be, the better the fun, the bigger the thrill. The Yelen had plenty of money…
Where was the safest place to keep it?
Kyr’s mercy. It hit him like a boulder in the back. He generally paid little heed to rumors—too outlandish for the most part, embellished in the retelling, again and again. Rumors were worth nothing against actually seeing the damn money. But there was one rumor about Yelen treasure that always stayed mostly the same—they kept their money in the dungeons. No one really believed it, of course, because it was just too far-fetched. Besides, no one ever came out of the Yelen dungeons. Alive, anyway. So who started the rumor, who knew what was in there?
Thing was, the Yelen palace hadn’t started off as a bastion of trade. Less than a hundred years ago, it had been a merchant’s house. Looked good, not really safe as such, because merchants were all about appearances, and kept most of their money at the counting house in any case. One or two secure places, but not enough for the wealth of a council who couldn’t afford to—or just didn’t—trust the merchants and moneylenders they made their money from. Hence the tightly controlled area around it, and only the most influential traders allowed inside.
From the little Van Gast had seen, the palace was a building full of gaps—open archways, deep-set windows with no glass to let in the breeze, hardly a door anywhere. Until you got to this part, the part they’d added later, using slaves to dig down into the sandstone. Burying most of them there too, in damp darkness, in the little pools of water that seeped from the river through the stone and even now were making Van Gast’s body one whole, soggy ache. He tried not to think of the state of the water from the Est River, and what might be in it.
All this led to one conclusion—Josie had worked out that the rumor was true. The Yelen kept their wealth and it wasn’t in the opulence above. No, the money was down here, somewhere, and everyone knew there was only one way into the Yelen dungeons—get arrested. Of course, everyone knew there was only one way out too—get executed. If you were lucky.
So what the fuck was she planning?
It didn’t take long to find out. The sound of heavy doors bounced along the dark corridor, and a lantern sent flickers of light through the grille. A familiar voice boomed along with the bang of the door, and Van Gast had never been so glad to be sworn at.
“So where is the little bastard?” Skrymir said. “I want him strung up by the balls for what he did to my wife.”
Van Gast peered through the grille. Skrymir was shouldering his way along the corridor, all bluster and offended sensibility. Van Gast was quite impressed—he’d always taken Skrymir for just another bull in breeches. Handy to have at your back, but no finesse. Josie had been teaching him, obviously, because he was quite convincing. There she was too, walking a step behind, all prim and demure, except she was having a hard time keeping her grin to herself.
She caught Van Gast’s eye and tipped him a sly wink, one that loosened the tight feeling round his heart, before she straightened her face, held a kerchief to her nose and spoke to Rillen. “You keep your dungeons full. And dirty.”
“And the Gan don’t?” Rillen said. “These cells are kept for the enemies of the Yelen. An attempted assassin here,” he waved a hand at a grille, “a dishonest trader trying to rob us there.” Another offhand wave.
He seemed normal enough, this Rillen. Van Gast had met a thousand men like him. Officious, pompous and vicious in the name of the law. Nothing new—except the itch, the burn, the scream in his chest that was telling him to run, run now, anywhere, just away from him. Possibly it was just his allergy to Oku’s justice, but he thought it was more than that this time.
“Are you sure this is wise?” Rillen was saying. Van Gast was sure he could spot a smirk in the gloom.
Skrymir shrugged, almost knocking his shoulders against the walls. “Wise? It’s not a matter of wisdom, but of justice. You know that the Gan revere Oku above all?”
“Of course, justice, oaths and vengeance. I understand that. But—”
“Then you’ll understand that I want to beat seven shades of shit out of this Van Gast. Then I want you