Demir leapt from the carriage, shaking hands and handing out the tunics, addressing every enforcer by name and giving them a warm smile. “Cold morning,” he said, “wrap up tight. My, that looks threadbare. Ostis, you look like you could use new boots. Send your measurements to my hotel. Fedia, I heard you’re a big fan of Baby Montego – he brought you a signed cudgel.”
He kept his glove on his left hand to cover his glassdancer sigil, and it made all the difference in the world. Surely these enforcers knew he was a glassdancer – it was a rumor hard to quell – but without the reminder, they didn’t have that fear in their eyes. They told him jokes and responded to his words with grins. The whole damned garrison was practically eating out of his hand. Demir spotted the captain running toward him, nightcap on his head, pulling on his jacket as he waved a greeting.
“Morning, Captain,” Demir greeted him.
“Master Grappo! I thought you weren’t going to be able to visit us again any time soon.”
“I got to thinking about that,” Demir replied with an easy grin, “and I was so impressed with this operation that I thought I’d make sure everyone here is taken care of.” He put his arm around the captain’s shoulders, pulling him off to one side and saying quietly, “I know that the Magna aren’t exactly happy about my new ownership share. I thought maybe I could prove to them that I’m serious and they’d take me seriously.”
The captain looked over his shoulder before replying in a whisper. “It’s true. We validated your credentials last night, but we also got a message from Supi Magna himself. He’s … well, ‘unhappy’ undersells it a bit.”
“And like I said, I’m going to prove to them – and you and the overseer, of course – that I’m no fool. Now, where is Filur? I have some thoughts I’d like to share with him.”
“I’m not actually sure,” the captain replied, rubbing his chin. “He normally doesn’t arrive for another hour or so, but his carriage is parked just over there. Oi, Fedia! What time did the overseer arrive?”
“He came in about three,” came the reply. “He spent half the night in Furnace Number Nine.”
“Furnace Number Nine,” Demir replied slowly. “That’s one of those secret furnaces, isn’t it? One of them he wouldn’t show me yesterday.”
The captain went slightly pale. “It’s … complicated. I’m sure he’ll explain in due time.”
“Of course! He’s a busy man. Is there an officers’ mess in this place? I brought some very lovely caviar and scones for our breakfast.”
“Caviar?” the captain coughed in surprise. “Glassdamn. I … Yes, let me go make sure it’s all cleaned up!”
Demir sent the captain running with a pat on the back, then looked around. The enforcers were clustered around the wagon now as Montego continued handing out loaves of expensive bread, still warm from the bakery from the next town over. A few dozen of the hired laborers hung about on the fringes, clearly hoping for some scraps but boxed out by the enforcers. He wondered if any of them had been treated this well in their lives.
Probably not.
At that moment, something caught his eye. A pair of enforcers emerged from a nearby dormitory. Held between them closely was Thessa Foleer. They walked by quickly, without so much as a glance toward the hubbub at the front gate. Demir swore under his breath. He knew that walk. He’d seen it in prisons and labor camps all over the provinces, both as a governor and as a grifter. It meant the prisoner was in for a bad time.
Demir felt his stomach tighten at the implication. If she’d been discovered, all of his plans would be for naught. Filur Magna would know her mission and her skills. Even worse, what if she was questioned with shackleglass and Demir’s involvement came out? This needed to be dealt with, quickly and quietly.
Demir hurried to Montego, pushing through the enforcers and then whispering in his ear, “We might have a problem. I’m going to cause a distraction and slip away. Be ready to back me up.”
A curt nod was the only response he got, and Demir plastered that easy smile on his face and found one of the hired help still hoping to receive a gift. The woman was tall and scarred, and she glared at the enforcers with ill-disguised anger as they received all the attention from Montego.
Demir sidled up next to her and produced a stack of banknotes. “How well are you paid?” he asked.
The woman glanced down at his guild-family sigil, then averted her eyes. “Very well, sir. Thank you for asking.”
“Tell me truthfully and there’s money in it for you.”
The woman glanced left, then right, hesitating for a long time. In a quiet voice she said, “The laborers here are not paid or treated well.”
“I’ll give you a thousand ozzo if you start a fight. But don’t look like you’re trying to.” He palmed the banknotes and flashed them to her.
“Done.”
He slipped them in her pocket, took a step back, and watched as she steeled herself with a deep breath and elbowed her way into the enforcers. She stepped on feet, bruised some ribs, and within moments had the attention of several very angry-looking enforcers. Chaos erupted immediately, and Demir slipped away, following Thessa and her guards.
23
Thessa was half carried, half dragged down the center street of the compound. She tried to think, tried to plan, but nothing but panic circled through her thoughts. Someone must have seen her enter the administration office. The schematics would be found on her person and then she would follow the fate of the other poor bastards who crossed Craftsman Magna. At best, flogged and sent to the lumber camps. Or worse …
She didn’t want to think of the worst, and was more than a little surprised when they escorted her right past the administration building. She craned her head to stare back at it, expecting to be taken directly to Craftsman Magna, when a new thought occurred to her: perhaps this was part of her escape! The enforcers were paid off, Axio already fetched away. She used the thought to calm herself. When her struggles finally ceased, the enforcers let her walk on her own.
There was a small building in the corner of the glassworks, down a narrow alley and isolated from the rest of the compound behind a pair of warehouses, labeled only with small letters calling it Furnace Number Nine. Thessa had seen it once in passing and had given it no thought.
A single enforcer stood outside a reinforced door. He opened it for Thessa and her escorts and then closed it behind them. Thessa heard a heavy lock fall into place. It was a workshop, with just a single workbench in front of a single furnace and space to work not much larger than her bedroom back at the Grent Glassworks. There were extra aprons hanging on the wall and a heavy crate slid against one corner. The walls were covered in cork panels, the room lit by gas lanterns. There were no windows.
All her hopes fled the moment she stepped inside. Sitting on the crate against the far wall was Craftsman Magna. He lounged happily, feet up on a smaller box, fingers knitted over his stomach. Axio stood in front of him.
The young man looked like he’d been worked over by a cudgel. His face was battered, his bottom lip bleeding heavily, and his tunic torn in several places. His eyes were downcast, not even lifting to glance at Thessa when she entered. A light green godglass collar had been placed around his neck, the sight of which made Thessa’s blood run cold.
Shackleglass.
Thessa’s breath caught in her throat, her thoughts screaming in terror. She didn’t even think to keep the fear off her face, and when he saw it, Craftsman Magna grinned back at her.