But I could see no way to tie this problem to Blackblood’s moves against me.
What did occur to me was that the Revanchists being in Copper Downs was a threat of another sort. As with the Prince of the City and his retinue, they were an embassy. An inimical power with designs that would undermine Copper Downs if carried forward. I could not imagine this Matte’s obsession with the Eyes of the Hills leading to a sudden outbreak of peace and quiet.
As much as I hated to do so, I needed to carry this matter to the Interim Council. I’d been avoiding Loren Kohlmann since our ill-fated visit to the Selistani embassy, but that could not continue. Such as it was, their authority constituted my greatest protection here in Copper Downs. Besides which, I had to know what their response was to Mother Vajpai’s attack on me. I would lay the matter of the Dancing Mistress and the Revanchists before them-she used to sit on their council, they could hardly dismiss her significance. I might also discuss the matter of Blackblood’s attack on the Temple of Endurance.
I did not particularly expect wise counsel, or even worthwhile solutions, but these were civic matters. Civic authority ought to solve them. The Interim Council had already tried to push the Prince of the City onto me once and failed.
We needed a better plan.
Scaling back down to the alley on the next block, I headed through the brewery district at a boy’s loping pace for Lyme Street and the Textile Bourse.
Today the Conciliar Guards were having none of me. As soon as they saw me heading for the steps and realized who I was, both of them stepped back, while one tugged the door open.
I paused before I passed inside and looked more carefully at their uniforms. Though I could not recall perfectly, these certainly resembled the old Ducal Guard.
Waste not, want not.
Never above pricking a man with a weapon in his hand, I gave them my best feral smile. “You boys part of one of the militias?”
A panicked glance passed between the two hulking brutes. The one holding the door said, “We be the Conciliar Guards.”
“Lampet’s Lads,” the other guard added helpfully. He was slightly smaller than standard issue, merely overheight but not monstrous. I could not recall having seen him before.
“Ah, yes. Councilor Lampet.” As Councilor Kohlmann had said. The thought of that horrid little man in command of a few dozen-or hundred-men under arms was appalling.
The old days really were better, in this case. The tension between city guards, the dormant regiments, and private forces had functioned in a very loose balance. Which had distinct advantages for both the law-abiding as well as the more freelance-minded such as myself. The idea of an oiled weasel like Lampet controlling a meaningful portion of the swords in Copper Downs seemed a very poor way to keep the system in loose balance, even without worrying as to the councilor’s own personal priorities.
Perhaps I should convince Chowdry to start a chapter of the Lily Blades under Endurance’s blessing. For protection.
“I see,” I told the two guards. “Carry on.”
One saluted, the other did not. I pushed within to the crowded foyer.
Mr. Nast was upstairs conversing with some of his senior clerks. I nodded at him and strode to the council’s meeting room. Their chairs empty, which disappointed me. Early afternoon on a Thursday, not a feast day or a temple day. It occurred to me that I had no idea what the Interim Council’s work schedule was. They all had other jobs, or least other responsibilities, to which they attended.
On the other hand, I had plenty of ways of making people pay attention to me. I plopped down in Jeschonek’s seat and began tossing my short knife in the air. Practice with the weapon was never misplaced, and sooner or later someone would find the courage to try yelling me out of the chamber.
Simple enough.
The chief clerk did not disappoint. Within about ten minutes he peeked from behind the stained-glass door at me. “Shall I take it as given that we have argued about your occupation of this room, and good sense has not prevailed?”
“It would save some trouble, yes,” I admitted. “Quite thoughtful of you.”
“I’ll have a girl around with some water and fruit,” Nast replied. “And I’ve already sent for Councilor Jeschonek.”
“A happy coincidence then that I’m in his seat.”
His face assumed a pained expression-surely deliberate, if I knew this man. “You could make an appointment. As most people do. They generally have an agenda as well, and sometimes even keep to it.”
“Mr. Nast, have you ever known me to do as most people do?”
“I am sure that iconoclasm is one of your greatest charms, Miss Green.”
With that, he withdrew. I impatiently awaited water and fruit, which arrived soon enough. A delicate Hanchu bowl, porcelain and painted with bamboo and plum blossoms, featuring three crisp apples and a soft peach, along with a tall carafe of water with chips straight from someone’s icehouse. My stomach seemed willing to tolerate these things.
After I ate I commenced to carving my name in the mahogany tabletop with one of my short knives. It was a horrible abuse of such a decent weapon, but I wanted to motivate the council to respectful haste.
If not this time I called, the next.
Councilor Roberti Jeschonek arrived before my boredom had become dangerously destructive. He was disheveled, and seemed to have run from the docks to the Textile Bourse. I said as much.
“No, ’twas a horse, but the docks did not have an easy morning of it.” He sat down in Kohlmann’s chair and apparently couldn’t decide whether to glare or smile at me. “Two foreign crews mixed it up and we nearly had a riot.”
Which was, of course, the Harbormaster’s problem. Except when it wasn’t. Rather like Kohlmann, and much unlike Lampet, I could readily imagine Jeschonek wading into a dockside brawl with both fists, risking himself to bring it to an end before serious blood was shed. “You did not take any hits, I trust.”
“Oh, a man always takes hits. The secret is giving back more than you get.”
I laughed. “A policy that has served me well thus far in life.”
A moment later one of the junior clerks darted into the room with a mug of kava for Jeschonek. The young man shot me a cautious look that in turn disguised a wink, then slipped out again.
The councilor took a long, careful sip before glancing down at where I’d been defacing his table. “That will not so easily be sanded out.”
“Consider it a reminder.” I dropped the knife from a foot above. It landed point-first in the wood and stuck upward, vibrating.
“No one is at your beck and call, Green. Especially not this Interim Council.”
“Perhaps I could arrange the bad news to arrive at your convenience?”
He leaned forward. “What bad news?”
I tapped at the top of my knife’s narrow hilt as I listed off what was on my mind. “You already know of the Selistani embassy’s attempt to imprison me. They nearly fought with Councilor Kohlmann. There was another attempt upon my person yesterday, in which two innocents were killed.” At the surmise in his eyes, I added testily, “ Not by me.
“Today I find that zealots among the pardines are come to Copper Downs in search of an ancient treasure stolen from them by the late Duke. Those are an even more dangerous embassy than the Prince of the City and his little collection of fops and assassins.” A stronger tap made the knife quiver with a metallic noise. “All of which ties back to a warning I received during my stay in the High Hills.”
“From whom?” Jeschonek asked.
I was interested to note that the issue of my source of information was his first question, rather than wondering of what I had been warned. “The graves up there talk, you know. Many of them babble, but some are very sensible indeed.”