Gabby skipped into the kitchen, bundled in an official white and green community center uniform, and plopped into a chair next to Lapis as she gratefully sucked down the steaming cup of tea that accompanied her generous rice and meat meal. Why did so many rooms in the House refuse to retain the heat the fireplaces busily pumped out? It fled through the walls and warmed the snow instead.
“Hi, Selda! I hope cooking’s going good today.” The rat withdrew a sealed green envelope from her courier bag and slid it over the tabletop. “This is from Sir—Lord Armarandos,” she said helpfully.
The green wax had a chunky circle with his initials in the center. Why had Lapis expected something grander? She broke the wax and unfolded the letter.
“He needs to see you,” Gabby supplied. Lapis cocked an eyebrow at her as Selda chuckled.
“No need for correspondence, if you tell them what’s in it,” the cook chided gently. After leaving Baldur and the local rebels, she had settled into the new House with motherly flare, keeping to the kitchen and dispensing food along with advice to those who needed a quick bite before their work. She seemed relieved she no longer had to serve multitudes, just Faelan, his closest advisors, the random rebel, and the stray street rat.
“Did you look?” Lapis asked. Naughty, if so.
“No, I heard him talking about it, though.”
She sighed. “Alright. Patch’s downstairs; let’s get you some bits for delivery.” Gabby grinned; Patch and generosity went hand in hand with the urchins, and she anticipated a nice take. Lapis shoveled the rest of her meal into her mouth, set the dishes near the sink, and left an amused Selda with a wave.
Patch stood outside the workroom with Jhor, discussing something in soft, serious voices. He must have already contacted Faelan and given his report, and Lapis wondered what her brother had to say about the unexpected development. The men glanced at her and she smiled.
“Bits for the hard-working courier,” she said.
Patch dug under the collar of his shirt and pulled out his coin purse, upended it in his palm, and gave Gabby a shell. She smoothed the sunset shimmer underside, then clasped it to her chest.
“I’ve never had a shell that looked so nice before,” she breathed. “They’re usually all grungy from being passed around.”
“A collector will pay more than ten bits for it,” he said. Gabby squeaked, rocked up on her toes, then dropped into straight-backed seriousness.
“I have other deliveries!” she announced and scampered away.
“She’s a courier?” Jhor asked, amused, as she clomped up the stairs.
“For the new community centers,” Lapis told him. “Adrastos is teaching her the ways of knighthood, in a roundabout manner.”
“Too bad there isn’t much of a guard left for her to join.”
“True, but I think the community centers are a superior alternative.” She made a face. “You didn’t have to weasel your pay from a leering asshole who wanted you to do something nice for him or he would keep it for himself.” She did not miss those times, those guards, or the greasy feeling when she abandoned her compensation to them. Of necessity, she quickly learned which guard Houses were safe for women chasers to turn in their stakes.
Patch’s eye drifted to the envelope she held; she gave it to him, and he scanned the contents. “Cryptic,” he said. “We can hire a ride to the estate. I should visit my aunt, anyway. She’ll be biting shells to know what’s going on.”
“I should get back to work,” Jhor said with a sigh. “The heads aren’t going to study themselves.” His voice dropped, and he leaned closer to her. “Signs in Sanna and Path’s scans indicate two functioning khentauree were beheaded.”
Heat drained from her face as she blinked back a spate of tears. “No.”
“Where the rest of the chassis are is anyone’s guess. The body parts you rescued don’t have the same chemical composition as the heads, so unless they were replacements, they aren’t from the same khentauree.”
“I’ll find out where they’re coming from,” Patch promised. “I have connections that will be relieved to finally get my payment out of the way.”
“Good.” Jhor’s firm anger did not bode well for the opportunists who thought a mechanical being nothing more than an undermarket commodity. Lapis pressed her fist into her gut, helpless hate for Diros swelling. She would bring that ass down, for all the pain he caused to everyone he touched.
Patch slipped his arm around her waist, his unemotional mask cracked by the glint of rage in his eye. Yes, she would bring that ass down, unless her partner got to him first.
So much to do—find this Brenner shank Nolin had chased, have Patch’s contacts supply their help, guide Faelan’s representative to the Jils—but instead, she sat on a plush couch with Patch, in a warm sitting room, across from Armarandos and Kalliope, sipping delicious winterberry tea and delighting in Lady Thais’s sarcasm as she asked her nephew uncomfortable questions about their exploits in Abastion.
While Gall had taken his title, Armarandos carried himself with the same aplomb he had as a knight. Forthright and constant, if more relaxed. Considering what he dealt with when he led the city guard, Lapis understood his previous tenseness, and she hoped, despite the stress of establishing the community centers, he enjoyed some peace now that he was a leader outside it.
He might already have; while he kept his signature mustache, no styling product slicked his bangs back from his face. He wore his hair longer than she remembered, and she liked the implied, laid-back attitude.
“I’m happy you returned, hale and whole,” Armarandos said, when the pink in Patch’s cheeks dipped into bright red. “Considering what’s happening in Dentheria right now, I’d almost call it a miracle.”
“Adrastos has all the modern comforts,” Lady Thais intimated. “I can watch dramas from Dentheria and Pelthine on his screen. Interesting, if unbelievable, those historical ones. And they pale to the even more unbelievable history unfolding before our eyes.”
Kalliope nodded, then smoothed her dark gold tresses behind her ears when the movement dislodged them. “I never would have thought, such terrible things would happen. The skyshrouds crashing was bad enough, but the new high counselor . . .” She trailed off and pursed her lips together, anger turning her eyes a hard bronze. “The news this morning said the Lords’ and the Second counselors who refused to support him have disappeared, though they didn’t provide names, and an organic protest formed outside the Councils’ Building in response.”
Lapis winced. Had Lord Aventen disappeared? Poor Kathandra and Amarie! They must be worried sick.
“He’s as wed to power as he is to ignoring the vassal kings,” Armarandos said. “I don’t think he realizes he won’t have an empire to plunder if he withdraws support from them, but it appears he halted the monetary and tech aid vassal governments received. Gall’s most stalwart supporters haven’t been silent in their resentment his son wasn’t able to secure further assistance.”
“That won’t replenish depleting aquatheerdaal reserves,” Patch said. “It’s good for us, he doesn’t realize rebels and syndicates see this as an opportunity to throw Dentheria into the ocean and hope it drowns.”
“It is,” Kalliope agreed, then huffed a nasty, dismayed laugh. “Not that Makethryn was a spectacular leader, but she never killed her adversaries, and that’s sent a shock through Dentheria. The people expect a more genteel government so they can proudly proclaim the lie that vassal states are better off under their guidance and protection. Celem’s yanked that lie away and I think he’s underestimating the fury that will follow.”
“But that is not why I asked you to visit,” Armarandos said into the sudden, dark pall. “My father’s been advising Faelan and not just nosing about because he’s bored—”
Lady Thais snorted her opinion on that.
“—so he knew you had gone to retrieve the khentauree head from Diros. That is why I asked you here. More strange tech has made its way into Jiy, and I am suspicious of its origin.”
Lapis curled her hands in her lap. Was the trade in khentauree parts larger than they suspected?
“I was at the undermarket today, speaking with Sewri about some illicit goods that concerned him. A new merchant has set up shop, and he’s selling tech—but not the kind the undermarket’s accustomed to. Not the expensive but odd gadgets, or the red waste-of-power weapons. These look like a handheld tech light, with a silver cap on the front instead of glass and a mess of wires and metal shoved into the handle. The cap and handle are taped together, an attempt, I’m sure, to make them seem like just another strange device. Sewri said the shank demonstrated the thing a few days ago; he pointed it at the target and pressed a button to trigger a cyan beam. If the beam struck something flammable, it set it on fire. Otherwise, it left burn marks. The merchant promised it does more, but the buyers must speak with him privately about the extras and Sewri didn’t take him up on the offer.”
Lapis’s thoughts raced about. Silver cap? Cyan beam?
Patch narrowed his eye. “Did you get to play with one?” he asked.
“In a sense. Sewri bought one—he paid five metgal for it, too, which stresses how worried he is—and took it apart.”
Lapis choked. Five metgal? Where did the underground stake keeper get those kinds of funds? That sum may not make a wealthy family like Armarandos’s blink, but an undermarket shank?
“It didn’t work once he put it back together. We thought it best that I didn’t stop by the stall; that might have scared the merchant off. But a chaser of your caliber? Or a colleague, saying Sewri thought you should take a look? He’d be quick to sell you one, hoping to advertise his products using your reputation.”
Lapis’s skin chilled, and she stroked her throat, swallowing. No. No. If shanks cut heads off working khentauree, and a silver cap had a cyan beam coming from it . . .
“Are you alright?”
Lady Thais did not have to draw attention to her difficulties. She shook her head but realized the three would not take that as an explanation. “The khentauree parts we recovered? Two were beheaded while still functioning. And what you described—it sounds like the khentauree beam that comes out of their foreheads.” She traced a circle above the bridge of her nose. “If the cover was silver, whoever made them might have—”
“We don’t know that,” Patch said sternly, setting his hand on her leg. “Not yet. I’ll go look and take it from there.”
“You need someone with you.” As much as she trusted Patch, she feared their enemies more.
“Yeah, I’ll take backup. Brander or Dagby. Or both.”
“Take both.”
Gasps for breath came from the hallway before Gabby swept into the room, the doorman shaking his head at her antics. Armarandos nodded at him, then focused on the rat. She waved her hand and bent over her knees, as stressed as Lapis had seen her.
“We have trouble at the Eaves,” she panted. Had she run the entire way? Lapis rose, frowning, a gut punch of worry blasting through her. Had a shank finally taken revenge on the rats because of her?
“What happened?”
“Lady Maurojay showed up with her husband and her grandson! Lyet recognized her from Fools and Ghouls, and Dachs took them upstairs to his suite. They said they escaped Dentheria! Rin told me to find you, and I figured you’d be here.”
“Shit!” Kalliope leapt to her feet. “We need to go get them!” She hustled past Gabby and called for the footman.
“We can provide a saferoom here,” Armarandos agreed, rising, a deep frown causing his eyebrows to jut to the bridge of his nose. “My father’s increased our private guard and outfitted them with some non-standard issue tech that will frighten the most confident syndicate shank into submission.” He half-laughed. “Sils is quite the busy modder.”
Modded tech meant nothing, if Dentherion chasers found the three hiding at the Eaves first.
“Be careful,” Lady Thais cautioned, her face pert in worry. Patch smiled and kissed her cheek.
“I’ve survived worse,” he reminded her before they followed Armarandos out of the room.
