“It better,” Miranda said, rubbing her tired eyes. “I’m all out of cards, otherwise.”
“I applaud the effort, in any case,” Lelbon said. “What is the minimum you need to convince your Court?”
Miranda took a deep breath. “I can start with proof that stars are vanishing, and that it’s a problem, but that’s just the beginning. To really show that this is a true emergency, I have to show the scope of what we’re dealing with. I’ll need to know how many stars there are, where they are, and how many are missing, all before tomorrow. You’ve already made it clear that Illir can’t give me this information. If you can’t tell me, either, then please forgive my rudeness, but I don’t have any more time to chat.”
“A fair assessment,” Lelbon said. “I’m afraid I cannot give you the information you seek, Rector Lyonette. At this point, I think you can name more stars than I.”
Miranda fell back in her chair. She’d been so sure that would work, that the old windbag would drop the act and just tell her if she pressed directly. But before she could fall completely into despair, she realized Lelbon was still talking.
“What?”
“I said there are other ways to find what you’re looking for,” Lelbon repeated. “Ways that are beneath the Shepherdess’s notice.”
Miranda wanted to throw up her hands. “Why didn’t you just say that earlier?”
“You’re not the only one with a duty to fulfill,” Lelbon said. “I was sent to give you my advice and experience as well as to answer my master’s debt. Whether you use them, however, is up to you.”
Miranda sighed. “Right. So what’s the trick, then?”
“You’ll see,” he said, standing up. “Shall we be off? You did say you had no time to spare.”
Miranda blinked at the sudden change. “Where are we going?”
“Not far,” Lelbon said. “You will need a nondescript conveyance and some money.”
“Money?” Miranda froze halfway out of her chair. “How much money?”
“A great deal, I’d imagine,” Lelbon said. “Brokers aren’t known for giving discounts.”
“You’re taking me to see a broker?” Miranda was almost shouting now. She couldn’t help it; this was too absurd even for her. “Brokers are for finding stolen goods and spreading gossip. How is a broker going to know about stars?”
“Miss Lyonette,” Lelbon said with a long sigh, “if I didn’t think this was worth your time, I wouldn’t have suggested it. Now, are you coming, or should I leave?”
Miranda took a deep, calming breath. “Let me ask Krigel how much we have on hand. If you want to wait downstairs, I’ll meet you there.”
“Very well,” Lelbon said. “I’d bring a hundred gold standards at least. More, if you can manage it. This isn’t an answer they’re going to have on hand, after all.”
“Right,” Miranda grumbled. She walked her guest to the top of the stairs. Once she was out of sight, she walked back into the Rector’s office and began yanking as hard as she could on the rope pull that rang down to Krigel’s desk.
Thirty minutes later, Miranda and Lelbon were in a hired carriage bumping down a steep, uneven backstreet toward the river. Miranda sat sideways on the bench, clutching a large, leather satchel in a white-knuckled grip. Across from her, Lelbon watched with an amused expression. Miranda scowled back and clutched her satchel tighter, wincing at the jingle of coins every time the carriage hit a pothole.
Two hundred and fifty gold standards was all Krigel had been able to pull together on such short notice. Even so, it was way more money than Miranda had ever personally carried, and she was absolutely certain something horrible was going to happen. Not that forking it over to a broker wasn’t horrible enough. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she felt this was a bad idea.
The carriage rocked violently and then creaked to a halt. Miranda peeked out the window. They’d stopped in front of what looked like an abandoned shop. The old building was half stone, half timber, both black with tar and torch smoke, and the whole structure seemed to be leaning backward into the river behind it. She was about to ask why they’d stopped when Lelbon began climbing out of the coach. Miranda’s eyes flicked to the clusters of barge workers and drunks loitering on the docks down the road, and her frown inched lower. She knew she should have brought Gin.
But done was done, so she hefted the strap of the heavy money sack onto her shoulder and followed Lelbon out of the carriage and up the rickety steps to the building’s warped door. Lelbon knocked once and stood back. The door opened a few moments later, and Miranda found herself staring at a short, broad woman in a leather vest and workman’s trousers. She jumped when she saw them, which Miranda considered a natural reaction to opening your door to find a Spiritualist and an old man wearing a bedsheet, but then, to Miranda’s surprise, the woman lowered her eyes respectfully.
“Welcome, Voice of the Wind.”
Lelbon thanked her and stepped inside. Miranda followed hesitantly, clutching her bag as the woman bolted the door behind them. Inside was a narrow waiting room with benches on either side of the door and a potbellied stove in the corner. The tiny space was further crowded by a large desk, which the woman slid herself behind before turning to Lelbon and Miranda.
“What can we do for you, sir?” she said, opening a large, ink-stained ledger. “Have you come to check the accounts?”
“Not today, Emma,” Lelbon said. “I’ve brought you a customer.”
He gave Miranda a little push, sending her stumbling up to the desk. She recovered quickly, pulling herself up to her full height and fixing the woman with her best no-nonsense look. “I understand you answer questions.”
“That we do,” the woman said, giving Miranda a shrewd once-over that was worlds apart from the awed obedience she paid Lelbon. “The price depends on what you want to know. Simple questions are cheap, difficult ones less so.”
“And what if you can’t answer the question?” Miranda said.
The woman turned up her nose with a sniff. “We’re all licensed brokers here with a century of experience between us. Our price is dear, but our service is the best you can receive. There’s no question in the world we can’t answer.”
“I meant no offense,” Miranda said. “I’ve never used a broker before.”
The woman gave her a “well that’s obvious” glare and flipped the ledger around so it was facing Miranda. “Write your question here,” she said, pointing at the top of the page. “After that, we’ll agree on a price, and then we’ll find your answer.”
“What if I have more than one question?” Miranda said, taking a metal quill from the cup at the woman’s elbow and dipping it in the large inkpot.
The woman tapped the empty lines with her fingernail. “Write them all down, one per line, and then we’ll talk.”
Miranda obeyed, scratching her questions onto the paper. When she was finished, the woman flipped the book back around and read out loud.
“ ‘How many stars are there? Where are they located? Which ones are missing?’ ” She glanced at Miranda. “Just those three?”
Miranda blinked. Considering she was asking openly about stars, she’d expected some kind of reaction, but she might have been after the names of the last five merchant princes for all the woman seemed to care. “Yes, that’s it,” she said. “Can you do it?”
The woman didn’t even bother to answer. Instead, she grabbed another sheet of paper and began working out figures. Miranda had no idea where she was pulling the numbers from, but they were growing at an alarming rate. The woman checked her math and then circled the number at the bottom before sliding the paper over to Miranda.
“Three hundred gold standards?” Miranda cried, snatching the paper off the table. “Is that what you normally charge?”
“Hundred gold per question seems a fare rate considering we’re going to be getting answers for the whole Spirit Court,” the woman said, crossing her arms. When she saw Miranda’s startled look, she rolled her eyes. “We’re Zarin brokers, Rector Lyonette, not some small-town operation. It’s our business to know who you are and
