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My steps slow just slightly while I take them in. The boy is far too young to attend the college, which welcomes students starting in their eighteenth year. I’d be surprised if he’s even old enough to have completed his dedication ceremony.
Julita notices my curiosity.It isn’t unusual for the staff to bring around young relatives or the children of friends who are considering what gift they might want to ask for or even which godlen to dedicate themselves to. Give them a little tour, a sense of what possibilities await.
Her explanation should make perfect sense. The boy looks every bit the noble child in his trim jacket and polished boots.
But just as I’m about to leave them behind, the kid taps his chest with a swift swirl of his fingers. Not the typical four-part gesture of the divinities, but an appeal I’ve never seen anyone outside the fringes make.
My feet stall in their tracks for a second before I force myself to move onward.
As subtly as I can, I spare another glance over my shoulder at the professor and the boy—taking in the slightly defensive hunch of the kid’s shoulders, the lower lip he’s gnawing at. My certainty expands until it’s an unshakable heaviness in my chest.
What’s wrong?Julita asks as I hustle through the entrance hall and across the inner courtyard to the Domi.I told you, it’s utterly normal.
I let out my breath with a low mutter. “And how normal is it for someone to bring a street urchin around, dressed up like a noble?”
Seventeen
Are you absolutely sure?Julita asks for approximately the millionth time.
I frown at my sallow reflection in the mirror as if I can see her through my light blue eyes. “Yes. That motion the boy made—it’s a thing the kids on the fringes pick up from each other. A little appeal for safety and mercy when they’re too wary to show the full three-fingered tap. I’ve never seen a merchant or anyone from the middle wards use it, let alone a noble.”
My ghostly passenger stirs restlessly as I pin back a few strands of hair that escaped the formal loops during my trek through the city.I haven’t seen it either. But I would have thought it was just a random nervous gesture.
“Because you haven’t seen it before to recognize it. No one who’s normally here would have—the college wants even the cleaning and cooking staff to have middle-ward manners.” I stalk back into the main room of Stavros’s quarters. “You said the professor he was with is Ster. Torstem. Have you seen him bring that kid around before?”
I can’t remember. Like I told you, it’s hardly unusual.
“What do you know about Torstem?”
He teaches law for the leadership division. I’d have had a class with him next year…Julita trails off and then seems to gather herself.I hadn’t paid much attention to him other than that. He doesn’tdrawmuch attention.
“Hmm.” I pace the room a few times, and my stomach gurgles. Which gives me the perfect inspiration for my next move. “Other people here will know more about him. And it’s just coming on supper time. Let’s see if I can find a good conversational partner in the dining hall.”
Even if it is strange, whatever Ster. Torstem is doing, it isn’t necessarily connected to the scourge sorcerers,Julita points out as I head down the hall.Plenty of other unfortunate things go on here.
“I’ve already seen that,” I mutter. “But it’s not as if we have any other leads to follow up on just yet.”
Stepping through the broad doorway with its carvings of Prospira’s and Ardone’s sigils—recognizing that food is both a bounty and a pleasure—I automatically tense up. The dining hall has become a place of both delight and dread for me.
Delight because of the skillfully simmered and roasted dishes that give off scrumptious scents into the vast space.
Dread because I’m in the same vicinity as more of the rich pricks who attend this place than anywhere else.
I pause off to the side of the door to assess my options. Most of the wide sprawl of stone-tiled floor holds circular tables that can seat as many as eight—ten if the nobles deign to squish.
Nearly two thirds of those are already full. I’ve caught the start of the dinner rush.
High up on the righthand wall, a shimmering magical display lists the evening’s options. Beneath it, students have queued to grab plates of their chosen entrees and accompaniments from various counters open to the kitchen through low openings in the wall.
Well, some of them have queued. I’m just swallowing saliva from my watering mouth and deciding I should start with food before interrogating when Anya and a cluster of her associates sweep straight up to one of the nearest counters, totally ignoring the line.
I have a second to notice Alek among the few students at the head of the queue there, the polished leather of his mask catching the light of the crystal chandeliers overhead. Then Anya flicks her fingers, and a blazing glow explodes in the students’ midst.
I jump about a foot off the ground in shock, my hand yanking straight to the folds of silk skirt that conceal the knife strapped to my left thigh. But the glow fades an instant later with a few pained gasps.
The students who’d been at the counter stumble away. Alek is wincing and swiping at his eyes.
“Make a little room, weirdie,” Anya sneers at him, sauntering into the space the other students cleared. She narrows her eyes at a woman who was there too and bats at the other student’s long hair to briefly expose a strip of scar where her ear should have been. “I don’t know why they let the failures in to begin with.”
