chest. Of course, it had to be Kira. He should have known.
Kira beamed at him as she swept into the room with a wooden tray and set it on the nightstand beside the bed. Caim returned a small smile, not wanting to appear impolite. After all, he and Kira had spent more than one night together in this very room on the few occasions he had felt the need for companionship.
Kira ignored Josey as she stood over him. 'How are you feeling, Caim?'
Josey's mouth tightened in a way that made Caim glad to have his knives close at hand. Kit grinned like a cat with cream on her whiskers as she reclined beside him and watched the exchange.
The door opened again to admit the lady of the house. The panels of her lavender gown were wide to accommodate Madam Sanya's exceedingly ample bosom, which threatened to spill out of the low-plunged collar at any moment. It was widely whispered that she had been a great beauty in her youth, the most sought-after courtesan in Othir. Caim could almost believe it. A striking woman still lurked in the depths of her apple-shaped face, but she had been concealed under too many layers of makeup.
'All right, Kira.' Madam Sanya made with a shooing motion. 'Out now. Leave them to their rest.'
The girl departed, after shooting another heated glance at Caim that earned him further mouth-tightening from Josey.
'I'm sorry about that,' Madam Sanya said. 'That girl can be a proper pain in the backside, but she's popular with the men.'
'No.' Josey came to her feet. 'She's been very generous, as have you all.'
Madam Sanya gave a lovely chuckle that could have come from a much younger and slighter lady. 'It's no problem, darling. Caim is a good friend of the house. We're glad to help.'
Josey leveled a bemused gaze at him. 'Oh? Is he a regular at your establishment?'
Caim cleared his throat, ready to defend his reputation, but Madam Sanya didn't give him the chance. 'Not quite a regular, but he's helped us out of some unpleasant situations. Not every man is a gentleman like Caim. Some have to be convinced to behave themselves, but it's just me and my girls here. I've never kept a bruiser at the door, and I never will if I have my way.'
Arms crossed over her chest, Josey studied him with a mysterious expression like she was weighing him on some invisible scale. He didn't like the look one bit, but naked and abed there wasn't much he could do about it.
'Once,' Madam Sanya continued, 'we had a real hard case in the house, a Hvekish sellsword with more muscles than brains. Well, he hadn't been upstairs with Abilene for more than ten minutes when I hear an awful commotion. He was beating the vinegar out of the girl. Some men are just like that, mean to the core. Anyways, I sent Suri to fetch help, and she came back with Caim just as quick as you please. Without a word, he goes upstairs. We heard a mighty ruckus, but I was too scared to go up and look myself, not till afterward. There was Abilene, all busted up and bleeding like a lamb at market, but alive. The sellsword was stretched out with enough holes in his gullet to sink a man-o'-war. We threw the body out back with the garbage. Since then, everyone knows to keep civil in my house.'
Caim changed the subject. 'What's the latest, Sanya? Anyone looking for us?'
'Well, most tongues are flapping about the murders up in High Town.'
'My father,' Josey said.
Caim saw the pain written on her face and felt a stab of remorse. He hadn't killed her father, but he would have, and the knowledge of that made him feel just as guilty as if he had been the one holding the knife. Not for the first time, he reconsidered the direction his life had taken. Was it too late to give it all up? Would anyone ever see him as anything but a killer? Would he?
'You said murders, Sanya. There's been more than one?'
'Three all told,' the madam replied. 'Two was members of the Elector Council, killed in their own homes and no one's seen nothing. The whole city is buzzing about it. Personally, I think it's one of them southern death-cults at work. Did you hear about how that high priest got his head cut off down in Belastire? And by one of his own servants, mores the worse.'
Belastire? That rang a bell in Calm's head. Someone had mentioned that city to him lately. Then he remembered who-Ral. Rotten bastard, what are you up to?
'I tell you,' Madam Sanya said. 'People are crazy these days, worshipping snakes and cats. Anyway, there's more tinmen on the street than I've seen in twenty years on the Lane. Someone will be hanging in Chirron's Square come sunset, mark my words.'
'You didn't answer my question, Sanya,' Caim said. 'Is anyone looking for us?'
The mistress of the house gazed down into her generous chest. 'Some say it's you behind all those killings, Caim. They say you've gone mad. But I don't believe it. You've been nothing but a gentleman to my girls and me.'
'Thank you,' Caim said. 'For everything.'
This time it was the big woman's turn to blush. She did it with grace and left, closing the door behind her.
'What does it mean?' Josey asked.
'It means someone is making their move.'
'What kind of move?'
Thoughts tumbled around in Calm's head like pieces of a giant puzzle, each obscure on its own, but all of them hinting at a bigger picture. Othir had always been a hotbed of backroom dealings and political intrigue. Unrest had been the watchword since the day the Church deposed the last legitimate emperor and installed itself as the new regime. It was one of the reasons Caim had chosen here for his base of operations. Turmoil was lucrative in his line of business. Now it worked against him. With the rumors flying about, he couldn't go anyplace he was known. Madam Sanya had taken a big chance letting them stay here.
His gaze moved to Josey, seated once more in the ladder-back chair. Her proud features were out of place in the cheap room. He was missing something, some bit of vital information sitting right in front of him.
'Your father. You said he was a governor.'
'The exarch of Navarre, but he retired when I was little and we moved to Othir.'
'My contact told me he was a general responsible for ruthless massacres in Eregoth.'
A look of horror crossed her features. 'My father never harmed anyone.'
'Sure,' Kit murmured. 'I bet her old man was a pussycat. Probably ate like a king while his people starved in the streets.'
Caim shook his head. Kit pouted, but he didn't care. This wasn't the time for a debate on social injustice. He was onto something. He could feel it, like a fish wriggling on the end of a line.
'So he wasn't a military officer?'
'No, he was never in the army. He had a lame foot since childhood.'
Caim considered that. Mathias wasn't one to make careless mistakes. He was purposely misled, and by someone he trusted.
'You think my father's death is connected to these other murders?'
'I don't believe in coincidence. The same person who set me up at your father's house is somehow involved.'
'How does that help us? We can't go to the authorities. The Sacred Brotherhood is trying to kill me, and you're wanted for about a thousand crimes.'
'When was the last time you saw your father alive?'
He instantly regretted his boorishness as bright spots of moisture formed in the corners of her eyes. To her credit, she didn't break down.
'Earlier that day in his study,' she answered. 'We had an argument.'
'About what?'
'He wanted me to leave the city. He said it wasn't safe for me here. He wanted me to take a trip abroad. He said he would send for me when things got better.'
Caim sat up and received a sharp reminder of his condition. He ignored it. He didn't have time to be hurt. 'Did he say who he thought was such a threat?'
'No.' A hint of gold sparkled under Josey's neckline as she ran a hand over her forehead. 'I told you. My father was a well-loved man. We never had trouble like this before.'
