“They’ve killed the night porter and ransacked my room,” Thessa explained quickly. “They’re in the glassworks as we speak, trying to steal all my work on the phoenix channel.”
A great rumbling sound seemed to roll from the center of Montego’s chest. He pulled himself to his feet and, though he was still wobbly, produced a massive cudgel from the coat closet of his room. “Whatever they drugged me with,” he said, his words growing a little more clear, “they didn’t use enough. Don’t follow me, and don’t look out that window.”
Thessa sank down on the floor next to the spilled tea, looking at her trembling hands, trying to get the poor dead porter out of her mind. A few moments later she heard a panicked shout, and then the screaming started. Thessa wrapped her arms around herself. Minutes passed. The screaming stopped, replaced by the more organized shouts of someone raising a general alarm. She could hear people rushing around the hall for quite some time, and then the door to Montego’s suite opened.
It was Pari, looking pale and frightened. She came to Thessa’s side and put a hand on her shoulder. “We should go,” she said. “Come on, Breenen is getting a new room set up for you while they clean yours.”
Thessa allowed Pari to help her up, then shrugged off her hand. “I’m all right,” she said, breathing deeply. “I just … They killed that night porter, and for a few moments I thought Montego was dead too and that they were going to take all of my work.” Thessa looked down at her hands. At least they’d stopped shaking.
“They’re not taking anything,” Pari said grimly.
“Did Montego…?”
Pari shook her head. “I’ve seen plenty of violence in my life,” she said unsteadily, “but never anything like that. You shouldn’t look out your window until after they’ve cleaned up.”
“Did they damage anything?”
“No. There’s some blood on your notes, though.”
Thessa turned her gaze away from the night porter’s cubby, where several enforcers were gathered around. She found Tirana in her nightclothes, standing at the end of the hall with her sword in one hand and a pistol in the other, directing the dozens of enforcers that swarmed the halls. Porters went from room to room, quietly telling the guests to stay inside until morning.
Tirana looked absolutely furious, and turned her gaze on Thessa. “That should not have happened. I am so sorry, Lady Foleer.”
“I’m fine. I’m more worried about the night porter.”
“It was quick. He wouldn’t have felt a thing. We’ll take care of his family.” Tirana peered at Pari. “You, Breenen will want to question you immediately.”
“She couldn’t have had anything to do with it,” Thessa said, stepping in front of Pari. “She’s been with me for the last hour, and before that she was with him.”
“It’s just a formality. He’s going to question the entire staff tonight. He’d question the guests if it were up to him. We’ve sent a messenger to tell Demir that the hotel was attacked.”
Thessa felt more secure now, with Grappo enforcers all around, and she felt her confidence returning. “Do we know who it was?” She took another deep breath. She had to look strong – to play her part. She was a Grappo client and partner now, and the staff would look to her as one.
Tirana was shaking her head when Montego appeared. He was a terrifying sight, his nightclothes drenched in blood, his cudgel dripping gore, barefoot and shirtless. Thessa felt her stomach lurch. He padded over to them, surprisingly silent despite his size. He said, “I left one alive for questioning. They were Dorlani. Six of the bastards. One of them snuck in during the dinner rush. Killed Horphel and Faille, drugged my tea, and let the others in. Glassdamnit, I should have realized I didn’t recognize the asshole who brought that tea.”
“Ah, shit,” Tirana grunted. “I liked Horphel. Faille, too. She was a hard worker.”
“They know about the…” Thessa nearly blurted out phoenix channel before remembering how many enforcers and porters were within earshot. “… thing?” she finished.
“Not in so many words,” Montego replied, “but they had orders to search the siliceer’s room and take every scrap of work you’d produced. They were wrapping up your cinderite when I fell upon them. I took care not to break anything.”
“Except for them,” Pari whispered. She didn’t even seem to realize she’d spoken out loud until her eyes widened.
Montego gave her a toothy, mirthless grin. “Except for them,” he confirmed.
Thessa returned to her room, where porters were already cleaning up the mess. She found a couple of sets of clothes and her book – Professor Volos’s treatise on lightning rods – before following Pari down the hall to an empty room that had been hastily made up for her. She sank down on the edge of the bed while Pari nervously paced the floor.
“Are you all right?” Thessa asked.
“Me? I was already undressed when all this started. It was practically over when I got to the garden.” She paused her pacing, turning first to the door, then back to Thessa. “I’ve heard stories about this kind of thing, but I never believed that the guild-families went through anything as violent as what I’ve seen in the Slag. But after seeing what Montego did to those intruders, I just … I can’t even find words for it.” She flinched. “I’ve got to go report to Breenen. I’ll hold some glassdamned shackleglass without complaint if it means they don’t suspect me.”
“You’re not going to quit?”
“Quit? I’ve barely been working for you a day and you’re the best boss I’ve ever had. As long as Montego doesn’t eat the help around here, I’ll be fine.” She paused. “Will you?”
“I will,” Thessa answered with what she hoped was a confident smile. “I was just shaken up a little at first.”
“I’ll get you some tea,” Pari offered.
Thessa nodded her thanks. She didn’t let herself weep until Pari had left the room. The tears rolled down Thessa’s cheeks, silent and warm, and she let them go until she managed to get control of herself once more. In all her life she’d never seen a body before a couple of weeks ago. She’d been robbed at knifepoint once, and she’d endured the news of her family’s slaughter, but that was the extent of the violence in her life.
Now she’d seen seven bodies. She could double that number just by looking out the window. Piss, she’d killed Filur Magna. She’d witnessed murder by both friends and enemies, and been threatened with as much. Demir had warned her this would be dangerous, but she hadn’t expected it to strike so close to home.
To calm herself down once more, she picked up Professor Volos’s book and began to skim the pages. She read both the text and her own in-margin notes, studying the incomprehensible sketches she’d made on the trip back from the Lampshade Boardwalk. Her tears dried and she felt herself grow more steady. Focus on the work, she reminded herself. Let other people deal with the violence. That was their job, after all.
Pari returned with a pot of tea, setting it on the table and bringing Thessa a cup with sugar and cream. Thessa sipped slowly, feeling the tension seep out of her. “Professor Volos,” she said, indicating the book, “describes the location at which she tested her lightning rod as a singular geographic phenomenon – a place where warm air regularly rose up from the sea to meet the mountains, causing frequent lightning storms that allowed her to make good, consistent progress on the lightning rod. I need something like that.”
Pari stared at her in confusion. “What are you talking about?”