The Hidden City (73 page)

And this was a war, personal, small, but necessary in all the usual ways.

“Why this boy?” he asked quietly, when she looked away.

“I don't know,” she replied. He'd expected as much; it was almost always her response at times like this.

“He's not like Duster.”

“Nothing like Duster.” She hesitated, and then said, “It was different, with Teller, Rath. I didn't so much
see
as
feel
him. We were on our way to the Common. To buy extra blankets, clothing. Stuff.”

He nodded.

“Arann, Lefty, Carver. Me. We were most of the way there—and I . . .” She shook her head. She would have to become more adept with words in the future; they deserted her when she required them, and in the end—but it was not the end, that nebulous future, and it might never come to pass. He held his breath, exhaled. “I am not angry, Jewel.”

“Jay.”

“Jay, then. I'm not angry that he's here. I surprise even myself with my tolerance.”

She didn't smile. She looked . . . surprised. If it were in him, Rath might have taken umbrage. He smiled instead, deliberately adopting a casual expression. “But I'm curious. You said this boy was different.”

“The feeling was different,” she said. Her brows furrowed as she frowned. Time would etch those lines in place, but when the expression passed, they were gone, as if written upon the surface of moving water. “His mother didn't come home last night. He waited for her. Waited most of the morning. And then he went out searching.”

“His mother—”

“We didn't ask,” she said, and her voice was so curt, there was command in it. Or warning. She could surprise him in so many ways, he wondered if that wasn't part of her charm. Not all of it, but part. “But, Rath—I felt as if he were part of my future. An important part. I felt as if I
needed
him, somehow.”

From Jewel, this was an admission, and perhaps a costly one.

“Needing people,” Rath said carefully, “is not a crime.”

“You don't.”

“And my lack would be considered criminal by many, and has been, Jewel. Do not look to me for an example to follow; it would not suit you. Ever. Be Jewel Markess; allow me to be Old Rath. We are what we are.”

“People can change.”

“They can. But for me, need
is
a weakness. And for you, Jewel, I believe it is a strength. Do not deprive yourself of the strengths you have.”

“You didn't say that about Duster.”

“You don't need Duster.”

“She's a part of the den.”

Den. He stopped himself from smiling, and found that it wasn't hard.

“But yes, he's different. Calmer. Rath—his mother died. He found her body in the snow.”

“The others saw this?”

She nodded. “They were with me,” she added softly. “They didn't even ask questions; I ran, and they followed. As if I were—” But she didn't continue, and he didn't force the issue.

“She was the only family he had,” she added.

“And yet he came home with you.”

“Where else was he going to go?” She paused, and then added, “Arann and Carver carried his mother's body home. He put her in her bed and pulled the covers up and waited. He knew she was dead,” she added bitterly. “And he didn't scream or weep or wail or—anything. But she was his world,” she added.

“And you know this—how?”

“I felt it all, Rath. I—it was—” but she shook her head again. “He was willing to trust me. I don't know why. He was willing to come here.”

“You said yourself he has nowhere else to go.”

She nodded almost absently. “He can stay?”

“For as long as you do, Jewel, he can stay. But please—no more.”

“I promise.”

He raised a brow. “It would be wise, Jewel Markess, not to make a vow you cannot keep.”

“I—”

“You cannot be certain that you can keep this one. Do not make it. I don't demand it.”

“But you do.”

“I value my privacy, but you've already destroyed that. No,” he added, seeing the shifting lines of her expression, “I destroyed it. And I accept the consequences of my choice. We have between us enough money to see us through the Winter, and beyond that, we will see.”

“You haven't gone hunting in the maze again.”

He said nothing for long enough that she realized the subject was a closed one. “Go back to your Teller, Jay. And your den. See that they're fed; see that they're warm, or as warm as they can be. He will feel the loss of his mother, and feel it deeply, as the days pass. But in this, you are building a family of sorts, and perhaps that will counter what he feels.”

“Rath—”

There was a knock at the door. It was not a timid knock; it was a demand. Because of this, Rath knew who was on the other side. And from the way Jewel stiffened, so did she.

“Answer it,” he said curtly.

Duster glared into Rath's inner sanctum. It was not a place that she saw often; in fact, Rath was certain she had not seen it at all. What she expected, he could not say, but he was certain that she noticed everything; all the little details. The papers, the ink, the desk with its closed drawers, the clothing that denoted both rank and its utter lack, strewn across chairs and bedding.

“Duster,” Jewel began, “now is not the time—”

“But it is,” Rath said quietly. “Duster, please, come in. Do not touch anything, or I will have you removed.”

“By who?”

“I don't need aid.” His tone made clear that the possibility of fatality was not low.

She was not a child to show fear. She did not surprise him by showing vulnerability either. But her gaze wandered for just a moment to Jewel's before she crossed the threshold, and this surprised him.

She trusts you,
he thought.
Even this one trusts you,
inasmuch as she can
.

“You may sit, if you desire it. You may also stand.” Rath himself took a chair, but Jewel didn't; she sat on the edge of his bed. This caused Duster to tense, but whatever she thought she would see in Jewel's face was utterly absent. Rath would have found her suspicion amusing had it not been so insulting.

Duster stood.

“I have made the inquiries that I agreed to make on Jewel's behalf,” he said with care. “And I have reason to believe that the names you were given were, in fact, real names. The men to whom they belong are men of both power and social standing; your presence alone would cause them grave personal difficulty. Do you understand what this means?”

Duster shrugged.

“That is not an answer,” he replied coldly.

“They'll want me dead,” she said sullenly.

“Good. You understand then that what you propose to do—or what Jewel proposes to do on your behalf—”

“I don't need her help. I just need the places.”

“You need me,” Jewel said quietly, and with a ferocity that volume should have made impossible. “Or I tell him to shut the Hells up. He won't give you what you want.”

“I don't need your
help
—”

“You will need a good deal more than that,” Rath broke in quietly. “They are not men who are accustomed to going unescorted anywhere; even when they visited you, it is likely they had their guards stationed close by.”

She said nothing.

“Understand that were you to take your complaint to the Magisterium, it would be treated with the utmost gravity.”

She frowned.

“They would treat it—and you—seriously. What these men did is in no way legal.”

“They have enough money to buy their way out of trouble.”

“Not all the money in the world would do that here,” he replied. “If some of the magisterial guards are not above bribes—and human nature dictates that some are not—the god-born are entirely incapable of that mendacity. The men would be summoned, and they would be questioned by those to whom they cannot lie.”

Duster said nothing.

“I offer you this alternative. If you want these men stopped—”

“I want to kill them,” she replied quietly. “I don't give a damn what they do to other people.”

Jewel flinched, but said nothing. And Rath was content with this; let her see Duster clearly, if she had not already done so. But seeing her stiffen, he doubted that Jewel was capable of the self-deception required to see in Duster any charity.

“Very well. I thought that would be your answer, and I am willing, against my better judgment, to aid you as much as I can.”

She looked at Jewel again, and then back. “Tell me where,” she said.

“Not so quickly,” he replied. “I will tell you that I know where three of these men can be found.”

“You know where they live.”

“Oh, indeed. But that is not where you will find them if you wish to kill them. I will start with whichever of the three you choose. But I will give you the location and relevant information for one man at a time. Not more, and not less. If this does not suit you, you are free to leave to pursue your vengeance in your own way.

“But if you require aid, you will compromise.”

Duster glared at him, and Jewel rose, taking Duster's arm just as naturally as she had taken Rath's. Duster started to shrug her off, aware of Rath's observation. But she hesitated. Interesting.

“He's right,” Jewel said quietly. “I didn't go through all the trouble of rescuing you to lose you to anger. We need to plan.”

“That is exactly what we need to do,” Rath told them both. He turned to the headboard of his bed and extracted from a long, narrow ledge a rolled length of paper that, when unfurled, would cover his desk. This he cleared with care, handing the magestone holder to Jewel while he placed weights on the corners.

Duster stared at it for a moment. “What is this?” she asked, almost in spite of herself.

“A map,” Jewel told her quietly. “These lines are streets. And these are street names. This is the Merchant Authority,” she added, choosing the right building with care. “It's like what you'd see if you were a bird.”

Duster tried very hard to look unimpressed, and succeeded well enough that Rath thought there was half a chance it was genuine. But her words undercut her. “And that?” she said, with contempt. “Priest scrawls?”

“I told you,” Jay said, her words developing some heat, “that you didn't have to learn to read if you didn't want.”

“And let that one-handed gimp lord it over me?”

Jewel's lips compressed into a thin line. This, Rath thought, was interesting. “Rath,” she said, her eyes never leaving Duster, “Duster and I need to talk for a minute.”

He understood that she was asking for privacy in
his
personal quarters. She must, indeed, be very angry. For all her caution, she had a Southern temper, and burying it hadn't killed it. Although this, too, was interesting, it was less amusing. He did not hesitate, however.

He rose and headed toward the door, hearing the hiss of breath escape Jewel's clenched teeth. He opened the door quickly, and closed it in the same fashion, but not in time not to hear the distinct sound of a slap.

He hesitated now, torn between the desire to protect the orphan he'd dragged away from the banks of the river and its slender roof of bridge, and the desire to let her begin as she must continue. But he knew that he'd kill Duster if she hurt Jewel, and this was too much knowledge.

Children or no, they could play deadly games, and their sense of consequence was not yet profound. In some, it would never be.

Jewel knew that Duster wore a dagger; she also wore a white hand's imprint on her cheek. Jewel's Oma had been quick to anger, and Jewel herself had often felt the sting of that open palm. It hadn't hurt much, not physically, but it was humiliating.

And Duster did not take humiliation lightly.

But Jewel was past caring. She'd found Teller today. Lefty had helped. She'd found Lefty first, and his vulnerability, his utter dependence on Arann, had not yet left him. He'd opened up, in her house; he'd learned to talk and to leave his hand out of the sheath of his armpit. Until Duster had come.

Until, Jewel thought,
she
had brought Duster in.

It was enough. Duster was staring at her in mute and growing anger; her hand had fallen to the hilt of her dagger, clenching it until her knuckles were white.

“There are rules here,” Jewel told her quietly. Had to speak quietly; the words that were straining to leave her lips would start a war she couldn't quell. It almost didn't matter. “I want you here,” she added, still speaking in measured tones, and choosing her words with painful care. “And I made you a promise I intend to keep. Rath has helped; we couldn't do it without him.

“But you aren't the only person I promised to help. No one else has asked so much,” she added, “and I accepted what you asked of me. But Lefty belongs here
as well
, and if you make his life miserable, it doesn't matter how much I think we need you. You're free to go. I won't keep you. I'll give you whatever information Rath is willing to part with. But you go on your own. And you don't come back.”

“You think I won't go?” Duster snarled back. “Because it's
cold
and there's
snow
on the ground? You think I'm so desperate I'll suck up to—”

Jewel had lifted her hand; it was bunched in a fist. “I don't care,” she said, abandoning quiet. “I don't care if you go. I care about the den, and if you're part of it, you have to care, too.”