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edenfallingUtterly boring day. We have a minimal coating of snow on the ground, but other than that, nothing has happened. This means no job nibbles, as well as no disasters. *sigh* While it's nice to be able to sleep in until ungodly hours, I'd really rather be employed.
Rough draft. You know the drill.
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Chapter One: I Will Show You Something Different, Part V
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Ranna stalked into her chambers, glanced at the crystals set to block scrying spells -- they were still clear -- and let loose her frustration. "I need out," she snapped at Mabriel, scrabbling to untie her sash. "As soon as I'm out of this, leave and come back in the chambermaid's dress."
Mabriel frowned, her forehead crinkling with worry lines. "It's nearing dark -- are you sure it's wise to be out now?"
Ranna laughed. "Mae, I've been running around the city since I was eight -- I think I know how to stay out of trouble. And you know one of the guards will insist on following me."
"Oh, I'm still not liking this. But ya, I'll come by with the dress. Now you stop messing with those buttons and let me get you out of those robes."
After Mabriel hung the robes back in Ranna's extravagant closet, she left her cousin alone in the bedroom. Ranna quickly pulled a locked trunk from under her pillared and curtained bed, which she opened with a key that hung around her neck. This trunk contained her secret life, and half her hopes for future power.
It looked like trash on first inspection -- several plain and faded dresses, a few ragged blouses and divided skirts, some leather hair ties, three knives, boxes of dirt and soot, dyes and powders, some bits of wire, a handful of cheap coins -- but these were the tools of her trade. Her father, Nadra Kings smile on him, had indulged her sinfully, and her city-dwelling aunt had followed suit. Ranna had run wild as a girl and she refused to let her new position trap her in the palace. Besides, as she'd told Eydvar earlier, the forms and courtesies got in her way. She couldn't go anywhere or do anything without the entire city knowing her every move.
Queen Ithova couldn't move freely. But Ranna -- Ranna the serving girl, Ranna the street rat, Ranna the merchant's wayward daughter -- that young woman could go all kinds of places. And that young woman knew all kinds of useful people.
It was a dangerous game they played, Ranna, Mabriel, and her disapproving guards, but Ranna wouldn't give it up for all the gold in the world. Tonight she had two goals: set spies and thieves on Olek, as Cole had hinted -- the old man knew she had shadow contacts, even if they never acknowledged it directly -- and get advice on dealing with the increasingly intractable Council.
She busied herself with her hair until soft footsteps announced Mabriel's return.
"I'm telling you this is a bad idea," Mabriel said, pulling a scarf from her head and shaking out the bright auburn hair attached to it. "Sooner or later either they'll be finding you, or you'll be lying in the streets with your throat cut or worse."
Ranna shrugged, studying a mirror to ensure that she'd stripped out the darkening dyes until her hair once again matched the wig, and had successfully scrubbed all the artfully applied cosmetics off her face. "You keep saying that, and I keep on being fine. Trust me, Mae."
Mabriel grumbled as she slipped into one of Ranna's more casual robe sets. "I told Pazun you had a headache and wouldn't be receiving visitors for the evening. Do you have anything for me to do while I'm waiting?"
"Look over the reports from the Watches?" Ranna asked as she adjusted her faded dress and smudged hints of dirt on her arms and legs -- just enough so she looked like she'd been doing cleaning and nobody would notice her carefully trimmed nails.
Mabriel made the sign of the evil eye at her. "Na! You keep those away from me."
"I think my embroidery basket's lying around somewhere. And there's always the bookshelf -- you should read more."
"If I'd been thinking, I'd have brought my own sewing basket," Mabriel said. "I'll look through yours and see if there's anything worth salvaging."
This time, Ranna made the sign of the evil eye.
"Go on, Ranna, be leaving," Mabriel said. "And don't be gone too long."
Ranna nodded, and slipped out of the queen's chambers. Karsket and Moloshet looked her up and down, sighed, and exchanged a rapid hand-gesture conversation that ended with Karsket catching Ranna's eye and nodding fractionally. Her turn to play escort, apparently.
"Queen Ithova has sent me on an errand into the city, Blade-mistress Karsket," Ranna said, returning the nod. "May I have the honor of your protection on the queen's business?"
"Yes," said Karsket in her abrupt, husky voice, and the two women made their way through the royal palace, Ranna curtseying and nodding her head in feigned respect whenever they passed a lord or lady. After two years of Ranna's rule, most of the servants were aware that the queen had a girl who, while claiming to be a chambermaid, acted more like a contact to the shadow world; they studiously avoided Ranna and Karsket.
Ranna preferred to make her escapes around midday, when the palace was bustling and she could slip unnoticed through the confusion; despite the careful lack of attention given to the shadow world's involvement with the nobility, it wasn't wise to tempt fate and draw eyes to the queen's less savory connections. It also wasn't safe to have people pay much attention to the girl who had such free access to the queen's chambers. Disguises could only go so far.
Safety be damned, though; tonight, she needed out.
The evening air was warm, the early summer heat lingering in the cobblestones and radiating back from the brick and stone city houses of the nobles. The stench of the day drifted on the slight breeze -- rotting food, horse droppings, and all the debris of the city. Ranna windmilled her arms, reveling in her temporary freedom, slipping her old persona on like a second skin.
Arre-Lus was her city. She knew all its sides, from top to the bottom dregs; she had friends and influence in all the varied social circles; and she loved it all, every glittering, filthy, strident, vulgar inch of it. The city belonged to her and she belonged to the city; she would die before anyone took it away from her.
"Where to?" Karsket asked, breaking Ranna from her reverie.
She slowed in her walk, considering. "Raidda, I'm thinking. Then Garin."
Karsket frowned, fingering the hilt of her sword. "You should not associate with such scum. It's dangerous and demeaning."
Ranna grinned. "Ah, but Blade-mistress! You can't win the game if you're playing by the rules -- you have to break them. And nobody breaks rules better than Garin and Raidda."
"As I said, they're scum," Karsket said, but she released her sword and followed Ranna through the city, disapproval evident in every line of her body.
They passed quickly out of the high district where the nobles held court, their streets neatly paved and their gardens lined with trees and fountains to mask the sound and smell of the city. Ranna strode through the trade districts with their narrow, crowded streets and endless uproar, threading her way between peddlers and buskers, story-tellers and costermongers, instinctively hopping over piles of manure and other distasteful street obstacles, and dodging the occasional shower of rubbish tossed from an upstairs window. Karsket followed less gracefully, shoving irritably at the people who flowed into the gaps Ranna had slipped through before Karsket could follow her charge. Finally Ranna turned down a shadowed side-alley in the cloth district and knocked on a recessed door.
A shuttered window slid open and a man peered out. "What's your business?"
"Ranna Gentle to see Lady Raidda. Come from on high."
The man studied her and Karsket. "Gentle, eh? Never seen a redhead who could call herself that without lying. Come in -- the Lady's waiting for you."
Ranna and Karsket exchanged surprised glances. "She must have spies in the palace!" Karsket whispered as the man ushered them through the doorway. "I told you she can't be trusted."
Ranna nodded her thanks to the doorkeeper and strode through the dark entry passage to the narrow staircase. "Na, Raidda's done this before -- ask Moloshet, she'll tell you. I think she's a witch, though she only smiles when I ask her if she knows magic."
"Even more reason not to trust her," Karsket grumbled as Ranna led the way upstairs to Raidda's private office, both women doing their best to ignore the soft cries and moans seeping through the walls from the other rooms. "Magic's a dangerous ally -- better to trust cold steel and your own hands."
"Maybe so, but when your enemies have more men and swords, it's suicide to meet them straight on. I'll take any advantage I can find." Ranna knocked briskly on Raidda's door, and turned the knob before the sound had died.
Raidda -- Lady Raidda to her customers and the shadow world -- ran her business from a small, whitewashed room, the walls and ceiling hung with tapestries bestowed on her by former patrons, which she used to muffle sound. Shelves leaned against the hanging fabric, crowded with books and stacks of paper. Raidda herself sat behind a heavy desk, writing in an account book, her ageless face fixed in a frown of concentration. Figures, as she'd once told Ranna, had never been her strong point. She did much better with people.
Raidda looked up as Ranna and Karsket entered. "Ranna! My dear, I wasn't expecting you for another half hour -- was the Council meeting that trying? And Karsket, do stop growling at me. You know I mean the young lady no harm."
It was always unnerving how well Raidda could read her, Ranna thought. But as compensation, she didn't have to bother hiding her emotions -- if Raidda would see them anyhow, there was no reason not to express her annoyance freely.
"Would you at least pretend you don't know who I really am?" Ranna asked now, sinking into one of Raidda's graceful, padded guest chairs.
Raidda laughed, a rich, rolling flood of amusement. "Dear, nobody can hear us. You know that. And it saves so much time, not having to talk about 'what the queen told you to say,' and 'what messages you'll take back to the queen.' You should appreciate that."
"Na ya, if you say so." Ranna sighed, leaning back in her chair and motioning Karsket to take a seat. The guard shook her head and remained at attention by the door. Silly woman.
"I need your advice," Ranna began, trying to find the best way to explain her sudden anger at the Council. "I've always known it's a long game, winning over the Council, and I've always known that the lords and ladies are... difficult personalities... but this past week, I'm wanting to wash my hands of the whole business just so I won't have to deal with them anymore. And that's no good. That means giving up."
Raidda perched her chin on her interlaced hands, elbows propped on her desk. "Hmm. Is there anything in particular that brought this on?"
"Taxes! And the army, the barbarians, Vanulie's threats, Olek's ego, Danil's monomania, Shae's everlasting sly smirking..." Ranna waved her hands. "I've been working over a year, and all I've done is get Bethurika to vote my way a few more times than usual, and win a bit of sympathy and respect from Langard. But he still votes with Olek! I've convinced Marror I'm not an idiot, but he still acts as though I'm a tyrant only waiting to pounce.
"Two years, and nothing to show for it. Something has to give, or I think I'll go insane. I can't keep on working alone."
"Do tell," said Raidda, looking pensive. "I hadn't seen things drawing to a head this soon, but from what you say it's a good thing change is coming." She smiled, a secretive expression that grated on Ranna's nerves. "Within two weeks, visit the School of Swords -- as Ranna, not as Titoba. Ask after a young man from the south who carries a special sword."
"And?" Ranna demanded. "What help will he be?"
Raidda smiled again. "Much, or none. He's an opportunity, nothing more. Events circle around him, and he can be your greatest ally or most dangerous enemy. Treat him well, dear. All he wants is a friend."
"That's not particularly clear," Ranna said, crossing her arms. "And how do you know this mysterious young man will be there, whoever he is?"
"Because I'm a witch, dear, and I felt him find the sword." Raidda pushed back her chair and stood, hands resting on her desk. "And that's all you get from me this evening. Shoo." The flames in her fireplace rose higher, crackling, and shadows dripped from her deep burgundy dress to pool on the floor.
Ranna swallowed; that was more confirmation of magic than she'd wanted. Behind her, Karsket had gone pale and drawn her sword half out of the sheath. "Thank you, Lady Raidda," Ranna said quickly. "We'll be leaving now."
She hurried from the office and clattered down the stairs, not even noticing the sounds of pleasure this time. Karsket glared at the doorkeeper, who yanked the door open and let the two women spill out into the deep blue twilight of the alley.
"You see how you can't trust magic!" Karsket sounded surprisingly smug for someone who'd looked nervous not two minutes ago.
"Rot in the nether hells," Ranna shot back. "She gave me more information than I'd get anywhere else, and you know it. Stop questioning me."
Karsket frowned, but remained silent as Ranna slipped around a corner into a maze of twisting alleys and covered streets, pausing now and again to sign at people she picked out via nearly invisible cues. Finally one man, selling news performances on a sheltered corner, called a break in his spiel and whispered directions in Ranna's ear. "The Rabbit's Foot, back room, ask for Mr. Jessum."
Ranna slipped him a copper two-penny piece and a wink. "Council's getting nowhere on taxes and they're telling the Assembly to cough up the truth about their holdings and income. Heavy call for numbers men, and they won't be looking too closely if anyone skims a bit off the top. Pass it 'round."
The news crier grinned. "Say thankya to the queen for us."
"I'll be doing that."
Karsket coughed significantly, and Ranna threw her a glare before hurrying onward through the maze of her city. The Rabbit's Foot was a fairly respectable tavern and inn, on the end of the clockmakers' street. If Garin was there, he must not be planning anything big -- that, or he was trying to draw attention away from some other operation.
Ranna tossed the question aside as irrelevant. Garin dealt in the high end of the shadow world, targeting the people who had money to lose, the same people whose refusal to pay taxes was crippling her ability to maintain the royal roads and the army. Kanos was depending more and more on the Brotherhood of the Sword, and they were only sworn to defend against the barbarians in the west. Soon there might be nothing left but the skeleton of an army, and local lords would have free reign to raise their own forces or hire their own mercenaries.
If Garin took money from the tight-fisted traitors, she wouldn't worry too much about the ethics of looking the other way.
"Are you certain this is wise?" Karsket asked as they approached the Rabbit's Foot. "Wouldn't it be safer to send a messenger?"
"Na. Garin knows me and I know him. There's trust between us, and that doesn't come easy in the shadow world." Ranna grinned. "Besides, who would I send? You wouldn't let anyone with the proper qualifications into the palace and nobody you'd approve would be able to find the Court. You reek of law."
The Rabbit's Foot was doing a lively business, light, music, and the jumble of shouted conversation spilling into the street through the open doors. Ranna grabbed Karsket's hand -- her left hand, not her sword hand; she knew that much -- and tugged the guard through the crowd to the bar. "Ranna Gentle, for Mr. Jessum's party," she shouted in the barman's ear. At his sharp glance, she folded her fingers into the sign of the Rogue and ran that hand through her hair, as if impatient or preening.
The barman nodded. "Follow me." He led them through the main rooms, casually shoving aside the drinking, dancing, and shouting customers, to a stout iron-bound door. "Through here. Tenpence for entry."
Ranna gave him a dry look. "Tenpence? Ya, and I'm the Mother of Mercy. Two."
"Eight."
"Two." Ranna glared, daring him not to accept. Karsket drew her dagger and examined the edge, whistling casually.
The barman swallowed, eyes fixed on Karsket's hands. "Two," he agreed.
Ranna dropped the coin into his outstretched hand with a brilliant smile, then knocked on the door, pounding with a clenched fist to be heard over the noise.
"What?" demanded a lanky man as he eased the door open a crack. "Oh, it's you," he added, seeing Ranna. "Come on your own or come from on high?"
"On high," Ranna said. "Bringing a job for the king, Athil."
"Right, right. Come on in -- but the guard's blindfolded as usual." Athil snatched a length of dark cloth from somewhere near the door and grinned at Karsket. "You know how it goes, sweet thing. Close your eyes."
Karsket stiffly submitted to the indignity of the blindfold rather than let Ranna enter a den of thieves on her own. It was a useless bit of loyalty in Ranna's opinion -- any assassin could kill her long before Karsket could uncover her eyes -- but she couldn't help but feel a sneaking bit of admiration for anyone who held so firmly to her principles.
The back room was more composed than the rest of the tavern, with most of the people sitting instead of packed so tightly even standing room was dear. Their attention was focused on the door, eyes wary and hands drifting to weapons, until they caught sight of Ranna. Most relaxed, while the man holding court at the table burst into a mad grin, teeth flashing white against his close-cropped beard.
"Ranna! We've missed you, darling -- what's the occasion?"
Ranna returned his smile. "Business, Garin, from the queen and from the Council."
"The Council? What're those bastards plotting now?" Garin shook his head. "No, don't say yet. Come and sit and we'll have some fun before we get down to dealing." He patted the bench beside himself.
Ranna nodded and led Karsket to the table, seating her guard on her other side. There, Karsket at least blocked some direct access to Ranna's vital spots, which should make the woman feel marginally better about the situation. Garin smirked, knowing exactly what Ranna was up to.
"Queen Ithova knows what she's doing, telling her guards to value you high," he said. "You're a treasure for sure!"
Ranna grinned. "Ya, and she's knowing it. I'm worth my weight in gold." Worth that and more, Ranna thought, amused -- of course she valued herself highly! But Garin didn't know her other life, and she got endless fun out of hearing his opinions of the queen.
"I don't have time to play catch-up," she began, laying her hands on the table to show she was turning the conversation serious, "but I have both news and a job for you. Are we dealing here or elsewhere?"
Garin ran his eyes swiftly over their company, most of whom were conspicuously not listening while subtly keeping their attention on Ranna and the King of Shadows. "Eh, they're as honest as we ever get, and," -- he raised his voice a notch -- "if anyone talks I'll have their fingers broken. We deal here." He met Ranna's eyes, measuring stare for measuring stare. "What's your business?"
"News first. The Council's gathering tax information from the Assembly. They want to know all the lords' holdings and incomes; I think your numbers men will be able to name their prices soon, and skim with a free hand. I already dropped word on the streets."
Garin smiled wolfishly. "No matter -- the lords know to come to the Court first. And even if otherwise, that's the best news I've heard in weeks. For that, I may even give the queen a discount on her new job, which, by the way, would be...?"
Ranna leaned in to speak in Garin's ear. "This goes nowhere, you understand me? Any word of this hits the streets and the deal is off -- the queen will hunt you and your court to the last drop of blood. We're clear, say ya?"
Garin blinked, and then nodded. "We're clear." He looked sidelong at Ranna and spoke into her ear. "Treason or war, darling -- which is it?"
"Both, maybe. Cole has whispers that Olek's raised men to keep Eburek under his thumb. The queen wants to know what else he might be doing with an army... you follow me? But we're needing proof. Find Olek's books, or find a meeting. Pay on the usual scale, and leave word with Raidda when you've found something -- she can find me faster than you can."
"Raidda. Feh. Blasted woman knows everything," Garin grumbled. "She had any interest in my job, I'd be dead faster than I can blink. Oh, don't worry, we deal well enough when there's a need," he added. "I see why you want this quiet. There's enough trouble already with private armies; we don't need even more lords getting ideas.
"This'll take a while, though. Couple weeks at the least, maybe over a month. Olek's no fool, and I'll need to send word to Idalgir, see about organizing that end of the operation." Garin frowned. "Hmm. Who do I know out there...?"
Ranna lifted her hands. "I don't need to know the details. Best I don't, actually -- keeps you and yours safer from the queen if it comes to the worst, and keeps her safer too."
"True, true. Sharp as a knife, darling, sharp as ever -- don't lose that edge."
Ranna grinned. "Don't you be losing yours. We have a deal?"
"Done, and done." Garin held out his hand, and Ranna grasped it firmly. "Now go tell the queen her problems with Olek will be gone before she knows."
"Ya, ya, gone yesterday most likely," Ranna said, rising. "Luck in the shadows, Garin."
"Likewise."
Ranna led Karsket out of the back room, and for once the guard didn't complain as soon as she'd removed her blindfold. Instead, she waited until they were well away from the Rabbit's Foot.
"Does Olek truly have an army in Therry?" she finally asked, husky voice subdued.
Ranna nodded. "So Cole says, and Cole doesn't lie. I especially trust him not to lie about soldiers he'd rather have guarding the Gates and the other borders."
Karsket shook her head in disbelief. "I knew our lords, in the north, cared little for the people, but I thought that was only because their blood is from Alland and Auvern, not from my people. But these lords treat their even own blood shamefully." She slid a weighing glance at Ranna. "Perhaps you're not so blind as I thought. It takes a man with no honor to see what another dishonorable man is planning."
That wasn't quite how Ranna would have put it -- anyone could see what the Council was up to, if they'd only open their eyes -- but it was true that honor was a stumbling block to getting results. Better a live jackal than a dead lion, that was Ranna's motto.
"Most lords don't care much about their vassals," Ranna said. "They don't care about Kanos either, just about their own power and their control over their own little pieces of my country. And they're winning. Garin helps me even the scales. And," she added defensively, "he has his own honor, of a sort." There were rules and limits even to the Shadow Court, and Ranna found herself oddly miffed to hear her friends maligned.
"Honor is honor," said Karsket. "You either have it or you don't." Then she smiled. "In any case, he's very handsome for a dishonorable dog."
Ranna gaped. "You! But the blindfold?"
Karsket grinned. "Athil is very careful not to let me see in before we enter his master's lairs. He isn't quite so careful as we leave. Garin is the one with the beard and the braid, right?"
"You know I can't be telling you any secrets," Ranna said, but her tone was weak and Karsket's grin widened in satisfaction.
"I may have to find him when I'm not on duty, to learn about this honor that isn't honor... and other things, of course..."
Oh dear. Hopefully Garin would be in a good mood when Karsket inevitably found him, or he might consider his trust in Ranna broken. But Ranna couldn't work up a proper amount of worry over that just now; she was in too good a mood herself. Help was coming, and soon she'd have her hand around Olek's throat, ready to squeeze.
"Sharp as a knife, Karsket," she said with a smile. "Don't cut him too deep."
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Rough draft. You know the drill.
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Chapter One: I Will Show You Something Different, Part V
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Ranna stalked into her chambers, glanced at the crystals set to block scrying spells -- they were still clear -- and let loose her frustration. "I need out," she snapped at Mabriel, scrabbling to untie her sash. "As soon as I'm out of this, leave and come back in the chambermaid's dress."
Mabriel frowned, her forehead crinkling with worry lines. "It's nearing dark -- are you sure it's wise to be out now?"
Ranna laughed. "Mae, I've been running around the city since I was eight -- I think I know how to stay out of trouble. And you know one of the guards will insist on following me."
"Oh, I'm still not liking this. But ya, I'll come by with the dress. Now you stop messing with those buttons and let me get you out of those robes."
After Mabriel hung the robes back in Ranna's extravagant closet, she left her cousin alone in the bedroom. Ranna quickly pulled a locked trunk from under her pillared and curtained bed, which she opened with a key that hung around her neck. This trunk contained her secret life, and half her hopes for future power.
It looked like trash on first inspection -- several plain and faded dresses, a few ragged blouses and divided skirts, some leather hair ties, three knives, boxes of dirt and soot, dyes and powders, some bits of wire, a handful of cheap coins -- but these were the tools of her trade. Her father, Nadra Kings smile on him, had indulged her sinfully, and her city-dwelling aunt had followed suit. Ranna had run wild as a girl and she refused to let her new position trap her in the palace. Besides, as she'd told Eydvar earlier, the forms and courtesies got in her way. She couldn't go anywhere or do anything without the entire city knowing her every move.
Queen Ithova couldn't move freely. But Ranna -- Ranna the serving girl, Ranna the street rat, Ranna the merchant's wayward daughter -- that young woman could go all kinds of places. And that young woman knew all kinds of useful people.
It was a dangerous game they played, Ranna, Mabriel, and her disapproving guards, but Ranna wouldn't give it up for all the gold in the world. Tonight she had two goals: set spies and thieves on Olek, as Cole had hinted -- the old man knew she had shadow contacts, even if they never acknowledged it directly -- and get advice on dealing with the increasingly intractable Council.
She busied herself with her hair until soft footsteps announced Mabriel's return.
"I'm telling you this is a bad idea," Mabriel said, pulling a scarf from her head and shaking out the bright auburn hair attached to it. "Sooner or later either they'll be finding you, or you'll be lying in the streets with your throat cut or worse."
Ranna shrugged, studying a mirror to ensure that she'd stripped out the darkening dyes until her hair once again matched the wig, and had successfully scrubbed all the artfully applied cosmetics off her face. "You keep saying that, and I keep on being fine. Trust me, Mae."
Mabriel grumbled as she slipped into one of Ranna's more casual robe sets. "I told Pazun you had a headache and wouldn't be receiving visitors for the evening. Do you have anything for me to do while I'm waiting?"
"Look over the reports from the Watches?" Ranna asked as she adjusted her faded dress and smudged hints of dirt on her arms and legs -- just enough so she looked like she'd been doing cleaning and nobody would notice her carefully trimmed nails.
Mabriel made the sign of the evil eye at her. "Na! You keep those away from me."
"I think my embroidery basket's lying around somewhere. And there's always the bookshelf -- you should read more."
"If I'd been thinking, I'd have brought my own sewing basket," Mabriel said. "I'll look through yours and see if there's anything worth salvaging."
This time, Ranna made the sign of the evil eye.
"Go on, Ranna, be leaving," Mabriel said. "And don't be gone too long."
Ranna nodded, and slipped out of the queen's chambers. Karsket and Moloshet looked her up and down, sighed, and exchanged a rapid hand-gesture conversation that ended with Karsket catching Ranna's eye and nodding fractionally. Her turn to play escort, apparently.
"Queen Ithova has sent me on an errand into the city, Blade-mistress Karsket," Ranna said, returning the nod. "May I have the honor of your protection on the queen's business?"
"Yes," said Karsket in her abrupt, husky voice, and the two women made their way through the royal palace, Ranna curtseying and nodding her head in feigned respect whenever they passed a lord or lady. After two years of Ranna's rule, most of the servants were aware that the queen had a girl who, while claiming to be a chambermaid, acted more like a contact to the shadow world; they studiously avoided Ranna and Karsket.
Ranna preferred to make her escapes around midday, when the palace was bustling and she could slip unnoticed through the confusion; despite the careful lack of attention given to the shadow world's involvement with the nobility, it wasn't wise to tempt fate and draw eyes to the queen's less savory connections. It also wasn't safe to have people pay much attention to the girl who had such free access to the queen's chambers. Disguises could only go so far.
Safety be damned, though; tonight, she needed out.
The evening air was warm, the early summer heat lingering in the cobblestones and radiating back from the brick and stone city houses of the nobles. The stench of the day drifted on the slight breeze -- rotting food, horse droppings, and all the debris of the city. Ranna windmilled her arms, reveling in her temporary freedom, slipping her old persona on like a second skin.
Arre-Lus was her city. She knew all its sides, from top to the bottom dregs; she had friends and influence in all the varied social circles; and she loved it all, every glittering, filthy, strident, vulgar inch of it. The city belonged to her and she belonged to the city; she would die before anyone took it away from her.
"Where to?" Karsket asked, breaking Ranna from her reverie.
She slowed in her walk, considering. "Raidda, I'm thinking. Then Garin."
Karsket frowned, fingering the hilt of her sword. "You should not associate with such scum. It's dangerous and demeaning."
Ranna grinned. "Ah, but Blade-mistress! You can't win the game if you're playing by the rules -- you have to break them. And nobody breaks rules better than Garin and Raidda."
"As I said, they're scum," Karsket said, but she released her sword and followed Ranna through the city, disapproval evident in every line of her body.
They passed quickly out of the high district where the nobles held court, their streets neatly paved and their gardens lined with trees and fountains to mask the sound and smell of the city. Ranna strode through the trade districts with their narrow, crowded streets and endless uproar, threading her way between peddlers and buskers, story-tellers and costermongers, instinctively hopping over piles of manure and other distasteful street obstacles, and dodging the occasional shower of rubbish tossed from an upstairs window. Karsket followed less gracefully, shoving irritably at the people who flowed into the gaps Ranna had slipped through before Karsket could follow her charge. Finally Ranna turned down a shadowed side-alley in the cloth district and knocked on a recessed door.
A shuttered window slid open and a man peered out. "What's your business?"
"Ranna Gentle to see Lady Raidda. Come from on high."
The man studied her and Karsket. "Gentle, eh? Never seen a redhead who could call herself that without lying. Come in -- the Lady's waiting for you."
Ranna and Karsket exchanged surprised glances. "She must have spies in the palace!" Karsket whispered as the man ushered them through the doorway. "I told you she can't be trusted."
Ranna nodded her thanks to the doorkeeper and strode through the dark entry passage to the narrow staircase. "Na, Raidda's done this before -- ask Moloshet, she'll tell you. I think she's a witch, though she only smiles when I ask her if she knows magic."
"Even more reason not to trust her," Karsket grumbled as Ranna led the way upstairs to Raidda's private office, both women doing their best to ignore the soft cries and moans seeping through the walls from the other rooms. "Magic's a dangerous ally -- better to trust cold steel and your own hands."
"Maybe so, but when your enemies have more men and swords, it's suicide to meet them straight on. I'll take any advantage I can find." Ranna knocked briskly on Raidda's door, and turned the knob before the sound had died.
Raidda -- Lady Raidda to her customers and the shadow world -- ran her business from a small, whitewashed room, the walls and ceiling hung with tapestries bestowed on her by former patrons, which she used to muffle sound. Shelves leaned against the hanging fabric, crowded with books and stacks of paper. Raidda herself sat behind a heavy desk, writing in an account book, her ageless face fixed in a frown of concentration. Figures, as she'd once told Ranna, had never been her strong point. She did much better with people.
Raidda looked up as Ranna and Karsket entered. "Ranna! My dear, I wasn't expecting you for another half hour -- was the Council meeting that trying? And Karsket, do stop growling at me. You know I mean the young lady no harm."
It was always unnerving how well Raidda could read her, Ranna thought. But as compensation, she didn't have to bother hiding her emotions -- if Raidda would see them anyhow, there was no reason not to express her annoyance freely.
"Would you at least pretend you don't know who I really am?" Ranna asked now, sinking into one of Raidda's graceful, padded guest chairs.
Raidda laughed, a rich, rolling flood of amusement. "Dear, nobody can hear us. You know that. And it saves so much time, not having to talk about 'what the queen told you to say,' and 'what messages you'll take back to the queen.' You should appreciate that."
"Na ya, if you say so." Ranna sighed, leaning back in her chair and motioning Karsket to take a seat. The guard shook her head and remained at attention by the door. Silly woman.
"I need your advice," Ranna began, trying to find the best way to explain her sudden anger at the Council. "I've always known it's a long game, winning over the Council, and I've always known that the lords and ladies are... difficult personalities... but this past week, I'm wanting to wash my hands of the whole business just so I won't have to deal with them anymore. And that's no good. That means giving up."
Raidda perched her chin on her interlaced hands, elbows propped on her desk. "Hmm. Is there anything in particular that brought this on?"
"Taxes! And the army, the barbarians, Vanulie's threats, Olek's ego, Danil's monomania, Shae's everlasting sly smirking..." Ranna waved her hands. "I've been working over a year, and all I've done is get Bethurika to vote my way a few more times than usual, and win a bit of sympathy and respect from Langard. But he still votes with Olek! I've convinced Marror I'm not an idiot, but he still acts as though I'm a tyrant only waiting to pounce.
"Two years, and nothing to show for it. Something has to give, or I think I'll go insane. I can't keep on working alone."
"Do tell," said Raidda, looking pensive. "I hadn't seen things drawing to a head this soon, but from what you say it's a good thing change is coming." She smiled, a secretive expression that grated on Ranna's nerves. "Within two weeks, visit the School of Swords -- as Ranna, not as Titoba. Ask after a young man from the south who carries a special sword."
"And?" Ranna demanded. "What help will he be?"
Raidda smiled again. "Much, or none. He's an opportunity, nothing more. Events circle around him, and he can be your greatest ally or most dangerous enemy. Treat him well, dear. All he wants is a friend."
"That's not particularly clear," Ranna said, crossing her arms. "And how do you know this mysterious young man will be there, whoever he is?"
"Because I'm a witch, dear, and I felt him find the sword." Raidda pushed back her chair and stood, hands resting on her desk. "And that's all you get from me this evening. Shoo." The flames in her fireplace rose higher, crackling, and shadows dripped from her deep burgundy dress to pool on the floor.
Ranna swallowed; that was more confirmation of magic than she'd wanted. Behind her, Karsket had gone pale and drawn her sword half out of the sheath. "Thank you, Lady Raidda," Ranna said quickly. "We'll be leaving now."
She hurried from the office and clattered down the stairs, not even noticing the sounds of pleasure this time. Karsket glared at the doorkeeper, who yanked the door open and let the two women spill out into the deep blue twilight of the alley.
"You see how you can't trust magic!" Karsket sounded surprisingly smug for someone who'd looked nervous not two minutes ago.
"Rot in the nether hells," Ranna shot back. "She gave me more information than I'd get anywhere else, and you know it. Stop questioning me."
Karsket frowned, but remained silent as Ranna slipped around a corner into a maze of twisting alleys and covered streets, pausing now and again to sign at people she picked out via nearly invisible cues. Finally one man, selling news performances on a sheltered corner, called a break in his spiel and whispered directions in Ranna's ear. "The Rabbit's Foot, back room, ask for Mr. Jessum."
Ranna slipped him a copper two-penny piece and a wink. "Council's getting nowhere on taxes and they're telling the Assembly to cough up the truth about their holdings and income. Heavy call for numbers men, and they won't be looking too closely if anyone skims a bit off the top. Pass it 'round."
The news crier grinned. "Say thankya to the queen for us."
"I'll be doing that."
Karsket coughed significantly, and Ranna threw her a glare before hurrying onward through the maze of her city. The Rabbit's Foot was a fairly respectable tavern and inn, on the end of the clockmakers' street. If Garin was there, he must not be planning anything big -- that, or he was trying to draw attention away from some other operation.
Ranna tossed the question aside as irrelevant. Garin dealt in the high end of the shadow world, targeting the people who had money to lose, the same people whose refusal to pay taxes was crippling her ability to maintain the royal roads and the army. Kanos was depending more and more on the Brotherhood of the Sword, and they were only sworn to defend against the barbarians in the west. Soon there might be nothing left but the skeleton of an army, and local lords would have free reign to raise their own forces or hire their own mercenaries.
If Garin took money from the tight-fisted traitors, she wouldn't worry too much about the ethics of looking the other way.
"Are you certain this is wise?" Karsket asked as they approached the Rabbit's Foot. "Wouldn't it be safer to send a messenger?"
"Na. Garin knows me and I know him. There's trust between us, and that doesn't come easy in the shadow world." Ranna grinned. "Besides, who would I send? You wouldn't let anyone with the proper qualifications into the palace and nobody you'd approve would be able to find the Court. You reek of law."
The Rabbit's Foot was doing a lively business, light, music, and the jumble of shouted conversation spilling into the street through the open doors. Ranna grabbed Karsket's hand -- her left hand, not her sword hand; she knew that much -- and tugged the guard through the crowd to the bar. "Ranna Gentle, for Mr. Jessum's party," she shouted in the barman's ear. At his sharp glance, she folded her fingers into the sign of the Rogue and ran that hand through her hair, as if impatient or preening.
The barman nodded. "Follow me." He led them through the main rooms, casually shoving aside the drinking, dancing, and shouting customers, to a stout iron-bound door. "Through here. Tenpence for entry."
Ranna gave him a dry look. "Tenpence? Ya, and I'm the Mother of Mercy. Two."
"Eight."
"Two." Ranna glared, daring him not to accept. Karsket drew her dagger and examined the edge, whistling casually.
The barman swallowed, eyes fixed on Karsket's hands. "Two," he agreed.
Ranna dropped the coin into his outstretched hand with a brilliant smile, then knocked on the door, pounding with a clenched fist to be heard over the noise.
"What?" demanded a lanky man as he eased the door open a crack. "Oh, it's you," he added, seeing Ranna. "Come on your own or come from on high?"
"On high," Ranna said. "Bringing a job for the king, Athil."
"Right, right. Come on in -- but the guard's blindfolded as usual." Athil snatched a length of dark cloth from somewhere near the door and grinned at Karsket. "You know how it goes, sweet thing. Close your eyes."
Karsket stiffly submitted to the indignity of the blindfold rather than let Ranna enter a den of thieves on her own. It was a useless bit of loyalty in Ranna's opinion -- any assassin could kill her long before Karsket could uncover her eyes -- but she couldn't help but feel a sneaking bit of admiration for anyone who held so firmly to her principles.
The back room was more composed than the rest of the tavern, with most of the people sitting instead of packed so tightly even standing room was dear. Their attention was focused on the door, eyes wary and hands drifting to weapons, until they caught sight of Ranna. Most relaxed, while the man holding court at the table burst into a mad grin, teeth flashing white against his close-cropped beard.
"Ranna! We've missed you, darling -- what's the occasion?"
Ranna returned his smile. "Business, Garin, from the queen and from the Council."
"The Council? What're those bastards plotting now?" Garin shook his head. "No, don't say yet. Come and sit and we'll have some fun before we get down to dealing." He patted the bench beside himself.
Ranna nodded and led Karsket to the table, seating her guard on her other side. There, Karsket at least blocked some direct access to Ranna's vital spots, which should make the woman feel marginally better about the situation. Garin smirked, knowing exactly what Ranna was up to.
"Queen Ithova knows what she's doing, telling her guards to value you high," he said. "You're a treasure for sure!"
Ranna grinned. "Ya, and she's knowing it. I'm worth my weight in gold." Worth that and more, Ranna thought, amused -- of course she valued herself highly! But Garin didn't know her other life, and she got endless fun out of hearing his opinions of the queen.
"I don't have time to play catch-up," she began, laying her hands on the table to show she was turning the conversation serious, "but I have both news and a job for you. Are we dealing here or elsewhere?"
Garin ran his eyes swiftly over their company, most of whom were conspicuously not listening while subtly keeping their attention on Ranna and the King of Shadows. "Eh, they're as honest as we ever get, and," -- he raised his voice a notch -- "if anyone talks I'll have their fingers broken. We deal here." He met Ranna's eyes, measuring stare for measuring stare. "What's your business?"
"News first. The Council's gathering tax information from the Assembly. They want to know all the lords' holdings and incomes; I think your numbers men will be able to name their prices soon, and skim with a free hand. I already dropped word on the streets."
Garin smiled wolfishly. "No matter -- the lords know to come to the Court first. And even if otherwise, that's the best news I've heard in weeks. For that, I may even give the queen a discount on her new job, which, by the way, would be...?"
Ranna leaned in to speak in Garin's ear. "This goes nowhere, you understand me? Any word of this hits the streets and the deal is off -- the queen will hunt you and your court to the last drop of blood. We're clear, say ya?"
Garin blinked, and then nodded. "We're clear." He looked sidelong at Ranna and spoke into her ear. "Treason or war, darling -- which is it?"
"Both, maybe. Cole has whispers that Olek's raised men to keep Eburek under his thumb. The queen wants to know what else he might be doing with an army... you follow me? But we're needing proof. Find Olek's books, or find a meeting. Pay on the usual scale, and leave word with Raidda when you've found something -- she can find me faster than you can."
"Raidda. Feh. Blasted woman knows everything," Garin grumbled. "She had any interest in my job, I'd be dead faster than I can blink. Oh, don't worry, we deal well enough when there's a need," he added. "I see why you want this quiet. There's enough trouble already with private armies; we don't need even more lords getting ideas.
"This'll take a while, though. Couple weeks at the least, maybe over a month. Olek's no fool, and I'll need to send word to Idalgir, see about organizing that end of the operation." Garin frowned. "Hmm. Who do I know out there...?"
Ranna lifted her hands. "I don't need to know the details. Best I don't, actually -- keeps you and yours safer from the queen if it comes to the worst, and keeps her safer too."
"True, true. Sharp as a knife, darling, sharp as ever -- don't lose that edge."
Ranna grinned. "Don't you be losing yours. We have a deal?"
"Done, and done." Garin held out his hand, and Ranna grasped it firmly. "Now go tell the queen her problems with Olek will be gone before she knows."
"Ya, ya, gone yesterday most likely," Ranna said, rising. "Luck in the shadows, Garin."
"Likewise."
Ranna led Karsket out of the back room, and for once the guard didn't complain as soon as she'd removed her blindfold. Instead, she waited until they were well away from the Rabbit's Foot.
"Does Olek truly have an army in Therry?" she finally asked, husky voice subdued.
Ranna nodded. "So Cole says, and Cole doesn't lie. I especially trust him not to lie about soldiers he'd rather have guarding the Gates and the other borders."
Karsket shook her head in disbelief. "I knew our lords, in the north, cared little for the people, but I thought that was only because their blood is from Alland and Auvern, not from my people. But these lords treat their even own blood shamefully." She slid a weighing glance at Ranna. "Perhaps you're not so blind as I thought. It takes a man with no honor to see what another dishonorable man is planning."
That wasn't quite how Ranna would have put it -- anyone could see what the Council was up to, if they'd only open their eyes -- but it was true that honor was a stumbling block to getting results. Better a live jackal than a dead lion, that was Ranna's motto.
"Most lords don't care much about their vassals," Ranna said. "They don't care about Kanos either, just about their own power and their control over their own little pieces of my country. And they're winning. Garin helps me even the scales. And," she added defensively, "he has his own honor, of a sort." There were rules and limits even to the Shadow Court, and Ranna found herself oddly miffed to hear her friends maligned.
"Honor is honor," said Karsket. "You either have it or you don't." Then she smiled. "In any case, he's very handsome for a dishonorable dog."
Ranna gaped. "You! But the blindfold?"
Karsket grinned. "Athil is very careful not to let me see in before we enter his master's lairs. He isn't quite so careful as we leave. Garin is the one with the beard and the braid, right?"
"You know I can't be telling you any secrets," Ranna said, but her tone was weak and Karsket's grin widened in satisfaction.
"I may have to find him when I'm not on duty, to learn about this honor that isn't honor... and other things, of course..."
Oh dear. Hopefully Garin would be in a good mood when Karsket inevitably found him, or he might consider his trust in Ranna broken. But Ranna couldn't work up a proper amount of worry over that just now; she was in too good a mood herself. Help was coming, and soon she'd have her hand around Olek's throat, ready to squeeze.
"Sharp as a knife, Karsket," she said with a smile. "Don't cut him too deep."
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