Kionah descended back down into the Undercity proper, a basket clutched in one hand and a crumpled list in the other.
Saltpetre was one of the items on her list. Luxon had listed her usual supplier, but there were closer sources. Having spent a good hour combing the streets for other ingredients—pickled frog’s tongues being the most curious of the lot—Kionah stepped off the Falsewater station and headed straight for Whistle House. Bottles weighed her basket down, knocking against rolls of paper and dried herbs.
The green doors loomed—and today, so did Ianis.
“Talking day,” he grunted, beckoning expectantly. “No special exceptions this time. Pay up.”
Kionah shoved the list into her pocket, fishing out a copper coin. She tossed it his way, hardly bothering to aim, and he snatched it out of the air with his usual, deceptively lazy ease.
“Is Shasta in?” she asked.
“Only if it’s important. He doesn’t want to be, y’know, bothered.”
“I see.”
“Any spoils come your way?” he asked hopefully as he shouldered the door open. She sensed him gawping at her basket.
“Quite the opposite,” Kionah said, and didn’t linger for further conversation. If Ianis was in a greedy mood, he’d try cajoling her for one of the bottles of fermented grain stashed at the bottom of the basket. And if he was bored enough, he’d drag her into an hour-long conversation grousing about his least favourite patrons.
She entered the House, shoulders thrown back and attention fixed frontwards—or seemingly so. As she scanned the room, heads flicked up at her passing, dozens of eyes glinting amongst the heavier shadows. The break in conversation was barely long enough to be noticeable; she guessed that was a good thing, that Shasta’s associates both remembered her face and also didn’t much care for it.
One thing caught her eye through the light haze of cigar smoke—a flicker of red hair. Her heart sank, though she kept walking. Damn. She’d thought maybe she’d be at Koriannon’s. Still, perhaps Maia would be too busy conducting negotiations on behalf of her pissing little group to notice…
No such luck. The flicker of red turned, and a sharp gaze swept over her. Maia rose from her seat and began picking her way between the tables.
“Kion,” she called, voice ringing out across the surrounding murmur. Her words were no less tolerable as she drew up to flank her. “How fortunate that you came; I was meaning to find you. Let’s talk?”
Kionah gritted her teeth. Sometimes, navigating the simplest parts of this stupid, stars-forsaken world felt like marching to her doom. Familiar armour slid into place, iron-plated-intangible.
“No thank you,” she said.
It came out rougher than she would have liked, but the dismissal served well enough. Maia had always been just this side of too needy; the less attention Kionah gave her, the more likely she’d fuck off and pester someone else.
“Come on, Kion. I gave you some time to cool off. So, spill it. What was all that with the faeries and your little Songian friend?”
…Unfortunately, the virtue of returning from the clutches of a shadowed kingdom made her a little too interesting for her own taste.
“Nothing that’ll bring you money.”
“Come on, Kion. I may be a fool, but I’m not an idiot.” Maia reached out a hand and brushed it over her cheek.
She wrenched away. “Don’t touch me.”
Maia clasped her hands together and smirked, her longer stride more than making up for Kionah’s pace. “Well, I was only checking. I’ve been meaning to ask—how’d you do away with the glamours?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake—sometimes, it was easy to forget Maia was decent at illusion, of all things. She kept her face as blank as she could. “Your seeing skills must be slipping.”
“Ah-ah, I don’t think so. Whatever happened to that collection of ghastly scratches?” Maia leaned in and grabbed her bare hand. Kionah shook her off.
They reached the waiting line to the so-called quartermaster. Now, she was forced to stop and stay if she wanted a decent deal on some saltpetre, of all things. Was lodging at Luxon’s worth all this trouble? Probably not. Still, she resisted the urge to up and leave—not wanting to look like a coward aside, she had Aliyah’s favour to keep if she was going to make plans based on that particular help…
“Ointments,” she said decisively. “Ever heard of ’em?”
“What kind of ointment changes the shape of your face?” Maia tutted, and Kionah squashed the thought of swinging a fist into her perfectly breakable nose. Her own nose used to have a bump in it, courtesy of a poorly-chosen mark some six and a half years ago. Just the one; experience was a good teacher.
Maia tilted her head and frowned. “Come to think of it, your teeth are looking a little whiter, too…”
“What I look like is none of your business.”
She hadn’t anticipated Healer Quillwort’s help to compound into an inconvenience, now. The procedures had been small enough and the healing itself had gone smoothly, in the space of seconds; at the time, she’d simply been thinking of reducing her upkeep on the glamours.
Maia gave her a strange look, tapping a finger to her chin. “I thought you looked fine under it all.”
“I don’t care what you think.” The line shuffled forwards, too slow for her liking.
“Yes, you do. You care what everyone thinks.”
The words were said breezily enough, but they sunk barbs, digging in where they no right to. Kionah suppressed a twitch.
“Oh, shut up. You don’t know shit about me, Maia.”
“Really?” Maia clicked her tongue. “Then tell me, why else would you learn one bit of illusion and nothing else? Why bother, unless for the vanity of it all? Because you were never about staying safe, were you? You never put in the effort, never worked out harder casts like me, because all you ever wanted was—”
“Shut your mouth,” Kionah said, as quietly as she could.
“I will, in a minute. But like I said, Kion. I’m not stupid.” She leaned in even closer, her words barely audible. “By the way, does the word ‘fleshcrafter’ mean nothing to you?”
So that was what it was. Needle her up and down, rile her, get her off balance enough to push. It wasn’t a halfway-terrible strategy. Kionah froze, and thought very, very quickly. “So I had some stuff done when I was away. What’s it to you?”
Maia shook her head. “Should I raise my voice and mention your very Songian friend by name?”
Her blood chilled cold; she cast a discreet glance about the House and spotted a mix of outsiders and Crow Ear forayers both. “No,” she murmured. “Shut up, and I’ll talk to you later.”
It was an acquiescence, and not a very advantageous one. It was the best choice she had, here and now. Maia, thankfully, had sensed the lines of some of her thoughts: the number of listeners around, the House host to sharper folks who honed in on even the quietest of intriguing conversations.
“Alright then,” Maia said. “I’ll just wait here until you’re done.”
Damn. Kionah resisted the urge to chart an optimistic path out of this one. Shasta wasn’t in a talking mood, which meant no dropping upstairs for a chat and giving Maia the slip. The windows of Whistle House were triple-layered and warded to boot, even in the back rooms…if she tried leaving through that route, right in front of Crow Ear members, she’d probably get the shit kicked out of her. No amount of friendship with the heir-to-be would protect her from the consequences of property damage.
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Besides, none of that would stop Maia from talking. Delay, maybe, but stop? People didn’t pull friendly bluffs round these parts. If Aliyah’s name got out to the spires…
The exchange for saltpetre went smoothly—a small comfort, when she had Maia staring daggers into the back of her head. She placed the package carefully into her basket, fiddling with the lid. Hah. As if prolonging the moment would help.
Maia followed at her heels as she exited the House. Kionah considered running, and decided against it. The stint in Shadowsong meant she’d fallen out of shape, and Maia was almost always faster because of her stupidly tall legs.
Plus—the accusation, the name. Someone’s status as a new arrival would work against them. Even a strong rumour could be too much. Kionah hadn’t outlived her siblings by plugging her ears until the problems went away.
Maia drew ahead in two easy strides as they passed the first street corner. She clicked her fingers and beckoned, heading into the alley mouth.
“Really?” Kionah said, not moving. “You want to talk here? Now?”
Maia raised an eyebrow.
“Fine,” Kionah said, stepping into the shadow of the alley.
Maia shawled them in illusion: layers of silencing and concealment, shadowed textures overlaid onto their skins. The sensation of a fresh breeze twirled about her head and shoulders, irritatingly refreshing in its coolness. Kionah got the impression that Maia was showing off.
“What do you want?” she said impatiently. “Get to the point.”
“Break into the Academy gala with me,” Maia replied, not missing a beat. She paused for effect—she’d had that line loaded and ready, hadn’t she? Kionah suppressed a sigh. “Or I’ll spill about your little fleshcrafter friend.”
The problem with keeping secrets as a form of extortion was that there was really no end to it. It wasn’t like a physical proof—she couldn’t remove the knowledge from Maia’s brain once she was done paying the favour. At least, she couldn’t do it in an acceptable way—the curve of her pistol pressed cold against her hip, a heavy reminder.
Kionah drew in a slow breath and exhaled quietly through her teeth. Several thoughts flashed through her head, not all of them appropriate for the situation—Maia was annoying, yes, but that didn’t warrant shooting her.
Not a good idea, she told herself firmly—not even as a threat. No point in escalating the situation. She’d grown up near mercenaries, and she should know better. Violence was messy. Maiming or killing would be worse. And unnecessary here, no matter the circumstances. She tried not to think of the half-dreamed plans, of mother slowly rotting away and the whole damn house with her.
So she couldn’t remove the knowledge from Maia’s brain. She could perhaps move Aliyah. A person was a lot harder to hide than, say, a boxful of blackmarket powders. Not impossible, she noted, but a whole lot harder. Would take more time. Could she stall for more time?
“Don’t go spouting that sort of rubbish around,” Kionah said. “Stories are just stories.”
“Oh, but the spire folks don’t seem to think so.” Maia laughed, softly. “Not over the last couple of years, Kion. Twilight Mermaid’s got eyes around the spires—they’ve been ramping it up while you’ve been gone.”
“And your guild thought that a good avenue to keep your eye on,” Kionah said. “Crazy rich folk? This isn’t your usual hunting ground. Won’t end well.”
“Other avenues were running dry,” Maia said, her voice hardening. Maybe that little dig about her group had some truth to it after all—Maia had always been good at posturing when it mattered. “Nora suggested it. Good thing she did, right? You forget I saw you fight that blue-bird man. Saw your friend doing some very interesting spellwork, while she was at it.”
Damn. Sometimes, it was easy to forget that Maia wasn’t a complete fool.
“Yeah, well.” She made a show of sniffing. “Back at the ol’ catnip again? Could’ve been anything.”
“You think so?” Maia gave a lazy smile. “If it really was anything, there wouldn’t be any problem with me telling stories, would there? You wouldn’t’ve told me to shut up back there, would you? Don’t play with me, Kion.”
Was it worth the risk? Kionah hesitated. How much had changed since she’d been gone? Probably not all that much, from the looks of things. Bloody Cribellums likely still had nothing better to do with their time but to poke their noses into other people’s lives. She swallowed, mouth going dry.
There’d been an apothecary, once. He was a passing friend to their old merc den—sort of a quack, really—and an overseer he’d owed money to. A rumour was spread. It went on for a month before the ears in the walls connected to the ones in the spires. Or maybe there’d been a favour there, a connection she didn’t know—but she had known the apothecary as a kid. All the cutters had. He would stick leeches to twisted ankles for a handful of coppers and exchanged ginger candies for a clean copy of the daily paper. The spire people had taken him for questions; he hadn’t been a fleshcrafter, of course. When he came back, he wasn’t quite the same. Packed up and disappeared out the way of Haverlem harbour not long after. It’d been the talk of the neighbourhood.
A month, she thought. A month. If Maia spilled—and maybe she’d hold out with cooperation, maybe not—she might have about a month before people came knocking. And—mother. That gave her an idea: burrow amongst the city filth. Let Aliyah in on the threat, angle it around and suggest hopping from hideout to hideout. Wasn’t that what they were doing already? She could work with that.
“You hardly need me to rob this bunch of richlings,” she tried. “I’m a little busy at the moment.”
“Yes, yes,” Maia said. “Busy getting your little friend out of sight. I know, I know.” She sighed. “Where’ll you disappear off to next? Kraedia? Ironport? Princil?” Her tone dropped low. “You may not be as fond of me now, Kion, but we both know it’s stupid to pass up on opportunities down here. Me, I’ve got tastes closer to home. I’ll take what I can get.”
Kionah frowned.
“Come on,” Maia added when she didn’t get an immediate reply. “You don’t want news of your fleshcrafter friend to get out. And you owe us, besides.”
Kionah stiffened reflexively. “I’ll have you know that I don’t owe you anything.”
Maia smiled, flashing teeth. “You owe the lovely Leonora, though. And we both know she’s too proud to cash in on that debt, so I may as well do it for her. Carrot, stick.”
“That isn’t how it works.”
“No? Well Nora’s a good woman. Still kept giving us our cuts even with things drying up. She’s living off beans and gruel, Kion. Beans and gruel. And too damn virtuous to admit it, too—but I found out. C’mon, this job’s a real clincher. Right up your alley.”
“I’m not a burglar.”
“Burglar, pickpocket, that part doesn’t matter so much. You’ll have Hortensia there for the locks. It’s just, you know,” Maia waved a hand. “Koriannon paid us in tickets, so that’s our way in. Octavia was going to go, but she got her face broken. You were pretty enough for the likes of Lily House; I’m sure you’ll do fine with this.”
Kionah resisted the urge to drop her baskets and punch something. The moment passed, and she gave herself a private pat on the back for her own, entirely admirable, restraint.
“This gala job,” she grunted. “When is it?”
“Tonight,” Maia said.
Questions flashed through her mind, even as she mulled it over. The key question being: what business did she have, going along with this for the sake of an apprenticeling she barely knew? Well yes, Aliyah had technically saved her life and yes, she’d helped plenty on the escape out from beneath the Killing Fields, and it would be very useful to keep her alive and friendly even if she wasn’t sure she could fully help with the—ugh. Maia was looking at her expectantly; she’d let the silence drag on too long.
“You trust me to run in with no proper briefing?” she asked, shaking her head. Maybe that was why Twilight Mermaid was doing so poorly since it’d started: not one fucking ounce of planning. “You even got a target in mind, or…?”
“There’s a scroll shipment,” Maia said, her tone suddenly all business. “Camouflage, though, for deepwater pearls. Forty strings. You understand, now?”
Forty strings, Kionah thought gloomily. Easy to hide, easy to fence—depending on the number of crew, Twilight Mermaid could be flush for the next few years if they pulled this off. Trouble was, such opportunities were rare for a reason.
“What’s the catch?” Kionah asked.
“No catch.”
“There’s always one.” She gave in to the impulse to scowl, snapping her fingers as the pieces slotted into place. “This is the Academy—it’s some Library bullshit, isn’t it?”
Maia shrugged, not even having the grace to look sheepish. “Not very far in, I’m told. Only temporary, you know? Just storing for a week—the gala’s good for a distraction.”
The Academy Library was, if possible, just as shrouded in secrecy as Shadowsong’s. Kionah hadn’t been further than the foyer herself, but she’d heard stories.
“You’ve cased this?” Kionah asked. “Decently, I mean?”
“Yep,” Maia said. “You know it.”
“Any other catches?” Kionah asked.
Maia hesitated. “No.”
“Liar.” Kionah shook her head and injected the appropriate amount of disgust into her voice. “I’m going to have to run this job, right? You’d better give me the fucking truth.”
“Fine,” Maia said. “There may be…a little competition. Those, ah, jobs that went missing from Koriannon’s shop? Probably out and sold to opportunists by now.”
“Great,” Kionah said flatly. “Fantastic.” A nagging feeling stuttered at the base of her skull, but when she tried to grasp it, it slipped away—useless, translucent, imparting no meaning.
“Yes, well—we’ve had more time to plan. Hortensia’s procured the perfect tools.” Maia leaned in. “And we know each other, you and I. You help me with this job, I leave your friend be, you get to skip city like you did a year ago and move on with the rest of your life.” Her lips twisted into a bitter smile. “High ambitions, right? You got right up there with Lily House. Sabine said you ran off with some noblewomen, even. So yes, I get it, you’re busy with bigger things—I don’t care what you do with your fleshcrafter friend so long as you help me this once.” Her voice cracked in a false show of vulnerability. “These girls haven’t hurt you, Kion. They’re like my family, okay?”
Kionah watched her for several long moments, wondering if she was going to start tearing up, too. When that didn’t happen, she gestured to her basket. “I need to deliver my errands first.”
“Oh no,” Maia said. There came a fresh gleam in her eye. “That can wait for later—you’ve got your friend to think about and a favour to owe, remember? We need to get you into a gala dress. And like you said—you need a proper briefing.”
“Fine,” Kionah said. “Get on with it. You’ll need to acquire some contacts, by the way. I lost mine.”
Maia frowned. “The…enchanted things you put in your eyes? Aren’t those expensive?”
“I’m an expensive colleague to keep,” Kionah deadpanned. “You want me to be able to see on this special venture of yours, don’t you?”
Maia rolled her eyes. “You haven’t changed one bit. Fine, let’s go—we’re burning daylight.”