Page 59 of Hawk & Sparrow

Vesper sidled up to the baked goods table. Maximilian gestured at an assortment of pies.

“I have a serious dilemma,” he explained. “This kind woman tells me her pies are the best in Basalton, but I can’t decide between the pumpkin and the sweet potato pie. Their flavor profiles are similar, but—”

“They’re not similar,” said Vesper seriously. “Pumpkin’s gross. Sweet potato is the one to get.”

Maximilian winked. “Much obliged.” To the old woman, he said: “I’ll take two, please.” He turned back to Vesper while the woman packed the pies into a brown paper bag. “So, what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same.”

Maximilian gestured. “I’m here for the desserts.”

Vesper raised a brow. “Have you ever tried baking something yourself?”

“Myself?” Maximilian wrinkled his nose. “Why in heavens would I do that? I have enchantments, and I have money. That suits me just fine.”

Vesper’s eyes landed on a small stack of wrapped raspberry tartlets. Maximilian followed her gaze, then smiled.

“Didn’t you tell me that your favorite dessert was a raspberry tartlet?” he asked slyly.

Vesper looked up. “Yes, but—”

“I’ll take two of those as well,” he told the woman. “One for her, and one for me.”

“This really isn’t necessary,” Vesper said as he handed her one.

“Nonsense.” Maximilian gave the woman a ten-gild bill and took the bag of pies from her. “We’ll call it a business meal. I’m actually glad we ran into each other; we can discuss the progress of our investigation.” He gestured, and they headed down the road. Vesper tucked her wrapped tartlet carefully into her satchel.

“So,” he said as they walked. “How are we doing on Belver?”

Vesper tugged on her collar. “No change.” She’d already told him about what she’d found in Belver’s office. “We’re basically still stuck. We know Belver is very likely responsible for Francis’s death, but we’re missing proof.”

Maximilian bit into his tartlet and licked a bit of raspberry off his bottom lip. “We could see about getting another invite to the Belvers’ house?” he suggested. “Mrs. Belver seemed to take a shine to you, and after that mishap with the aviary, I’m told she was quite embarrassed. Surely, she’d host us for dinner or tea.”

“Mrs. Belver liked me,” Vesper agreed, “but I don’t think Mr. Belver would allow me back in their house. I think he knows I was in his office. Besides, even if by some miracle I was able to get back in, I’d be shocked if he hasn’t already destroyed any evidence linking him and Francis, including the prototype.”

“Then we’ll have to go with the next best thing,” said Maximilian.

“Which is?”

“We tell him we know what he did and see if we can scare him into confessing.”

Vesper nodded. “But how would we—?” She stopped short.

In the midst of the packed crowd, the thin, fair-skinned woman sitting on the curb was easy to overlook. The little boy and girl seated beside her shared her dark hair color. They were holding little flowers made of carefully folded paper, waving hopefully to passersby. No one was even looking at them. Vesper’s stomach twisted hard. She recognized the hollowness in the woman’s cheeks, the desperation in the children’s eyes.

“Evans?” There was new concern in Maximilian’s voice. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

He looked between her and the woman, before something passed over his face. Then, without warning, he was marching over to the woman and children. He stopped in front of them, then knelt, so that his eyes were level with the woman’s.

“Excuse me,” he said cordially. “I’d like to inquire about these.” He pointed to the paper flowers.

The woman looked at the little boy, who appeared to be about ten.

“My mama doesn’t speak Victerran,” he explained. “But I can translate. My sister can too.”

“Very good.” Maximilian turned slightly to address him. “What exactly is your family selling here?”