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“Sallister wants more guards?” says Quint.
“Among other things.” I take in his tousled appearance and try to determine whether he looks more harried than usual. It’s possible Quint doesn’t even know it’s so late. “Have you eaten? I can call for a meal.”
“Ah—no. I dined with Consul Marpetta at . . .” He pulls out his pocket watch and frowns at the face. “That can’t be right.”
I smile. “You sleep less than I do.”
“No one sleeps less than you do.”
True enough. “I’ll send for food. Wine too?” I stand and move toward the door. “Or should you be sober for whatever you came crashing in here about?”
“A runner just arrived at the palace. The night patrol in Steel City unearthed a group of smugglers. Two were killed in the fray. The other eight have been taken to the Hold.”
I stop and look at him. “That’s a large pack.”
“They had quite the operation, from what I understand.”
Quite the operation. It’s rare to have outlaws and smugglers working in larger groups. Ten is unheard of. The risk of discovery is simply too great. The punishments too severe.
Maybe Allisander wasn’t exaggerating about the threat to his supply runs. I was going to make him wait, but now I’ll be sure to draw up an order before I go to sleep.
“Does Harristan know?” I say.
“No.”
My brother will want to issue a statement early. He’ll expect me to make an example of them all.
At least one of us is sleeping.
“I’ll call for food,” I say. “Send a message to the Hold. I want to speak to the patrolmen who captured them. Tell them I’ll want to question the prisoners after sunrise. Separate them if they haven’t already done so. I don’t want them conniving a story.”
Quint has taken a piece of paper from the desk, and he’s been writing since the moment I began speaking. He’s good at his job. “Shall we make a public announcement?”
“Not yet.” My thoughts are reeling. Eight all at once. We’ll be lucky if we don’t start a riot. “Tomorrow. Midday.”
He glances up. “Should I wake the king?”
I think of Harristan’s cough. The fever. He needs to sleep. I blink the thoughts away. “No.”
Quint nods and rises, taking his paper with him. “I’ll see to it.”
I follow him to the door. He pauses with his hand against the handle and turns to look at me. “You asked about wine . . .”
“I’ll order plenty.”
