“You didn’t have any problems?” Raesinia said.
“Not unless you count the pounding of my heart.” Faro handed her the satchel. “I still don’t see why we couldn’t have all gone, in daylight.”
“We would have been noticed.” Raesinia undid the tie and riffled through the contents. Everything seems to be in order.
“I thought we wanted to be noticed,” Faro said.
“Not until tomorrow morning,” Raesinia said, retying the satchel. “All right. I’ll take this on to Cora.”
This, as expected, drew a protest from Ben. “I really wish-”
She cut him off. “I know. But let’s face it: I’m a lot less threatening than you are. We don’t want to spook anyone. I’ll be perfectly safe.” She couldn’t tell them that, in addition to her own personal immortality, she’d have Sothe riding escort. “You concentrate on going over the speech and getting Danton ready for tomorrow.”
“All right.” Ben got to his feet and met her by the door, catching her off guard. He wrapped his big arms around her in a tight hug, crushing her against his chest. “Be careful.”
Raesinia forced herself to relax, waiting patiently until he let go. She fussed awkwardly with her hair for a moment, then turned to the others and nodded.
“See you in the morning.” She paused. Something more seemed needed. “This is going to work. I can feel it.”
“He’s getting too forward,” Sothe said, from the darkness beside the Blue Moon’s entrance.
“Who? Ben?” Raesinia didn’t bother to ask how Sothe had been watching. Sothe seemed to know everything. “He’s harmless.”
“He’s besotted with you.” Sothe fell into step beside Raesinia. “That can be dangerous if you let him take liberties.”
“Given everything we’re involved in,” Raesinia said, “I think Ben is more or less the least of my worries, don’t you?”
Sothe frowned but didn’t answer. She led Raesinia around into an alley beside the tavern, where one of Vordan’s ubiquitous hired cabs was waiting. The driver tipped his hat respectfully, which Sothe ignored, vaulting into the carriage and turning to help Raesinia up after her. She rapped on the wall, and a snap of the driver’s reins coaxed the horses into motion.
This wasn’t a new cab, so they clacked and jolted over the cobbles. Raesinia patted the satchel again, to make sure it was still there, feeling an echo of Faro’s anxiety. It was an awful lot of money. Certainly enough to kill for, or try to, if anyone knew what they were doing.
“I’m worried about our security arrangements around Danton,” Sothe said after a while, apropos of nothing.
“I don’t think he’s a target,” Raesinia said. That had been preying on her mind. Danton went along cheerfully enough, but he’d never asked to be a part of any of this. “He’s too public a figure now. If he were arrested, or someone took a shot at him, the backlash would be worse than anything Danton himself could accomplish. That was the whole point of bringing him out in the open.”
“I’m not worried about him. I’m worried about us. It’ll be obvious that someone is pulling Danton’s strings, and Orlanko will be looking.”
“I thought your trick with the couriers was supposed to cover that.” Once they’d ensured that a steady stream of uniformed couriers was coming and going from Danton’s hotel suite, it was easy to slip an extra one through, letting the cabal members come and go without being followed.
Sothe waved a hand dismissively. “It won’t hold for long. It makes it too obvious we have something to hide. He’ll figure out a way through, depend on it.”
“It doesn’t have to hold for long,” Raesinia said. “Just long enough. My father is not getting any stronger.”
“Nevertheless-”
A splashing sound from outside drowned her out for a moment. They’d been following the Old Road south from the Dregs, avoiding the bridged section of the river around the Island. Just south of the University, the road ran across the Old Ford, a wide stretch of river that was only ankle-deep in places, made more passable over the years by the addition of large, flat stones to form a sort of causeway. The barrier to river navigation this created required a time-consuming portage for most vessels, and according to legend this blockage had been the original seed that had sprouted into the city of Vordan itself.
Beyond the ford lay Oldtown, a tangle of timber-and-plaster buildings and mazy cow paths. It was a hard place to find your way around during the day, much less in darkness. This cabby apparently knew his business, however, and once the carriage had splashed out of the ford it picked up a little speed and proceeded confidently into the curving streets.
Raesinia glanced at Sothe. “All right. You’re worried. What do you want to do about it?”
“I’d like to take a little more overt action against a few of Orlanko’s watchers.”
Raesinia winced. With Sothe, “overt action” usually meant “body parts floating in the river.” “Won’t that just draw his attention?”
“We’ve already got his attention. That goes double after tonight. I want to slap his hand, make him think a little harder before he sticks it out again.”
“Well. Security is your bailiwick.” Raesinia had been amazed at how naive the rest of the cabal could be. Perhaps she was paranoid, or perhaps she just knew Orlanko. Ben and Maurisk appeared to think that they could get away with giving false names and speaking in low voices. Without Sothe running interference, she was sure they’d all have ended up in the Vendre long ago. “Do what you need to do, but be careful.”
Sothe snorted. “I don’t need you telling me to be careful.”
The carriage came to a halt, and a rap from the driver indicated that they’d arrived at their destination. Raesinia opened the door and hopped down, looking back at Sothe. “Where will you be?”
“About.” Sothe waved vaguely. “I’ll be close if you need me.”
“Just don’t do anything precipitous. We can’t afford for this to get out of hand.” Raesinia hesitated. “And if anything does go wrong, make sure to get Cora out of there first.”
Sothe grimaced, but she could see the logic in this. After all, she can always fish me out of some drainage ditch if it comes to that. Cora could get hurt. Sothe nodded, and Raesinia turned to face the building she’d been driven to.
It was a big one, by Oldtown standards, two stories high and as long as several ordinary houses. It had once had real glass windows, too, though these had long ago been covered over with boards and canvas tarpaulins. Its stone walls and the brass double-circle bolted over the doorway identified it as a church. A few crumbling statues that might have been saints before the local boys had made a game of throwing stones at them perched over the gutters.
The big double doors at the front were tightly closed, but a side door was invitingly open, shedding a warm orange glow into the shadowed street. Raesinia picked her way toward it, carefully; the streets of Oldtown were packed earth, liberally sprinkled with horse dung. She could make out sounds from inside as she got closer. A group of people were singing, not particularly well but with considerable spirit.
The church-the Third Church of the Savior Karis’ Mercy, as the blackened metal letters on the door proclaimed-was the domain of a Mrs. Louise Felda. Her husband, Father Felda, had been the Free Priest to the Third’s congregation for well over forty years. Technically, he still was, though his declining energies in his old age had restricted his duties. As he became bedridden, his wife had taken over his duties, until she was more fully in charge than he had ever been.
Mrs. Louise Felda was a large and vigorous woman who looked like a giantess beside the shriveled form of her husband. Nowadays, she split her time between making sure his needs were cared for and bringing her idea of Karis’ mercy to the people of Oldtown, as best her resources would allow. This meant beds for the sick and the desperate, helping hands for those who weren’t right in the head, and warm meals for as many as she could manage. Raesinia had often thought that the city could do with more priests along the lines of Mrs. Felda.