Daughters of Ruin - K. D. Castner Page 0,55

that drove the directors of Findish theater companies to drink.

When Cadis turned and saw Jesper Terzi in the market square, a bass harp seemed to play from somewhere deep inside her, and she thought the directors must have been throwing courtesans through his windows.

As he approached with a retinue Cadis had not yet even recognized, Iren leaned over and whispered, “Is he the one I met three years ago?”

“Mmm-hmm,” said Cadis.

“What wonders grow on Findish soil,” said Iren, quoting from PilanPilan’s opera. Obviously, she saw the connection as well. He had the tawny hue of a sailor long at sea, taut as the rope, tall as the sail. He wore billowing white muslin trousers as thin as cheesecloth, with a matching half-open blouse. Both seemed to sway around him like sailcloth.

Cadis had no time to inspect him as he crossed the space between them and lifted her off her horse by the waist as if she weighed nothing.

“Let me look at you. What are you—?”

He cupped her face. Cadis had nothing—and a thousand things—to say.

To tell him of the attack.

To explain why she had snuck into her own city.

“You’ve changed,” she spat out finally.

Jesper laughed—how very warm it was—and drew her in for a hug. Cadis felt a fortnight’s worth of constant guarded travel, long nights keeping watch, and terse conversation release from her shoulders. Cadis closed her eyes for a brief moment. When she opened them, she saw the four others accompanying Jesper for the first time.

All four looked mildly familiar. All four stared at her over Jesper’s shoulder. “Meridan Keep has been attacked,” said Iren, not having bothered to dismount.

“By whom?” said a girl, roughly their age, from Jesper’s group. Iren barely took notice of her. Cadis braced for the shock impact of Iren’s reply—that the attacks were Findish rebels.

“We don’t know,” said Iren. “We killed three and twelve”—she nodded at Cadis for the twelve—“and escaped before battle’s end.”

She spoke in the clipped formal manner of a soldier reporting facts. After a pause, she added, “Your spies should have sent birds by now.”

Cadis tried to catch Iren’s gaze, to tell her to take it easy, but Iren’s eyes flitted from one of Jesper’s crew to another. Cadis realized she was studying their reactions to see who was surprised by the news and who already knew. How does she know to do that?

Once again Cadis wondered what inner workings of her sister had been kept hidden. Cadis turned and studied Jesper’s face for clues. She quickly realized three things: She had spent her life under the optimistic delusion that people would simply speak their minds, she had developed no subtlety for reading thoughts, and by all the gods of theater and the spirits of the sails, he was Khartik incarnate.

Cadis had no category in her mind for him anymore—brotherly friend and playmate of all the years before the Protectorate and diligent messenger during. Now after, in her return to take up the mantle of the Archon Basileus—first among equals of the guildmasters—she had no idea what their relationship would be—though she had a budding notion for it.

It took a brief moment of introductions to remind Cadis of the identity of the others.

The imperious girl with short-cropped hair and well-used blade currently staring down Iren with open hatred was none other than Hypatia Terzi, Jesper’s older cousin and daughter of Lieke Terzi, the master of the caravaneers’ guild.

Cadis shook her hand, making sure to crush it equally. She knew the caravaneers were one of the three prime merchant guilds of Findain, beside the captains and the shipwrights.

But Lieke—and recently Hypatia—had spent the last ten years consolidating power almost equal to the other two combined.

Beside Hypatia slumped a whelpish hound of a boy—no more than fifteen, not yet lost of baby fat—who cast glances at Hypatia for approval of every breath. Timor Botros, son of Nicho, master of a lesser artisans’ guild—textiles specifically. He actually waited for Hypatia to nod before shaking Cadis’s hand.

Iren made an audible snort at the sight. Pentri Muto, scion of the shipwrights’ guild, stood farthest back and gave a slight bow as Jesper introduced him. He seemed wealthiest by clothing and demeanor, a short, thin, fashionable, uninterested young man who seemed like a male Iren to Cadis. Aloof but likely nowhere near as deadly.

Last, and standing farthest from Hypatia, was Arcadie Kallis, dressed in a sleeveless tunic to show off her captain’s inking all along both arms. She had crossed the Pelgardian line, survived a shipwreck,