she caught sight of red uniforms forcing their way through the press. No more time to investigate.
Zhirin waited in the alley-mouth, one hand pressed tight over her mouth like she was trying to keep in hysterics. The man from the fabric shop stood beside her, holding her arm. Isyllt let her spells drop as she ducked off the street and they startled. Sparks crackled in her hair as she moved, stung her skin like wasps as the magic bled away. The humid breeze off the canal made her face tingle.
The man’s eyes narrowed, measuring. He glanced at her hand, and his own twitched in a warding gesture.
“Are you all right?” Zhirin asked, her chin trembling.
“I’m fine, but I wouldn’t mind getting away from the thick of things.” Already she felt death lapping over her, cold threads swirling through warm air. Her limbs crawled with gooseflesh and sweat prickled her scalp. At least a dozen dead, probably more, and one of the wounded wouldn’t survive.
So much senseless death. The kind she was here to encourage.
Excitement hummed in her blood, dizzied her worse than any wine. And that was the true reason she was here, the reason she would go where she was sent, no matter how ugly the mission. Not for king and country, not even for Kiril, but because danger sang to her like a siren, and after the first giddy brush with death, the rush of knowing that she was still alive, she’d known she could never stop.
She ran a hand over her face, smearing ash and sweat. Her fingers came away red; her nose was bleeding. “Excuse us,” she said to the man, taking Zhirin’s arm.
He stepped aside. “Be careful, ladies.”
Isyllt nodded, wondering how many ways he meant it. She led Zhirin down the alley, away from the smell of smoke and death.
Isyllt wasn’t sure how long she and Vasilios spent studying the shattered stone, but by the time Adam returned her back was stiff from leaning over the table. She straightened with a wince as the mercenary slipped into the study. Not yet sunset, but they’d drawn the shutters and stark witchlights lit the room.
“What happened?” Adam asked.
“Someone blew up an Assari shop, and everyone in it.” Isyllt shook her head, hair crackling. “He blew himself up too.” Her face still stung from the fire and itched with dried sweat. Adam’s eyes narrowed as he studied her, and she wondered how awful she looked.
He turned to the table and the pile of red dust and crystal shards glittering there. “A ruby?” He reached out a cautious hand; gooseflesh roughened his arm as he felt the heat still radiating from it.
Vasilios nodded. “They didn’t let the news out, of course, but we’d just readied a shipment of charged stones to be shipped to Assar. They were in the warehouse that burned—whoever started the fire must have taken the rubies. This Dai Tranh was dangerous enough with gunpowder and flash bombs, but now—” He shook his head. “But this stone was flawed, and we never charge flawed stones. Too easy for things like this to happen. They must have a mage working with them.”
“Zhirin?” Adam said, echoing Isyllt’s thought.
The old mage’s eyes narrowed. “I cannot believe that of her.”
Adam shrugged eloquent skepticism, but Isyllt believed the girl’s horror at the market had been unfeigned—if Zhirin had helped the rebels get their hands on these weapons, she doubtless regretted it now.
“Did they leave anything else behind?” Adam continued. “Today, I mean.”
Isyllt frowned. “I hadn’t the leisure for a proper search. I’ll go back after the soldiers have gone. I didn’t sense any ghosts lingering, but they might return.” It was a scant hope, but her best one.
Vasilios ran a hand over his face; his skin was gray and drawn in the unflattering light. “I cast a tracing on the stone, but it must have been covered until it was used. If I could find something of the assassin’s, I might trace it further.”
“We’ll see what we can find.” Isyllt glanced at Adam, tilted her head inquiringly. “The sooner we go in, the better our chances.”
“Tonight,” he said with a nod. “After the soldiers have left.”
Vasilios lowered himself into a chair. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t join you in sneaking around in the dark. I’ll keep working with the stone. Maybe there’s something I’ve missed. We won’t have a proper dinner tonight, but you can ask Marat to make you something.”
Isyllt and Adam left him to rest, following the scent