Diz squinted at the silver, eyed Lapis, then pondered his prize before relaxing and shrugging.
“Where’s you gettin’ this?” he asked, stroking his dark brown, well-kempt beard with stubby, ink-stained fingers.
“The person who placed the stake.”
His wrinkled face smoothed in surprise, and he shrugged again. “Yous takin’ better stakes,” he said.
“If you call chasing down Dagby a better stake.”
He chuckled at the reminder and slipped the money into his inner breast pocket, the one sewn nearly shut to prevent thievery. “S’pose. I guess yous not thinkin’ it’s hard, ‘cause yous got Rin with you.”
“I’s her apprentice,” the rat said proudly. Diz had opinions on that, she could see it in his reddened, smoky grey eyes, but he kept them to himself. He shuffled to the busted crate he used as a chair and hefted himself onto it, his legs dangling like a fisherman’s over the dock. His humor dimmed into serious intent.
“Dagby’s in trouble,” he stated simply.
“So I gathered. He’d never leave his den otherwise.”
Diz grunted. “S’pose. He’s gettin’ tired of brainbreak, though. Too broken. Thought he’d finally tried to stop, but then them Black Hats come snoopin’ ‘round, sayin’ they need to find him. ‘Cause of Hoyt. So maybe he ain’t so retired.”
“Hoyt seems to be a popular man,” Lapis said.
“Think he’s wishin’ he ain’t,” he chortled in glee. “Serves ‘m right, messin’ all over with them syndicates. Makin’ us miserable.” He waved a hand at her. She supposed that fixers disliked attention brought to their work, and Diz was no different. “Don’t matter, I s’pose. He skipped town, headed into the mountains.”
“To hide?”
“Yeah, in some ruin, called Ambercaast. They used to mine blue amber and aquatheerdaal there. Was abandoned when Dentheria invaded.”
“Aquatheerdaal, huh.”
“Yep.”
Rin’s antsiness amused her; he could ask after the mineral later.
“All I knows, it’s in the northwest mountains. That’s it. But Dagby, he’s been there. Bragged ‘bout it. Got paid in aquatheerdaal for somethin’, never said what. That’s why he thinks them Black Hats ‘r chasin’ ‘m. There’s profit, sellin’ it to Taangis.”
“I’d think a syndicate would already have the area staked, if there was any left.”
“Lady, them ruins ‘r odd, and not syndicate odd. Dagby said it, made a big deal tellin’ horror stories to the younguns in Underville. Somma it’s kiddie stuff, ghosts ‘n shamblin’ monsters, but somma it? He’d talk ‘bout these laser traps ‘n humans made of metal. Just the way he described ‘m . . . Lady, he don’t got no brain left, for creatin’. He had to have seen ‘m.”
“A place to avoid, if I can help it. He likes to tell stories in Underville, eh?”
“Keeps the kiddies from doin’ stupid shit,” he said. “They all like Granna Cup’s fire.”
Lapis smiled and withdrew another silver. Diz’s eyes popped as she flipped it to him. “Like I said, the person who hired me is quite the generous sort.”
His cheeks became rosy in good humor as he stuffed the extra into his pocket. “Lady, you’s always generous,” he said. “We makes you work for it, but you’s not lookin’ to scam us ‘cause you don’t like what we tell you. Not like them Black Hats, threatenin’ to sic the palace on me.”
“The Black Hats and their leadcommander are jackasses.”
He hopped off the crate and smacked at his rear before nodding and looking up at her. “Ha! After the Night Market, we’s all thinkin’ they’re tryin’ to trick us. Minq think so. They’s sayin’ he’s some two-bit guttershank who’s rich daddy’s keepin’ ‘m outta trouble. Got less brains than a Pit lizard, ‘n that’s sayin’ somethin’.”
“Thank you, Diz. Enjoy your day.”
His grin nearly cracked his cheery face, revealing a set of perfect, brilliant teeth he must have paid a pretty bit for in the under market. “Plan on it. Might even be a little generous, m’self.”
“Generosity is a good thing,” she agreed as she smacked Rin on the arm. He hopped out of the single-room shack, but before she reached the door, Diz tugged on her sleeve. She looked at him; his serious nature struck her.
“Lady, I gots somethin’ else. For Patch.” She bent over to hear and he dropped his gravelly voice to a whisper. “Tell ‘m, some Pit-sniffin’ court shank called Diros’s lookin’ for ‘m, in connection with his dead son.” He pursed his lips, as if he had eaten something extremely sour. “This’s all tangled up with why Hoyt’s lookin’ for you—but it’s not only ‘cause of Diros. Thought it was, after Predi paid a visit.” He lifted his lip. “Glad he’s gone. Good on you, helpin’ Sir Armarandos take ‘m out. Anyway, some undershank callin’ hisself Ranulf came a’knockin’. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark tan from bein’ out in the sun lots, nervous ‘n jumpy. Said he’s from Danaea, but she’d already been dead a while.”
Ranulf. That sounded like a rebel name.
“Said he’s lookin’ for anythin’ on Aethon, the dead son. Told ‘m to bark somewhere else. Now Diros, he’s mean, Lady. Gots a nasty reputation in the underground. I’d believe it, iffen he killed his own son ‘n looked to blame it on another, that’s how cruel ‘n greedy he is. I’d tell Patch, stay clear. Ain’t worth messin’ with.”
“Thanks, Diz.”
Rin stood outside with Yedin, an excited gleam in his eyes while the other man leaned against the shack’s greying wooden wall, arms crossed, absently observing his brown boots. She smiled warmly at him as he glanced up and patted his shoulder. While he idly pondered the profession of chaser, he now had a reason to pursue it; his cousin needed his help.
Thyden should thank the non-existent gods Faelan was a good man willing to aid those who wanted to resolve their mistakes.
“Pickin’ up more strays?” Diz asked as he locked his door.
“Oddly, some think I’m a good instructor in the art of the chase.”
The fixer grinned and nodded at Yedin. “The Lady here, she’s shy. Likes to stay in the background, but few ‘re finer chasers. She’ll teach you right. Mayhap you’ll ignore it, but she gots a good head, good heart. ‘S why she’s gettin’ them rats t’ read.”
Yedin smiled back. “I think she’s an excellent instructor for those of us dippin’ our toes in.”
“Aye. Low-key, nothin’ fancy. Good start.”
Lapis did not realize Diz thought so highly of her. Considering the pain in the ass he normally was concerning information, she had thought he resented her intrusion into his predictable life. Perhaps the revelation about Patch being her partner proved a niceness motivator.
She led the two down the street and to a small alley nestled away from the scurry of afternoon traffic. The Stumps typically had a lot of hustle and bustle, being a thoroughfare to the Docks warehouses and the Southern Kells Bridge from southeastern Jiy. It also had cheaper, and therefore attractive, housing. Single people like Diz could afford a small shack there and have plenty of bits left over for meals and entertainment. The one-room abodes never impressed, but since they rested in a safer part of the Grey Streets, no one who lived there complained. The downside was the smell; it reeked of fish oil and smoke blown there by the river’s winds.
“You know quite a few people, Lanth,” Yedin said. She shrugged and inched closer.
“I do, but I’ve spent five years plying the trade here. Having contacts is important, even for the little stakes. Diz is a fixer. He mostly works with forging documents to weasel people out of trouble, and he’s good at it. That means he sees and hears a great deal about the underdeeds of the underground. While he won’t divulge anything that would put him on the wrong side of a stake, he can be a wellspring of information, given the right prompt.” She laughed. “Meaning silver. He’s usually a jerk, and it takes forever to weasel something out of him.”
“Diz’s alright,” Rin piped up. “He’s workin’ with some community committee ‘bout the treatment of little people in Docks work. His group’s gettin’ it so thing’s ‘r fairer, for everyone.”
“And what have you done for Diz, that he’s nice to you?” Lapis asked.
The rat smashed his lips together and merrily looked away.
“Have you been to Underville?” She itched to pry but set aside her curiosity. She would send him the next time she needed info from the fixer, and they could butt heads without her.
He shook his head. “Nope. A bit far, from the Grey Streets. ‘Sides, too many undershanks there.” He poked at her. “What’s aquatheerdaal?”
Yedin’s surprise interested her. “It’s a mineral,” he said. “Taangis uses it in their tech. It’s kinda rare, so if you have some, you can sell it for silver in the undermarket. There’s always rumors about farmers out Blossom way diggin’ some up in their fields and gettin’ rich. Some think that’s why the market’s in Blossom in the first place.”
Interesting theory.
“Diz mentioned it,” she said. “He said Hoyt fled to a ruin that used to mine aquatheerdaal. Maybe he owes money and thinks he can squirm out of his debts by finding some of it. That might explain his more asinine decisions of late.” She edged even closer. “Listen. Diz said Dagby knows Granna Cup. She’s a snarly old woman who has spent her life fighting for everything she has. Her granddaughter runs a stall at Candycakes, and she’ll help, every so often. We get along well enough, but only in passing. So Rin—”
“I’s knowin’ when to keep my fingers still,” he told her primly.
She sighed. “That, too. You don’t want to fall on the wrong side of a syndicate because you stole from a favorite undershank. But I want you to go get Patch. He should come with us.”
“Oh.”
“Tell him we’ll be at the courtyard.”
He looked disappointed before scampering away.
Yedin raised an eyebrow. “Underville?”
“Underville is a Kells neighborhood inside a pre-Dentherion underground space, where the shanks associated with syndicates live. They get paid more, so can afford a boxcar house and safer environment. They’re still shanks, so I’ll feel better going there with Patch. His reputation precedes him. Right now, though, we’re going to continue to the courtyard. Don’t look behind us. Act casual, like you’re happy we just got some good info.”
“Why?”
“Someone Diz warned me about is trailing us.” She snagged his hand before he could digest the words and hustled them out of the alley.
Her neck prickled as she attempted nonchalant; Yedin acted far more poorly, though he tried to follow her lead. She desperately wanted to turn and stare at the crowd behind them, pick out the man with dark hair and dark eyes, but she needed him to think her ignorant of his presence. Apprehending him would be simpler if he thought himself the chaser.
Something about the description and Diz’s interaction with him bothered her, but she could not quite place why.
“Don’t think this is a usual chase,” Lapis said as she attempted to calm the antsy farmer. “Mine are typically boring. The day I met you? I was fulfilling a stake on a bit guttershank. I staked out his place for a week, noted his schedule, wrote down who visited and when, scouted the area. It’s not glamourous, but I nabbed both him and the Alchemist without effort. And I didn’t have to worry about them escaping into the sewers.”
“The sewers?” He winced.
“Yeah. If they flee down there, I’ll just wait for them to return up top. I’m pretty persistent that way. I once waited three weeks at a shank’s hovel in the Stone Streets. She rightly decided it wasn’t worth the effort and gave me back what she stole.”
He chuckled, though strained. “I’m fine with stakes like that. It’s better than walkin’ behind a plow. My family owns thirty farms, and I go where they’re short-handed. It’s decent work, but I’m tired of it. I have broader dreams than fruits and vegetables and nuts.”
Thirty farms? That counted as exceedingly rich for country folk. “The extent of my farming experience is picking wild berries in my youth.”
“Winnen Berry Farm’s one of ours.”
Nobles enjoyed picking seasonal berries there, an outing used as a fun experience for children and as a romantic rendezvous for teens—and they paid well for a good time. “How big is your family?”
“The extended, huge. Grand-da and Granna had ten kids. Each one had near the same. Truthfully, they’ve got plenty of hands. Not all the farms require the same upkeep, so they can spread us all around.” He sighed. “They’ve got a horde of great-grandkids, too, but they’re all young yet.”
“That’s a humongous family.”
“That isn’t countin’ Grand-da and Granna’s siblings and their kids and grandkids. We could fill an entire town, just with relations.”
“I see why you want to be a chaser.”
He laughed. “Yeah. Will be quieter. Maybe meet someone I’m not related to.”
Yedin cast her a quizzical look when she led him to a bustling fish stall not far from the river, but she smiled and slipped between the counter and the wall before entering a small, outdoor dining space that had vines with white flowers hiding the walls. Docks workers lounged on wooden benches and lazily chewed grilled fish and crisp tubers from round ceramic plates, muttering to each other about the day’s gossip. Congratulating herself on remembering the key, she opened the flower-bedecked iron bar gate on the far side and headed down the short walkway, inundated with the scent of plants refusing to wilt under the touch of cooling days.
They entered a courtyard with a plain cracked fountain, yellowed benches, empty flowerbeds, all surrounded by a chipped, grungy stone colonnade whose capitals had lost their scrolls. The single-story wall that held the entrance to the fish stall had so many flowers draped across it, they hid the dull wood, a contrast to the other three buildings edging the yard, which were poorly plastered and a mud-splattered orange. Windows opened into the space, attempting to let the river breezes into the four-story structures.
She sank onto a bench and set the heel of her boot on the edge. Yedin craned his neck up, taking in the sight of orange against the cloudless sky.
“The fish stall owner lets a select few use this courtyard,” she told him. “Patch and I can. It’s a good place to collect thoughts and re-plan strategy.” She looked at the gate; the dark-haired and dark-eyed man peeked through, frowning as he tried to figure out the lock. Subtle, was he not. Well, if he stayed there, he could have a nice chat with her partner as to why he thought to spy on her. She casually ignored him and focused on Yedin, as if she did not realize he chased her. Hopefully he was lackluster enough to buy it.
She chit-chatted with the farmer, explaining stake forms until Patch arrived, and faster than she expected. Yedin did not realize he was there until he threw their stalker into the empty fountain before he had even muttered a word about anything ,and dug his heel into the man’s shoulder hard enough, he choked on pain. Her partner leaned over, his eye as brilliant a blue as the racing lights on his patch.
“Well, now.”
“Patch!” he whimpered.
“Why are you following Lanth?” he asked in a deceptively calm voice. When he jumped right to the point, it meant he buried his fury deep enough, he could function.
“It’s . . . for Tievel—”
“Tievel?” Lapis had her blade against his throat before she consciously moved. Patch snagged her shoulders and whipped her around, implacable. She sheathed her weapon before she cut him and glared fire. Rin’s worry hit her like a brick while Yedin backed up a step.
The man struggled to prop up on his elbows and glowered at her. “He knows about you, too,” he spit.
“Does he?” She jerked away from her partner. “Yeah, I bet he does. And I know he’s a traitorous snake who helped murder my family. Should have taken me out when you had the chance because I’m going to send you to him in pieces.”
“He’s not a murderer,” the man said, voice ugly with certainty.
Murderer. Memory crashed.
“You . . . you’re the one who was with him when he killed Miki! Dark hair, dark eyes, tanned skin.” Fury avalanched through her, and only the pain of Patch’s digging into her arm by way of a too-hard hug brought her back.
“Lanth, go. I’ll catch up.”
“No,” she snarled. She was not about to lose this chance. He stubbornly scowled, but his normal intimidation tactics never worked on her.
His hardness intensified. “I’ll take care of it,” he snapped.
Rin grabbed her arm and wheeled her around before planting his hand in the center of her back and forcing her down the walkway.
What did he think he was doing?
Her breath squeaked through her constricting throat.
She booked it from the fish, the customers, fast-walked hastily enough through the lazy traffic she might as well have called it running. She clenched her fists and stared at the gravel and broken paving stones passing under her feet, oblivious to all but memories of blood and terror. Tears, like the ones she helplessly shed as she escaped Kale’s men, stained her cheeks. They dribbled onto the ground in front of her, and she stomped on them as she whisked over them.
He wanted to take care of things? Fine. He wanted her gone, fine. She would do her thing. Faelan’s silver clanged in her pouch. She could dump it into the lap of Granna Cup or Dagby or whoever and get what she wanted and leave, throw the information at her brother, and . . . and what.
Tievel was still out there. Still stalking her. He knew the rats, knew which ones to harm, to hurt her. He targeted Rin once, and he would target him again. She could not save him, just as she could not save her little brother.
