I smile benevolently, like Ididn’troll Yannec’s body into the Yssar River about nine hours ago.
That was how the night ended, by the way. I tossed the office to make it look like a burglary gone wrong, and took thegildenin the strongbox, along with the Eisendorf jewels and the tavern’s ledger. It would have been easier for Ragne to handle the body herself, but it turned out her assistance had two limitations.
One was that she’s apparently a vegetarian.
“It will make me sick,” she explained, lumbering out of the alleyway as a black bear with Yannec’s body slumped over her shoulders. “What if I ate him and then made myself human? Would I have human meat in my human belly?No, I would not like that. Besides, he is a stink man.”
The other limit was more literal. We made it halfway to the end of the nearest dock before she wobbled in place and abruptly shrank back down to a squirrel, squalling until I shoved Yannec off her.
“It is hard, big shapes on the new moon,” Ragne mumbled, then curled into a ball with her fluffy tail over her nose, eyes sliding shut. “Good night.”
It was a strange moment, being stranded on the dock with the body of one of my oldest acquaintances. There’s something bitter about parting with someone who had a hand in who you are now; it’s even bitterer when that hand left scars.
I said a few words about how he wasn’t a good man, but he’d only raised a hand to me once before tonight, and maybe Death would commend him for it. I wedged a red penny between his teeth so he’d have fare for the Ferryman to take his soul onward.
Then I pushed him, the last man in Minkja who knew my real name, into the river, and watched the dark Yssar waters swallow him whole.
“And Vanja Schmidt?”
Emeric’s voice brings me back.
“Vanja is gone,” I half lie, a little too fast. “She took her leave before we arrived here. I don’t think Minkja suited her tastes.”
Then I slice the tip off therohtwurst.
Emeric goes very pale, then very red. “R-right, then. Do you know where any of them are now?”
“No.” That’s an outright lie. I delicately lift the bite of sausage to my mouth. “But my darling Adalbrecht has seen to myeveryneed.”
I’ve decided to try to make Emeric’s voice crack again before he’s finished his questions.
He clears his throat and thumbs through his notebook with a rewarding air of desperation. He’s definitely shaking; Ithinkhe might be sweating. “Thank you, I’m sure Prefect Klemens will find this quite . . . illuminating. Could you tell me about the theft that occurred here?”
I can, but I would like him to be distracted for it. I nudge the platter ofrohtwursthis way. “You’re still not eating! Aren’t you hungry?”
The sausages jiggle menacingly on the plate. He tugs on the plain starched linenkrebatteknotted at his throat. “Forgive me,Prinzessin, of course. The burglary, if you could . . . ?”
“Ah, yes.” I let the dressing gown slip to the edge of a shoulder and tear off another piece of pretzel, staring vapidly into the distance. “It happened in April, I think? Perhaps the end of March? I was hosting a party for the spring equinox. Do they do those where you’re from? Equinox parties?”
Emeric has just taken a large bite of buttered pumpernickel. He half nods, awkward, one hand over his mouth.
“Well, mine was superb. You should really stick around for the wedding, it’s going to be an absolute spectacle.” I wriggle in my seat, a smug little smile curling my lips as I twirl a pale curl around a finger. “Poor Sieglinde von Folkenstein. She just got married on All-Gods’ Eve, and now I’m afraid her wedding’s going to look like a peasant revel next to mine.”
This is the trick, you see. Everyone assumes thieves are desperate and destitute. The margravine-to-be has everything she needs and more; why in the name of the Blessed Empress wouldn’t that be enough?
“Please.” Emeric swallows. “The—the burglary.”
“Right. Dreadful business.” I prod at therohtwurstwith my fork, scooting it around the plate. Emeric’s interpretation of that is either very lewd or very misguided, but he looks sufficiently flustered either way. “Well, it was just like the rest. I”—scoot—“came back here after the party”—scoot-poke-scoot—“and my jewelry box was right where I left it, but completely empty.” I leave off so he’ll at least remember this detail: “Except for the red penny, of course.”
“And the castle guard saw nothing?”
I shake my head. “No one’s seen the Penny Phantom, you should know that.”
(They’ve seen Marthe, Gisele, and Nameless Servant Number Thirty-Seven countless times, but Emeric won’t hear it from me. Or them, probably.)
He leans back and futzes with hiskrebatte, frowning. “Did you notice anything unusual that night? Any uninvited guests, any sullen servants?”
“Sullen?” I ask incredulously, surprised by my own flare of annoyance. High Gods forbid a servant look unhappy with her lot as she empties the fifth chamber pot of the day.
