could, but they spotted us and we exchanged fire.”
Ren offered up a prayer of thanks that neither one of them had been killed.
“I hit the one with the red hood,” Corelle boasted. “Grandmas told us to always aim for the commanders- you do more damage per bullet that way. I think I nailed her fairly good.”‘
“Remind me to keep you on our side.” Raven said dryly.
Ren leaned outside and called one of the troops to her. “Spread the word. One of the wounded or dead thieves was wearing a red executioner’s hood. I want her found.”
The soldier saluted and hurried off. The Whistlers continued recounting their adventure, in greater detail.
They had found the doors all guarded, but found a broken, unguarded window on the second story. They had moved quietly to a place where they could view the thieves. When the gentry arrived, the action shifted to in front of the doors, out of sight from their original position.
Telling Corelle to stay put, Eldest had worked around to where she could see them.
“Even then, there was a wagon blocking my view of the cannons themselves, or I would have figged to their plans immediately. When I heard them discussing the grapeshot, I realized it was a trap.” Eldest’s eyes went winter cold. “We’d given you our word not to take them on single-handed, or I would have tried to nail them. It felt wrong to just cut and run.”
Corelle took over the explanation. “They spotted Eldest and started to shoot. I laid down some cover for her, taking out one of the commanders to throw them into confusion. After she was clear, I made myself scarce.”
Eldest put out a hand and squeezed her sister’s shoulder. “You did good.” She turned back to Ren. “I came across the rooftops to warn you. Highness. I wish we could have done more.”
“You saved myself and a goodly number of my women.” Ren said. “Thank you both.”
A soldier appeared at the door with the news that the dead red-hooded thief had been found.
The woman wasn’t lying where she had been hit. A trail of heel marks and blood showed where she had been dragged to a back corner of the mill, beside a trapdoor. The red silk executioner’s hood had been peeled back, revealing a smashed pulp of flesh and bone framed by short gold curls. A fist-sized hole had been punched through her chest, leaving her fine clothes a soggy red mass of cloth. Her silk-lined pockets were turned inside out, coins littering the ground like bright tears.
Eldest shifted the woman onto her side, grunting at the deadweight. A small neat hole marked the entrance of the bullet that had caused the massive chest wound. “She was shot in the back, then in the face.”
“I hit her in the back,” Corelle said, and then added defensively, “She was facing away from me, shooting at Eldest.”
“You did right,” Raven murmured.
“She was shot in the face so she couldn’t be recognized,” Ren growled. “Her sister searched her pockets, left the money, but took anything that would reveal her identity.”
Eldest examined the trapdoor, then, satisfied that it was safe, flipped it up. A short drop into gurgling darkness. “Access to the river.”
“So it’s a dead end,” Corelle grumbled.
“Well, depends.” Eldest shrugged. “A dead sister is something. We hurt them, if nothing else.” Eldest glanced at Ren. “How long do you think a noble family could disguise the fact they’re down by one?”
“Forever,” Ren muttered, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Most families have shipping interests. They could say their missing sister is taking a prolonged trip until she’s lost at sea.”
Chapter 10
It had been a fine morning for Jerin, one with the dawn sun pouring rich golden light into the yellow silk parlor. A youngest Barnes brought a tray of hot melted chocolate, triangles of toasted bread anointed with fresh butter and little cups of fruit jams, and the promise of another bath. Jerin rose from his feathered bed with silk-soft sheets, sat in the sunshine, ate of a breakfast he hadn’t prepared, and felt royally pampered.
Did nobles live every day of their life like this? Did they wake like him, reveling in the comfort? Did it fade in time? Perhaps, he considered, if they lived their whole life this way, they couldn’t find the same level of pleasure in it. Surely you had to get up at dawn and cook for forty people to realize the luxury of having the food brought to you.
Barnes came to the door then, saying Princess Renn-sellaer wished an audience with Eldest Whistler.
Eldest returned a short time later for Corelle, saying that they were riding out with Ren. Summer followed them out into the hall for a short murmured conversation about their plans.
Jerin had raised a cup to his mouth, unconcerned, when thoughts came together in his mind. The royal summons. The cannon thieves leaving a trail of dead behind them. His sister suddenly keeping things from him.
A cloud passed in front of the sun, and he lowered the teacup as the shadow slid over him.
Summer came in quietly, avoiding his eyes.
“Where are they going?” Jerin put the cup down harder than he intended.
‘’Just out for a ride. Princess Rennsellaer thought they would enjoy a ride,“ Summer said too lightly, too quickly. ”The tailors will be here shortly.“
Summer was a terrible liar. Jerin wished, for once, she was better at it. Since she had obviously been instructed not to tell him, it would have been more comforting if he had been able to believe her.
The tailors arrived. While they pinned and poked, Summer stood at the window, looking out over the city. Shortly before lunch, there was an odd double clap of thunder.
“Is it going to rain?” the eldest tailor asked, frowning in concern at the window, where clouds raced on the wind.
Summer turned toward her, an odd expression on her face. “Perhaps.”
“I hope not. Rain would ruin this fabric,” the tailor muttered around a mouth of silver pins.
Thunder or cannons? Jerin stepped off the fitting stool and toward the window, only to be stabbed by a thousand tiny sharp prickles as the tailor cried out in shrill dismay.
“No, no, no!” The tailor pushed him back, losing her mouth of pins. “Stay put! This fabric costs a fortune, so we must be right the first time.”
“A fortune?” He froze in place, his voice breaking in nervousness. He lifted an arm draped with the flimsy, shimmering cobalt blue fabric. It was like being wrapped in cool air and nothing else.
“A crown a yard.” She gathered up the dropped pins, tucking them between her lips again. “Now,” she murmured, “stand still.”
Summer paced for the rest of the fitting session, stopping often to look out over the city. When the tailors finished, she impatiently herded them out.
“What is it?” Finally free, Jerin hurried to the window. All of the city was laid out below them, running to the river, an endless jumble of buildings cut by streets seething with people. “Was it the cannons? What did you see?”
“Nothing,” Summer said, pulling on her coat.
“Where are you going? What did you see?”
“Nothing, Jerin, just nothing. I’m going out. I’ll be back shortly. You lock the door after me and let no one in, understand? No one.”
“What do I do if someone tries to break in?”
“Ring for help.” Summer opened the door.
“What if one of the Barneses is the one trying to break in?”
Summer stopped with a cry of anger and frustration. “Barnes isn’t going to break in! They’re the Queens’ most trusted servants. Just lock the door and ring if there’s trouble!”
Summer fled. Jerin threw the bolt with trembling hands and went back to stare down at the city. What had happened? What had Summer seen? He scanned the city, still unable to pick out what had set his sister racing out of the room. Frowning, he tried a more methodical search, slowly examining the city block by block, moving east to
