“Not very,” she admitted. “I’ve seen him around.”
“You’re underestimating him,” I said. “People do it all the time. Sim’s smart.”
“Everyone here is smart,” Fela said. “And Sim is nice, but . . .”
“That’s the problem,” I said. “He’s nice. He’s gentle, which people see as weak. And he’s happy, which people see as stupid.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Fela said.
“I know,” I said, rubbing at my face. “I’m sorry. It’s been a bad couple of days. I thought the University would be different than the rest of the world, but it’s just like everywhere else: people cater to pompous, rude bastards like Ambrose, while the good souls like Simmon get brushed off as simpletons.”
“Which one are you?” Fela said with a smile as she began to stack up the books. “Pompous bastard or good soul?”
“I’ll research that later,” I said. “Right now I’ve got more pressing concerns.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Trust
While I was fairly sure Devi wasn’t behind the malfeasance, I’d have to be a fool to ignore the fact that she had my blood. So when it became clear that making a gram was going to require a great deal of time and energy, I realized the time had come to pay her a visit and make sure she wasn’t responsible.
It was a miserable day: chill with a clammy wind that cut through my clothes. I didn’t own gloves or a hat, and had to settle for putting up my hood and wrapping my hands in the fabric of my cloak as I pulled it more tightly around my shoulders.
As I crossed Stonebridge a new thought occurred to me: maybe someone had stolen my blood from Devi. That made better sense than anything else. I needed to make sure the bottle with my blood was safe. If she still had it, and it hadn’t been tampered with, I’d know she wasn’t involved.
I made my way to the western edge of Imre where I stopped at a tavern to buy a small beer and warm myself by their fire. Then I walked through the now familiar alley and up the narrow staircase behind the butcher’s shop. Despite the chill and recent rain, the smell of rancid fat still hung in the air.
I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
It opened after a minute, then Devi’s face peered through a narrow crack in the door. “Well hello,” she said. “Are you here for business or pleasure?”
“Business mostly,” I admitted.
“Pity.” She opened the door wider.
As I came into the room I tripped on the threshold, stumbling clumsily into her and resting one hand briefly on her shoulder as I steadied myself. “Sorry,” I said, embarrassed.
“You look like hell,” she said as she bolted the door. “I hope you’re not looking for more money. I don’t lend to folks who look like they’re coming off a three-day drunk.”
I settled wearily into a chair. “I brought back your book.” I said, bringing it out from under my cloak and laying it on her desk.
She nodded at it, smiling a bit. “What did you think of good old Malcaf?”
“Dry. Wordy. Boring.”
“There weren’t any pictures either,” she said dryly. “But that’s beside the point.”
“His theories about perception as an active force were interesting,” I admitted. “But he writes like he’s afraid someone might actually understand him.”
Devi nodded, her mouth pursed. “That’s about what I thought too.” She reached across the desk and slid the book closer to herself. “What did you think about the chapter on proprioception?”
“He seemed to be arguing from a deep well of ignorance,” I said. “I’ve met people in the Medica with amputated limbs. I don’t think Malcaf ever has.”
I watched her for some sign of guilt, some indication she’d been practicing malfeasance against me. But there was nothing. She seemed perfectly normal, cheery and sharp-tongued as ever. But I had grown up among actors. I know how many ways there are to hide your true feelings.
Devi made an exaggerated frown. “You look so serious over there. What are you thinking?”
“I had a couple of questions,” I said evasively. I wasn’t looking forward to this. “Not about Malcaf.”
“I’m so tired of being appreciated for my intellect.” She leaned back and stretched her arms over her head. “When will I be able to find a nice boy who just wants me for my body?” She gave a luxurious stretch, but stopped halfway through, giving me a puzzled look. “I’m waiting for a quip here. You’re usually quicker than this.”
I gave her a weak smile. “I’ve got a lot on my mind. I don’t think I can match wits with you today.”
“I never suspected you could match wits with me,” she said. “But I do like a little banter now and then.” She leaned forward and folded her hands on the top of the desk. “What sort of questions?”
“Did you do much sygaldry in the University?”
“Personal questions.” She raised an eyebrow. “No. I didn’t care for it. Too much fiddling around for my taste.”
“You don’t seem to be the sort of woman who’d mind a little fiddling around,” I said, managing a weak smile.
“That’s more like it,” she said with approval. “I knew you had it in you.”
“I don’t suppose you have any books on advanced sygaldry?” I asked. “The sort of things they don’t allow a Re’lar access to?”
Devi shook her head. “No. I’ve got some nice alchemical texts though. Stuff you’d never find in your precious Archives.” Bitterness was thick in her voice when she said the last word.
That’s when it all came together in my head. Devi wouldn’t ever be so careless as to let someone steal my blood. She wouldn’t sell it to turn a quick profit. She didn’t need the money. She didn’t have a grudge against me.
But Devi would sell her eyeteeth to get into the Archives.
“It’s funny you should mention alchemy,” I said as calmly as possible. “Have you ever heard of something called a plum bob?”
“I’ve heard of it,” she said easily. “Nasty little thing. I think I have the formula.” She turned in her seat a little, facing toward the shelf. “You interested in seeing it?”
Her face didn’t betray her, but with enough practice, anyone can control their face. Her body language didn’t give her away either. There was only the slightest tension in her shoulders, only a hint of hesitation.
It was her eyes. When I mentioned the plum bob, I saw a flicker there. Not just recognition. Guilt. Of course. She’d sold the formula to Ambrose.
And why wouldn’t she? Ambrose was a high-ranking scriv. He could sneak her into the Archives. Hell, with the resources at his disposal, he might not even have to do that. Everyone knew Lorren occasionally granted nonarcanum scholars access to the Archives, especially if their patrons were willing to pave the way with a generous donation. Ambrose had once bought an entire inn just to spite me. How much more would he be willing to pay to get hold of my blood?
No. Wil and Sim had been right about that. Ambrose wasn’t the sort to get his hands dirty if he could avoid it. Much simpler for him to hire Devi to do his dirty work for him. She’d already been expelled. She had nothing to lose and all the secrets of the Archives to gain.
“No thanks,” I said. “I don’t do much alchemy.” I took a deep breath and decided to jump right to the point. “But I do need to see my blood.”
Devi’s cheery expression froze on her face. Her mouth still smiled, but her eyes were cold. “I beg your pardon?” It wasn’t really a question.
“I need to see the blood I left here with you,” I said. “I need to know it’s safe.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” Her smile fell completely away, and her mouth made a thin, flat line. “That’s not how I do business. Besides, do you think I’d be stupid enough to keep that sort of thing here?”
I felt a sinking sensation in my gut, still not wanting to believe it. “We can go to wherever you keep it,” I said calmly. “Someone has been conducting malfeasance against me. I need to make sure it hasn’t been tampered with. That’s all.”
“As if I would just show you where I keep that sort of thing,” Devi said with scathing sarcasm. “Have you been struck in the head or something?”