Dark Gods Rising (12 page)

“Morthanhi but I can find my own job.” Anithia whirled about and dove into the foot traffic, leaving Simta stunned, alone, and uncomfortably wet.

* * * *

Simta fumed for the next several days. How was she to keep an eye on the woman if Anithia wanted nothing to do with her? When Calto returned from Grace would he shun her again once he realized she had failed? She had to find another way to get to Anithia. She refused to be Charmaine’s wife, and she truly desired to get out of her father’s house. Although serving Trelsar for a year had been a pain in her ass, living in his temple had felt almost like a reprieve. Returning home felt like being dumped in the sewers.

Flopping into her chair, she picked up her fork and pushed her roasted arvid around on her plate. She wore the pink satin dress Calto had sent over earlier in the week. It was lovely, of course. Bows, ribbons, beads, but she wanted more. Simta wanted much more. She wanted marriage to someone not repulsive, with family, and respectability. At least she thought she wanted these things. Since she could not be what she truly wished, carefree and independent, the only other option was marriage
even if she and her eventual husband shared nothing but mutual lust.

“Lady Morthanhi,” Nita interrupted. Simta looked at her youngest servant. “I hate to bother you, but a beggar woman named Anithia is here to see you. This is the second time she’s come. She says she knows you.” Nita chuckled. “I just can’t imagine.”

Simta flew from her chair. She shoved her servant to the side and dashed from her sitting room.

“Damn shoes!” Simta tried to take the stairs two at a time but only succeeded in stumbling down the steps. When she reached the grand hallway, she panted. More than a year of relative inactivity had stolen her conditioning.

Anithia waited nervously by the door. Lark, the footman, eyed her suspiciously, his hand on his dagger.

“Lady Morthanhi.” Anithia gave her a tight smile, her eyes darting nervously to the footman.

The footman growled. “You curtsy to your betters or I’ll have an ear.”

Simta rolled her eyes. Lark was her father’s lackey and a general pain in her ass. During the last several years he had gloried in snitching on her for everything. He considered it payback for her fucking and then dumping him three years earlier, but what did he expect? It wasn’t her fault she quickly grew bored with a mere servant’s attentions. Besides, Lark had absolutely no imagination in bed. He was a nice enough man before their disagreement and good looking, but again, he wasn’t very good at
business
.

“Lark, behave. Lady Morlon. Please come upstairs to my chambers where we can talk privately.” Simta glared at Lark before extending her hand to Anithia.

Anithia hesitated. “My daughter is with me. Do you mind children?”

Simta looked around the entryway. She saw no child.

“She’s outside,” Anithia explained. “They wouldn’t let her in.”

Simta glared at Lark. “You idiot! The dogs are loose, and you left her child unattended. If the girl has left the walkway or stuck her hand through the fence— well don’t just stand there. Let her in.”

Lark hesitated for a moment, uneasy. “I— she don’t— I mean— the little girl is—”

Growling, Simta stomped to the door and flung it open.

A near perfect likeness of Anithia sat smiling on the bottom step. She held a stick high in the air above her. The dogs which guarded the grounds, the same
mean spirited, ill tempered, bite your face off if you left the pathway and went through or over the fence
dogs, sat mere inches from the child, wagging their tails, tongues lolling to the side. Ten feet down the path, the fence gate stood open.

“Good doggies. Go fetch the stick again.” The child threw the stick. Five eager, happy dogs, took off after it.

The little girl looked up. “Hi, pretty lady. Wanna play with me and the puppies?”

Simta stood, eyes wide and mouth open.

“Something ain’t right with the child.” Lark muttered darkly behind her.

Simta swallowed. “Uh, little girl, come inside with me. Please.”

The girl cocked her head, curious blue eyes shining up at her. “Are you the nice lady with the job?”

The dogs came galloping back to the steps. One held a stick. Simta took a step back. Even though she had known them all their lives, these animals were not safe. Looking at her, one growled.

“Yes, yes I am. Come inside, dear.”

The girl turned back to the dogs. She stood up. “Sorry. I have to go now, but we’ll play again sometime.”

The dogs whimpered. The biggest flopped on the ground, whining.

“Oh, it’s okay.” Reaching down, the girl petted each dog in turn. They licked and nuzzled her hand. “We can play and talk again later. I promise. Now go back to your side of the fence and shut the gate.”

Simta’s head spun. Her stomach lurched as the dogs obeyed. Sweet goddess. This child was either touched or insane.

The girl walked up the steps and curtsied. “Pleasure to meet you, Lady Morthanhi. My name is Missa Markie Morlon.”

Petite, fair, and blond, just like her mother, she reminded Simta of an earthly angel. Even the afternoon sun seemed to be drawn to her, forming a golden nimbus about her head.

“Everything okay?” Anithia slipped around Simta. She held her hand out to her daughter. “She likes animals. They like her.”

Smiling, Missa took her mother’s hand. “The puppies don’t like it when you sneak out at night. They worry about you and get angry ‘cause they can’t protect you when you leave.”

Simta took a deep breath.

“See what I mean?” Lark whispered in her ear. “She just
ain’t
right.”

Anithia fidgeted. She glanced at Lark, then back to Simta. “You do still have a job for me? Yes?”

* * * *

Simta had fulfilled her end of the bargain. Anithia was her new lady-in-waiting, but that came at a cost. Simta’s purse was becoming a thing of air, for little else occupied its innards. She would have to do something soon. Even as much as Ani liked her job, she couldn’t feed her child if Simta could pay only with good intentions. Calto hadn’t given Simta any additional provisions to cover costs. He had left for Grace shortly after asking Simta to watch Ani. Apparently Queen Elise had summoned him. The only additional thing he sent Simta besides the dress was a velvet and emerald choker which she had not taken off since.

Pretty enough, but not a promise.

She studied Anithia as the woman bustled about the bed chamber. Simta couldn’t understand why Calto didn’t want such a comely woman in his house. Ani’s long blond tresses, falling to a slender waist, were tied back in a dark-green silk ribbon. Her vibrant blue eyes reminded Simta of deep ocean waters, and when Anithia managed to smile, it was a thing of pure joy, full mouthed and inviting, lighting up her whole face. However, those smiles were rare. Ani’s almost perpetual sorrow was the only detractor from her beauty.

As if she could feel Simta’s regard, Ani turned toward her employer. “Thank you again for giving me a job, Lady Morthanhi, and the dress is much appreciated, too.”

“You’re welcome, Anithia.”

And let’s hope I can keep you employed. Let’s hope after tonight I won’t have to worry for a while.

“Anithia?” she asked, working on a question.

“Please, Lady Morthanhi, call me Ani.”

Simta smoothed the dark green satin of her dress and smiled. She truly liked the woman. Even Ani’s odd child, once she became used to the girl’s strange shifts in mood, was joyful to be around.

“Tonight I need you to stay here and do me a favor.”

“Of course. What can I do for you?”

“Sleep in my bed.”

Ani’s mouth dropped open. “I beg your pardon, but I’m not that kind of woman.”

Simta tilted her head to the side. “Pardon?”

“I don’t sleep with other woman. I like men.”

Throwing her head back, Simta laughed. “Oh my, Ani. No, no, I assure you I like men, too. I just need you to lie in my bed so Lark doesn’t know I’m not in it.”

“Why won’t you be in it?” Ani studied her, eyes narrow with suspicion.

Simta thought for a moment. She couldn’t tell Ani the truth, but what falsehood should she give her?

“It’s private.” Winking, Simta gave her a secretive smile. “I did tell you I like men.”

Ani blushed and nodded. “Oh, I see. Well sure, but promise you won’t get into any trouble.”

Simta nodded. “No trouble. I’ll be just fine.”

“Oh, but what about Missa? I can’t leave her home alone, not in the Downs.” Ani’s face became drawn. “Forgive me, you’ve been most kind, but Missa is my life. If anything were to happen to her—”

“Of course, she can stay with you. My cousin Tildy often sneaks into my room to cuddle. It will be no different.”

“All right then. I’ll come back at eight bells, just before dusk.”

Simta smiled. Yes, things would be just fine as soon as she made one last midnight raid.

* * * *

The night wind was soft and soothing against Simta’s mud darkened skin, placing a much needed balm upon nerves shredded by Charmaine. Simta made a mental note to punch the bastard when she saw him again. The stupid lout had come in yapping to her about another law he had added to his wifely duties list. Something about her washing his feet and rubbing his back until he fell asleep every Wednesday night. The man was a charlatan, a chauvinistic pig. Maybe he should get a nanny to care for his needs. Wifely duties! What a bunch of hogwash. She couldn’t imagine any woman putting up with his nonsense.

It felt strange, this breaking of her long hiatus from crime, but it was just one last job. One job was all it would take to earn her freedom. Once it was done, she would retake her vow of repentance and truly be finished with her days of ill repute. Hopefully, Calto would not learn of this. He would never consider courting her if he did. Still, if Simta didn’t keep Ani in her sights, Calto would dismiss her as well. This had to work. The thought of being stuck with Charmaine for the rest of her life made her want to drown herself in a vat of Carrid Brewer’s piss-brewed ale at the Hellhole Tavern.

Charmaine’s visit was not the only delay.

It took forever to get out of the house. Lark had been suspicious or possibly just trying to get one last peek at her naked. He hung about her door until Ani put out the room’s light. When Simta came out of hiding, her next problem had been the dogs. They kept barking and yipping at their gate. Thankfully, Missa snuck down to play with them. The girl seemed even more odd than usual, saying things to unnerve Simta, almost as if the child knew what she was about to do. That was ridicules. Wasn’t it?

Those were thoughts for later, as was Simta’s curiosity about the child. For now, she was dressed in browns and blacks while hugging an alley wall. Her toolkit, as well as a hand of glory Malaria had once given her, were strapped tightly about her waist. She was armed only with her two wrist knives and a dagger strapped to her calf. Simta was as prepared as she could be. If all went well this theft would set both her and Selnac up for years. Well, maybe not Selnac. He would more than likely give his share to Mother Brood. Simta chortled inside. Who was she to scorn Selnac’s generosity? She would be giving a good share of her money to Ani and Missa. Worth it if they freed her from Charmaine.

Over the past three weeks she and Anithia had become friends. Ani was such a bright, charming young woman. Simta easily understood why Larson had fallen in love with her. How could a man not become besotted with such a comely, well-mannered girl?

“Simta?” The shadow next to her moved closer. “Are you sure the roof will support you?”

Simta sighed. “Yes, Selnac. For the hundredth time I will not fall through the roof. Please remember, we’ve burgled this place before.”

Selnac slipped back into the shadows. “I’ve heard bad things about this place of late. I wish you wouldn’t go in.”

Simta frowned. Now was not the time to get cold feet. “Look, you and I both need this hit. I’m only going back on my vow this once, and then I’m through with the life. I owe you, and I owe Ani.” And the gods only knew it was about time she did something good with her skills.

“It’s not the same owner. There’ve been rumors.”

Simta stood in preparation of throwing the hook and rope over the roof’s edge. “Stop worrying, mother hen. This street is normally quiet, and the hellborn have been thin lately. I’m going in. Be ready at the back door. Rap loudly if anyone comes around.”

“But—”

With a practiced heave, Simta threw her grapple to the rooftop and tugged at it carefully until the hook lodged itself on the roof’s edge. She jerked once to test its hold, jerked again, and then up she flew to the roof. Like a cat stalking its prey, Simta slinked along the rooftop to the chimney. Tying off her rope around its base, careful not to dislodge any of the bricks, she lowered herself in.

As expected, the chimney was cold. Most business fireplaces were only ever used in the winter to warm the shop and sometimes to warm a midday meal and some tea. The merchant who owned this shop lived uptown in a large manor overlooking the port.

Something stirred below her. It growled, and Simta smiled as she pulled several chunks of drugged arvid meat from her bag and let them fall. Large, dark, gangly heads snapped and tore at the meat, devouring it in moments. The beasts growled and barked at one another while trying to grab the last bite.

Come on you stupid damn beasts
, Simta silently cursed.
Fall over. Sleep. Good gods and two— go hump each other for all I care, just get out of my way
. Simta’s back and feet ached as she pressed against the chimney wall. She was out of shape for this sort of life. The drug should have taken effect almost immediately. What was taking so long?

Eventually, soft snores and snuffles drifted up the flue. Simta let the rope drop the rest of the way to the bottom. It made a soft thud. As she wiggled and inched her way down the rope, she thought to herself more than once that she needed to lose some weight. Either the chimney had shrunk in the last year or her lard ass needed more exercise.

Simta dropped the last few feet, scraping both her butt and her pride. She landed in a crouch, ready for anything. That is
almost
anything.

The dogs had fallen asleep on the hearth, not a foot away from her. Unbelieving, she stared at the massive mound of flesh. One stumble, one hiccup, and she would fall on them.