as overthrowing a Khos? If that is the man’s true intentions. Alisia was adamant of Aramis’ involvement somehow, but as usual, had little evidence for such claims she was willing to reveal.
A coup. The idea seemed absurd only a dozen days ago, but the more time he spent here, the more possible it seemed. It wasn’t out in the open, but broiling just under the surface; easy to miss if you weren’t looking. Carbathe’s purple rose or Eudan colors in support of Daryn were on display all over town. The politics of nobles made little sense to Grevail—that was the kind of thing people in Hightown with stocked larders bickered about.
Though much of the city was on a knife’s edge over Carbathe and Daryn, Grevail heard no talk of Urucan involvement from anyone beside the Delphines. Still, he couldn’t discount what he saw with his own eyes that night at Carbathe’s estate. I don’t have time for this, he reminded himself. His goal was to avenge his friends by stealing that relic, and only with Alisia’s help would it be possible.
He sighed and scraped at the ground with shoes on the verge of falling off his feet. Alisia had been gracious enough to give him new clothes. He looked down at the dingy blue coat, white shirt, and sturdy brown trousers he found at the end of his bed. Yet even with the clothes and a full stomach, he couldn’t help but think the Delphine’s schemes were becoming a lengthy distraction from what brought him here.
The door opened again and the old man left, but Grevail was drawn to another, muscular man who exited on his heels. Aramis stopped to survey the street, curly black hair swaying around his head and dragging across wide shoulders. The man’s dark eyes passed over Grevail’s hiding spot before he turned and walked north.
Grevail left the warehouse wall, a wave of excitement sweeping over him as he crept through the stacked crates between him and the street. Aramis moved with purpose through the sparse crowd, crossing the path of an oncoming wagon which obscured him from view. Grevail hurried into the street after him, breathing a sigh of relief when he found the man still walking ahead.
He followed the muscled smith into the north of the city, maintaining fair distance so as not to draw attention. More than once, Aramis turned a corner out of sight. Losing track of the man would squander the best opportunity Grevail had yet seen, but each time the smith disappeared into the crowd, Grevail was able to sift him back out again. Eventually, Aramis turned down a lonesome street and ducked into a small tavern tucked between butcher’s shop and a leather worker’s. A sign hanging from the eave read The Red Lady, and below that, a painting of a woman in a red dress and riding boots.
For a short while Grevail waited outside to be sure Aramis wouldn’t immediately reappear, and when satisfied he would not, went to peek through the open door. A handful of men sat at a far table in an otherwise vacant room, though none of them were Aramis. Along one wall sat a handful of secluded booths he couldn’t see the inside of, but they all appeared empty from where Grevail stood. He hesitated at the entrance, wondering if he should wait for the smith to emerge—perhaps a better plan than bumbling around inside for Aramis to spot him. Even if the man didn’t know who Grevail was, coming face to face now could mean trouble in the future.
Just as he made to leave and find somewhere to wait in the street, a serving girl burst from the doorway of a kitchen across from him. She entered one of the booths and the distant rumble of a deep voice that likely belonged to Aramis, like a giant bumblebee, reached Grevail’s ears.
Slipping through the doorway, he pretended to be seating himself, though the men at the table did not seem interested in anything but the mugs under their noses. Grevail shuffled between tables toward the center of the room and shot a look over his shoulder at the booth the serving girl entered, spotting enough of Aramis’ hulking form to know it was him. The smith was accompanied by a dark haired young woman with a big nose that dominated her face.
Grevail realized he recognized her. It was the woman he’d seen at Carbathe’s estate with the Urucan. The serving girl spoke with Aramis for a moment, and after a pleasant nod, left the booth. Grevail averted his eyes, hoping she did not notice him on her return to the kitchen.
He uttered silent thanks to Badhalf when the girl’s footsteps trailed away. The booth just beside the smith’s was dark—a nice spot to eavesdrop if he could make it there unnoticed. He turned, as naturally as he could make himself seem, and headed toward it. Framed by the doorway, Aramis and the woman were engaged in conversation and did not look his way as he crossed the room. At the top of each booth, a pace or two gap near the ceiling would hopefully allow him to listen in on whatever they were saying. Taking care not to make too much noise, he reached the booth beside Aramis’ and eased inside, slowly lowering himself onto the polished bench nearest the door.
“Did you know he had that throne?” the woman asked the smith. Her voice was thin and nasally, but clear as a bell in Grevail’s ears. “That could buy him a fortune. Ashes, even I know people who would trade an estate for something like that, and Vaik does too.”
“No, I didn’t.” The smith’s voice in contrast was deep and rumbling.
Grevail strained his ears to pick out every detail. If any of this convinced Alisia he could be trusted, it would be worth the risk.
“Well,” the woman said, “he certainly surprised me. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize his voice. It has been years since I’ve seen him last.”
Aramis grunted.
“What?” she asked, words turning sharp with suspicion. “Did you know he would be there?”
“No…” Aramis assured her. “I wasn’t even aware who it was until you told me.”
The serving girl’s footsteps announced her imminent presence. Grevail flattened himself into the seat as she passed the darkened booth looking straight ahead, two frothy mugs gripped in her fists.
When the serving girl had left, the woman spoke. “So…you finally fought your way through those hooligans to meet with me instead of sending letters? I knew you couldn’t resist.”
Aramis’ laugh resolved into a sigh. “They’ve grown bored of me I think,” he grumbled. “I have not seen them for a few days, but they’ll be back. Me and my men know all their faces. The Delphines are not so smart as they think.”
The woman scoffed. “The Delphines are harmless fools. Nobody would believe them even if they did see something worth seeing, though that doesn’t stop them from pestering my uncle either.”
“Daryn could be hunting for an excuse. Perhaps he has contracted these Delphines to find one for him?”
“Do you think he knows? Surely, he cannot. Even a commoner—a coward such as himself, would act if he knew. Oh, don’t look at me that way, Aramis. It is no judgment of you when I complain Daryn is commoner. He does not belong in the Council House.”
A silence stretched.
The woman spoke. “Has Seirod kept you busy?”
“Yes. He has kept my purse full too, which I am grateful for.”
“And the party? My uncle is itching to try his hand at converting anyone influential in attendance who is still undecided.”
“Seirod has invitations being sent out as we speak.”
“Oh good!” The woman sounded giddy. “I do love to mingle, especially when there is so much to talk about.”
“Bountiful conversation to be sure. The guest list would be enough to make even Amphid jealous.”
“Do you think Daryn will be there?”
Aramis snorted with a laugh. “Not likely. Seirod wouldn’t invite him, and even if he did, Daryn would not attend. The Khos must be rife with suspicion.”
Grevail bit his lip to keep from loosing a celebratory cheer. A party was exactly what he needed. Alisia should jump at the opportunity to learn of any secrets that might be overheard at such an event, and it was likely the best chance to get inside he would come by.
The woman giggled. “Vaik begged me for an invite from my uncle.”
“Vaik? He’s the man with Thoma?” The smith sounded wary of the pair.
“Yes. Vaik and Seirod were friends once long ago. I suppose that is why Vaik is so eager to attend.”
“And your uncle? What does he wish to accomplish at this party beside attracting support? Some say it is to antagonize Daryn. Considering the tension in the city, it might not be the wisest thing. Daryn is still Khos.”
The woman chuckled. “Don’t you worry about my uncle.” Her voice slipped into a sultry sulk. “You know I can’t tell you everything, dear, but Erphele is no doubt at the top of his list. He will be angry if Seirod hasn’t sent her a suggestive invite.”
Aramis grumbled, sounding annoyed. “Erphele? Seirod will send her one, but how am I to know if she will accept? Your uncle…what is it with him and Erphele? Doesn’t he have more important things on his mind? He knows that she is…” he left the rest unsaid.
The woman breathed a sigh. “I don’t know. He is besotted and will not accept a refusal from her. I don’t have any idea why. I’d have better luck demanding that a tree explains why it grows leaves. I’ve tried talking to him about her but he won’t tell me. He could have nearly any woman in Eudan but he chases after the one who isn’t interested.”
“Perhaps that is it then? He seeks the thrill of the chase, an ultimate conquest, to have the one woman he can’t have?”
“Ultimate conquest?” The woman wheezed with dry laughter. “Men. Obsessed with conquering this or that and most of you can’t even change your bedding.”
“You did not complain about my obsession with conquest during our last night together,” Aramis replied.
The woman giggled again and a brief silence followed.
“Does your husband still believe you are meeting friends when you come to see me?” Aramis asked.
“Of course. He isn’t the most polished opal in the bunch. He isn’t anything like you. He is solemn and withdrawn—hasn’t even had the courage to consummate our marriage after all this time. If only uncle had promised me to anyone else. ”
The two talked for a while longer, but said nothing Grevail found useful, though he hung on every word. He began to worry if the meeting went too long, he might be discovered by one of the serving girls. Just as he was in the process of devising a plan to sneak out unseen, Aramis spoke.
Stolen novel; please report.
“Well, we should be going,” the thunk of a mug on the table punctuated his words.
“So soon? We’ve barely arrived and it’s been days since we’ve had a chance to be together…alone.”
“I’m sorry, but I have other business I must see to. Here, I need you to deliver this.”
“Perhaps you can make time for me tonight? Uncle won’t be back to the city until tomorrow.”
“I think so,” Aramis said in an expectant voice before his tone became serious, “but tonight. I have to get back to the shop. Promise me you’ll give that to him as soon as you can.”
“Oh, I will. Very well, tonight.”
They rose from the benches and vacated the booth with the thumping of feet. Grevail sat still as a stone until he was sure they’d left the tavern, then slunk out of the booth and crept to the exit, peeking out of it after them. The woman bade farewell to Aramis, and the smith returned in the direction of his shop while she walked north. Grevail slipped through the tavern door and into the street after her.
Thankfully, the woman’s pitch black coat made her easy to track in the crowd. She meandered up the road, not appearing to hurry, and even stopped to buy a pastry from a street vendor. She ate while walking and eventually disappeared into a large home in the northwest of the city. Like the other grandiose mansions in this part of town, the gate was painted with a house sigil—a beaver on the surface of a pond, tail slapping the water.
Grevail waited some time to see if she reappeared, but when she did not, decided he should report what he’d heard. Alisia would want a pair of ears at this party just as badly as he wanted to get inside. He would stick out like a root at low tide in that company, but there would be servants there too, and luck willing, he could slip in amongst them. All he needed was to get his foot in the door.
As he returned to the south of the city he kept a careful watch for Thavan colors in the crowds, as he always did, but there were surprisingly few of them present outside the Refuge. It seemed Thyma was right. The people here were not concerned with Dawnbreakers or Stricken. The Urucan and the struggle between Daryn and Carbathe is what occupied Tamirran minds.
A short while of walking brought him to Alisia’s house, which looked from the outside like any other in the row, but if one were to watch they would notice many people coming and going at all hours. Alisia’s agents kept a steady flow of information back to her, reporting what they learned during assignments. Grevail pushed the gate open in the outer wall and entered the bench-lined courtyard coated in leafy vines, then strode across the hex-shaped paving stones to give the door a knock.
An older, heavyset woman answered. Alisia’s maid and cook, Usha, wrinkled her nose at him, fingering the large mole on her chin. “She’s in,” the woman said in a grating voice and once Grevail had entered, shut the door. She dismissed him with a wave of her hand toward Alisia’s sitting room and thumped off toward the kitchen.
When Grevail first met Alisia, he had assumed she didn’t come from wealth, but the hallway he walked down now told a different story. Fine paintings decorated the walls and even small statues sat tucked into niches. He had come to learn she was the daughter of a well-off merchant who spent most of his time abroad. He shook his head, wondering if the man knew what his daughter was up to. Alisia claimed she hadn’t seen him in years, which made Grevail question if he was alive, or even real for that matter.
He arrived at Alisia’s sitting room and pushed aside the linen curtain over the doorway to find her lounging as usual on a well-padded red settee with a book in her hand. A grin curved her lips. “You’re back early, Green. Anything to report?” She gestured at a high backed chair across from her. “Please.”
Grevail crossed the room and sat, experiencing an excitement that somehow escaped him earlier. He didn’t think he’d ever see the smith, never mind hear any of his plans. “It went well. I’ve got something you’ll find useful.”
Alisia’s brows rose. “Really? Aramis hasn’t left that shop to go anywhere but his home for a season.” She folded a page to mark her place and set the book aside. “I hope you won’t lie to me…we’ll find out,” she teased.
“Did you have someone watching me while I was watching him?” Grevail asked, a touch of frustration in his voice. Despite all he’d done for the Delphines, he was no closer to Seirod. In the back of his mind he’d come to suspect Alisia was taking advantage of him. Promising to help but with no intention of actually doing so, all while he did her dirty work.
Whether Alisia noticed the tone in his voice or not, she gave no indication, and instead offered him a secretive smile. “Perhaps. Well, what is it?”
“Aramis did leave his shop not long ago. He went to a tavern called The Red Lady.”
“I’ve heard of it. Not a popular establishment…or the kind I would frequent. I like my tavern nights a little more lively than that dusty old spot, though we know the proprietor has remained neutral between Daryn and Carbathe. I wouldn’t expect Aramis to patronize such a place. He has never been known as the quiet type. A drunkard and a womanizer perhaps, but not quiet.”
“A good place to meet someone for a quiet chat without anyone to hear it.”
Alisia’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“He met a woman there. She was his younger by five years, if not ten. Dark hair, dark eyes and a big nose. Most important of all, Alisia, she was present the night Carbathe met with the Urucan. I am certain it is the same woman.”
“Interesting,” Alisia said. “She must be very important indeed to meet with Carbathe and Aramis…yet we’ve never seen her face before that night at the estate.” Her lips bent in a dissatisfied frown, as if this gap in her knowledge made her uneasy. “Did you learn anything else?”
“Seirod is hosting a party. He is sending out invitations for it right now.”
“Invitations? A party? For what?”
“They didn’t say. The woman with Aramis claimed her uncle wanted to discuss something with the attendees. Apparently, her uncle is besotted with a woman named Erphele who is—”
Alisia straightened with a gasp, slapping a hand to her cheek. “It has to be Carbathe! I didn’t know Carbathe had a niece and I know more about him than he does! The woman you saw at Carbathe’s estate was his niece?”
“Aramis wanted her to deliver something. I didn’t see what it was but I followed her when she left. She went to a home near the north wall. The sigil on the gate was a beaver with it’s tail slapping the water.”
“That’s Teral’s place,” Alisia said, chewing at her lip as if she found it concerning. “He’s as close to being on the council as one can be without actually being on it.”
“The woman and Aramis also appeared to be having an affair,” Grevail said.
Alisia’s eyebrows jumped. “Is that so? She is married? How could this have slipped past us all these years? Carbathe is not the type of man to let a marriage in the family pass without gratuitous ceremony. Who is her husband?”
“I don’t know, but she didn’t seem to like him very much.”
“I wonder who it could be? Teral?” Alisia spent a moment wrapped in thought, tapping her small, delicate lips with a finger. “A party hosted by Seirod that Carbathe will be attending. They will no doubt discuss intimate details of their schemes with so many of them together. What I wouldn’t give to have an ear in those conversations.”
A relieved breath left Grevail. “I knew you’d say that. So, you’ll help me get inside?”
Alisia considered the request, then dismissed the idea with a shake of her head. “How? We won’t be invited, of course, and even if we were, Seirod may recognize some of us. I cannot risk any Delphines on such a mission. We have enough trouble recruiting as it is. If something were to go awry at this party while our people were inside, they’d have no chance of escape. Carbathe would know all of our plans then and not the other way around. He likes to pretend we don’t exist around the other nobles, but I know he is just as wary of us as we are of him.”
“Seirod won’t recognize me,” Grevail said. “I got what you wanted, Alisia. I helped you, now it’s time for you to return the favor, as was promised. I want to know more about Seirod, and after that, we can talk about how you’ll help me get inside.”
“Help you get inside?” She frowned at him. “Seirod might not recognize you, but his guards or the Pictay man would.” She stared at him, and for a moment, Grevail thought she might refuse to say anything more, but then her face softened, as if relenting. “What do you want to know?”
“What does he look like? Who is he?”
“He has brown hair, dark eyes, light complexion,” Alisia said, raising her eyes to the ceiling in thought. “He is on the short side and always dresses nicely, well groomed.” Her gaze fell again to Grevail. “It isn’t easy to find much information on the man. We’ve learned he has been in and around Tamirra for years, dabbling in local politics, but usually never directly involving himself. He is the type to be one step removed from those at the center of things—a benefactor, and a particularly rich one too. How he acquired such vast wealth is yet another mystery. It is unusual that he would invite so many people into his home and draw attention to himself.”
“Why would he be hosting a party if he’s always been in the background?”
Alisia turned pensive. “I don’t know, but it is a question I want answered. Why now?”
“Who is Erphele?” He’d heard the name three times now. Once from Iphik, once from Aritane, and now from Aramis. The woman seemed to be involved in everything Seirod was.
A curious look entered the young woman’s dark blue eyes at Grevail changing the object of their discussion, as if wondering what he was up to. “Raina Erphele. A noblewoman. Quite beautiful and somewhat of an outsider among the nobility here in Tamirra. She has disparate views on some things, and the commoners love her, much to the frustration of her peers. She lives in a mansion fit for a queen. Her husband, Berephan, was something of a local folk hero, but died ten or so years ago and she never remarried. Carbathe is obsessed with her, though she doesn’t appear to show him any affection in return.”
“Do you watch Erphele too?”
“Yes, of course. I had hoped to bring her to our side. Carbathe would tell her anything. He would probably confess all of his plans to Daryn himself if Erphele asked.”
Grevail paused, considering his words carefully. “Have you seen a pair of Sifters around her? Iphik and Grix.”
Alisia’s eyes narrowed at him in suspicion, but she inclined her head. “Yes, I know them. They were at Erphele’s days ago. Our Delphines posted there haven’t reported them for some time though, but they may still be around. We thought it strange she would host such company, even if nobles with deep pockets like Erphele often insert themselves into all manner of conspiracy where those services might be needed.”
Grevail had not considered the Sifters might still be in Tamirra. He couldn’t think of any other reason beside looking for him and the relic that they would be. He spent a moment staring at the floor, pondering his best move, when an idea struck him. If Erphele had an invitation to the party, and Erphele wanted the Emberstone…“Where does Erphele live?”
“By the south gate on the highway. It’s impossible to miss. Her home is just as lavish as the Council House itself. Berephan did quite well—” Alisia’s eyes widened. “You’re not thinking of going over there are you?”
Grevail set his jaw and trained a serious look on her. “I need to get inside.”
“Wait…” Alisia’s eyebrows flattened. “How do you know about the Sifters?”
Grevail reined in a sigh. If he had to tell her more about himself, it was best to keep it short. “Erphele was also after the relic we had. She sent the Sifters to find it and they captured us for a while…until Arxaro showed up.”
Alisia’s eyes were unbelieving. “Erphele? She is a Breaker?” The young woman paused, then scoffed with a shake of her head. “Let me get this right. You were captured by the Sifters for this Emberfolk relic you had…then Arxaro captured you and killed your friends…and then you escaped?”
Grevail gave a vigorous nod, hoping she did not ask any more questions. Alisia would likely find the whole truth even more unbelievable anyway. “It seems ridiculous, I know.”
Alisia watched him for a long time, toying with her hair, then emitted a sigh of her own. “I’m beginning to wonder if involving you in our plans was a mistake.”
He didn’t blame her for feeling that way. In fact, he felt the same way about himself becoming involved in this business with Carbathe, but even so, the Delphines knew more about Seirod than anyone else in town, and if he was going to avenge his friends, their help would be useful. He pressed on, determined to get something out of her. “I’ve done what you asked. I got this information from Aramis and now I need your help getting into Seirod’s. Did the arrangement between us only go one way? I remember when we met you said we could help each other.”
Alisia’s face darkened at his tone, murky blue eyes sparkling with mild offense. “We have given you food, clothes, and a place to sleep, Green. With Carbathe’s cronies on every street corner, it’s a risk for us to help anyone. Don’t forget it.” She analyzed him, tilting her head one way, then the other, as if rolling around ideas of what to do with him. “What is your plan?”
“Erphele will have an invitation to this party. I’ll tell her I know where the relic is and she’ll get me inside.”
“The relic?” she asked, imbuing the word with a scandalized tone. “The one both Seirod and Erphele are after? What are you going to do? Steal it?”
He nodded. “I do it only to avenge my friends, Alisia, so that Seirod and Arxaro will not have it. They killed my friends for it, and as revenge, I will make sure they never see that thing again. Whatever Erphele wants to do with it is her business.”
Alisia’s eyes hardened on him suddenly, as if realizing the foolishness of his plan. “If Erphele can get you inside, what do you need us for? If you are going in anyway it wouldn’t be any additional effort for you to keep an ear out for me. The last thing we need is the Thava on us too, Green. The Postulators would do worse to my Delphines than even Carbathe might if they thought we had something to do with Emberfolk relics.”
Grevail shook his head at her stubbornness. “I’ll accept whatever help you offer. That is what we agreed upon when we first met, isn’t it? If you don’t fulfill your end of the bargain, and I happen to hear anything in there that would be of interest to you…I’m keeping it to myself.”
“I won’t risk any of my Delphines on the inside.” Grevail opened his mouth but she charged over him. “However…if you are determined to get in there and willing to keep your ears open…we can work something out. I want as much detail as you can get. Who was in attendance? Who talked to who? What was the nature of their discussions? In return, we will already have eyes on the outside, obviously, but they will have orders to keep watch for you. It might prove valuable should anything unexpected happen. Do you know where this relic is? How will you find it?”
“I know where it will be.” Of course, he would rely on the scratching itch in his head to find it inside Seirod’s house, but he didn’t want to tell her about that. By her own admission, Alisia was no Sacar, but she already seemed uneasy about the Emberstone. If he told her of the strange things he’d experienced around it she might haul him off to the Refuge herself.
“Seirod couldn’t be so stupid to keep it on the mantle of his fireplace. It will be locked away somewhere. I can get you keys. We know who his servants are and they can be bribed…or stolen from. It won’t be all that difficult—there is one who likes to drink more than he should. While you are digging through Seirod’s things, keep an eye out for anything that might incriminate him in Carbathe’s schemes. There must be something. Those two are in this up to their necks and tied at the hip besides. There has to be something.”
Though Grevail couldn’t be sure what he’d find inside Seirod’s house, if he managed to get inside at all, he agreed. “I’ll be on the lookout.”
She grimaced. “I’m revealing our hand by helping you, Green. This might be the excuse Carbathe needs to deal with us more directly. It could jeopardize everything we’ve worked for, but I will fulfill my end of the bargain. Did they say when the party would be?”
“No, but Erphele will know.”
“A deal then? Our keys and eyes outside for whatever you find inside?” She thrust her hand over the table between them.
Better than nothing. He took her hand.