“The meet is still on. Same time. But he’s suspicious. Thinks we may have company. One of his own. And that finder.”
“The finder will be dead well before then.” Another voice, softer than the others. I wondered if Mills was trying to speak as a woman through his ruined throat, or mimic a dry whisper.
“This other. Is he coming alone?”
“Bastard doesn’t know.”
“We’d better plan for extra guests,” said the softer voice. “Even so, they won’t be a problem.”
“What else is he telling? Lot of pages there.”
Silence, while someone studied the note.
“More of the same. I think he’s playing us.”
“What you think is none of my concern.” A new voice, this one cold and hard. “See to the walls. The kid alive?”
“Was last time I checked. Do we need him?”
“For the moment.”
Mills blinked.
“Isn’t this fun?”
“I’m giddy with amusement. Anyone you recognize sound off?”
“The sorcerer, perhaps. An upstart. Barely skilled even in the most basic of the arts.” Mills frowned. “It was he who predicted your imminent demise, Captain. I take a dim view of my officers being slaughtered so close to the eve of war.”
“So do I, sir. Rest assured I’ll be alive and kicking when the fleet sails down the Brown.”
“See that you are.”
Mills rose, made a show of brushing filth from his bloody clothes and winked.
“I shall leave you to your case, Captain. Though I trust you are aware that I can, and will, bring an army to bear on this place, should you ask it of me.”
“I appreciate that, sir. I really do. But this is hardly a matter for the Regency.”
“As you wish.”
Mills turned and walked away, silent as a shadow.
And gone, utterly gone, in just half a dozen steps.
I lay there until the sky grew light. Yes, I dozed. Some kindly angel, or more likely a lingering magic left by the Corpsemaster, kept the rats from chewing me down to bones and boot-heels.
I slithered away from my trash heap. I snuck out of my alley. I stank my way back to Cambrit, so befouled and malodorous even the dead wagons gave me wide berth.
I didn’t dare my office. If someone was waiting for me, with mayhem on their mind, I figured they’d be there, sharpening their knives. So I came up the wrong end of Cambrit and stripped naked in the alley by the bathhouse. I kept my boots and my hat and my long black coat, because naked men stand out on Cambrit even at a distance.
Old Mr. Waters met me at the door. He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t lecture me on hygiene. He just took my clothes and shoved them into that enormous cast-iron stove that heats his water and handed me two bars of soap and a towel.
I’d lately taken to keeping a change of clothes, including boots, with Mr. Waters.
“I’ll get ye your clothes,” he said. “And I hope to Hell whatever ye done last night was worth it.”
“So do I.”
I slipped into the merciful waters, and tried to forget Mills and his unblinking dead eyes.
Chapter Twenty
I actually went to sleep in the hot copper tub. I probably would have drowned, had Mr. Waters not grabbed me by the hair and yanked me out.
The bathhouse was filling up. The Arwheat brothers were there, shouting and shoving and laughing. Old Mr. Bull was in for his monthly bath. He looked wizened and almost Elvish peeping up through the suds. All were eager to regale me with tales of the hard-eyed men who’d been watching my door last night.
Mr. Bull had chased them off his stoop just that very morning. He wasn’t sure where they’d gone. I bet it wasn’t far.
I didn’t ask Mr. Bull or the Arwheat brothers or anyone else to keep their mouths shut about my bathing habits. They weren’t going to talk to outsiders, and asking would only have insulted them.
I dressed in my clean clothes and put on my clean shoes and slipped out of the bathhouse by the back door. From there I stuck to alleys and walls until I found a cab at Merry and managed to climb inside without ruining my shirt with a sudden flight of arrows.
Tamar was my first stop. She’d need to know I intended to bring Carris home in the morning.
That’s all I planned to tell her. The last thing I needed was Mr. Tibbles to show up yapping at the Timbers.
The management of the Wolford Inn has definite ideas about freshly bathed menfolk just breezing up the stairs to visit their female guests. I was on the verge of testing the mettle of the bespectacled young man behind the desk by walking up anyway when Tamar glided down the stairs.
She was all smiles. She was wearing a light blue day dress and a white hat with a blue ribbon. The white basket that held Mr. Tibbles was trimmed with the same blue ribbon.
“Good morning, wife of mine,” I said. “Ready to come home?”
“Hah. I like it here. How much is this room costing this man, Suthers?”
“One and half crowns a night,” replied Suthers without looking up from his scribbling. “Not counting five coppers for laundry and eleven for meals.”
Tamar seated herself on a velvet settee across from me. Mr. Tibbles peeked out of his dainty basket and growled.
I feigned a grimace.
“Sugar. Honey. Snookums. Mother is leaving. Leaving tonight.”
She nodded, once and quickly. Her smile slipped briefly but didn’t fall.
“You promise?”
“Cross my heart.” I rose, crossed the thick old carpet and sat beside her.
I had no doubt Suthers and his listening little ears were at attention, so I chose my words carefully.
“You’ll be home in the morning. All will be well.”
She put her hand on mine.
“Thank you.”
I squeezed her hand and rose. She didn’t let go.
“I have to get Mother packed,” I said. “There’s a lot to do before she can leave.”
“I can help. Let me help.”
I gently pried my hand free.
“No. It’s for the best. You know how Mother can be.”
Suthers snorted. I made a mental note to come back, when all this was over, and glare at him menacingly.
Tamar didn’t like it. Not one bit. But finally she nodded, gave me a brief fierce hug and darted up the stairs.
“Your Mother must be quite a woman,” said Suthers.
“Half ogre and half Troll,” I replied. “Maybe I’ll put her up here, next Yule. You’ll enjoy getting to know her.”
He had no reply to that, except to bite the end of his pencil.
