He tried to focus. He had a war to win, and the Grent were already on the move. Every minute he spent here might lose him what little advantage he had. He suddenly felt a great indignation – for himself, for Kizzie, for Montego. Father Vorcien might think everything was just business, but he had no right to force any of them into such an arrangement. “This is Ossa. Everything is always complicated, and there’s always a solution,” he said.
“You have a plan to undermine Father Vorcien?” Montego asked with a frown.
He only had the slightest glimmer of a plan, and he knew that Kizzie’s future was in his hands now. Whatever he did to outmaneuver Father Vorcien needed to account for Kizzie. That made it ten times as difficult. “Nothing matters until I return from fighting the Grent,” Demir replied. “If I return. But Father Vorcien is so worried about the war that he made an amateurish mistake.” He grinned at Montego. “He didn’t get the deal in writing before I left the Maerhorn.”
46
Kizzie was surprised when Gorian intercepted her just outside the watchhouse. He was dressed smartly in his National Guard uniform, auraglass buttons polished and jacket brushed. She paused to look him up and down before raising an eyebrow at him. “What are you all decked out for?”
“The glassdamned war,” he answered. “They’re calling up thousands of National Guardsmen for the front. We’ve got an inspection with the Ministry of the Legion later today and I want to look and feel my best for it.”
“You want to get called up to the front?” Kizzie asked in surprise. That was very unlike Gorian. “You know you’re not trained for actual combat, right?”
Gorian sniffed indignantly. “I do the requisite military drills every eighth weekend, thank you very much.”
“That’s not combat.”
“Nor do I intend on actually seeing any.” He tapped the side of his nose with one finger. “A friend at the Ministry gave me the skinny. This business with the Grent and Kerite – they’re only sending useless meat from the National Guard out there to get ground up. Everyone who looks and acts sharp stays in the city to protect the interests of the guild-families.” He gave her a self-satisfied grin.
That sounded more like Gorian. “You’re a weasel.”
“I’m your weasel, Kizzie, and I’m very useful.”
“Tell me just how useful. Where’s the Tall Man?”
Somehow, Gorian’s grin grew even more self-satisfied. He breathed on the fingernails of his right hand, polished them on his jacket, then held them out for inspection. “He’s just inside.”
“You caught him?” she blurted in surprise.
“Not at all. He paid me to set up the meeting.”
Kizzie was not proud that her bowels did a backflip inside her, but they did just that. “Are you insane?” she hissed, snatching him by the arm and pulling him over to the side of the street. “Why the piss would you set up a meeting for him?”
“Because he asked,” Gorian replied with a shrug. “Come on, Kizzie. It’s in a watchhouse. Ten of my best are in there playing cards at this very moment. You wanted to find him and that’s the best damned place for a meeting you could possibly imagine.”
Kizzie walked to the middle of the street and back again just to try and get out some of her nervous energy. “So he’s not inside of a cell?”
“No.”
“I’d feel a lot safer if he were.”
“What, because you think he’s involved in this secret sorcery war?” Gorian’s self-satisfaction began to fade. “He’s tall, I’ll give you that, but he’s not even carrying a weapon. No visible godglass. One of my crew is a minor-talent glassdancer, and the Tall Man is not one of them. Perfectly safe.”
Kizzie looked one way and then the other to make sure they were alone, then leaned toward Gorian. “You heard about General Stavri’s assassination?”
“Yeah.”
“He was there.”
Gorian’s eyes widened. He didn’t look so pleased with himself anymore. “But he’s not a glassdancer.”
“I didn’t say he did it, I just said he was there.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I was there. I walked into it minutes after it happened to look for Agrippo Stavri. I raised the alarm and don’t – don’t – mention that to anyone.”
“Right, right,” Gorian said, nodding emphatically. He glanced uncertainly toward the front door of the watchhouse. “He was probably there to make a report to someone and just missed the assassins. Just like you.”
“Well then we’re both damned lucky,” Kizzie said. She swore under her breath. She wasn’t ready for this. If Gorian had mentioned that the Tall Man was here, she would have come with twenty Vorcien enforcers armed to the teeth.
“You want me to go in there and arrest him?” Gorian asked.
Kizzie considered the offer for a moment, then wondered if she should go get twenty Vorcien enforcers. But she couldn’t risk spooking the Tall Man. She needed answers out of him. And, it seemed, he needed answers from her. That second thought was far more terrifying. She stopped herself in mid-thought. Why was she so terrified of him? She hadn’t actually seen him do anything. He might just be an observer or a spy or … something else.
It was the way he just watched. When Glissandi died, and after Kizzie raised the alarm at the boxing club. She could still see those calm, cold-fire eyes when she went to sleep. That was why she was so terrified.
“Don’t try to arrest him,” she told Gorian. “I’ll go in there and talk to him, but I want you to be ready to act. That asshole screams violence to me.”
“Eh. Guys that big don’t move so fast.”
“Did you ever see Baby Montego fight?” Kizzie snapped.
“Ah. Point taken.” Gorian inhaled sharply through his teeth. “It’s fine. Twelve of us, one of him. I’ll make sure everyone is on alert while you talk to him. If anything goes wrong, just snap your fingers and we’ll put the bastard on the floor.”
Kizzie shook out both arms and then threaded her braided godglass earrings through each ear, giving herself a moment to grow accustomed to the sorcery now flowing through her. She adjusted her stiletto, switched her blackjack to her left pocket, and nodded at Gorian. “Fine, let’s go chat with him.”
The Tall Man sat quietly in the corner of the watchhouse, calmly sipping a cup of tea while he read the morning newspaper. Kizzie paused briefly when she saw him there, looking as normal as anything, wondering once again why she was so afraid until he lifted his piercing gaze up to meet her eye. “You gave him tea?” she whispered to Gorian.
“It seemed polite,” Gorian responded, heading over to the other National Guardsmen playing cards beside the holding cells. The room was quite crowded with eleven of them, the Tall Man, and her. Gorian and his comrades were not subtle about the way they shifted for their truncheons and knives. Kizzie rolled her eyes and forced herself to walk straight over to the Tall Man, sitting down in the chair with its back to the wall and gazing across the table at him.
“Good morning,” he said. His voice was oddly gentle and melodic, as if practiced to be at odds with his height. “You’re Kissandra Vorcien.”
“I am. And you?”
“My name is not important,” he said, glancing down into his tea with a small smile. “I have a message for both you and Father Vorcien.”