I look up at the Chromeria. It fills me with rage and loathing. They kicked me out in my first year, thirteen years old, and over what? A cat.
Who likes cats? Cats aren’t even capable of loving you back. Why had they decided that damned beast was worth more than me? I was a budding green drafter. They couldn’t have known then how special I would be, but who would throw any drafter away over a cat?
Still, that cat taught me something. Taught me to be careful. Invaluable in my occupation. It’s why I’m still alive, twenty years later. My first three partners hadn’t been as careful as I am. I barely recovered Gebalyn’s cloak last time, and wasn’t able to pull it out of the fire before it lost six precious thumb-widths off the hem. That cloak would always have to go to someone as short as Niah now. It was already hard enough to find lightsplitters-now my matron would have to find a short splitter.
Not my problem.
All I hope is that this job hurts the Chromeria. Atirat is far more accepting of my little quirks than Orholam and his Chromeria would ever be. The green goddess doesn’t chain those who love her. Atirat saved me from a life of self-loathing. She gives me freedom, acceptance. These cattle, these chattel, would never know that.
The taxmen don’t stop me, don’t search my bag. Though they have the right to do so, the volume of people who come through is simply too high to effectively stop all of them. They do spot checks instead, pulling people out of the lines and searching for ratweed, for jewels, for saffron, for any items that are small enough and precious enough that individuals could smuggle an untaxed fortune’s worth in their pockets.
Maybe I don’t look the type, though in my experience smugglers do look as bedraggled as I must. My beard needs a fresh oiling at the least. If I can find an Atashian barber, I’ll get the whole beard redone-unbraided, beads removed, combed out, face massage, dyed to cover the patchy gray, then rebraided and tied, with gold beads perhaps instead of the blue glass I have now, maybe some gold wire woven in. Gold wire, that’s how I’ll reward myself for this job, whatever it is.
I catch up with Niah an hour later, after both of us have taken rooms in an inn, separately. There are good operational reasons for doing so, but Niah didn’t mention those when I suggested we save money by sharing a room; she simply said that she’d kill me if I ever came into her room.
Sometimes I think she doesn’t like me much. Good partner, though. Capable, won’t get me killed. In the end, that’s what I care about, although I miss that look on her face when I started asphyxiating her after I tied her up. She panicked, but I knew she’d thank me as soon as she hit the peak. I couldn’t wait to see her terror turn to delirious pleasure.
But she was frigid. Man can’t help that.
I fall in beside her as she buys fruit at the market a block away from the inn. “Nice melons,” I say.
She pretends I haven’t said anything. “I translated the code. You’re not going to believe it.”
I’m much taller than she is, and I stand close, looking down the front of her blouse. “Mm, suspense.”
“You know, Vox, there’s a brothel across the street. You need to go take care of something before we can talk?” Spunky. Like that about her.
I glance back up to her eyes. “You don’t want me to look, don’t show ’em off. I’m free to look; you’re free to cover up. What’s the job?”
She looks around, making sure no one is close enough to listen in. She lowers her voice. “They want us to kill the Witch of the Winds. They want us to kill Janus Borig herself.”
My eyes go dark even as I feel dread shoot down into my stomach. Sound ceases. I’m losing feeling, losing my train of thought. I’m being shot up and out and back.
I hover, suspended between my own body and the body of a fat young man. Ugh, fat, after the glorious utility of my warrior-assassin’s frame, after the grace earned by ten thousand hours of training. I’m sitting in the What the hell?
What was He was back.
Chapter 60
“You won me? You won me in a card game?” Teia asked.
“Yes?” Kip said.
It was after their midnight workout and drafting practice. Teia had apparently noticed that Kip was acting strange and had cornered him. Now they were sitting in his new room. He was still hot from their exercise, wearing a towel around his shoulders, having a hard time making eye contact. He wasn’t even sure why he felt ashamed.
“What did you bet against me? I mean, what stakes did you put up?” Teia asked. “You don’t own anything. I mean, no offense. I don’t either, but…”
“It wasn’t really a bet like that. The Red was-I don’t know-seeing how much strain he could put on me, I guess. It was you against… a secret that he thinks I have.”
“I… see.” Teia’s nose wrinkled for a second. She saw that he wasn’t going to trust her. “I’m sorry, I’m not at my best when I’m tired,” she said. “They gave you my papers?”
Kip waved toward his desk where the stamped paper sat. “I already registered it with the head scribe. He said they have to query the Abornean satrap’s embassy to make sure there’s no liens on you, but with it countersigned by Andross Guile, he was sure there would be nothing wrong. He already entered it in the Chromeria’s books.”
Teia was still blinking like a child who’s fallen and can’t decide whether she’s hurt or not. Is the right response tears, or just getting back up and walking away? “You won me?” she asked again. “What… what are you going to do with me?”
Her eyes flicked to his bed, back to his eyes, then down.
“No!” Kip said. “Like you said, that’s forbidden for Blackguards. I…”
“For full Blackguards, not for scrubs,” she said quietly. “Not until you take the vows.”
No woman would ever take Kip to her bed willingly. Not for himself. He’d have to get a room slave to do it, or a prostitute. He was fat, a bastard, stupid, ugly, awkward, Tyrean, mixed-breed. He didn’t know how to talk to girls like other boys did. This was his only chance. Teia wasn’t exactly volunteering, but she didn’t seem disgusted by him either. Andross Guile was right.
He could always free her later. Or if they both became Blackguards, they would take the vows, and it would end there.
Kip would get something for himself for once. He’d earned it. All those hours studying, memorizing decks and strategies when he could have been studying drafting instead. He’d known that he shouldn’t use the black deck trick saving Teia. He should have held on to that to save himself. He was risking his own future for her. She owed him. Without Kip, she’d belong to Andross Guile. He’d saved her from that spider. What was so wrong with wanting a little gratitude in return?
Gratitude, huh? Is that what you’ve been fantasizing about, Kip?
Teia set her bag down. Her voice was distant, empty. “Do you want me to wash up first? Or I could bring up hot water and we could wash together. Or… I’m sorry, Kip. I mean, my lord. I’ve never done this before. I don’t-I didn’t expect my mistress to sell me. She seemed very set-I–I’m talking too much, aren’t I?”
And he had fantasized about Teia. And felt awful afterward.
Kip scrubbed his towel over his face. She was a slave. He hadn’t enslaved her; it was just how things were. All this wasn’t his idea, and he had to pay penalties for how things were, too. He hadn’t chosen to be a bastard, but he had to live with that, didn’t he? He took his lumps, it was only fair that he get some of the rewards. He deserved this. Besides, just because it was a duty didn’t mean it had to be unpleasant. Kip would be good to her. He would care about her. He would be better to her than any slave girl could hope a man would be.
Teia swallowed. “I’m a virgin, but the room slaves talked about their work-a lot.” She blushed. “I think I know what to do.” She swallowed again.