Shadow's Son (21 page)

He cleared his throat and started to sit up, but stopped himself. He was
naked. Worse, he couldn't remember how he'd gotten that way. Kit couldn't
touch him and Josey ... He banished the thought. Surely, she hadn't ...

"You look, um, very nice," he said, and meant it for both of them.

"Don't say a word about the dress."

Kit snickered.

"I was just-"

"Not a word!"

"Fine."

"Good!"

He was glad to hear the fire in her voice. The things she had seen in
the past couple days would have broken many people, especially a young
woman from the fair streets of High Town. But Josey had responded with
good instincts and poise. Unfortunately, those fine attributes wouldn't
count for much if they were found. Twice now the Sacred Brotherhood
had come for Josey, and had risked a great deal to see her dead. Twice he
had saved her. Laid up with a hole in his gut, he didn't want to find out
if three was his unlucky number.

"Actually," he said, "you brought me here. I was in no condition-"

"You gave me the directions!"

A knock at the door broke off whatever he was going to say next. A
cold wave of dread washed over him as he tried to sit up again, and he
clenched his jaws as a ripple of pain tore through his side. Where were his
knives? He spied a familiar strap hanging from the bedpost by his head
and grabbed for it just as the door opened. A familiar face peeked in. Caim
suppressed the urge to groan again. Instead, he pulled the bedsheets up to
his 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."

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.

tep, clack, slide.