Demir ground his teeth. It probably should wait, but if something bad happened it should slot into his calculations so he couldn’t make things worse. “Out with it.”
“The Dorlani attempted to burgle the hotel, sir. I sent a runner to let you know, but they might not have been able to make it through the military blockades.”
A cold trail of sweat sprang up in the small of Demir’s back. His swirling thoughts of powerful arguments and political maneuvering suddenly disappeared, and his focus was now entirely on Breenen. “Thessa’s project?”
“It was their target,” Breenen confirmed. “They tried to snatch notes, books, and even the project itself. They poisoned Montego’s tea and killed a cook and a porter. They might have gotten away with it if Lady Foleer weren’t up so late working. She managed to rouse Montego. The intruders were … dealt with.”
“Piss!” Demir swore. He began to pace around the small office. Their greatest weapon in this silic race for a phoenix channel was that no one actually knew they were participating. That advantage was now gone. “We must have a spy.”
“I…” Breenen grimaced. “I’m not sure we do, sir. I spent all night interviewing the entire staff with shackleglass. I don’t even know what she’s working on, and none of the staff do either.”
“Then how the piss did the Dorlani find out?” Demir demanded. He could feel a rising panic in the pit of his stomach and tried to fight it down. He couldn’t defend the Empire and his guild-family all at the same time.
“We managed to interrogate one survivor of the attack. Their orders came directly from Aelia Dorlani. She must already know what Lady Foleer is working on.”
“But how?” Demir demanded again. His pacing grew more frantic until he forced himself to take a calming breath and sit down in the little chair across from Breenen’s desk. “Shit and piss. Well, at least she was already one of our enemies on the Inner Assembly. Does she know her burglars failed?”
“She must by now,” Breenen said, “but we’ve kept it very quiet. She won’t know that we pried information out of her lackeys, and she won’t know that they’re all dead. The bodies are still in our ice cellar. Montego says he’s saving them for something special.”
“I don’t want to know what, but I probably should.” Demir considered heading right up to Montego’s suite and ordering him to stand down. They couldn’t escalate this, not right now. He checked his pocket watch again. He was definitely going to be late. “Where’s Thessa?”
“She’s in the garden, working on her project. Would you like to see her?”
“Not right now.” Demir opened the door to make sure no one was standing at the hotel’s desk just outside, then closed it again and turned to Breenen.
In a low voice he said, “Thessa is a Holikan orphan.”
Breenen’s whole face fell. “You’re joking, sir.”
“No. We almost slept together the other night. We likely would have if I hadn’t been called away by the Cinders. I saw her just briefly before heading to the front and that’s when she told me.”
“Does she know…?”
“No. I don’t think she does. She was practically a child when it happened, and wasn’t present in the city. My guess is that Master Kastora shielded her from most of the information, but she’s going to figure it out eventually. Those press releases have my old nickname all over them. Another victory for the Lightning Prince. If she doesn’t make the connection then, the newspapers will make it plain as they dig into my past. Everything Mother buried is going to get brought to light.”
“Do you not want me to send the press releases?”
“The Grappo name is more important than my relationship with Thessa,” Demir said flatly. He’d been warring with himself about this for days, and it was the only possible conclusion. “I will tell her when I return, and then we’ll see how she reacts. I … You’re giving me that look again.”
“What look, sir?”
“Like you have bad news you don’t want to have to tell me.”
Breenen made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “You’re very good at reading people, sir.”
Demir checked his pocket watch one last time and finally put it away. He should take Breenen’s advice and put everything off until later. There was a war on, after all. “Tell me,” he ordered.
“Sir,” Breenen said, removing something from his inner jacket pocket, “a letter came for you earlier today. It only contained this.”
Demir took a yellowed piece of paper from Breenen. He recognized an old military missive right away, from the shape and weight of the paper. It was folded down the middle, and he opened it to find a very short note.
For immediate distribution to all officers: Demir Grappo has ordered the sacking of Holikan. Proceed without delay.
It was signed by Capric Vorcien, and dated the night that Holikan was sacked.
Demir felt nothing for a very long time. He stood next to Breenen’s desk, staring at the paper, vaguely aware of the sounds of the hotel outside the little office. He finally licked his lips only to find them parched, both lips and tongue as dry as a mouth full of sand.
“Who sent this?” he asked.
“No idea, sir. Whoever it was didn’t want to be found out. They routed the envelope through at least two post offices before it arrived here.”
“Is it authentic?”
Breenen hesitated for too long before nodding. “I believe it is, sir.”
Demir cast about himself. He still couldn’t feel anything. His thoughts and mind were absolutely blank, as if they’d simply been unable to comprehend the crime – the betrayal – evidenced before him. He read the missive over several more times. His breath grew short, his eyes having trouble focusing. For half a moment he thought he felt the gentle tickle of his victor’s cloak rubbing against his neck. The last time he saw it, it was still wrapped around that poor dead child in Holikan.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Breenen said quickly. “It’s my fault. I should have waited to show you. I…”
“Did you put a tail on Capric?”
“The moment I laid eyes on this note.”
“Where is he?”
“Sir, I don’t think it’s a good idea to respond right now.”
“Where is he?” Demir couldn’t remember a single time – since childhood, perhaps – that he’d raised his voice at Breenen. The words came out as a frantic, furious shout and in that moment it was like a stopper had shot out of a wine bottle and all his emotions suddenly bubbled out bereft of logic or stability. He could feel the cracks forming in his mind, battered by an unstoppable maelstrom of fury. “Where the piss is he, Breenen?”
Breenen flinched away. “At the High Vorcien Club, sir.”
“Give me the shackleglass you keep in your desk.” Breenen hesitated for just a moment before fetching it and handing it over. Demir slid it into his cork-lined pocket and was out of the office and halfway to the Hyacinth front doors before he realized that he didn’t have a plan or any faculty for measured reason. He tried to stop himself – to arrest this idiot course of action – but his feet just kept carrying him forward.
“Sir, the Inner Assembly!” Breenen said, catching up to him and physically pulling on his sleeve.
“Can glassdamned wait.” Demir whirled back toward Breenen and took the concierge by both shoulders. “He was my friend,” he said softly to Breenen. “He was my friend and he murdered thousands of people and destroyed my life. I want answers and revenge, and I want them now.”
42