“If I’m close enough I’ll feel it. But for anything farther than a building away I need to cast a finding. For that I’ll need space, a map of the area, and a stone—probably quartz. Another diamond would be better, but I doubt I’ll find one of those in the market.”
“No—” Zhirin paused, frowning. “Do you remember, was Vasilios wearing any rings when…we found him?”
Pressing her tongue between her teeth, Isyllt tried to remember all the details—the cold flicker of the witchlight, the old man’s discolored face, one gnarled hand curled against the carpet…
“I don’t think so,” she said after a moment.
“His hands swelled in the rainy season.” Zhirin’s voice caught, throat working as she swallowed. “He sometimes took his rings off when he wasn’t working. They might still be in the house. I’ll check.”
She was quiet for a moment and the sounds of the street rippled over them, the muted rattle and clatter from the kitchen. “Jabbor wants me to go with him. Into the jungle. He thinks he can keep me safe.”
Isyllt sipped her drink. The shop used a lot of cardamom; the taste spread rich and bittersweet across the back of her mouth. “Do you think that?”
Zhirin’s mouth twisted. “I don’t know. I would have, only a month ago. But I think you’re right—I can do more here. I hope so, at least.”
“Do you know any more about the next shipment?”
“Not the schedule. But the ship is the Yhan Ti, docked southside at the seventh berth.” She stared at her milky tea as if she meant to scry it, set it down barely tasted. “I’m going to the house. Is there anything you need, besides the stone?”
“Money, or anything I can easily pawn in the market.”
The girl’s forehead creased, but she nodded. “If I get a mirror, can I use it to contact you?”
“Yes. Just say my name. I’ll hear you.”
“All right.” Zhirin pulled a purse out of her pocket, stacked brass and copper coins on the table. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
Adam raised his cup as the girl left the shop, throat working as he swallowed. “Do you think we can trust her?”
“I don’t have much choice. She may crack eventually, jeopardize the mission for foolish idealism. But she’s clever and we’re running low on allies.”
He nodded, a crease between his brows. “What now, then? I don’t want to stay on the street.”
“No. I think we should have a talk with Izzy.”
Red ward-ribbons covered the front doors of Vasilios’s house, but if the house was watched, Zhirin couldn’t tell. She straightened her shoulders; she wasn’t a fugitive, and she had as much right to be here as family. She still ducked around to the back.
The kitchen door had been warded, but the cord hung loose now, the latch undone. Zhirin slipped inside, not brushing the rope, and kicked off her shoes. The floor was dusty, smudged and dappled with footprints and dripped water.
She paused inside the threshold, listening hard, and nearly jumped as something white moved at the corner of her eye.
“Mrau,” said the cat, leaping onto the kitchen counter.
Zhirin pressed a hand over her hammering heart and laughed. “Gavriel! You know you’re not supposed to be up there.” She bit her lip as she realized there was no one left to care what counters or shelves he climbed. She stroked his cream-colored head and he leaned into the touch, rumbling loudly.
“I’m sorry I forgot about you,” she said, scratching between his shoulder blades. “You can come home with me today.” She glanced down at his bowls, frowned to find them full of clean water and fresh meat.
“Who’s been taking care of you?” she asked softly, but Gavriel only butted his head against her arm. Had the police thought to do it? Conscientious burglars?
She checked to be sure the ground floor was empty, then crept upstairs. By the time she reached the second floor, she knew she wasn’t alone. No voices or footsteps, but a prickling down her back, a tingle of otherwise senses. She drew a silence around her with a whisper.
The second story was empty too—she shuddered as she passed the library where her master’s body had lain—but when she reached the third she heard someone moving quietly in Vasilios’s private study. Her pulse echoed in her ears as she crept toward the door.
Then she recognized Marat and sighed aloud. The woman spun, hand dropping to her trouser pocket. Zhirin raised a hand.