Beckoning for Boult to follow, he squeezed around the left side of the pile of wreckage, jabbing his sore body several times, and once walking hard into a piece of wood at chest height. He had to stop for a moment, tears springing to his eyes, before he could go on. It had looked much easier in the dry daylight, and the lantern did not help much, illuminating only a tiny section of the heap. Finally, however, he was around, and standing before the door of the tenement, which sagged on leather hinges. He handed the lantern to Boult and pushed at the door, which moved a few inches and then ground to a stop. He could see from the gap between door and jamb that it was neither locked nor barred, so he grabbed at it and shoved up and back. It moved easily, lifted over a pile of unseen rubbish. A single candle flickered high on a wall in the room beyond, casting suggestive shadows over a railless staircase and more rubbish, heaped against the walls like talus at the foot of a cliff.
Not the most likely place to house a mistress, Liam supposed, but convenient to Necquer's warehouse, and well out of the sight of his social peers on the Point.· He only took a few steps into the room, to look up the stairwell. It rose in flights far up the building, to the top floor as far as he could tell. There seemed to be no other entrance to the stairs. Boult prodded at a large, unidentifiable mound with his toe, and muttered, "The Warren," with disgust.
"All right," Liam said in a low tone, "here's what we'll do. We wait outside. When the person we're looking for arrives, you follow them inside, at a decent distance, and .go up the stairs with them. Find out which door they go to, and pass them. As soon as they're in whatever room they're headed for, come back and tell me. Clear?"
"Most obvious, Questor, " the Guardsman said with only the slightest trace of irony, "except, if it please you, how'm I to know who we're looking for?"
Liam grinned, and Boult granted him a small one in return. "I'll let you know when he arrives. Now come on."
Boult shrugged and followed Liam back into the courtyard and beyond the pile. They settled themselves between the wall of the court and the right side of the high tangle of used furniture and rubbish. Liam could see the doorway of the building, and hoped that with the garbage and the rain, they would remain unseen. As a precaution, he took back the lantern and hooded it completely, leaving them in the dark.
They waited interminably, but Boult said nothing, and Liam tried not to allow his high spirits to ebb. It was difficult, with the rain seeping slowly through his cloak, the wet chill setting his bruises to aching, and the mental itch returning to his back. He thought hard on the clue he was about to get, and succeeded at least in pushing the last worry away. There was no reason for anyone to have followed him, or to be spying on him. There was no way for anyone to know how close he hoped he was to catching Tarquin' s murderer. He thought of Marcius, but dismissed the idea. Having delivered his warning, the merchant would surely wait at least a day to see if it was carried out.
So he convinced himself that the suspicion was merely his nerves, and began to tum over his clues again.
Why the second spell? If Tarquin had cast it, it would have meant Necquer' s death; surely his mistress would not want that. But what if she had? Ignoring the why, which he hoped he would understand when he knew who she was, he
focused o the how. She had gone to Tarquin for the spell, but the wizard had not cast it, and Necquer had made it to
port safely. Was that reason enough to kill him? Again, he would know better when he knew who she was.
The waiting dragged on, and several times Liam was sure he heard the bells tolling eight, though he knew hearing them through the rain was impossible. They both shifted their positions several times, trying to minimize the discomfort of rain and projecting garbage. Liam was in the middle of an extensive rearrangement when Boult laid a hand upon his arm and he froze, one leg raised, searching for a secure spot in the unseen mess underfoot. Boult steadied him without a word.
A figure glided out of one of the alleys, shrouded in a voluminous cloak and hood. The woman, Liam knew at once, and squinted at her through the rain, willing her hood to fall away. It did not, and she came on, slipping around the pile like a ghost, mere yards from them. She was shorter than he had imagined her, but the cloak billowed so much that it could easily have hid the prodigious belly he had given her. Only when she had gone through the door did Liam realize she had not carried a lantern, and had negotiated the streets easily in the dark. The idea disturbed him.
Beside him, Boult let out his breath, and Liam did the same, allowing his weight to settle back on both feet with relief.
"That our man?" the Guardsman whispered, touching Liam's arm again for his attention.
"No. Wait."
It did not take as long the second time, and Necquer announced his presence well in advance with the light of a lantern. He came hurrying down the same alley the woman had used, but with none of her weightless grace. They heard a distinct ripping
