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“Does the prefect live in that big house in the square?”
“In Alty?” She drew back. “Yes, why?”
Revni’s mind was racing. She was only one person—but one person could get in places an army couldn’t. What if…what if Eavus arrived and there was no one to give the message to? A brief glistening wormed its way through—dewy and keeled, this could also save Eavus—and she stomped it down. This would stop Eavus. His precious prefect, that would give him his money and his paper. Eavus would have nothing, the way he left her with nothing. And everyone else, too—the jurls would have no one to negotiate with, the ships when they arrived would have no clear orders.
Cut the snake off at its head.
“If I can stop this before it begins, maybe the people here will have a chance.”
“A chance at what?” Sulvi’s voice was so small. She’d always been a mouse—happiest in corners, scuttling about making a nest. Revni swallowed.
“Survival. I went to the jurls, but—”
Sulvi’s eyes widened. “You went to the jurls?”
“They plan to ally with Aleteria,” she said bitterly. “To choose themselves over even other Isfolj. Aleteria will kill everyone if they get the chance. Do you know any of the guards? I don’t have any money to bribe them with—”
Sulvi looked even more shocked at the word bribe. Revni barreled onwards.
“It’s important that I find a way inside. I need to find the prefect.”
Sulvi’s inhale was a thin gasp. “You want to kill him.”
Was Revni so obvious? The scrape of Fayla’s stool jarred them both. She rose, calling out a friendly greeting, then stood in the door chatting with whoever was on the other side. Revni hadn’t noticed until now the intensity of whatever was happening on the streets, but the sounds raised the hairs on her neck, and the urgency of the next few hours—maybe only minutes—came back in a flash.
Eavus might be at the palace already.
“Sulvi—” Revni began, but Sulvi had already started pulling her along the back wall.
“You can’t just go in the front door.” Sulvi dug into a tall bucket of wool scraps and started piling them into shapes to demonstrate. “There’s an Aleterian patrol that’s always on duty, even at night, and on this side—” A hunk of unwashed curls represented the danger. “There’s a tavern. It’s where all the guards go to drink after their shift, so you can’t even cut across that way to get to the blacksmith without getting your ass grabbed.” A piece of black wool was delicately placed opposite. “But right here, there’s a servant entrance.”
“Sulvi,” Revni exhaled her own surprise. That hadn’t been shock on Sulvi’s face—it had been eagerness. Sulvi paused.
“I hate it here. The gods gave Isfolj this land, and the jurls have done nothing to keep it. Every person that’s been good to me on this island has been Faenish. Even the ones that burnt our boats. They could have killed us, but instead they only tried to drive us off. I want to go home. I don’t want to die hiding in this horrible place.”
“Home?”
“Upriver, anyway. If anyone has to be in charge of this city, I’ll take the Faenish.” Sulvi pointed at the black curl she’d placed. “Servant entrance. It’s supposed to be guarded, but it’s where their armored warriors do their deals.”
“Their deals?”
“Pay off gambling debts, sneak in girls, buy fermented seal—”
“Fermented seal?”
“It’s against their religion or something. But they love the stuff.”
Why anyone would risk their status for the noxious Isfolj staple, Revni couldn’t fathom. But Sulvi went on.
“Anyway, that’s the spot.”
“And I just walk right in?”
“Of course not. But the door sticks out. Behind it there’s a ledge, and if the guard is distracted, you can climb right in the window. Runa and I have done it.”
“Why?”
Sulvi shrugged. “One of the servant girls showed us how. They don’t pay us wages. Because we’re unlawfuls. We need money if we’re going to make it to the settlements. When do you need to get in?”
