Of course they had. At least Aelia Dorlani was involved, maybe other members of the Inner Assembly. Interestingly, it seemed that Father Vorcien wasn’t. “You’re not … going to stop me?”
Father Vorcien chuckled. “Of course not. I told them I wouldn’t pry, but Demir Grappo made no such promises. Besides, I have something more important on my mind.” He paused for a moment, his mirth subsiding into a little scowl. “Do you know what a phoenix channel is?”
“I don’t.” Kizzie looked up, cocking an eyebrow at her father.
“It’s a theoretical silic device. The details are not important. What’s important is that Adriana Grappo, before her death, was working on a phoenix channel.”
“She wasn’t a siliceer.”
“No, but she was partnered with one in secret.”
“How do you know?” Kizzie asked, the question coming out somewhat more sharply than she’d intended.
“Because I had my agents steal all the notes the Cinders confiscated from her office.” Father Vorcien examined his nails and yawned, as if this weren’t low even for him. He continued, “She covered her tracks well, but if you examine her private notes with an eye for what she left out, it was not difficult to ascertain what she was up to. We don’t know who her partner was for sure – we have our suspicions – but Demir might try to continue the work that she started.”
Kizzie felt her heart fall as she realized what was about to come next. “You want me to spy on Demir,” she said flatly.
“I do.” Father Vorcien licked his lips and grinned. “He’s taken you deep into his confidence. He won’t suspect anything.”
“I’m not … I don’t think…” Kizzie searched around inside herself for the courage to say no. She was already in trouble for that bullshit with Sibrial and the magistrate. Could she afford to lose even more standing with Father Vorcien? She swore silently. That was not her. She did not spy on her friends. That warm feeling of childhood friendship she’d experienced at Demir’s hotel had evaporated, and she found herself suddenly quite scared.
“Before you bore me with your personal integrity,” Father Vorcien said, waving dismissively, “I will make you an offer: if Demir succeeds in creating a phoenix channel and you inform me of the fact, I will legitimize you.”
For half a moment, Kizzie felt like she’d been shot. Her body tightened, all rational thought fleeing her mind. She was frozen in complete disbelief. “You would?” The question came out as a shameful squeak. Father Vorcien’s grin widened. The old bastard knew he had her.
“I would, and I will.”
“And all I have to do is tell you if Demir makes this phoenix channel?”
“Correct. I understand it’s a betrayal of sorts, but it’s certainly not a big one. I won’t have you raise a hand against him.”
Father Vorcien was many things, but he always followed through on a promise. Kizzie was trembling now, blown away by the very thought. Moments ago legitimization had been a forbidden fantasy. Now it was a possibility. She wouldn’t be just a bastard enforcer with a handful of scant privileges; she’d be a proper family member. She would have money, power, luxuries. Sibrial wouldn’t be allowed to touch her, even after he inherited the post of patriarch.
“I won’t spend my time rooting through his papers,” she said in a shaky voice, trying to cling to some semblance of her integrity.
“You will do what you see fit.” Father Vorcien’s tone was lazy, confident. He’d just dangled the juiciest of prizes in front of her. He didn’t need to say or do anything else. He knew that if Demir Grappo made a phoenix channel and there was any way for Kizzie to discover this fact, she would do it. “Aside from that,” he continued, “I would like to know if you discover Adriana’s killers. That could be very valuable information and even if Demir does not succeed with a phoenix channel … well, telling me who killed his mother will return you to my good graces. Adriana and I had our differences, but I liked her. Closure to her death would be both professionally and personally satisfying.”
“Understood,” Kizzie choked out. Father Vorcien rang the bell sitting on the table beside him and Diaguni opened the doors to his study. Kizzie retreated at the silent dismissal. She found an empty sitting room where she could regain her composure and paced the length of it for some time.
On one hand, she did not want to betray Demir. He was a friend, and even in this short time after his return he’d shown her basic kindnesses that no one in her family ever had. On the other hand, this could solve all of her problems. A single betrayal in return for a guaranteed future? Like Father Vorcien had said, it was a small betrayal. It would never come back to her. She could make that sacrifice to secure her future. She had to.
A thought suddenly occurred to her: Demir had been meeting with a young siliceer that he called his new business partner. Was she working on the phoenix channel? She seemed far too young for a project that sounded so important, but it made sense. Kizzie almost returned to the foyer to interrupt her father’s next meeting. She stopped herself. No need to jump to conclusions, or slavishly feed Father Vorcien information in the hope of earning his goodwill. The deal was a single piece of information in exchange for her legitimization. She would not give him a scrap more.
Kizzie smoothed back her hair, put the last of her qualms to bed, and returned her thoughts to the matter at hand. It was time to find the next killer.
28
A major component of Thessa’s education under Kastora had been contracts. She’d been his chief contract revisionist since she was seventeen, and it was her single most important skill – above even glassmaking itself – that almost guaranteed that she would run her own glassworks someday. She knew how to read them, how to write them, how to understand them. She knew how to watch for underhanded language and how to insert her own. She could spot a bad contract at a glance.
It came as quite a shock to find that the original contract between Kastora and Adriana Grappo had none of that. The language was straightforward, the terms clear-cut. Adriana provided the design and the funding. Kastora provided the silic expertise. They were fifty-fifty partners in the phoenix channel endeavor. The shock did not come from the fact that Kastora had signed a good contract, but rather from the fact that he had not inserted anything to his own advantage over the Grappo. The only conclusion Thessa could reach was that he had respected Adriana too much to try.
Thessa stared at the contract, reading over it for the twentieth time in the last two hours. Demir offered to sign a version of this same contract with no revisions between the two of them. It was, to say the least, generous. A true partnership. She could find nothing to object to in the deal, not even a single piece of punctuation out of place. After reading thousands of contracts over the course of her training and work under Kastora, she’d never seen anything like it. A total anomaly that left Thessa feeling slightly unsettled. It was, Kastora had always told her, in the nature of business partners to jostle for position and advantage.
Could it really be this easy? Could she really trust Demir to hold to this? Then again, why couldn’t she? Ossan guild-families took contracts very seriously. It was practically a religion.
She finally tossed the contract to one side and rubbed her eyes, looking out the window into the afternoon sun. Three days ago she had been a prisoner with a false name trying to figure out a way to save her own life. Now she was sitting in a corner suite in the finest hotel in Ossa, looking at a contract that – if she succeeded with the phoenix channel – could make her one of the wealthiest siliceers in the world. She had appointments with tailors, cobblers, and a masseuse. Her change in fortunes seemed unreal to the point of fantasy. Where was the catch?