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“He betrayed me. Why promise me aid and then try to have me killed? He must have been gathering information. And when he passed that information along, the return instruction was to eliminate me. Either he is working for Hungary or in league with the Danesti prince. I want to know which one. If it is the Danesti prince, we have nothing to fear. We already know he wants us dead. If it is the Hungarians, we have a new problem.”
“How are you going to get to him? The city will be well guarded.”
Lada met Matei’s eyes. He nodded grimly. He would be up for the task. And Lada knew she was up for anything, always.
They slid through the night-black streets of the Wallachian section. It was a rambling warren of shacks pushed up to the very edge of the walls. Some of the homes were built against the wall itself, using the stones as an outer wall. A few times Lada and Matei heard patrols, but it was a simple matter of altering course to avoid detection.
The shacks built against the wall provided a benefit. Bracing against two homes within spitting distance of each other, they pushed their way to a roof. Matei boosted Lada up onto the wall itself. After a few tense breaths to make certain she was undetected, she lowered a rope so Matei could follow.
Within the walls of the inner city, even the air felt different. Cleaner. Wealthier. More privileged, with fewer desperate mouths pulling at it. But the scent of charred wood lurked beneath everything. It filled Lada with something like peace.
Lada knew exactly where to go, but it took two hours for them to make a journey of a dozen streets. They skirted the now-cold ruins of the homes that had burned, hiding in them when necessary. It was good that Lada had dressed in black, because the char would have ruined anything else.
Patrols tromped through the streets with aggravating consistency. Finally making it close to the governor’s house did not simplify things, though. Three guards were stationed at the door, while others ringed the perimeter. Lada had counted on breaking in through a first-floor window, but that was not possible.
Matei waited in silence, but she could feel the question pulsing off him. What now?
Lada raised her eyes to the night sky to curse the stars, but the lines of the roofs caught her attention. The houses were built close together, elbowing each other for space. Sometimes the alleys between them were so narrow one had to turn sideways to make it through.
She did not need to break into the governor’s house. She just needed to break into one of his less-protected neighbors’ homes.
“How do you feel about churches?” she whispered.
Matei frowned at her in the dark.
“Did you notice how, in the countryside, all the churches are fortified? They provide shelter for everyone during an attack. But here in the heart of the city, the church is beautiful and cold. They do not let any of the Wallachians in to worship. I think we should warm up the church.” She held out her container of oil. Understanding lit Matei’s face as he took it from her.
He disappeared into the darkness. Though Lada had more men now, she always trusted her first few above all others. Matei would do the job. Nicolae and Bogdan might have balked at setting fire to a holy building, but how could something be holy if it was denied to Wallachians?
She slid from her shadowed nook and raced through an exposed alley. Four houses from the governor’s was a three-story home with large windowsills, perfect for flower boxes in the spring.
Lada stepped onto a windowsill and pulled herself up to the second story, then the third. The roof had an awkward angle and jutted out too far for her to catch hold. Above her, tantalizingly out of reach, was a small attic window that would give her easy jumping access to the next roof.
The window in front of her was not sealed shut. One corner was lifted enough to slide a knife in. Lada worked it open, each tiny creak or protest of the wood making her certain she would be discovered. When it was wide enough, she pushed herself in feetfirst.
A girl sat in bed, staring directly at Lada. She could not be older than ten, her hair pinned beneath a cap, her nightshirt
white.
“If you scream,” Lada said, “I will murder your whole family in their sleep.”
The girl was solemn—and silent—in her terror.
“Show me how to get into the attic.”
The girl climbed out of bed, shivering, her small feet soundless on the wood floor. She eased open the bedroom door, looking both ways before gesturing for Lada to follow. At the end of the hallway was another door. Lada braced herself to face a foe, but the room was empty save for a jumble of old furniture and a ladder.
The girl pointed up.
Lada put one hand on the ladder, then paused. She turned back to the girl, who watched her in the same wide-eyed silence she had maintained since Lada first entered her bedroom.
Lada reached into her boot and pulled the small knife free. She turned it hilt out and bent down. “Next time someone comes into your room in the middle of the night, you should be prepared. Here.”
The girl took the knife, staring at it like it was a puzzle. Then she gripped the hilt and nodded.
“Good. I am leaving now. Go back to sleep.” Lada climbed up the ladder and eased open the trapdoor to the attic. The attic window, though, would not open. Cursing her luck, Lada grabbed a chair with a broken leg and smashed the window. She hoped Matei’s work had begun in earnest, distracting anyone who might raise an alarm.
After pushing the jagged remnants of glass free, Lada climbed out and crouched on the sill. Beneath her the night waited, dizzying and dark. She jumped.
