Chapter Seventeen

“Find a seat, order a cup of something to drink, and wait,” Charlotte ordered, as they paused outside a café. “Stay here until I return, or sunset. Whichever comes first.”

Anastasia scowled. The planning session had been vague to the point of uselessness, to the point she wondered if Charlotte intended to claim all the credit for herself. It was true that she had done a great deal of the work, but it was also true that Anastasia had been the one who’d spotted the key to the mystery and she deserved a share of the credit too. And yet … she reminded herself, firmly, that she was only doing the job because she needed money and skills and when she had them both, she’d get on a railway car and travel straight to Rockfall.

Or as close as possible, she thought. There were railway lines leading out of Beneficence and railway lines leading into Rockfall, but they weren’t actually linked together, as far as she could tell. She’d have to take the train to one country, travel across the kingdom on horseback and get on another train at the far end. If I can get that close …

She scowled as she entered the café, ordered a mug of hot chocolate and sat down to wait. The map made it look as if she could walk halfway across the known world in a day, perhaps less, but the real world was much less obliging. A centimetre on the map could translate into a hundred or a thousand miles, perhaps more … the mapmakers, it seemed, shunned the idea of precision in favour of merely outlining the borders and transport links. She had no idea what she would have to confront, when she made her way from one station to another, or how hard it would be to get into the kingdom itself. She’d checked the cost of teleporting and sworn out loud. Assuming she ate nothing and didn’t have to pay rent, she’d need years to earn the money to teleport.

Perhaps I should make nice to a wizard and ask him to teleport me, she thought. The idea was appealing and yet horrific. Or perhaps I should find some other way to get the money.

She ground her teeth in silent frustration. Spending a week with Charlotte had been a crash-course in how the rest of the world lived, if they didn’t have magic, money, or noble blood. She was well paid, for her post, but it would still take months, if not years, to earn enough money to ensure a degree of stability. The secretaries, runners and criers were paid even less. She shuddered to think what would happen if they lost their jobs, or if they found themselves unable to work for a few weeks. A disease might destroy their lives even if it didn’t kill them.

It was nearly an hour before Charlotte returned, looking like the cat that ate the canary. “I found something interesting,” she said, as she ordered a mug of strong kava. “Off the record, of course, but something very definitely interesting.”

Anastasia scowled. “How interesting?”

“It seems Old Grimy has an account at the Bank of Silence,” Charlotte said. “And he’s had a major influx of cash recently.”

“Right.” Anastasia tried not to tap her feet impatiently as Charlotte wiped her mouth, than sipped her drink. “And you know this how …?”

“I’ve got a contact at the bank,” Charlotte said. Her face twisted oddly. “I couldn’t get the exact details, of course, but there was a payment. And I wonder where it came from.”

“Boss Hank?”

“Probably,” Charlotte agreed. “There’s no one else who would make such a large payment, certainly not one that was kept carefully out of sight. The whole party yesterday might have been contrived to allow the two to meet, without making any alarm bells ring. No wonder so much free alcohol was being splashed around. The drunker someone is, the harder it is to take them seriously.”

Anastasia frowned. “Why can’t they just have a private meeting?”

“Because they’re both under observation,” Charlotte said. “Old Grimy is not supposed to meet with anyone like Boss Hank, not without a bunch of witnesses. Boss Hank is less constrained, but he does have shareholders and after the mess Vesperian made they’ll be very wary of anything that might draw the city’s finance into disrepute. We were lucky that problem was solved without taking down the entire city.”

“I keep hearing about him,” Anastasia said. “What happened?”

“Basically, he convinced people to buy shares in his business, promising a massive return on their investment,” Charlotte said. “He started to run out of money anyway, so he sold more shares and even more shares while offering even bigger rewards, which meant that many of his original shareholders started passing on their shares to other buyers … anyway, when the whole edifice fell apart, there was no way he could even begin to repay his creditors and a vast amount of money simply evaporated.”

“That makes no sense,” Anastasia protested.

“That’s probably why he got away with it for so long,” Charlotte agreed. “Look at it this way. I loan you a few dozen crowns, on the promise you’ll repay me when you get paid. Because I have faith in your ability and willingness to repay me, I take a loan from someone else on the promise I’ll repay him when you repay me. And so on … but you lose your job and you can’t repay me, no matter what sort of contact we signed, which means I don’t get repaid in a hurry, if at all. That means I can’t repay my loan, which means my creditor loses out too.”

“And so on,” Anastasia muttered.

“Quite.” Charlotte finished her kava and stood. “We’re not talking about one loan, or even a chain of loans. We’re talking about hundreds of loans and debts, so many that even selling an entire estate would not be enough to repay them. Lots of money, it turned out, existed only on paper, creating a network of shell companies and debts that died with him.”

She led the way outside and down the street, heading into the industrial district. The air became tinged with pollution, a stench that made Anastasia want to wrinkle her nose; the factories and warehouses appeared surrounded by a faint haze, a smoky stench that pervaded the air and forced her to look around for the fire. The workers were strange, a mixture of brave men standing tall and beaten-down men who looked as if a child could push them over. There were women amongst them, their hands stained with substances she didn’t want to think about. They looked bone-weary, as if they couldn’t go on for much longer. It was such a contrast to the districts near the newspaper office that she wondered if they’d somehow teleported to another city.

Charlotte nudged her. “Let me take the lead, when we reach the Guildhall,” she said. “I’ll want your impressions afterwards.”

Anastasia nodded, feeling unsure and uncertain of herself. The surrounding district didn’t feel as threatening as the free state, and there didn’t appear to be many cutpurses on the streets, but there was something about it that bothered her at a very primal level. She wasn’t sure why … perhaps it was the human cost of progress, injured men lying in the gutter and women denied the chance to be wives and mothers, or perhaps it was something else. She found it hard to believe the smog was harmless. It threatened to choke her lungs with every breath.

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The Guildhall was odd, a warehouse or apartment block that appeared to have been converted into a place the workers could go and relax, after a long day at the workhouse. The lower floor was little more than an oversized bar, hundreds of men filling seats, chatting loudly and drinking so heavily she wondered they were still standing upright. A number weren’t, lying on the ground and snoring loudly. Anastasia hesitated, but Charlotte walked in as if she owned the place, nodding politely to the doorman. A man groped her rear and she punched him in the face, sending him crashing to the ground. The crowd seemed to think it was hilarious. Anastasia didn’t get the joke.

Charlotte spoke briefly to a man at the bar, the words lost in the racket. He nodded and led the way through a rear door, up a flight of stairs and into a smaller office. Anastasia followed, looking around with interest. The upper levels were oddly bland, the walls bare save for a handful of paintings of locomotives and airships on the move. Some looked too fanciful to the true. And yet, she couldn’t help wondering if they were real. Could an airship really drop explosives on a castle? It would change the face of warfare if they could.

“It’s been a while, Daniel,” Charlotte said. “How’ve you been?”

“Well enough,” Daniel said. He was a tall man, wearing a worker’s outfit that did absolutely nothing to hide his muscles. His face was rough and ready, but pleasant in a manner that had Anastasia liking him on sight. “What can I do for you?”

“We uncovered something interesting,” Charlotte said. “Old Grimy spent some time alone with Boss Hank, yesterday. He’s also had a payment from a mysterious donor. A very private payment.”

Daniel gave her a sharp look. “Are you sure …?”

“Yes.” Charlotte met his eyes. “It isn’t quite proof of anything, but it’s a very definite hint that something is amiss.”

“He swore blind we’d gotten the best deal we could,” Daniel muttered. He was far from stupid, Anastasia noted. He was also far more street-smart than herself. “If he was lying about that …”

“He’ll have cheated you,” Charlotte finished. “No matter what he was paid, it’ll be cheaper than paying you and the rest of the lads what you’re worth.”

Daniel’s face darkened. “Wait here,” he said. “I have to speak to the others.”

He got up and left the room, moving with surprising grace despite his size. Anastasia opened her mouth to ask just what was going on, but Charlotte tapped her lips and pointed to the walls before Anastasia could say a word. She scowled in irritation a moment later as she realised the danger. The walls were rough and crude, the wood arranged in a manner that would easily conceal a peephole … someone could be listening to them at any moment, without using magic that could be detected or blocked. She allowed her eyes to wander over the wood, but saw nothing. A peephole didn’t have to be large or obvious, not if someone was just listening to them. It might be so small she couldn’t see it unless she looked very closely.

Daniel returned, two overcoats slung under his arm. “Do you still know the truth-spell?”

“Yeah,” Charlotte said. “I don’t forget.”

“Good,” Daniel said. He shoved a coat at Charlotte, then passed the other to Anastasia. “Put them on, then stay at the back. And if you’re wrong about this …”

“You need an explanation,” Charlotte said. “Maybe it is innocent, but still … he’s skulking around.”

Daniel nodded curtly, then waited for them to put the coats on before leading the way back outside. Anastasia found the coat heavy and unpleasant, smelling of something she didn’t want to identify, but she had to admit it made her look like a worker. There was a small group of men outside, wearing very similar outfits. One was a woman … if Anastasia hadn’t seen her face, she wouldn’t have known. The workers were dressed in a manner that made it very hard to tell them apart. She suspected it was a uniform, of sorts. It also made it easier to add someone to the group without being noticed.

“You know the questions,” Daniel said. There was a dull throbbing anger in his tone that reminded Anastasia of her father, in the rare occasions when he was genuinely annoyed with a petitioner. “Let’s move.”

The small gang headed down the corridor, walking towards a large pair of doors that somehow managed to be more elegant than the rest of the office. They pushed the door open, marched through an outer office – ignoring the young secretary who sputtered helplessly as they passed – and into the inner office. Old Grimy was seated at a desk, looking up in surprise as the group entered. There was something false about the office, although it took Anastasia a moment to put her finger on it. The chamber didn’t look like a place someone worked. It looked more like a theatre set, as if it was designed to give an impression rather than anything else.

Old Grimy looked pale. “It is customary to knock …”

Daniel spoke over him, effortlessly. “Did you take money from Boss Hank?”

“Of course not,” Old Grimy said. “How could you make such a suggestion?”

Daniel glanced at Charlotte. She nodded.

Old Grimy stared, his eyes narrowing. “You brought a magician into the hall? And a reporter?”

“You took money from Boss Hank!” Daniel cracked his knuckles. “Why?”

“If you’re here to challenge me, I have a right to a full hearing in front of the guild,” Old Grimy managed. His voice shook, suggesting he was terrified. There was no way out, no way to escape the enraged workers. “I demand …”

“Tell us the truth,” Daniel said, “and you can walk out of the room safely.”

Old Grimy stared at him, then sagged. “He wanted me to smooth out the negotiation process for him,” he said. “He told me no one would ever find out.”

“You sold us out,” Daniel snapped. “Did you really think you’d get away with it?”

“He said he couldn’t offer us anymore,” Old Grimy said. “And he said …”

Anastasia watched, feeling uneasy, as the truth was extracted bit by bit. She’d hoped for something exciting, something dramatic, but instead it was just … tawdry. Boss Hank had bribed Old Grimy to lowball his workers, convincing them that the deal he’d arranged was the best one they could get. The dull simmering anger pulsing through the room made her feel worse. The idea of commoners taking the law into their own hands was terrifying, but how could she blame them? A trial would give Boss Hank ample time to rig it in his favour.

“We’ll take it from here,” Daniel told Charlotte. “Thank you.”

It was a very clear dismissal. Charlotte didn’t bother to argue, instead leading Anastasia back down the stairs and onto the streets. They made their way back to the office without speaking, lost in their own thoughts. Anastasia wondered if Old Grimy would live long enough to stand trial or if he’d have an industrial accident. The broadsheets suggested it was rare for a week to go by without a lethal accident in the factories, and some of those accidents might not be remotely accidental. She kept that thought to herself as they reached the office and slipped in through the back door. Peregrine was waiting for them.

“We got the proof,” Charlotte said, curtly. “He was taking bribes.”

“Very good,” Peregrine said. “Write the story up so anyone can understand, then get it down to the printers.”

“I don’t get it,” Anastasia said, as they headed back to Charlotte’s office. “How does it work?”

“Imagine you want to sell your house, so you hire an agent to do it,” Charlotte said. “You tell the agent you want … say, fifty thousand crowns. The agent finds a buyer and the buyer promises him that if he convinces you to accept forty thousand crowns instead, he’ll give the agent five thousand crowns. The agent also gets to keep your fee, the money you paid him.”

“So he’s basically tricked you out of ten thousand crowns,” Anastasia said. “Right?”

“Yeah,” Charlotte said. “And in this case, Old Grimy probably cheated the guild out of a great deal of money. And we have proof!”

She wrote the story quickly, allowed Anastasia to read through it and nitpick, then took it down to the printers. Anastasia followed, torn between relief the story had turned out to be real and something she didn’t want to look at too closely. Had she done the right thing? Or … or what? She wasn’t even sure why she was feeling so unsure of herself. It was just odd.

“We’ll go out to dinner,” Charlotte said. “I think we’ve earned it.”

“Thanks,” Anastasia managed. “Who’s paying?”

Charlotte winked. “The broadsheet.”

Anastasia let her pick the restaurant, too lost in her own thoughts to pay much attention to the meal. They had found something and yet … she stayed quiet as they ate, wondering just how much corruption infected Rockfall. If it could happen in one place, it could happen in others …

A hand grabbed her and yanked her into the alley, a strong grip tightening around her neck. She shuddered, too shocked to call on her magic as her hands were yanked back … she flipped her wrist, allowing the virgin blade to drop into her hands, and stabbed the man holding her before she quite realised what she’d done. He convulsed and let her go, clutching his chest as he staggered and fell. Anastasia swallowed hard, then turned. Charlotte was struggling with another man, fighting a losing battle … she twisted and brought her knee up hard, ramming him right in the groin. He bent over, screaming. Anastasia almost felt sorry for him.

“This way,” Charlotte snapped. Anastasia could hear someone blowing a whistle in the distance. “Hurry!”

Anastasia glanced at the man she’d stabbed, horror washing through her as she realised she’d killed him. It was the first time she’d killed anyone with her bare hands.

“This way,” Charlotte repeated. “If they have friends on the way ...”

Anastasia nodded. They started to run.