Caim wrapped the blanket around his waist and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He thought better on his feet. He exhaled slowly as tiny slivers of agony crawled under his skin. Josey started to get up, but he waved her away. Using the bedpost for support, he managed to stand up on his own. The first step was uncomfortable, but it got easier after that. Kit hovered at his side. Whatever she had done to his ankle, it felt a world better.
As Caim shuffled across the small room, he tried to think of other avenues of information he could pursue. When he reached the wall, he turned back. 'Did your father have a mistress?'
'Of course not!'
He grimaced as another jolt of pain rippled through his side. 'Forgive me. I'm trying to find loose ends.'
'What?'
'People who may have been involved with your father. Associates, business partners, lovers. People who had a vested interest in his survival, or his death. Most assassinations are arranged by close relatives.'
'That's atrocious!'
'That's human nature.'
'Well, it's disgusting. I-' Josey looked at the floor.
Caim halted and watched the play of thoughts across her face. 'What is it?'
'The day my father died he was talking with a man, someone I'd never seen before. I didn't think much about it at the time. My father had many well-wishers. But there was something odd about the conversation.'
'What?'
Her shoulders fell as she leaned back in the chair. 'I don't know. I just got the feeling they didn't want anyone to overhear what they were saying. My father was never a secretive man. He told me everything.'
'Except that.'
'Yes. It bothered me at the time, but I forgot about it in the heat of our argument. When I found you in his bedchamber that night, I was coming to convince him not to send me away.'
He felt the urge to touch her, perhaps brush the strands of hair from her face, but he suppressed it. 'Was there anything odd about this man? A feature you'd recognize again. The way that he spoke-'
'Keys.' She looked up. 'He had a pair of keys stitched on his breast, crossed like a pair of swords.'
'Does that symbol mean anything to you?'
'No.' She slumped back in the chair.
He scratched his bristly chin. 'Me neither.'
'This is pointless,' Kit complained. 'She doesn't know anything, Caim.'
He shushed her and got an odd look from Josey. Then, a sudden inspiration made him smile. He headed toward the pile of his clothes on the dresser. 'But I think I know someone who can help us.'
'Wait a minute!' Kit jumped up to bar his way. When he passed right through her, she spun around and floated past his head. 'Enough is enough, Caim. You've done your civic duty. You rescued the wench and gotten yourself shot in the process. Now let's do the smart thing and get out of this place. East, west, across the sea-I don't care which direction as long as it's away from here!'
'I can't,' he replied.
'What?' Josey asked.
'Nothing. Listen, I'm going to go meet this person. I want you to stay here. And don't leave this room.'
'You're crazy!' Kit said.
'I'm not staying here,' Josey replied.
'Be quiet!' he shouted. To Josey, he said, 'It isn't safe on the streets. You'll be better off here.'
Kit crossed her arms across her chest. 'Since when did you start caring about other people, Caim?'
He almost choked when Josey adopted an identical posture. 'It's my life,' she said. 'You're not my father. You have no right to tell me what to do.'
Caim sighed. This wasn't fair. No man should have to put up with this much harassment.
'Fine,' he said. 'But you can't go out like that.'
Josey lifted the skirt of her borrowed dress. 'What's wrong with this?'
'Oh, the dress is fine.' He winked at Kit as he put on his pants and the figments of a plan coalesced in his head. 'But the look's not complete yet.'
Savoring the confusion on their faces, he hobbled over to the door and called for the lady of the house.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
tep, clack, slide.
Caim kept his head down as he shuffled through the door to the Blue Vine. A grimy, rust-colored robe covered his leathers, compliments of Madam Sanya, who had closets full of clothes left behind by old clients. The robe's deep hood concealed his face. A cane, gnarled and fireblackened, completed the ensemble.
Step, clack, slide.
He winced as he stepped into the wineshop's cool interior. His side pained him, but by leaning on the cane and dragging his right foot he could get around reasonably well, and the limp made his mendicant act all the more convincing. He just hoped he wouldn't have to leave in a hurry like last time.
The disguise had been his idea, but in truth he'd had little choice in the matter. Kit and Josey both agreed he shouldn't leave the brothel room without one. They argued that he wasn't up for fighting if it came to that, and he didn't disagree. Of course, his knives rested against his back under the heavy robe just in case.
His disguise, while serving admirably in the streets, was severely out of place in the Vine. As soon as Mistress Henninger noticed him, she rushed over with a look of alarm.
'Out you! There'll be no begging in here. Come round back later on and Cook will see if we have any scraps for you.'
Caim winked from under the hood. 'Relax, Mother. It's me.'
She sucked in a deep breath, which threatened to burst her bodice. Thankfully, she kept her voice down. 'Caim? You in trouble, sweetling?'
'Nothing I can't handle. Got a table for an old friend?'
'An old friend, eh? Of course.'
Caim looked around as he followed the wine mistress. Nothing had changed in the Vine. He had half expected to see the place in shambles after his last visit, but whatever he released from the shadows hadn't caused as much damage as he feared. Except for some new holes in the grimy wattle, the place looked the same as ever.
Then he noticed the empty tables. It was past midday, a time when the Vine would normally be filling up. Yet there were only a handful of patrons scattered through the common room. Caim hid a grimace of discomfort as he slid into a hard wooden chair.
'Some wine?' Mother asked. 'I got a good Calamian in stock this week.'
'Just a small beer. And Mother?'
'Yes?'
'Don't hassle the chit in the red dress.'
'What?'
Caim nodded in the direction of the front door, where Josey stood. With shutters over the windows and smoky hanging lamps, the Vine was kept dim. Everyone who entered paused for a moment on the stoop to let their eyes adjust. It was an effective way to size up newcomers, which was one of the reasons Caim liked the place. That, and Mother never watered down the drinks.
As he'd said at Madam Sanya's, the dress hadn't been enough of a disguise, but now even her own father, had he been alive, wouldn't recognize her. Her jet black locks had been dyed with henna and chamomile. The resulting hue was a peculiar shade of reddish gold that was actually rather fetching. The whole coiffure had been pulled up into a gravity-defying design that drew eyes away from her face, the only change to which was a sassy beauty mark nestled in her left dimple.
'As you say, sweetling,' Mother said as she eyed Josey. 'I'll just go fetch your beer.'
While Mistress Henninger waddled off to the bar, Caim watched Josey survey the room. Kira and Madam
