Qhora almost lashed out at him, but the empty and haunted look in his eyes was too familiar to the face she had seen in the mirror last night and the night before. She knelt beside him and said, “You’re right. My Enzo is dead, and nothing can change that. His soul is trapped in a seireiken blade, and maybe nothing can change that either. But the souls of the dead do live on, in their own way. And Enzo’s soul belongs with me, not with some killer. And that killer should be brought to justice, not left free to kill again. Enzo dedicated his life to peace as well as justice. I have to do this for him.”
“And what about Philo? What about his killers?”
“I don’t know who they were or what they wanted. It looked like they were waiting for us. Or maybe they were just waiting for anyone they could rob. I don’t know. But if you will help us, then we will help you.”
Tycho stared dejectedly at the ground.
“Tell me about Philo. Did you know him well?”
The dwarf nodded. “He saved my life. In Hellas, or at least in the province of Sparta, they don’t let the sick or the deformed live. I should have been killed as soon as I was born. My own parents would have killed me. But Philo was there. He was passing through the town and heard about my birth and came to pay his respects. And when he saw me and knew what was about to happen, he took me. He just picked me up, carried me off to Constantia, and raised me as his own.” Tycho looked up. “We’ve never been apart in all my life.”
Qhora put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I lost my father too, when I was very young.”
Tycho exhaled slowly. “I want to go back. I want to find him, to tend his body. But…I guess it’s not safe. And there are others back in the Hellan Quarter who will see to his body, I suppose. They won’t leave him out in the street. We’ve only been here a week, but we did make a few friends. They’ll take care of him.” He nodded and sighed. Then he looked up, his eyes clear and piercing. “I’ll finish what we started. We were sent to find a seireiken, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. For Philo.”
Qhora managed to smile at him. He’s trying to be brave. He’s trying to say the right thing, the brave thing, the noble thing. But it’s not what he wants. I can see it in his eyes. He wants to go home. He wants to run. But he won’t. He won’t run.
“All right,” she said. “Let’s go find you a sword, and find me mine.”
They stood and hesitated a moment as Tycho realized that he must take the lead, but then he set out and the ladies followed. The sky was quite dark now, salted with a few bright stars and scarred with long thin clouds discolored in dark red hues. Candles flickered in every window and torches blazed on every street corner. Fiery cinders fluttered up from the brands amidst the smoke.
The small Hellan walked as quickly as he could, but Qhora grit her teeth and tried to will him to move faster. Night had already fallen and there was so much still to be done.
After weaving through the thin crowds and occasionally hiding in a shadowed doorway to avoid a particularly unpleasant group of men, they arrived at the restaurant. The windows were dark and there were no people loitering near the entrance. Tycho waved at the writing over the doors and said, “The Cat’s Eye.”
“You can read Eranian? And speak it too?” Qhora asked.
“Yes. Constantia is a city of many languages. And besides, if you want to interrogate the enemy or intercept their messages, you need to know their speech.” There was a quiet dryness to the young Hellan’s voice, as though his body and mind were simply going through the motions and doing what needed to be done without any feeling or passion or desire.
I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.
Qhora walked up to the doors and knocked. After a moment, the door opened and a stern-faced woman in a conservative black dress stepped out.
“Do you speak Espani?” Qhora asked.
“We’re closed for the evening,” the woman said in a labored Eranian accent.
“I can see that. But I’m trying to find someone and I think you might be able to help me.”
“I said we’re closed. You can come back in the morning.”
Qhora tried to smile. “I would, but we’re in a bit of rush and we’re hoping to find our friend tonight.”
The woman did not smile back. “No one comes to The Cat’s Eye looking for friends.”
Qhora placed her hands on her hips, pushing back the tailored sides of her husband’s old army jacket to reveal the handle of one of her dirks. “Of course you’re right. We’re looking for one of the men in the green robes, from the Temple of Osiris. A young man who just returned from Marrakesh.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re looking for Aker?”
“Aker?” The man who killed my Enzo is named Aker.
“Aker El Deeb.” The woman nodded. “He’s here. He’s with my mistress.”
Aker El Deeb. Qhora swallowed and exhaled. “Can I see him?”
“Do you mean to kill him?” the woman asked sharply.
Qhora nodded. “Yes.”
“Then yes, please come in.” The woman stepped back inside.
Qhora and the others followed. “Is there some reason why you’re being so helpful?”
The woman paused. They were standing in the center of a large dining room, a darkened hall full of empty chairs and empty tables. “My mistress is a complicated woman. At her best, she is quite impressive. Intelligent. Cunning. Dangerous. Powerful. For the last year, business has been good. Very good. Then Aker returned.”
“They have a history. Aker and your mistress?” Qhora asked.
“They were lovers once. And judging from the noises coming from upstairs, they are again at this very moment. And that is a problem.” The woman sighed. “When they are together, she’s different. She drinks. She talks like an empty-headed child. She stops caring about anything but playing with her little toy, and that is very bad for business.”
Qhora nodded. “I take it you care about business.”
“I’m only a clerk now. But my mistress’s star is rising and I intend to rise with it. And that means no more Aker. I was beginning to think I would need to kill him myself, but if you would like the honor, I am happy to arrange an introduction. On one condition.”
“Which is?”
“You will wait until they are apart, and then kill him alone. And you will leave no evidence that connects you to me.”
“Agreed.” Qhora gestured across the room.
The woman led the way to a rear stair and they climbed to the second floor. They entered a small room on the right and the woman said, “Wait here. They’re just next door. When she leaves to use the powder room, I’ll knock twice on the door here. Wait a moment for me to leave, and then do your business. Be quick and be quiet, and then leave the way you came in.”
Qhora nodded and the woman left.
They stood together in the dark, she and Mirari and Tycho. After a moment she drew her knife and took a deep breath.
Now. This is the moment. In a few seconds I’ll go in there. He’ll be lying in bed, unsuspecting. Just like we were. I’ll burst in on him, just like he did. I’ll kill him quickly, before he can even speak. And then I’ll take the sword. I have to remember the sword.
Two soft knocks fell on the door outside and Qhora held her breath as she listened to the footsteps trailing away down the hall.
Now.
“I don’t like it, my lady.” Mirari stepped closer to the door. She spoke so softly Qhora could barely hear her. “It was too easy.”
“Sometimes life gives you exactly what you want when you want it,” Qhora said. “It’s best not to question fate.”
“But to meet exactly the right person at exactly the right time?”
Qhora paused with her hand on the door knob. “This is a city of liars and killers. It was only a matter of time before we met someone who wanted to kill the same person that we do. Be grateful. And be quiet.”