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Now for the hard part.
14
Ipulled my hood low, covering my face as I crept through the citadel. Walking as casually as I could not to draw attention, though I wanted to duck into the shadows, or sprint between the large open plazas that seemed to stretch forever. At least they kept everyone at a distance, since there was no reason to crowd.
It was cool enough that I wasn’t the only person wearing a coat or cloak, though I saw a few eyes drawn to my leather gloves. They were a cheap pair of work gloves I’d found in Algrave, but they were better than the alternative. Somehow I felt the marks around my hands were more recognizable than my face.
My stomach growled as I passed a row of food stalls. I nearly stopped for a cup of coffee, before I realized I hadn’t thought to bring any currency. The proprietors would have been honored to host me, if I was still a chosen. I wasn’t sure exactly what my role was now, but I doubt I’d be welcome to a free espresso.
The renewal ceremony was apparently over and someone had donated a rather larger pile of wine casks, that were distributed every few blocks. Nigel really wanted this to be a party. The presence of guards was noticeable, but not overwhelming. They seemed more decorative than functional, but there were plenty of them. Otherwise the citadel was much as I remembered it, though twice as crowded. I brushed the hair out of my eyes, squinting into the sun, then pulled my sleeves lower as I caught a woman staring at my wrists.
I crossed a narrow bridge, before finally making it into the lower staircase that wound like a screw beside the exterior walls, and then tracing the narrow alley behind the buildings as it sloped towards the front gates. The dramatic blue sky framed the citadel like a marvelous painting.
During the day, Madame Brezing’s place was so unremarkable I thought I’d taken a wrong turn. But then I spotted the brown building of metal and wood, and the faded sign above the door. There were guards on the wall above the street, but they were busy scanning the horizon for external threats. A collection of motley stores sold junk from the before or upcycled clothing, and a few vendors sold fried mutid crickets as big and crunchy as a corn dog. It wasn’t Augustine’s palace of entertainment, but I suppose the king had left it alone as a place reprobates could sate their dark needs.
I studied the entrance for a few minutes, then crossed hurriedly, the trim of my robe licking the muddy path, and peered in the dark windows. It was open, apparently, by the two men sitting alone at the tables. I couldn’t see their faces, and the glass was frosted. It fogged up with my warm breath, and I wondered whether it would be less obtrusive to wipe it away or let it fade on its own.
I felt the blade at my throat before I noticed the presence at my back. But I wasn’t expecting the feminine voice that purred in my ear.
“Look what the cat dragged in.”
“Rivka. You working security now?”
“Was just out for a smoke, thought I’d say hello.”
I looked over my shoulder to catch her smirk, but she kept the blade firm. I couldn’t remember being this close to her; close enough to see the makeup and pores of her skin. She was still pretty, but that sharp beauty was at least partially cosmetic. I don’t know why that mattered in the moment, but it was a reminder that she was just human, like me. I knew she could fight, but so could I.
“You here to see Madame Brezing?” she asked.
“Maybe,” I said, thinking about how best to disarm her, without accidentally getting my neck sliced.
“You know,” Rivka said, “she could get a pile of gold for turning you in. Or her head removed for even speaking to you.”
“I need her help,” I said.
“Sure you do. Everybody always needs something from her. But she’s an entrepreneur. I told you once, I wasn’t chosen. I don’t have a contract. I don’t give my blood away for free. My body, my blood, my choice.”
“I understand,” I said.
“You really don’t, if you think this is a good idea.”
“You haven’t even heard what I have to offer.”
“I’m just saying, there’s going to be a price. Talk isn’t cheap, not anymore. And given the risks, I don’t think it’s one any of us can afford.”
I met her eyes and nodded.
“Nothing is free,” I confirmed. Message received. I wondered if spending time with Augustine had made me better at this, trading favors and promises. No wonder Damien hated politics. But she was protective, and cautious. That was good. Anything less and I’d have suspected a trap. I knew the stakes. Rivka dropped the knife and put it away, clapping me on the shoulder before stepping inside, brushing past me and leaving the door open.
I followed her, keeping my hood up and glancing at the handful of men, drinking quietly in corners.
“So you’re alive then?” Madame Brezing said, coming out of a back room the stairs and wiping her hands with a rag.
“Can we speak?”I asked. “In private?”
“Don’t mind them,” she said. “They’re still drunk from last night, just haven’t found their way home yet.”
I frowned, and nodded towards the basement, but she led me upstairs instead with a wave of her hand. Rivka followed close behind me, with dark eyeshadow and curly black hair. I could smell elixir on her, but wasn’t sure if it was in her blood, or coming from the small vial around her neck, tucked into the top of her blouse.
