of time as he scribbled notes. A part of him wanted to devise a new system entirely, but he doubted the front-desk clerk would appreciate it.
Whistling pierced his concentration, and he scowled, recognizing the tune-a bawdy ditty about an army officer’s sister-and the whistler.
Maldynado ambled out of a narrow book-stuffed aisle, plopped a brown bag on the desk, and straddled a seat.
Books curled his lip and moved the bag to an out-of-the-way corner. It left a greasy splotch on a centuries- old parchment. He sighed and bent lower over the paper he was studying. Maybe ignoring Maldynado would encourage him to go away.
Maldynado dug a handful of walnuts out of his grocery bag, cracked one open with his teeth, and proceeded to nosh loudly. “Find anything luminous yet, Booksie?”
Books bent his head lower, deepening his can’t-you-see-that-I’m-ignoring-you pose. “No.”
“Want a walnut?”
“No.”
“We can’t eat too many. Basilard is going to use them to prepare a fancy breakfast for Amaranthe’s birthday tomorrow.”
“Her birthday isn’t until next week.”
“She’ll expect something then, but not tomorrow. It’ll be a surprise.”
Books snorted. Maldynado had not even known Amaranthe’s birthday was coming until Books said something.
“Isn’t it Sicarius’s turn to cook tomorrow?” Books asked.
“Oh, no, we are not going to let that happen for a birthday breakfast. And preferably not ever. I can still taste that llama lung and bone marrow surprise he made. The surprise being if it took you more than five minutes to vomit after eating it.”
“I’m sure it was very healthy.” Though Books would not show it, he shuddered inwardly at the memory of the dish too.
“Healthy maybe, edible no. And don’t pretend you didn’t avoid it. All you ate were those raw unflavored parsnips.” Maldynado lifted a hand. “Anyway, we need something good tomorrow. After we serve up a fine breakfast for Amaranthe, it’ll be time to let her know about the date I lined up for her.”
Books lifted his head for the first time. “Date? What date?”
“A man I know. He’s smart and witty, and his father owns The Gazette. Good warrior-caste family. Cute fellow too. If I were a woman, and I couldn’t have me, I’d want him.”
Books rubbed his forehead. “When did she say she wanted you to find her a date?”
“She didn’t.” Maldynado tipped his chair back, balancing it on the rear legs. “She’s too focused. But we know what’s best for her.”
“You and…Basilard?” Books cringed. Why did he have a feeling Amaranthe would not appreciate this meddling? “Did you warn her you were going to… What exactly are you going to do?”
“Just set things up for a little romance. She’s a girl. She needs that sort of thing.”
“I imagine she could find her own romance if she sought it.”
“Of course she seeks it. All girls seek it. Plus, if she had it, she might spend a little less time waking us two hours before dawn for Sicarius’s training sessions and more time blanket wrestling.”
“I see. Your interest in her love life stems from your own laziness.”
“Not entirely.” Maldynado gripped the table for balance and rocked farther back. “She’s a good girl. She should be happy. She spends too much time with Sicarius. How can you be happy with that dour puss in tow? And why’s he always lurking around her, anyway? If you ask me, the whole arrangement is a little-”
A shadow moved behind Maldynado. Sicarius. Surprise jolted Maldynado, and he lost his grip on the table. His chair pitched backward. Sicarius could have caught him, but merely stepped aside to avoid him as he flailed to the ground. Maldynado’s boot struck the table, and walnuts flew, pelting bookcases with resounding cracks.
Maldynado lurched to his feet. “Sicarius! I was just, uhm, how long were you…” He turned to Books and whispered, “How long was he there?”
A smirk wanted to find its way to Books’s lips, but the coldness of Sicarius’s face stole his mirth. Best not to get involved. Or show interest.
Maldynado wilted under Sicarius’s stare. He stepped back to put space between himself and Sicarius, but landed on a walnut. His heel flew out from under him, and he almost ended up on the floor again. He caught the edge of a bookcase and recovered.
“Hard to believe you’re our second best swordsman,” Books said.
Maldynado cleared his throat, picked up the walnut, and offered it to Sicarius. “Hungry?”
Sicarius’s expression did not change. If he blinked, Books did not notice it.
“Er.” Maldynado pocketed the nut. “I’ll just keep it.”
“Akstyr and Amaranthe have gone ahead to the gambling house,” Sicarius told him. “Basilard is on his way to replace you as Books’s guard dog.”
Books might have protested that he did not need a “guard dog,” but he was relieved to have Maldynado replaced. He wondered if Amaranthe had known he would need a break from him by now. He also wondered if she knew he had gone shopping in the middle of his shift.
“Where am I going?” Maldynado asked.
“Amaranthe wants you to acquire a disguise for her, then meet us at the gambling house. She trusts you can get a good price.”
“Does she trust it’ll be in good taste?” Books asked.
Though Sicarius never emoted, he could ooze disapproval with the force of a cannon. Books cleared his throat and fiddled with his pencil.
“She wants me to buy clothes?” Maldynado beamed. “I do believe I know a couple merchants who’d be willing to stay open late for me.”
He grabbed the grocery bag and trotted down the aisle, no doubt eager to leave Sicarius’s presence. Unfortunately, that left Books alone with the man. He waited for Sicarius to ask a question or demand an update. Long moments ticked past, and Books felt like he was being judged for being a part of Maldynado’s dating conversation. He was tempted to defend himself-after all, he hadn’t said anything derogatory-but feared it would make him sound guilty.
“What have you discovered?” Sicarius asked.
It took Books a moment to realize Sicarius meant the real estate research. He wrenched his mind back to the work on the table. “A mess.”
Sicarius folded his arms across his chest.
“I believe I’m in the right area.” Books waved at the scattered texts and papers. “But I’m still looking for a match. It’s definitely a rural property, probably in the mountains, I can tell you that.”
Nearby, boots clacked on the tile floor. A few visitors had come into the vast real estate library that day, but none had made their way back to his remote corner. The clacking boots drew closer, however, and he turned his head toward the noise.
A woman stepped out of the aisle and started at seeing him. She recovered quickly and smiled. Though a few creases framed her lips, and threads of gray wound through her wavy black hair, the smile was pleasant.
Books checked on Sicarius, afraid he would scare her away with his glare. He was gone.
“Hello,” the woman said.
He stood and gave her a bow. “Help you, ma’am?”
She frowned slightly, and he wondered if he’d guessed incorrectly on the title. “My lady” would be appropriate for a warrior caste woman, but she did not wear the expensive-and often obnoxious-trappings of that class. With simple blouse and trousers to match her calf-high boots, the woman seemed someone who preferred the simple to the ostentatious. She was handsome, too, he couldn’t help but notice.
“My father sent me to research some of the family’s property.”
Ah, so she was warrior caste. Books winced at his social flub and searched for a way to correct it. “You seem…mature to be doing errands for your parents, my lady.”
She titled her head. “Did you just call me old?”
