Chapter 88 - A Divine Blockage

Back at the Mop and Bucket, I waited for Mithra in her room. I didn’t want anyone else to hear our conversation. She arrived slightly after dawn and startled when she saw me using her cosmetics table as a makeshift desk to carve a few more Wills into black fjord pine blanks.

Of course her first instinct was to try to unbalance me with a seductive grin and a quick quip.

“I’m off shift, but I suppose I could make an exception if you want me to take a turn being the boss.”

“Why is Mother Mayaz targeting Lenise?” I asked.

She froze, fake smile dropping away. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I pulled the Deck of Wills from my robe and drew the cards, letting them spin idly in the air. “There’s an interesting quirk when it comes to the Wills. When multiple seekers attempt to read the same subject, the results become muddled and inconsistent—because observing a thing changes a thing. Now, there are ways to work around it, but the fact that it’s happening means that either three or more seekers are trying to track her,” I counted off on my fingers, “That would be at least myself, Daggertongue, and Mother Mayaz. Or,” I put my hands down. “She’s hiding somewhere with exceptionally advanced anti-divination wards. Like a shrine of Lucita.”

Mithra took off her coat and dropped it on the floor before slumping down on her bed amongst a dozen or so cushions. Perfume wafted up from the sheets. Ordinarily a bastion of confidence, I’d invaded her sanctum and taken away her control specifically to make her feel exposed. It was a calculated play lauded by the towers in my deck—though the knaves wanted me to swoop in and take a different sort of advantage of the plane-touched woman.

She took a deep breath before answering. “I don’t know,” she said.

“Not good enough,” I said.

“I don’t!” protested Mithra. “I’ve spent the last year trying to keep her away from Daggertongue. This thing with Mother Mayaz? I don’t know where it’s come from.”

“Look where you’re keeping her, Mithra. It’s bad luck! Hells, it’s probably divine intervention.” I called the cards into my hand and rifled through them. “Alright. So, let’s start with why Daggertongue wants her.”

Mithra’s face cycled through several expressions as she weighed what to tell me. I sent my will into the four of dragons, which I knew would give my eyes a sinister glow in the gloom of the bedchamber. It also showed me that Mithra had a valuable ring, and a dagger concealed in her bodice lining.

“She’s his bastard daughter,” said Mithra. “Beget by a whore and kept like a slave. It’s something to do with some prophecy. He’s been grooming her to play some part since she was a child.”

It all came back to prophecy. Something I wanted nothing to do with and no part of, but somehow found myself in the middle of. Mayazian prophecy, elven prophecy. I hated it. Soul Seekers are all about the truth of the moment, not what could or might happen based on the shrum-addled ravings of some scruffy old prophet a thousand years back.

Mithra looked across at me. “How did you figure it out?”

I shrugged. “The high priestess wasn’t the target of that attack, tonight. Her attendant was—but not the one they got. Priestess Problems was a target of opportunity. And seeing as you were moonlighting there, I figured there had to be a good reason. You made sure Lenise wasn’t working during the second attack.”

“Seekers,” said Mithra, tossing one of her cushions across the room. She stared up at the ceiling. “Why try to keep secrets at all?”

I stood, and Mithra flinched back. But I only paced the room, chin couched in my hand as I considered how the new information affected my planning. “The priestess doesn’t know. She believes Mother Mayaz quarrel is with her alone, which puts us in an advantageous position. Ironically, we never would have had an in with the shrine if you hadn’t inadvertently lured the sharks there in the first place.”

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

Mithra raised an eyebrow at me. “You don’t sound as pissed as I thought you would.”

I cast her a look, and she looked away. “There’s still other considerations. You can’t keep her hidden. There’s Daggertongue to consider, whose pocket we’re in, I might remind you. He terrified Kridick. And speaking of the old crown, he’ll be looking for a way back into the old man’s good graces and that’s a straight ticket, isn’t it?”

I sighed. “Not to mention what Daggertongue himself will do if he finds out I’ve had his daughter under my nose this whole time.” I shot a look at Mithra. “Though you’d know better than I, I imagine.”

“Nothing good,” she admitted. “Are you going to tell him?”

“I’m considering it,” I said, honestly. “She’s a liability to everything we’re building here.”

“She’s an innocent woman, Darcent!” Mithra pleaded.

I thought back to a night in stitch alley, feeling the blood of an innocent woman splash onto my face—followed shortly by the blood of a powerful witch. I felt a sickness crawl up my stomach. “This city swallows the innocent and the guilty alike, Mithra.”

I looked over. Mithra’s mask had dropped entirely, and she had her nails dug into her cheeks hard enough to draw blood. Her golden eyes welled with tears. I couldn’t hold that gaze.

“It’s not a decision I can make alone,” I said. “Annalisa has to have a say as well.”

“Thank you,” said Mithra.

I scowled. It was a partial abdication of responsibility, to be sure. The smartest thing to do—both for myself and the organization—would be to march right up to Threadripper and tell him where Daggertongue ought look for his daughter. But there was truth in what Mithra said, as well.

* * *

Two days of fortifying the Lucitian Shrine later, I still hadn’t decided what to do. But I had gotten word from Hawkley that he had a buyer lined up for the first of my books. So, Annalisa in tow, fresh and fired up from training in the pits for her next fight, I headed for the upper city.

Our route took us further west than if we’d been going to Hawkleys, which meant passing through Cradledown and then by the middle city makers guild. There are very few artisan items you can’t find in Dragonmaw, and since we weren’t in a hurry, I decided to slow-roll things and stop in at some of the stores so Annalisa and I could pretend we weren’t dirt poor for a while.

Though, feeling the change in my purse, I wasn’t sure we were, anymore. The operation had stopped hemorrhaging silver just to keep things afloat. With the take coming in from the wolves in Kindledown, proceeds from fights in both districts, and the influx of coin from Lucita, things weren’t in such dire straits where the downs were concerned. We’d finally established ourselves as a credible presence in the downs and brought most of the minor gangs in Barrowdown and the matchbox to heel. The Barrow Knave and the Lady Blue were whispered less often in jest and more in respect. I’d even started detecting some probes from further west, from crews on the other side of Kindledown. But, we were still from the lower city, and in the eyes of everyone uphill, that made us lesser.

Flush in coppers, poor in standing, perhaps. I patted the sail-cloth satchel that held several more copied pages from one of the elven manuscripts. Well, we had to start somewhere. And the last place I’d expected to be heading was the Royal Arcanists Repository. I just hoped I didn’t end up setting this one on fire, too.

Of particular interest to Annalisa was a dress-maker with several elegant gowns in the window. We let ourselves in to the shop and dropped our face-coverings. With how hot and humid the summer days in Dragonmaw were, it felt like instant relief. Most of the population in the western half of the city had adopted face coverings when outdoors due to the smoke drifting up from the undercity. But wearing them during the day was just awful.

I’d never seen Annalisa in a dress, but she flitted about, looking at the various cuts and commenting on what was in and out of fashion in the upper city. I had no idea such things even interested the career fighter. It just goes to show that you can never truly know a person. While initially wary of the over-excited devilborn bouncing through their shop, the staff eventually caught her infectious enthusiasm and brought out more bolts of cloth in colors they claimed would better suit her unique complexion. She ate it all up, and I was content to watch, and occasionally critique some of the craftsmanship they tried to convince her was top notch.

“Where did you learn so much about dresses?” Annalisa asked after I turned down the third one with inferior stitching.

“My mother was a seamstress,” I said. I looked at a corset and idly considered buying it for Mithra. “In another life, if… what happened, hadn’t happened,” I said, tossing a glance at the proprietors who were listening quite closely, “I might have become a tailor. I was always deft with the needle and shears. How do you know so much about dresses?”

“Because I think they’re beautiful,” said Annalisa. She ran a thumb under the lapels of her vest, which she wore over a stiff-collared work-shirt above practical trousers. “I never get to wear them much, though. What with my training and guarding you and all. You can’t really fight in a gown, and the snow from my tunnels would ruin the fabric.” she held a dark purple dress up against herself, looking in a body-length mirror and twisting about. It had more layers than Dragonmaw and I didn’t know how any person could wear it and not trip over themselves. But, true enough, her blue and black-veined skin looked quite striking against the material. “I would look amazing in this,” she said, sighing.

I thought back to the invitation to the masquerade theater. To the Barrow Knave and the Lady Blue. Surely, it had been an invitation to a trap. But it could also be an opportunity. I looked at the proprietor. “Throw in a pair of masks and we’ll take it.”

Annalisa squealed.