southwest part of Martradon. I thought I could pick out where Master Caliostrus’s studio had been.
“You’ve had a long summer, haven’t you, Rhenn?”
“So have you,” I replied lightly. “How was Pointe Neimon?”
“Quiet . . . pleasant in a dull way. It was much cooler than here. One whole week it rained almost all day every day. We played plaques until I didn’t want to look at another plaque again.”
“What about all the textile manufactories?”
Seliora tilted her head slightly. “Grandmama was right. We did need to visit them.” She laughed, softly, throatily. “At every one, she entered dressed like the wealthiest of factorians.”
“Isn’t she?” I accompanied the gentle question with a smile.
Seliora paused. “We don’t think of it quite that way because we’ve avoided the factoring associations. We’ve kept ourselves as part of the woodcrafters’ and cabinetmakers’ guild.”
“This building, with all the shops and quarters and everything-it’s larger than most factors’ warehouses.” Also, remaining as crafters avoided the prejudice against Pharsis who tried to join the factoring associations.
“It’s all family. Almost, anyway.”
“That may be true, but the number of people who work here, from what I can tell, is larger than those employed by most factors.” I grinned. “When she walked into those manufactories, I imagine your grandmama put them all in their place without saying a word.”
Seliora nodded. “They all know her. She didn’t say so, but part of the trip was to get them to know who Shomyr and I are. She said we’d do another trip in the late fall, if she felt up to it.”
“Where did you stay?”
“At not very good hotels, except at Pointe Neimon. There, Grandmama has friends-or acquaintances. They have a cottage on the west side of the point. It overlooks the water. It’s very rocky, and the water’s rough, even in summer. It is beautiful, though, and very pleasant. There’s only one small cove where it’s safe to swim, and the water isn’t that warm. We could walk to a market. There aren’t many hacks, but you can rent a carriage if you need one . . .”
I listened and offered questions, just enjoying being with her and looking at her.
Then there were footsteps on the hardwood floor of the hallway from the main corridor.
“Seliora . . .?”
Betara’s words were as much a warning as an announcement.
“We’re here,” Seliora said. “We’ve just been talking.”
Betara stepped onto the terrace carrying a small tray. On it were two glasses of sparkling crystal-clear Sanietra, one of my summer wines of choice, although I hadn’t had any for a while, and a small platter holding thin slices of apple and peach, along with two napkins.
“I thought you might like a little light refreshment.”
“Thank you,” I offered.
“Oh . . . Grandmama sends her apologies. She says that, in this heat, she’s not feeling her best, but she promises she’ll meet Rhenn next week.” Betara looked to me. “You are coming?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
She laughed. “With all that has happened to you, let us hope that it doesn’t come to that.” In moments, she was gone.
I took a sip of the Sanietra. It was as cool and dry as it looked and slipped down my throat easily, leaving a faint hint of sweet lime and lilac behind. “This is good.”
“It is.” After a moment, she said, “You haven’t said what you’ve been doing.”
“Until a little more than a week ago, all I did was work on learning everything the Collegium thought I needed to know for my duties at the Chateau.” I smiled. “Then I went to work and discovered that most of it was very routine, escorting petitioners to see councilors, standing corridor watches, taking a message or two . . .”
She raised her eyebrows. “What else?”
I didn’t want to answer that directly. “You said that your family had ways of finding out things. Can you or your mother or grandmama find out about a bravo called the Ferran?”
“Was he the one who shot you?”
“No . . . and yes.”
She frowned, then asked, “They hired someone else to go after you? You didn’t tell me?”
“I couldn’t have written you, and . . . well . . . I didn’t want to come here and announce that people were still shooting at me. At least, it seems that way. Last week he-that’s the Ferran-followed me when I was trying to find out who hired the first killer. I avoided him, but I’d found out that Master Caliostrus’s brother might have been involved. So, I suspect, did he, because Thelal-that was the brother-ended up knifed dead in a tavern brawl two days later.”
“Master Caliostrus? What did he have to do with this? He’s been dead for months.”
“Some people think that the explosion that killed Master Caliostrus wasn’t an accident. I’ve heard guesses that it was intended for Ostrius, or at Master Caliostrus because Madame Caliostrus was trying to stop Caliostrus from giving coins to Thelal. She sold the ruined house and the land to Elphens. Did you know that he made master?”
“I didn’t. I’m not surprised. He always had more coins than a journeyman should.”
“His father is a High Holder, I was told.”
“Since he is not one, Elphens must be the son of a mistress . . . or less.”
“A mistress, I would guess, because High Holder Tillak wouldn’t shell out so many golds for a bastard son unless he felt something special about him or his mother.”
Seliora nodded. “What else? You still haven’t told me why people are shooting at you. When did all this happen?”
“I don’t know why. No one else seems to know, either. Yesterday, when I was on my way to my parents for that belated birthday dinner-”
“You didn’t tell me it was your birthday.”
“It happened while you were gone. It would have sounded wrong . . . to write and mention my birthday, especially after you’ve been so good to me.” I smiled apologetically.
“Oh . . . Rhenn. You don’t . . .” Her headshake conveyed a mixture of affection and exasperation. “Go on.”
“I’d just crossed the bridge and was getting some flowers to take to my sister. I had just asked the flower seller about the Ferran, because he’d said a few words to her the week before. That was when he was talking to her so that he could follow me-but I didn’t know that until later. Yesterday, she told me that he was the Ferran, and right after that he shot at us both. He killed her. There was a civic patroller not ten yards away, and he couldn’t even see the shooter. Neither did I, but it had to be him.”
“Are you sure?”
I shrugged. “It’s either him, or I’m in even bigger trouble than I thought.”
“Do I understand that a week ago this person-the Ferran-was following you and yesterday you think he shot at you and killed the flower woman?”
“He was trying to kill us both. Me because I’m the target and her because she told me about him.”
“Why would anyone want to kill you?”
I had to shrug. “I don’t know. No one at the Collegium does, either, but it must be tied to Emanus-”
“Rhennthyl D’Imager.” Her voice was stern. “You’re only telling me bits and pieces. Tell the whole story from the beginning.”
So I did, leaving out what might reveal too much about the Collegium and my real duties.
Afterward, she looked at me and shook her head. “It has to have something to do with High Holder Ryel. A connection with Emanus doesn’t make sense. You only talked to him twice, and the first assassin tried to kill you before anyone could have known you were going to talk to him the second time.”
“I just don’t know. Master Dichartyn is convinced that’s not the way High Holders do things. That’s why I wanted to know if you could find out about the Ferran.”
“I can ask Mama. I don’t have those contacts, but Grandmama is . . . involved in many things.”
I’d already gathered that.
Then, I heard the four bells ringing. “I need to go.” I stood.
