Point of Hopes (57 page)

“
Fine,” Rathe said, still
struggling with his anger. It wasn’t so much Mijan he was angry
at—how could she, how could any southriver housekeeper, pass up the
chance to see a kinswoman decently established?—or even Asheri, for
taking a chance, but the astrologers and their respectable-looking
accomplice, for playing on the one source of hope children like her
had. And that must have been how they lured the others away, he
thought. The horoscopes, the questions the children asked, would
have given the astrologers a very good idea of what they would have
to offer to overcome the children’s fears—give them a chance at
their hearts’ desire, and they were young enough to take the
chance, even the cleverest, most wary ones. Like Asheri, he added,
and Mijan reappeared in the doorway, a wooden tablet in her hand.
She gave it to Rathe, who handed it to b’Estorr, trying to ignore
Mijan’s small noise of protest. b’Estorr studied it for a moment,
then reached into his pocket for a flat-form orrery, adjusting the
rings to the appropriate positions. His mouth tightened then, and
he handed the tablet back to Mijan.

“
It fits,” he said. “It fits, Nico.
She has the key stars, she’s perfect for their
operation.”

“
What?” Mijan cried, and Rathe took
her by the shoulders, gently now.

“
No one will hurt her, she’s too
valuable. We know why they took her, and some of where, and we will
find her, I promise.” He took a deep breath, hoping he could make
that true. “Is there anyone who can stay with you?”

Mijan took a deep breath, swallowing her tears. “No.
No need. I’ll be fine. Just—find her, Rathe. They said, she’d won a
place. It was so much what she wanted, they seemed all right, how
could I think… ?” Her voice trailed off, and she shook herself
hard. “I’ll be all right,” she said again, as much to convince
herself as anyone, and looked back at Rathe. “And if she’s with the
embroiderers all this time, I will cut your heart out.”

“
If she is,” Rathe answered, “I’ll
hand you the knife myself.” He turned away without waiting for an
answer, knowing she didn’t believe it any more than he did.
b’Estorr fell into step beside him, stretching his long legs to
keep up.

“
What now?”

“
The embroiderer’s hall,” Rathe
answered. “Just in case. But I don’t think she’ll be
there.”

There was only a single master in evidence this
early in the day, and she greeted them with a certain puzzlement.
Rathe explained what they wanted and even though he’d expected it,
felt his heart sink as she shook her head.

“
No, we haven’t taken in any new
lottery-prentices. We do redraw if someone drops out, but that
hasn’t happened in years—” She broke off as the two men turned
away, Rathe calling his thanks over his shoulder.

“
Back to Point of Hopes,” he said
and b’Estorr touched his arm.

“
The river’s faster from here,” he
said. “University privilege.”

They found a boatman more quickly than Rathe would
have thought possible, but even so, he fidgeted unhappily until the
boat drew up at the Rivermarket landing. Monteia was pacing the
length of the main room as they burst through the door, but she
stopped at once, seeing Rathe’s face.

“
Inside,” she ordered and jerked
her head toward the workroom. Rathe started to follow, but b’Estorr
caught his sleeve, handed him the orrery. Rathe took it, careful
not to disturb the settings, and preceded the chief point into
little room.

“
Bad?” she asked and shut the door
behind them.

Rathe nodded. “They’ve taken her. They offered her a
place in the embroiderers, the one thing she wanted badly enough to
take chances for, and they’ve got her. And Astree’s Web, it’s my
fault. She would never have done this if I hadn’t asked her—” He
broke off then, knowing how pointless this was, but Monteia shook
her head anyway.

“
You don’t know that, Nico. It’s
the time of year to have your stars read and Asheri always was—is—a
saving creature. Tell me what happened.”

Rathe took a deep breath, and set the orrery on the
worktable. Quickly, he ran through what Mijan had told him,
finished with b’Estorr’s analysis. “She’s important to the process,
he says, so they shouldn’t hurt her. But, gods, we have to find
her.”

Monteia nodded her expression remote. “I’ll send to
Fairs again, tell him what’s happened today—I already told him to
arrest any astrologers he found, and why, but I haven’t heard
anything yet. This should make him move a little faster, though.”
She shook her head. “It’s times like these I wish Astreiant still
had walls. I’ll send people to ask at the gates and the inns along
the main highway, see if anyone saw her or someone taking a child
with them, but I can’t say I’ve a lot of hope for it.”

They hadn’t found any of the other children this
way, there was little likelihood Asheri would be any different.
Rathe swallowed his anger, said, “There has to be something else we
can do.”

Monteia looked at him. “If you think of something,
Nico, let me know.”

“
I’m sorry.” Rathe shook his head.
“She’s a good kid—and it’s my doing, Chief. This one’s my
responsibility.”

Eslingen took the river way from Customs Point to
Point of Hopes, the early sun warm on his back through the heavy
fabric of his second-best coat. The weight of it, and the stains on
the dark green linen, annoyed him unreasonably; if he was going to
go to Rathe with this particularly questionable story, he would
have preferred to look his best. Inside the station’s wide main
room, the duty point looked up at him, blankly at first, and then
with recognition.

“
Is Rathe around?” Eslingen said,
before the woman could say something unfortunate, and she
grinned.

“
He’s with the chief point
now—Eslingen, isn’t it? You can wait if you want, but it’s a busy
morning.”

“
Already?” Eslingen murmured but
turned away from the table before she had to answer. A fair-haired
man in a dark red coat, shirt open at the throat, was sitting on
the bench that stretched along one short wall, reading through a
sheaf of broadsheets. Not the sort of person I’d’ve expected to see
here, Eslingen thought, not a merchant but not a knife, either, and
only then saw the anvil and star of the Starsmith pinned to the
fair man’s cuff. A poet or an astrologer, the soldier decided, or
maybe a magist out of his robes, and he smiled. “Hope you don’t
mind,” he said, and settled himself on the bench beside the
fair-haired man, keeping a scrupulous distance between
them.

The man looked up, his face unsmiling but not
unwelcoming, and nodded. “Looking for Nico?”

Eslingen nodded. “A friend of his, are you?”

“
I do some work for him from time
to time.”

Eslingen looked again at the badge on the man’s
cuff. “An astrologer?”

The man shook his head. “A necromancer, actually,”
he said, and offered his hand. “Istre b’Estorr. I’m at the
university.”

For a wild moment, Eslingen wondered how Rathe could
have found out about the bodies already, and have had the foresight
to call in a necromancer for something that wasn’t even in his
jurisdiction. He had never liked the idea of necromancers, no
soldier did—no matter what the scholars said, he thought, some of
those deaths had to be untimely. b’Estorr tipped his head to one
side, and Eslingen shook himself, took the hand that was held out
to him. “My name’s Eslingen, Philip Eslingen. Late of Coindarel’s
Dragons.”

“
Oh. And currently Hanselin
Caiazzo’s knife,” b’Estorr said.

Eslingen looked at him warily, wondering how in all
hells he could have known that, wondering, too, what ghosts he
might be carrying that the other could feel. b’Estorr smiled
faintly, as though he’d guessed the thought.

“
Nico mentioned you once, said he
owed you a good turn. I’m glad to meet you. It’s made a lot of
people much easier to know that Caiazzo has a capable knife to back
him again.”

“
So I heard,” Eslingen said. “Are
you working for Rathe now?”

b’Estorr nodded, the smile vanishing. “I’m afraid
so—”

He broke off as the door to the workroom opened, and
Rathe burst out again. “Monteia’s sending to Fairs, we’ll see if
Claes can’t find one of these damn astrologers, make him tell us
what’s going on—” He broke off, seeing Eslingen. “Philip. Sorry,
what are you doing here?”

Eslingen looked back at him. “I need to talk to
you—Caiazzo sent me—but if this is a bad time—what’s happened?”

Rathe took an unsteady breath. “Asheri, one of our
runners. She’s disappeared—been stolen, like the others. And we
know a large chunk of how, and why, but still not who, or where
they’re being taken.”

“
Gods,” Eslingen said.

“
So unless it’s really important,”
Rathe went on, “you’ll have to wait.”

Eslingen hesitated. “It is important,” he said at
last, “but I think I can wait, at least until you’ve gotten this
settled.”

Rathe gave him a fleeting smile of thanks, looked at
b’Estorr. “Is there any way we can narrow down the location of the
mine? Something in the kids’ stars, anything?”

Eslingen froze, his eyes widening. A mine and the
missing children in the same breath, and a crazy magist in
Mailhac…. He took a deep breath. “What’s this about a mine?” Rathe
turned on him, eyes angry, and Eslingen held up a hand. “What I was
sent to say, it may be more important that I thought. What mine,
Rathe?”

“
The children who’ve been taken,
they all have the right stars to work the process that turns gold
into aurichalcum,” the pointsman answered, impatiently. “It’s the
only thing we’ve found that binds them together, but now we have to
figure out where that gold mine could be.”

Eslingen swore. “Look, Rathe, last night Caiazzo met
a man—” He broke off, shaking his head tried to reorder his
thoughts. “There’s an estate in the Ajanes, Mailhac, it’s called
the woman who ostensibly owns the title actually owes Caiazzo a lot
of money, and she pays it out of the take of a gold mine that’s
part of the estate.”

“
Which explains where Caiazzo’s
cash comes from,” Rathe said, but his eyes were wary. “And I hear
he’s had trouble with money this season.”

Eslingen nodded. “The gold hasn’t come in the way it
should. And from what the messenger said it won’t be. There’s a
magist living on the estate, apparently he promised to increase the
take, but that was just to get her confidence. According to Mal—the
messenger, it’s him, the magist, who’s running everything, and
keeping all the gold on the estate. The rumor was, he may be making
use of it himself.”

“
Gods,” the necromancer murmured
and Rathe waved him to silence.

Eslingen went on, “Caiazzo’s man was attacked on his
way here—that’s what I was really sent here for, to tell you who’d
left a pair of bodies in the Little Chain Market, and to claim
self-defense, which it was. I was also supposed to tell you about
the Ajanine situation, make it clear that, whatever de Mailhac
thinks she’s doing, Caiazzo has nothing to do with it.” He shook
his head. “But this…this is worse than any of us imagined. I don’t
want Caiazzo hanged for a high treason he’s not committing. He’s
been going mad from the want of gold, it could be a disaster if he
doesn’t get it, but he doesn’t want queen’s gold, he wants spending
gold.”

“
Caiazzo has a magist in his
household, doesn’t he?” Rathe said. “She must have suspected
something when she heard the news.”

“
She did,” Eslingen answered, “she
mentioned aurichalcum, but she thought it was political. Something
to do with the star-change and maybe with the clocks—which, as I
said, is why I’m here.”

“
She would have needed to know the
children’s nativities to make the connection,” b’Estorr said and
Rathe nodded.

“
Yeah, I can see that. But, gods,
now we know—” He broke off as the door to the workroom opened
again, and Monteia stepped out, waving a sheet of paper to dry the
ink.

“
Know what?” she asked, and Rathe
bared teeth in a feral grin.

“
Where the children
are.”

“
Where?”

“
An estate called Mailhac, in the
Ajanes.” Quickly, Rathe outlined Eslingen’s information. “It fits,
Chief, and too well to be a coincidence. This has got to be where
they are.”

Monteia nodded thoughtfully. “A noble. That would
explain how she could afford all these hired hands, or how this
magist could, with a noble name to back him.” She looked at
Eslingen. “I suppose I believe you when you say Caiazzo’s not
involved.”

“
If he were,” the soldier answered,
“I wouldn’t be here.”

“
True enough,” Monteia
said.

“
We have to send someone after
them,” Rathe said, “and I want it to be me. Gods, if we move fast
enough, Asheri’s only been gone since last evening, we might be
able to overtake them.”

Monteia shook her head. “I can’t send you, Nico, and
it’s not because I don’t agree with you. We don’t have the
authority outside Astreiant, you know that. That’s the queen’s
business.”

“
If we can convince her, or her
ministers or whoever, intendants probably, to act in time,” Rathe
said, bitterly.

“
Which is why I want you—and Master
b’Estorr and Master Eslingen, if he’s willing—to go to the
surintendant,” Monteia went on as though he hadn’t spoken, though
Eslingen suspected from the set of her lip that she was barely
holding her own temper in check. “Tell him what we’ve found and see
what he can do.”