want to make it right, what I did, all right? Because she asked me to meet her here, and so I’m here, trussed up like a fucking chicken. Because she asked. Because there’s a twist here like never before, and she wants me to help. Now, are you going to tell me, or should I rattle it out of you?”
Ansen grinned suddenly, sly, enjoying himself. Van Gast’s knife appeared in his hand, twirling over and over. Not bad going, for his age. “The blue cubby, she said. She’ll kill you, I bet. She shot your bed. Lots. Feathers everywhere. I bet Skrymir she’d shoot you too. Right in the face. A silver seal on it.”
“Thank you for that comforting thought, Ansen.”
Van Gast hesitated at turning his back on the boy—he might be only five or thereabouts, but he had a knife, a powerful dislike of him, and racketeering in his blood. But Ansen just laughed as he made for the door to Kyr’s Palace, and faint words followed him into the dim interior. “Going to shoot you!”
The coolness of the inn was a balm after the searing heat of the street. Van Gast wiped at his top lip with a flounced kerchief and made his way to the blue cubby. One of the smaller ones, decked out in the soft deep blue of the sea in sunlight.
He stepped in, ready to quiz Josie on the twist, on what was going on, who she intended to scam, and was met with the bulky sight of Skrymir, all dressed up in mail and wool, sweating like a stuck pig. No Josie in sight.
“You look…smart.” Skrymir said with a snort of laughter.
“Same to you, too, with bells on. Speaking of which, where are your bells? And where’s—”
“My wife, the Lady Amana, is being escorted into the palace by a son of the council, as our esteemed trading partner, Mr. Ibsen, did not do us the courtesy of arriving on time.” Skrymir glanced at the door to the cubby.
Wife? When Van Gast followed Skrymir’s look, he glimpsed the outline of two guards, waiting, watching and probably listening. Skrymir shook his head, just a touch, and laid a card on the table. The writing was all done in the finest green ink, the script as fanciful as a top-class whore. Lord Brimeld, Lady Amana and retinue invited to a trade reception as ambassadors of the Gan. A trade reception inside the palace.
Oh, Josie, love, you have outdone yourself.
“My apologies, Lord Brimeld. A last minute hitch.” Van Gast had to bite his lip to keep the laugh inside, at the thought of Skrymir being a lord, at the way he was plainly uncomfortable in the twist. Gan were known for their honesty, and Van Gast knew Skrymir for his loyalty. He reckoned both were being tested right about now.
Skrymir led the way out of Kyr’s Palace and the guards flanked them as they made their way to the entrance to the licensed trading area. The invitation was thoroughly inspected, as were they, before with a little flourish the lead guard allowed them through. “Straight on to the palace, sirs. You’ll be met at the doors.”
As they strolled along the avenue, past a line of guards who were far enough away not to hear, Van Gast looked over the gracious houses, the docks that were finer by far than any he’d ever berthed in. “Kyr’s mercy, a rack could be set for life robbing just one of these.” The thought of it made his fingers tingle, made him itch to try it.
“Van, keep a hold of yourself. Mr. Ibsen, rather.” Skrymir scowled ahead, toward the palace. “She’s after more than that.”
“I thought she might be. The Yelen, that’s what she’s after, right? What’s the plan? And is Lord Brimeld a safe name?”
“Safe enough. He really is a duke, my duke as it happens, my mother’s cousin. He won’t be turning up any time soon though. Spent the last ten years locked up in his tower waiting for his betrothed to come back, because he can’t believe she’s dead. Poor bastard went mad after he betrayed her.” Skrymir said it nonchalantly enough, but the meaning barbed Van Gast’s heart.
“Very pointed. Very deep. Thank you for that. The plan?”
Skrymir laughed and clapped a hand on Van Gast’s shoulder hard enough to make him stumble. “Same as always, steal everything not nailed down. That’s your usual plan isn’t it?”
“Yes, but details would be nice. Look what happened last time.”