By the time I made up my mind to go, the weather had warmed just enough so that the falling snow had turned to sheets of freezing sleet.
It was a miserable walk to Imre. I didn’t have hat or gloves, and the wind-driven sleet soaked my cloak within five minutes. In ten minutes I was wet through to the skin and wishing I’d waited or spent the money on a carriage. The sleet had melted the snow on the road, and the damp slush was inches thick.
I stopped by the Eolian to warm myself a bit before heading to Devi’s. But the building was locked and lightless for the first time I’d ever seen. Small wonder. What noble would come out in this weather? What musician would expose their instrument to the freezing damp?
So I slogged my way through the deserted streets, eventually coming to the alley behind the butcher’s shop. It was the first time I could remember the stairway not smelling of rancid fat.
I knocked on Devi’s door, alarmed by how numb my hand was. I could barely feel my knuckles hitting the door. I waited for a long moment, then knocked again, worried that she might not be in, and I’d come all this way for nothing.
The door opened just a little. Warm lamplight and a single icy blue eye peered out through the crack. Then the door opened wide.
“Tehlu’s tits and teeth,” Devi said. “What are you doing out in this?”
“I thought—”
“No you didn’t,” she said disparagingly. “Get in here.”
I stepped inside, dripping, the hood of my cloak plastered to my head. She closed the door behind me, then locked and bolted it. Looking around I noticed she’d added a second bookshelf, though it was still mostly bare. I shifted my weight and a great mass of damp slush dislodged itself from my cloak and splattered wetly onto the floor.
Devi gave me a long, dispassionate looking over. I could see a fire crackling in the grate on the other side of the room near her desk, but she made no indication that I should come any farther into the room. So I remained where I was, dripping and shivering.
“You never do things the easy way, do you?” she said.
“There’s an easy way?” I asked.
She didn’t laugh. “If you think showing up here half-frozen and looking like a kicked dog is going to improve my disposition toward you, you’re terribly . . .” She trailed off and looked at me thoughtfully for another long moment. “I’ll be damned,” she said, sounding surprised. “I actually do like seeing you like this. It’s lifting my spirits to an almost irritating degree.”
“It wasn’t really my intention,” I said. “But I’ll take it. Would it help if I caught a terrible cold?”
Devi considered it. “It might,” she admitted. “Penance does involve a certain amount of suffering.”
I nodded, not having to work to look miserable. I dug into my purse with clumsy fingers and brought out a small bronze coin I’d won off Sim playing low-stakes breath several nights ago.
Devi took it. “A penance piece,” she said, unimpressed. “Is this supposed to be symbolic?”
I shrugged, causing more slush to spatter to the floor. “Somewhat,” I said. “I thought of going to a moneychanger and settling my entire debt with you in penance coin.”
“What stopped you?” she asked.
“I realized it would just irritate you,” I said. “And I wasn’t looking forward to paying the moneychanger’s fee.” I fought the urge to looking longingly at the fireplace. “I’ve spent a lot of time trying to think of some gesture that might make a suitable apology to you.”
“You decided it would be best to walk here during the worst weather of the year?”
“I decided it would be best if we talked,” I said. “The weather was just a happy accident.”
Devi scowled and turned toward the fireplace. “Come in then.” She walked over to a chest of drawers near her bed and brought out a thick blue cotton robe. She handed it to me and motioned to a closed door. “Go change out of your wet clothes. Wring them out in the basin or they’ll take forever to dry.”
I did as she said, then brought the clothes out and hung them on the pegs in front of the fire. It felt wonderful to stand so close to the fireplace. In the light of the fire I could see that the skin under my fingernails was actually a little blue.
As much as I wanted to linger and warm myself, I joined Devi at her desk. I noticed that the top of it had been sanded down and revarnished, though it still bore a coal-black ring where the poor-boy had charred the wood.
I felt rather vulnerable sitting there wearing nothing but the robe she’d given me, but there was nothing to be done about it. “After our previous . . . meeting.” I fought to avoid looking at the charred ring on her desk. “You informed me that the full amount of my loan would be due at the end of the term. Are you willing to renegotiate that?”
“Unlikely,” Devi said crisply. “But rest assured that if you are unable to settle accounts in coin, I’m still in the market for certain pieces of information.” She gave a sharp, hungry smile.
I nodded, she still wanted access to the Archives. “I was hoping you might be willing to reconsider, as you now know the whole story,” I said. “Someone was performing malfeasance against me. I needed to know that my blood was safe.”
I gave her a questioning look. Devi shrugged without taking her elbows off the desk, her expression one of vast indifference.
“What’s more,” I said, meeting her eye. “It is entirely possible that my irrational behavior might have been partially due to the lingering effect of an alchemical poison I was subjected to earlier this term.”
Devi’s expression went stiff. “What?”
She hadn’t known then. That was something of a relief. “Ambrose arranged to have me dosed with the plum bob about an hour before my admissions interview,” I said. “And you sold him the formula.”
“You have a lot of gall!” Devi’s pixie face was outraged and indignant, but it wasn’t convincing. She was off balance and trying too hard.
“What I have,” I said calmly, “is the lingering taste of plum and nutmeg in my mouth, and the occasional irrational desire to choke people for doing nothing more offensive than jostling me on the street.”
Her false outrage fell away. “You can’t prove anything,” she said.
“I don’t need to prove anything,” I said. “I have no desire to see you in trouble with the masters or up against the iron law.” I looked at her. “I just thought you might be interested in the fact that I was poisoned.”
Devi sat very still. She fought to maintain her composure, but guilt was creeping onto her expression. “Was it bad?”
“It was,” I said quietly.
Devi looked away and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I didn’t know it was for Ambrose,” she said. “Some rich tosh came around. Made a stunningly good offer. . . .”
She looked back at me. Now that the chilly anger had left her, she looked surprisingly small. “I’d never do business with Ambrose,” she said. “And I didn’t know it was for you. I swear.”
“You knew it was for someone,” I said.
There was a long moment of silence broken only by the occasional crackling of the fire.
“Here’s how I see it,” I said. “Recently, we’ve both done something rather foolish. Something we regret.” I pulled the robe more closely around my shoulders. “And while these two things certainly don’t cancel each other out, it does seem to me that they establish some sort of equilibrium.” I held out my hands like they were the balancing plates on a scale.
Devi gave me a small, embarrassed smile. “Perhaps I was hasty in demanding full repayment.”
I returned the smile and felt myself relax. “How would you feel about sticking to the original terms of our loan?”
“That seems fair.” Devi held out her hand over the desk and I shook it. The last of the tension in the room evaporated and I felt a long-standing piece of worry unknot itself in my chest.
“Your hand is freezing,” Devi said. “Let’s go sit by the fire.”
We relocated ourselves and sat quietly for several minutes.
“Gods below,” Devi said with an explosive sigh. “I was so angry with you.” She shook her head. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been that angry with anyone in my whole life.”
I nodded. “I didn’t really believe you’d stoop to malfeasance,” I said. “I was so sure it couldn’t be you. But
