“At least this is a stroke of luck,” Tristam said, looking back at the fire. “The Watch and the fire brigade should be here soon. If your mysterious visitors are wise, they won’t remain here too long.”
“Luck?” Seren snapped, glaring at him. “They killed my friend.”
“Well,” Tristam said, stopping to look back at her. His mouth hung open lamely. He smoothed one hand nervously over his grime-streaked coat but could find nothing to say. “I mean at least we’re all safe. That’s what matters, right? You have my sympathies. To lose a friend and a home …”
“My home?” she said sharply. “You think I live in an abandoned inn?”
“I … er …” Tristam glanced back at the burning Buzzard and shrugged, obviously at a loss.
“This conversation is intriguing,” Omax said, still scanning methodically for any enemies as he paused beside them. “But this is not the time to have it.”
Seren flushed slightly in shame for allowing herself to lose her head in such a crisis. They began to move again.
“I never caught your name,” Tristam said, looking back at her with an apologetic smile.
Seren pushed past him and kept running. They emerged onto an unusually crowded street for this time of night, gawkers gathered to watch the fire from a safe distance. Seren ran out of the alley, directly toward them.
Tristam grabbed her arm. She gave him an icy look.
“Shouldn’t we be keeping a low profile?” he asked.
“A crowd is the best place to hide right now,” she retorted.
“I am somewhat conspicuous,” Omax said.
“Then find your own way out of this,” she said.
Tristam’s face burned red. He seemed to be struggling to find something to say.
“You are right,” Omax said, and that surprised her. “We will find our own way from here, but one more thing before we go.”
Seren looked up at him suspiciously. “Everyone always wants one more thing,” she said. “What is it?”
“Thank you for saving our lives,” the construct answered.
Seren blinked.
Tristam gave a quick nod. “Thank you, my lady,” he added. “Whatever your name is.”
“Seren,” she said softly. “Seren Morisse. And I’m not much of a lady.”
“Thank you, Seren,” Omax repeated.
“Whatever,” she said, though she her tone was light and drew a smile from Tristam. She turned to vanish into the crowd, but hesitated. She looked back just as the pair were leaving. “What were you two doing there tonight, anyway?”
“Looking for answers,” Tristam said.
“Answers to what?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” Tristam said. “Come to the docks tomorrow morning. Find Karia Naille, and maybe we can figure it out.”
“I’ve had a terrible night,” Seren said. “Quite frankly, I have no reason to trust you.”
Tristam laughed. “Trust us?” he asked. “We’re trusting you, Seren.” He glanced at the thick journal tucked under her arm. “Enjoy the book.”
The Lhazaarite peered back the way they had come for sign of pursuit, then hurried off down the street. Omax followed, pausing only long enough to bow his head respectfully. She watched the strange duo for several moments, and then slipped into the crowd before the City Watch arrived.
CHAPTER 4
It was only after Seren had returned to her shabby apartment and cleaned off the mud and grime of the evening that the adrenalin of her escape faded. The reality of her situation began to sink in. In a single evening the city of Wroat had become a much darker, stranger, and lonelier place. She had known that Jamus was sick for a long time now, and though he never shared the details she had suspected it was serious. She had wondered how she might survive in the city without him. As much as Seren liked to think of herself as cool, capable, and independent, the truth was that she had come to depend upon him. Now he was gone, and she was alone.
It wasn’t as if she was helpless. In three years she had cultivated her own contacts throughout the city, but Jamus was the only one she really trusted. Maybe that was because of all the people she had met here, he was the only one who honestly admitted he was using her. For a pair of thieves, they had always been remarkably honest with one another, ever since the beginning.
They had first met shortly after Seren’s arrival in the city, only three days after she had realized that her future lay in crime. Seren had spent four hours shadowing a pretty young noblewoman out slumming in the fishermen’s district with her two bodyguards. Seren had been watching the girl carefully. When she paid for her drink, Seren noted that she kept her coin purse tucked carefully in her sleeve. She noted the sharp blades on the guards’ belts but also noted the bored expressions on their faces. The tavern keeper and patrons treated her with exaggerated courtesy, but called her “Lady Senthea,” not “my lady.” This was obviously not the first time she had come here. Her guards clearly expected no trouble; their presence at this point was a mere formality. If Seren were to sit beside this Senthea, perhaps brush against her arm as they reached for the same drink, none would notice that her purse had been stolen.
It was a good plan, and it would have worked if Jamus hadn’t stopped her. Just as Seren was making her way across the tavern, the old man rose from a nearby table and seized her wrist. She had seen the old thief around the neighborhood, knew him by name and reputation, but had avoided him as she avoided most people. Seren tried to slip away, but the old man’s grip was surprisingly strong and she didn’t wish to make the struggle so obvious. Instead she merely drew a short knife from her belt, displaying it to him within the shadows of her coat.
“I’m not worth the trouble I’d give you, old man,” she said.
“Neither is she,” Jamus whispered with a wry grin. “You have no idea who she is, do you?”
Seren looked at him with suspicious curiosity.
“The esteemed Professor Senthea Montain is on leave from Morgrave University,” Jamus said. “She is no one to trifle with.”
“Morgrave University?” Seren said, not familiar with the name.
“An academy with a reputation for aggressive research,” Jamus answered with a smile. “Lady Senthea’s particular field of expertise is enchantment.”
“She doesn’t look like a wizard to me,” Seren said, trying to glance surreptitiously at Lady Senthea while still hiding her struggle with the old man.
“Of course she doesn’t.” Jamus cackled softly. “You can tell by the smell, though. Strawberries and just a hint of ammonia. Wizards always smell a bit off. They can never really get the smell of all those reagents out of their clothes.”
“You can tell she’s a wizard because she smells funny?” Seren asked with a dubious chuckle.
“No, that’s how you should be able to tell,” he answered. “I know because I talked to her at length the first night I saw her here. She was even more obvious then. I advised her that the jewels she wore were a bit ostentatious, and that she might have better luck if she used less obvious bait. She was quite grateful for my professional expertise, if a bit disappointed her disguise was pierced so easily.”
“Bait?” Seren asked.
“She’s a scholar doing a study on the criminal mind,” Jamus said. He released her arm now, and Seren did not step away. “Exploring the use of magic in their rehabilitation. That coin purse you’ve had your eye on is warded. She’ll sense its absence the moment it’s removed and find it wherever it goes. She’s left a trail of disappointed thieves in her wake, all now permanently charmed to be perfectly law-abiding citizens. Well, except for Markham. Fool got a bit violent when he learned the truth and is now exploring an exciting new life as a frog. I suppose that’s a form of rehabilitation, isn’t it?”
Seren looked past Jamus, eyes wide. Lady Senthea was now watching them. She eyed Jamus with the bored, disappointed expression of a cat that has just watched a bird fly away.