“Good morning, watcher,” she said.
The watcher’s smile grew a little wider. “Good morning, Captain Leshe.”
Ripka stood straighter. “Miss Leshe is appropriate, please.”
“If you insist. Have you been enjoying our fair city?”
Ripka bit her tongue to keep from divulging all her revelations. The watcher was after small talk, not a detailed evaluation of the city’s civic planning. “It is blessedly cooler than Aransa, without being as cold as–” She cut herself off just short of saying the Remnant. “Some southern cities I’ve visited.”
“We do partake of the Darkling Sea’s breezes during monsoon season, but I’m sure you’ve realized a discussion of the weather isn’t why I stopped to chat with you.”
Indignation and fascination warred within Ripka. So this was what it was like to be on the other end of being suspected of mischief in a watcher-controlled city. Fascinating. “Have I done something wrong?”
“Not as such. My captain has sent me to fetch you, to discuss your continued presence in Hond Steading.”
“Dame Honding has given me her blessing.”
“We understand. Would you come with me, please?” She spoke in the well-practiced tone that gave the polite illusion of question without being an outright command. For just a moment Ripka was tempted to tell her off, return to the palace and complain to the Dame that her watchers had for some reason not gotten the message that Ripka was welcome in their city.
But Ripka’d never been one to hide under another’s authority. And besides, her curiosity was well and truly piqued. The watch could very well be a deciding force in the city’s defense. If she could bend this captain’s ear, make him see reason and urge his working with Nouli… So many possibilities unspooled within her mind that she caught herself grinning, wiped it away, and gave the watcher what she hoped was a respectful nod.
“Please, lead the way.”
The watcher wasted no time. They cut through the city at a crisp near-jog, Ripka struggling to memorize all the twists and turns.
The watcher delivered Ripka, breath coming a little quickly due to the pace, to the front doors of the station house and bade her enter and ask for the captain – she was expected – then disappeared back into the city to see to her other tasks.
Ripka forced a deep breath, and steeled herself. Too long on the Remnant had made her jumpy, wary of imprisonment of any kind. She was fine. Even if things went wrong here, Enard knew she’d gone out walking. With Dame Honding’s power behind him, it wouldn’t take him long to discover where she was being held.
Curiosity overrode caution, and she shoved the station house door open. A large room splayed out before her, high of ceiling and brightly lit with dozens of gleaming oil-fed candelabras. The grandeur of Valathea’s aesthetics infused the room’s size and scale, but the austerity she’d seen on display at the Honding palace was present as well. Every stick of furniture was needed, every piece well-made, if a little worn from use.
Ripka caught herself doing an inspection – cleanliness of the floors, easy access to a restraints cage – and stopped. This wasn’t her station house. This wasn’t why she was here.
Watchers buzzed through the room, files tucked under arms or prisoners ushered before them. A few harried citizens sat at tables, distressed and talking with their assigned watcher. Everything, so far as she could tell, seemed in order here. Running smoothly.
With a pleased smile, she stepped up to the room’s primary desk and addressed the sharp young man standing at ease there.
“I’m here to see your watch-captain.”
Surprise registered, but was gone in a flash. “I see. Do you have an appointment?”
“I might. One of your watchers collected me and told me he wished to see me.” As she spoke, she realized how ridiculous the story sounded. She didn’t even know the watch-captain’s name, let alone the name of the watcher who’d corralled her here. Ripka’s stomach soured as the young man’s face grew tight with confusion. That watcher could have very easily been playing a prank on her, making the disgraced watch-captain feel important, then ripping the rug out. She might be making a fool of herself. She cleared her throat and started again. “My name is Ripka Leshe.”
“Oh,” the man said. “My apologies. I didn’t think they’d find you so soon. Please, follow me.”
The watcher opened a door and stepped aside so that she could pass. Laughter rolled out, young and bright. Ripka stepped into the well-lit room and blinked. A man sat behind a desk, shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows and a spatter of grey in his short-cropped hair. She marked him in his forties, and the young girl sitting on his shoulders at five, maybe six. The girl grinned at Ripka, revealing a wide gap where a front tooth should be, and the older man looked a touch embarrassed.
The air smelled of clean oil and fresh ink, the floor beneath her feet was swept clean and all the furniture polished to a high shine. If ever there existed an office meant to be the complete opposite of the Remnant Warden, Radu Baset’s, this was it.
“I’m Kalliah,” the little girl said.
“Am I interrupting…? Ripka asked.
“No, no, not at all.” The man swung Kalliah from his shoulders with ease and the girl whooped. “Watcher Yethon, please take Kalliah to her mother. She’s probably worried sick.”
“Any idea where she’s at?” the watcher asked, taking Kalliah’s hand and leading her toward the door.
“Swimming at the hole, more than like.”
Kalliah brightened. “Can I go swimming too?”
“Only if your mother says you can.”
“Yay!” Kalliah dragged her watcher escort behind her like a kite. The man sat back down behind his desk with a rueful laugh.
“I apologize, miss. She gets away from her mother sometimes, but always to come to see me. Could be worse acts of escape, I suppose. Now, what can I do for you? Did we have an appointment?”
“I’m not sure,” she confessed. “One of your watchers asked me to come see you. I am Ripka Leshe, formerly of the Aransa watch.”
“Captain Leshe!” The man was on his feet in an instant. He rounded the desk and held her hand in his before she could blink. He shook it like it had something foul on it he was trying to kick clean, a huge smile splitting his face. “I should have known, shouldn’t I? Sit, sit, please, can I get you a drink?”
He was gone as soon as he’d come, disappearing back behind his desk to rummage through a drawer that produced the telltale clink of bottles. Feeling like she’d just been swept up in a monsoon wind, she took the chair opposite his desk and sat. It didn’t even creak.
“No thank you, Captain…?”
“Lakon. Falston Lakon. I’d say you could call me Falston, but Lakon’s less of a mouthful on the balance. Are you sure you won’t drink? I’ve fizzed Erst Pear juice, new stuff, no booze in it if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’ll try the juice, thank you, Lakon.”
He produced two glazed clay cups half-full with something sweet and fizzy. As the bubbles popped against her tongue, she recognized the bitter-tannic taste of selium bubbles. Before he could throw another flurry of conversation at her, she gathered herself.
“Captain, I apologize if I’ve done anything to disturb your watchers. I understand the presence of another captain – even though I’ve lost my post – can be worrisome to some watchers. I mean no harm to you or your organization.”
He chuckled. “They hide it well, but my people are all in a tizzy that you’re here. The Dame sent me a letter last night to say you’d arrived and would be staying at the palace indefinitely. Of course she didn’t seal the pits-cursed note, so half the station knew about it by morning and the other half by midday. There’s no worse gossipmonger than a watcher.