Exsanguinated Page 7

  “I’m not a ruler. I’m not even one of the Anders.”

  “You are much more than you allow yourself to be.”

  “Bastan, I don’t even intend to stay at the palace. When all is said and done, I intend to go after Tray.”

  And that might happen much sooner than Bastan wanted. If Sam had anything to do with it, she intended to finish with Master Helen and get out of the city.

  “I understand what your intentions are. I’m also preparing you for what comes after.”

  “Bastan—”

  She didn’t get the chance to finish. Madame Fornay appeared and carried a jacket and pants. “This is mostly for sizing. Why don’t we try this on?”

  She held out the jacket, waiting for Sam, and she reluctantly slipped her arms into the sleeves. The fabric was much more beautiful than anything she was accustomed to wearing, and it fit perfectly. Madame Fornay made her way around Sam, tugging on the sleeves, checking the buttons, before nodding to herself.

  “Perhaps a little longer, but not much. I think this will do. I should be able to place a few hidden pockets here that would allow for some concealment. And now these.”

  She held out the pants, and Sam slipped them on, not bothering to remove the pants she wore. They were worn and almost tattered, but they were comfortable. The pants fit nearly as well as the jacket, though she suspected part of the reason they didn’t fit quite as well was because she was wearing her own pants underneath. Much like before, Madame Fornay made her way around, pulling on the inseam, patting Sam’s bottom and then tugging on the hem near the floor. When she was satisfied, she stood and motioned for Sam to remove them.

  “This will not take a long time. I have several items that would be satisfactory.” She pursed her lips. “Though if I may be honest…”

  Bastan tipped his head. “Of course.”

  “A lady like herself would do well to have at least one gown. Especially if she intends to spend any time within the central sections.”

  Bastan glanced over. “Whatever you think, Madame Fornay.”

  “Bastan—” Sam growled.

  Bastan ignored her. He and Madame Fornay had a brief conversation about cost, and Bastan whispered something in her ear, leading Madame Fornay’s eyes to widen slightly.

  “Very good.”

  She disappeared to the back of the store, and Bastan grabbed Sam’s sleeve, tugging her out of the store.

  Once outside, Sam looked over to Bastan, glaring at him. “What was that about?”

  “That was about me helping you be more inconspicuous. I can’t have you getting identified the moment you walk into a section that you aren’t dressed for.” He grabbed her cloak and fanned it open. “Look at you. Your clothing gives you away more than anything else. I know you don’t care about the difference in classes, and I know you don’t care about highborn versus lowborn, but others do. The moment they see you, they know you are from Caster.”

  “My clothing doesn’t identify me as from Caster.”

  “It identifies you as from an outer section, Samara. That is enough.” He took her by the elbow and started down the street, glancing around. “Why do you think I’ve never given you any jobs outside of Caster or the outer sections?”

  “You gave me jobs in other sections.”

  “Nothing that required you to dress in a particular way. It never mattered, not before, and perhaps it doesn’t matter now, but I’m determined to see that you are dressed for the jobs that you might take. If you’re going to continue working this way, and if you’re going to continue spending time outside of Caster and those sections, you need to be dressed appropriately.”

  “And the gown?”

  Bastan shrugged, but he did a terrible job of suppressing the grin. “There might be times when you need something a little more formal.”

  “What more formal do I need? I think the other clothing you convinced her to make will be enough.”

  “Maybe it will. Now, it’s time for us to finish this job.”

  “And what job is that?”

  “That is the two of us seeing if we can come across any more of Helen’s people.” He nodded to the end of the street.

  There was a massive manor home that would have been almost as fitting on one of the more central sections as it was here in this merchant section. It was a sprawling two-story home with a short fence around it. There was a separation between it and the other buildings on either side, something that wasn’t found in Caster. Sam imagined that the back of the home overlooked the canal. Considering the display of wealth, that would be expected.

  Many of the people with money thought that having homes overlooking the canal was a display of their status. Sam didn’t understand that, especially considering she had been in the canals more than once and knew what lived in those waters. Did they know? Did they not care? Maybe it was more that they could flaunt the fact that merchants could pull up directly in front of their homes, though she hadn’t seen any merchants willing to do that, at least not outside of the very center of the city.

  “Why this one?”

  “This one is a place that has drawn attention. While you were in there getting sized up, I was keeping an eye on it. My men sent word that there has been quite a bit of movement around this home, and while I was watching, I noticed there were several people who went inside.”

  “What kind of people?”

  “Not merchants.”

  “How can you be certain?”

  “Because one of them was foolish enough to wear a gray jacket.”

  7

  Search for Kavers

  Bastan led them on a meandering path, guiding them over to the manor house, but doing it in a way that would be least likely to elicit attention. Sam marveled at his skill. She’d only done a few jobs with Bastan, and because he rarely took jobs himself, it still surprised her how utterly silently he moved.

  Some of that had to be related to his heritage. While she was a Kaver, Bastan was a djohn. She wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but she’d seen others in the city who had similar abilities. Most of them were minor abilities, but she had some experience with the djohn and their ability to face the Thelns.

  “Do you intend for us to attack now?”

  “Not attack. This is simply a scouting mission.”

  “And what if we find something that forces our hand? What if we have to take action?” Sam asked.

  Bastan glanced over, one hand pressed against the side of a building, the other holding a rope with a hook on the end. He was preparing to climb, heading toward the rooftop. It was the same position she would have taken. “There are rarely times when you have to take action. There are times when action is beneficial, but there are rarely times when it is required.”

  “Then fine. What happens if we need to make a decision about whether or not we will take action on this supposed hideout of Scribes?”

  Bastan frowned. “Are you mocking?”

  “Bastan, you know I would never mock.”

  “No. You generally do much worse.” He started up the building, and Sam followed, climbing onto the roof of one of the merchant buildings. This one didn’t have a sign, and Sam wasn’t sure what exactly it sold, but it probably didn’t matter.

  “You don’t want to tell me what your plan is?”

  “I plan to observe.”

  “Sometimes, you’re too cautious,” Sam said.

  “It’s the way I have maintained my position for as long as I have.”

  “No. The way you’ve maintained your position is that you send others into danger. You don’t do it yourself.”

  “And I keep telling you that you were never in any danger, Samara. I was never going to put you in a position where you would have to do something that would pose a threat to you.”

  She crawled forward, crouching at the edge of the building so she could look out over the manor house. There were lights on inside, and shadows moved in front of the window. There was something about the hous
e that reminded her of the last time she had attempted to break into a highborn house, and the easar paper she had been tasked with stealing. That had been the beginning of everything for her. It had been the change that had set her on a path toward a different life. Without that, she would have remained a thief, and though she might still feel like a thief—and a lowborn one at that—she was much more.

  Everyone around her was much more too.

  Except for Elaine. She was gone. Her mother was well and truly gone.

  Bastan rested a hand on her arm.

  Sam glanced over. “I’m fine.”

  “I can see from the tightness around your eyes that you’re not entirely fine. Is it your brother you’re thinking of?”

  Sam sighed. It wasn’t Tray, but it could have been. He had been with her the last time she had done something like this and had been the one looking out for her. His captivity had been the reason she had gone searching for other answers, the reason so much had changed for her. Everything had happened because of Tray, and mostly for the better.

  Sam had found a mother, discovered Bastan was something of a father, and learned of her powers. And lost Tray.

  “It’s not Tray. Not only Tray,” she corrected. “It’s Elaine. I feel as if we never got a chance to really know each other, and now…”

  “It’s the reason you have to take every moment you have with someone and be thankful for it,” Bastan said.

  “If you’re trying to get me to tell you how thankful I am that you’re here with me, I’m not going to do it.”

  “That’s not what I was after, but it wouldn’t be terrible, now would it?”

  Bastan grinned and then turned his attention back to the street, looking over at the building. Sam stared at it with him, looking for any signs of movement on the inside but didn’t see anything.

  “I haven’t seen anyone heading in or out since we’ve been here,” Sam said.

  “I have not, either. That troubles me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I saw several people entering while we were in the shop, and I expected to see them leaving, but if they haven’t, it suggests that perhaps there is some sort of meeting taking place.”

  And if there was a meeting, Sam needed to get inside.

  She started forward, and Bastan grabbed her arm.

  “What are you doing, Samara?”

  “I’m doing what needs to be done. If they’re having a meeting, I need to get in there and see what’s going on and see if it has anything to do with Master Helen.”

  “If they’re having a meeting, you cannot reveal yourself like that.”

  “I’m stealthy,” she said.

  Bastan arched a brow. “You might have been stealthy once, but ever since you’ve learned of your abilities, you have been anything but stealthy. I would argue that you’re noisy.”

  “Nope. I’m not noisy. I’m stealthy.” She jumped down, landing on the street below.

  She started forward when Bastan joined her, moving much more quietly than she had managed.

  “Fine. Maybe compared to you I’m noisy, but I’m still stealthy.”

  “I’ve tried teaching you stealth, but you have never wanted to be a good student of it.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it? Every time I have attempted to show you how to move quietly, you have refused my guidance.”

  “Maybe I would have taken your guidance if you wouldn’t have kept me from taking the good jobs.”

  “I have given you nothing but good jobs.”

  “The jobs you gave me were the good ones? I’d hate to have seen the bad ones.”

  Bastan shook his head. They reached the short fence, and he leaped over, landing without making a sound on the other side. Sam assembled her canal staff and used it to flip over the wall, landing on a soft grassy lawn on the other side. A garden spread out before her, with flowers of many different colors filling it. A garden like this would be incredibly expensive to maintain.

  “Whose house is this again?”

  “I didn’t say.”

  “I noticed. That’s why I’m asking.”

  Bastan shook his head and nodded toward the house, creeping forward quietly. They moved around to the side rather than the main entrance, He reached a window and pushed on it. It opened, and he rolled inside.

  Kyza!

  She hadn’t intended to force Bastan to do that. She had planned to enter on her own, but now that he was inside, she had to join him. She didn’t want to put Bastan in any sort of danger. She had already lost Elaine, and she didn’t want to lose the person who had effectively been her father all these years.

  Sam propped herself up on her canal staff, balancing long enough to take a peek inside the window. The room was dark, and the shadowed form of Bastan waited for her. She flipped herself inside and carefully pulled her staff into the room.

  Bastan nodded to it, his voice pitched at a whisper. “I doubt you will be able to use that in here.”

  Sam disassembled the staff and held out the two halves. “What about this?”

  “Can you use it like that?”

  “I can use it assembled or unassembled. I’m impressive like that.”

  “I have never doubted how impressive you are.”

  He started forward and reached a door. As he did, Sam glanced around the room and noticed that it was some sort of a sitting room. Chairs were positioned around a table with a few sheets of paper lying on it.

  Sam hurried over to the table and looked at the papers. Could it be easar paper?

  No such luck. It wasn’t easar paper, but what she saw was some sort of notation on each of the sheets. She grabbed them and stuffed them into her pocket, determined to look at them later—or have Alec look at them later.

  Bastan pushed the door open and paused, half in the hallway and half in the doorway. When he was content there was no movement, he stepped out, motioning for Sam to follow. When she did, nothing moved. She would’ve expected some activity, especially considering what they had seen from the street.

  “Where is everyone?” Sam asked.

  “Perhaps we should be thankful there’s no activity.”

  “We saw movement. I expected to find people here.”

  Bastan went along the hall, checking door after door, and none of them were occupied.

  “You think we go up?” Sam asked.

  The narrow staircase led to the upper level, but if the people were all upstairs, there should have been some sound.

  “I wonder if perhaps we need to go down,” Bastan said.

  There was another staircase that led down, and that was unusual this close to the canal. Few places were willing to fight with the moisture in a basement this close to the canal.

  “This isn’t a good idea. I know I said I needed to get in here to see what was happening, but we might be in over our heads.”

  “I won’t allow anything to happen to you, Samara.”

  “I’m not worried about something happening to me.”

  “Then I won’t allow anything to happen to me, either,” Bastan said.

  He started down the stairs, and Sam gripped her staff ends. As she made her way down after him, she focused on augmentations, trying to draw upon the power she could, thinking of what might be beneficial. She didn’t know what they might encounter here and tried to bring on as many augmentations as she could.

  Strength. Speed. Impermeability. Enhanced eyesight. Enhanced hearing.

  They washed over her, one after another, a taxing effort, but she wanted to be prepared.

  There was a door at the bottom of the stairs, and Bastan pushed it open.

  Sam tensed, ready for whatever might be on the other side. Maybe Helen would be there, and they could end their search and capture her, then take her back to the university and interrogate her.

  But no such luck. It was merely a storage room.

  “We missed something,” Sam said as she turned to head back to the main level.
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  “I don’t know how we could’ve missed anything,” Bastan said.

  “We didn’t go upstairs.”

  “If we’d gone upstairs, what do you think we would’ve seen?”

  “I don’t know, but the people must’ve gone somewhere.”

  When she reached the top of the stairs, she heard movement.

  She looked over to Bastan, and he nodded. “I heard it, as well.”

  “What do you think it was?”

  It came again. This time, near the front of the house.

  It was a steady thumping.

  Footsteps?

  Not just footsteps. Several people’s footsteps.

  “We should get—”

  Sam didn’t get the chance to finish. The door at the end of the hall opened, and a man appeared. He carried a half-staff in his hand, and as soon as he saw her, he rushed down the hall, barreling toward them.

  A Kaver.

  Sam threw herself forward, positioning herself in front of Bastan, but it didn’t matter. Another door opened, and another Kaver appeared.

  “Where did they all come from?” she asked as she started her attack. She wasn’t afraid to fight Kavers, especially if they were siding with Helen.

  “How many Kavers do you think you can manage?” Bastan asked as Sam brought her staff around, preparing to attack. He was calm, but there was an edge of tension in his voice.

  Bastan was nervous.

  Sam wasn’t accustomed to Bastan being nervous. He was always confident and calm, and for him to show any sign of nerves troubled her.

  “I don’t know. I guess you’re going to find out. How many Kavers do you think you can manage?”

  He grunted, bringing his sword around as he prepared to fight. “It seems we will soon learn. Perhaps we should have stayed outside and observed as I suggested.”

  “It’s not really the time to say I told you so.”

  “I wanted to tell you before we died.”

  Sam smacked the staff against her attacker’s staff. “What makes you think we’re going to die?”