Shadow's Son (5 page)

"That's why I'm turning to you, Caim. Believe me when I say this job
is easy. So easy you could do it blind and one-handed."

"Not an image I want to ponder."

Mathias brushed the air with his pudgy fingers. "You know what I
mean. But it has to be done fast."

He headed for the door. "Sorry, Mat."

"Caim, I'm desperate!"

Caim stopped with his hand on the knob. Mathias wasn't a stranger
to theatrics, but he sounded genuinely worried, and Mathias Finneus
never worried. The look of relief on his face was almost comical as Caim
came back and stood by the high-backed chair.

"What's the Job?"

"Please, sit, my friend," Mathias urged. "More brandy?"

"No more drinks. Tell me about the job."

"It's very simple. One target, living in High Town."

Calm's hand hovered over his glass, resting still on the table. "Inside
the city?"

"Yes, you've done local work before."

"Who is he?"

"A retired general, a real hard case from what I've heard. He was
responsible for some big massacre during the war. Up in Eregoth, I
believe. You're from those parts, aren't you?"

Caim considered the carpet between his feet as a jumble of old feelings knocked around in his chest. "What makes you say that?"

"Nothing much. You just have a northernish look about you."

Caim looked Mathias in the eye. "I told you before. I'm from the
western territories."

But he wasn't. As far as he could piece together from his shambled
memories, his family had hailed from Eregoth, one of several border states
that had once been part of the Nimean Empire. But it was a past he didn't
want known, for no better reason than it was personal.

"Oh yes." Mathias winked. "I forgot."

"Go on."

"Well, what makes me nervous is the timing. This job has to be done
in two days."

"Impossible. You know I don't do rush jobs. Go find some desperate
sailor deep in his cups and slip him a few silvers."

"Caim, this client isn't someone to disappoint, if you get my meaning. It must be done quickly, and with no mistakes. That's why I need you.
You're the only one I can trust with a job like this on such short notice."

"I want to help you, Mathias, but there are too many things to consider. I spent weeks stalking Reinard before I took him down. I would
need time to study the target, learn his habits and movements. After that
I would have to do the same for his family and bodyguards."

Mathias bounced off the chaise and waddled to a rolltop desk against
the wall. He held up a bundle of papers bound together with a red cord.

"I have all the particulars here: daily itinerary, personal security
details, interior layouts, everything you'll need. He lives with a young
daughter, but don't worry about her. The mother's dead. He doesn't keep
any guards, just a broken-down manservant who sleeps like a log. It will
be the easiest money you ever made."

Mathias held out the bundle, but Caim didn't take it.

"Who gathered all this?"

"A mutual friend. I vouch for its authenticity."

"It was Ral, wasn't it?"

"Why does it matter? Just take it."

"Damn it, Mat. He took the assignment and then dumped it back in
your lap when a better job came up, didn't he? No wonder he was so
chummy. No thanks. I'm passing."

Caim took two steps toward the door. Mathias reached out as if to
grasp his sleeve, but drew his hand back before it made contact. Caim
stopped as the bundle of papers was thrust in front of him.

"It's his loss!" Mathias said. "In and out, and a thousand soldats in
your pocket."

"I don't clean up other people's messes."

Mathias cocked his head to the right. "My friend, that's precisely
what you do. Please, don't make me beg. I'll throw in half of my end.
That's another three hundred in gold. Then you can take a nice, long
sabbatical."

Caim sighed as Mathias shook the papers at him. He couldn't do it,
couldn't let down the man who had given him a chance as a young man
on the run, a vagabond with no contacts or vouchers.

Caim took the papers. "All right. I'll do it. But hang on to your fee.
You're getting old, Mathias. You should think about retiring soon."

Mathias gathered his robe around him as he returned to his chair. "I
don't know what I'd do with myself if I ever retired."

"Buy a big villa somewhere nice. Live the life of a country
gentleman."

Mathias laughed so hard he almost choked on his wine. "Can you see
me as a country squire? I wouldn't last a month. Good fortune, my friend.
I'll see you when the job is done."

Caim tucked the papers into his tunic. The bundle made a lump
under his arm opposite the money pouch. He crossed to the door, but hesitated with his hand on the knob.

"By the way, what was the other job Ral took?"

"What?" Mathias twisted around to look at Caim over his shoulder.
"Oh, something in Belastire. He'll be bow-legged and as dusty as a beggar
by the time he returns."

"Belastire? It'll be cold on the Midland coast this time of year."

Mathias nodded. "Cold and bitter. The blackheart should feel right at
home, eh?"

Caim thought back to the conversation on the stairs. Hadn't Ral mentioned a warmer clime? What game was he playing?

Caim checked his knives out of habit as he departed the Three Maids.
Revelers accompanied by torchbearers filled the benighted streets, pushed
out the door by exhausted tavernkeeps. The sun would be rising in
another couple hours. He would have liked to go back home and crawl
into bed for a couple sennights, but he had work to do. Two days wasn't
enough time.

Tucking the pouch and the papers deeper into the confines of his shirt,
Caim pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. The broadcloth
wrapped around him in a warm cocoon as he delved back into the Gutters.

osey had nearly worked herself into another bout of tears by the time
her carriage stopped outside Anastasia's house on Torvelli Square.
She couldn't get the conversation with Father out of her head. She'd never
felt so helpless in her life. The only thing she could think of was to talk
to her best friend about it. Between the two of them, she was certain they
would find a solution.

An elderly footman ushered her inside. Handing her mink-lined
cloak to one of the house girls, its silky hairs stiff from the chill, Josey
filed away the changing seasons as another potential argument against her
departure. Now was hardly the best time of year to undertake a sea
journey. That wouldn't be enough on its own to sway her father, but when
she talked to him again, she intended to have an arsenal of reasons why it
would be best for her to stay in Othir, at least until after Yeartide.

"Josey!" Anastasia's cheery voice echoed through the atrium as she
hurried down a winding staircase. They clasped hands and kissed each
other's cheeks.

Anastasia stepped back to arm's length, concern written across her
pretty features. With her honey gold hair, coiffed in wavy marcels, and her
ocean blue eyes, Anastasia was a true beauty, doll-like in her perfection.
Next to her, Josey had always felt homely, her complexion too pale, her
hair too dark and stringy.

"What's the matter, Josey? Come in here."

Josey let herself be pulled into an adjourning parlor room and seated
alone on a padded settee with tiny green leaves embroidered on the cushions.

Anastasia kissed her again. "Something's wrong, Josey. Tell me."

Josey told Anastasia about her father's decision to make her leave. By
the time she finished, she was sobbing openly.

Anastasia lent Josey a handkerchief to wipe her face. "That's simply
not fair. Othir is as safe as a nursery. Forgive me, Josey, but I fear your
father may be feeling his dotage. You know how old men get. They see
specters in every dark corner."

"I know. But no matter what I said, he refused to budge on the
matter. I don't know what to do. That's why I came to see you. You have
to help me, 'Stasia. I cannot miss your wedding. It will be the happiest
day of my life!"

"You have to be there!" Anastasia looked on the verge of tears herself.

Before her friend started to cry, Josey rushed on. "I will be. I promise.
But I need a plan. Father won't give in to emotional pleas."

"You could stay here with me. With the armsmen we keep, this house
is virtually a fortress at night."

"I'm not sure Father would feel that's adequate. My safety has always
been his chief concern. There were bodyguards everywhere when we lived
in Navarre. Sometimes I could hardly breathe."

"But the westlands are abysmally lawless. This is Othir. It's entirely
different."

"I know. I just don't know how to convince Father of that."

Anastasia squeezed her hand. "Don't worry, darling. We'll find a way."
She reached up and touched the pendant hanging from Josey's neck. "I've
always admired this piece, Josey. It's beautiful. So simple, but elegant."

Josey lifted the pendant, an antique-style key in gold. "Father gave it
to me for my fourteenth birthday. It's my favorite piece of jewelry."

"It must be. You never wear anything else."

"Father says it's the key to his heart, that it would give me everything I ever wanted and more. Sometimes he's the sweetest, kindest man
in the world. I wish he would see reason and let me stay here until your
wedding day."

"It will work out, Josey. I know! We'll go to the basilica and say a
prayer for it."

Josey dabbed her face with the silken cloth. "I don't think praying is
going to solve anything, 'Stasia. This is serious." Then she saw the stricken
look in her friend's eyes. "Forgive me. I'm just overwrought. Yes, let's go."

As they made to leave, a servant appeared at the entrance of the room.
"Pardon, milady. A visitor has arrived for you."

"Let him in." Anastasia turned to Josey. "That must be Markus. He's
been coming by every day since the engagement was announced. He's
such a romantic. Do you like him, Josey? Tell me true."

Josey hugged her friend and laughed, glad to speak of something else.
"He's a dream come to life. You two will be as happy together as a pair of
larks."

Anastasia giggled. "Markus is nearly a knight, you know. Well, very
nearly. Second prefect is a worthy rank, and soon he'll be promoted. I'm
sure of it."

They turned to the clack of hard boot steps as a tall shape filled the
doorway.

"Markus!" Anastasia ran to him and they embraced beside a bronze
bust of one of her famous ancestors. Then, as if noticing Josey for the first
time, the couple parted and came over to sit with her.

"I adore this uniform on you, Markus." Anastasia brushed her fingers
over the circle emblazoned on his jacket. "It makes you look so handsome."

He smiled, revealing rows of large, white teeth. He was starting to
grow a mustache and sideburns in the military style. Josey squinted,
trying to imagine him with a full face of hair. Something in the way he
looked at her made her uncomfortable.

"What do you think?" Markus asked. "Does it make me look
dashing?"

Josey dropped her gaze to the floor. "Yes, quite dashing."

Anastasia patted Josey's knee. "Poor darling. Her father's sending her
away, and we've been trying to concoct a scheme to keep her here."

"Sending you away?" The note of real concern in his voice touched
Josey. Perhaps he was as genteel as a knight after all. "Whatever for?"

Josey folded the loaned handkerchief into a square on her lap. "He
says it isn't safe here in the city anymore. He says people have been
assaulted, even killed."

"How horrible!" Anastasia said. "Is it true, Markus?"

"Oh, it's not for you to worry about. The Low Towners are forever at
each other's throats, like a pack of curs fighting over a bone. That's where
most of the attacks have taken place."

"Most?" Josey asked. "But not all?"

He brushed at the breast of his uniform, dismissing the idea. "Some times a matter spills over across the Processional, but it's nothing to
trouble you ladies. You're as safe as lambs in their pens."

Josey wasn't sure she liked his description, but she put on a smile for
her friend. "I hope I can convince Father of that."

"I have a wonderful idea," Anastasia said. "Markus could escort you
home and tell your father just what he said to us. I'm sure it will comfort
him, coming from an officer of the Sacred Brotherhood."

"Would you?" Josey asked. She didn't like the idea of riding home
with him, but she was willing to make sacrifices if it meant being allowed
to stay in Othir.

Markus stood with a shake of his head. "I'm sorry, but I cannot. I have
business to attend this afternoon. I just stopped by to remind Ana of our
date for a late supper this evening."

Anastasia rose to embrace her betrothed. "I didn't forget. I'm having
Maya make something special for us."