Chapter 6
Chapter six
Quite certain that she was dreaming - at least about the fresh bread - Hallie sat up and scrubbed her hands across her face.
The first thing she did when she was sure she was awake was look over to where Girard had been sleeping.
Her heart stopped as she saw nothing but bare cushions, the throw that had been laid over him neatly folded and left on top of the nearest cushion.
She scrambled to her feet, head thick from too little sleep, and made her way to the door.
Heading out into the corridor, she found two members of the tactical team - a man and a woman - on what looked like a patrol, moving at a steady, deliberate pace. Theirs must have been the bootsteps she’d heard.
“Good morning, Miss Talbot,” the woman said. “Frollo is in the kitchen and there’s some breakfast and coffee, if you’re hungry.”
“Thank you. Do you know where Girard is?” Hallie asked.
“Woke up about an hour ago. Last I heard, he was in the kitchen,” the woman answered in a cheerful voice. “I’m sorry we weren’t there to back you up last night.” That last was said in a far more serious tone.
“I am, too. Your help would have been invaluable, but I’m pleased you’re here now,” Hallie said, and headed along the corridor towards the kitchen.
She had to pass the open door of the dining room and saw the large pool of dried blood where Girard had lain, and the mess of blood spatter, highlighted by the early morning sunlight, on the wall behind where Manju had been sitting. The body was gone, thankfully.
When she reached the kitchen she found that Kasmo and Oreste’s bodies were also gone.
She hoped that they had been moved with care, and laid out with respect, then her eyes landed on Girard, sitting at the kitchen table, a plate and mug in front of him, and she focused on him.
He’d changed clothes since last night so there were no bloodstains visible, his hair damp as if he wasn’t long out of a shower.
He was far paler than normal, which she supposed was not surprising, as he’d had a market stall fall on him and had then been shot the day before.
But he was awake and, as he turned to greet her, she could see that his eyes were clear, with no hint of lingering pain.
“I hoped you’d sleep a bit longer,” Girard told her, getting to his feet. “Frollo has been filling me in on what happened after I got shot. You had a busy night.”
“Somewhat, yes,” Hallie agreed. “I’m glad to see you awake. I was worried for a bit.”
“I’m sorry,” Girard said sincerely. He took his seat again, rather than stay standing to talk to her, which told Hallie that he was still feeling the effects of his wounds, but his smile was full of warmth as he looked at her. “I never imagined we’d need body armour at dinner.”
“True. Or that anyone could get into the house without some kind of alarm,” Hallie added.
She nodded to Frollo, who was leaning against the counter by the kitchen sink, a bright, sunshine yellow mug in one hand.
It was an odd contrast to his black outfit.
She asked the first question that came to mind, that was now bothering her in the light of day.
“How in the world did you manage to get here so fast last night? Daydawn is about half a day’s journey away, isn’t it? ”
“We were on training exercises nearby,” Frollo said. “Bedding in new people.”
“Dechtire and Modron have been in training for a while, but they are new to the primary team,” Girard told Hallie.
“The commander likes to shake things up for us now and then,” Frollo said, in his normal, careless manner. He gave her a grin. “We were shooting paint at each other when we got the call to come here.” Then he sobered. “Just sorry we couldn’t have got here faster.”
“I’m just really glad you got here when you did,” Hallie told Frollo. Then she smiled. “Paint?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Frollo grinned. “We had Griff coated in bright pink from head to toe.”
Hallie laughed, as she was meant to. She wasn’t sure which one of the tall, armed men was Griff, but trying to imagine any one of them coated in the vivid colour was amusing. The laughter faded as she turned to more serious matters. “Did the prisoners give you any trouble?”
“Nothing to speak of,” Frollo answered, sounding almost regretful. “But they aren’t talking, either. Director Roth wants you to interrogate them when you’re up to it. Both of you, that is.”
“Of course,” Hallie said, heading for the coffee pot.
As she started pouring, she realised it had been made to local standards and was almost syrup-like, it was so thick.
After a few days’ experimenting, her preferred mix for the local coffee was half-and-half with milk, so she half-filled the mug with coffee, headed to the fridge for milk, and then took a seat at the table where she could see both Girard and Frollo. “Any ID on the attackers?”
“Nothing yet. Human, as you told the director, and we agree with your assessment that they aren’t local,” Frollo answered. “No chips in them, and their fingerprints and descriptions don’t ping on our database.”
“You thought that they had some training?” Girard asked Hallie.
“I did.” Hallie took a sip of the coffee.
The hit of caffeine was barely muted by the milk.
“Not the same training that you get, but they were able to fight back.” She frowned slightly, looking across the table at Girard.
“I’m happy to try and question them, but if they aren’t talking, I wonder if we could get information another way?
Would you be able to find out where they’ve been staying? ”
Girard’s brows lifted and he sat back in his chair, gaze going unfocused for a breath or two before a smile lifted his mouth. “Oh, yes. I’ve never tried that before, but I’m getting a clear hit and direction.”
“Then let’s go,” Frollo said, putting down his bright yellow mug.
“Any chance I could get a shower and change of clothes before we head out?” Hallie asked, realising she was still dressed in her soft house clothes, and her shoes, at least, were not suitable for moving around outside.
“And, perhaps, some breakfast?” The meal the night before had barely begun before the shooting started.
“Of course,” Girard said, before Frollo could speak. “If you want to shower and change just now, we’ll have some breakfast ready for you when you come back down.”
As good as his word, when Hallie came back down to the kitchen, dressed in another outfit of wide-legged linen trousers and knee-length tunic, there was a plate of food and another mug of coffee waiting for her.
Frollo and Girard had been joined by one of the women and another man from the tactical team.
They had a paper map spread out across one end of the kitchen table and Frollo and Girard seemed to be discussing approaches to the target building.
Hallie took her place, feeling a little self-conscious about eating in front of the others, but relaxed when the man and woman took seats at the table as well, their own plates in front of them.
The meal was scrambled eggs and slices of fresh bread which had been lightly toasted.
To the hochlen around her it was probably a simple, everyday meal, but Hallie still hadn’t got used to the easy availability of eggs.
There were very few chickens in low city.
She tried to savour the meal even as hunger drove her to finish it quickly.
When all the plates were empty, the woman stood up and fetched a cardboard box from one of the counters on the side.
“Investigator Abbott asked me to get this for you, ma’am,” she said, and put the box down in front of Hallie.
Brows lifting, Hallie lifted the lid and was immediately overwhelmed by a cacophony of scents all vying for attention. Looking inside, she saw a collection of small, stoppered glass vials, packed with what looked like straw. Lifting one out, she read the label. “Vanilla root. Oh. These are spices.”
“You said you wanted some for Rosalia. I asked Dechtire if she wouldn’t mind getting some from the market. She’s a good cook in her own right,” Girard said.
“Thank you,” Hallie said to Girard, smiling, and then turned to the woman.
“And thank you as well. Rosalia will absolutely love this.” She looked back into the box and tried to calculate just how many vials there were and what the cost was.
She knew Girard well enough to understand that he’d have given Dechtire more than enough money for the purchases, so she’d have to ask Girard what she owed him later, when they didn’t have an audience, and thank him again.
For now her heart warmed. It wasn’t just that he’d remembered her mentioning that she’d wanted to get a gift for Rosalia, but also that he’d known enough about the people around him to select Dechtire in particular for the task.
Hallie suspected that a lot of his own people overlooked Girard as being a bit quiet, and not as classically good-looking as many hochlen men were.
But she far preferred his thoughtful manner and kindness to anyone else she had met.
“I did some other shopping, too,” Dechtire said.
“Investigator Abbott asked me to get something I thought you might like. Said you hadn’t had time to shop, and probably wouldn’t get time now.
” She picked a paper-wrapped, thin package from the counter and set it on the table next to Hallie.
“Quite honestly, I couldn’t resist either.
I got a couple for myself. I got a selection for you, though. Hope you like them.”
“Oh,” Hallie said, drawing the word out as she opened the paper wrapping to reveal some of the patterned silk scarves she’d admired at the market. “These are beautiful.”
“The artisans who make them here are second to none,” Dechtire said.
Hallie picked up the first of the scarves and stared at the fine silk.
It was deep red with threads of silver around the edge and a deep blue pattern of stylised leaves across the body.
There was also a deep blue scarf with silver and deep purple that immediately made her think of Cotovatre and a golden-toned one that made her think of Rosalia.
The final scarf was spun of the palest lilac with more silver at the edges and patterns of slender lines of purple and green.
“These are just wonderful. Thank you so much,” Hallie said to Dechtire. “Really wonderful choices.”
“It was hard to go wrong,” the woman said, a hint of colour in her face. “But, thank you, ma’am.”
“And thank you,” Hallie said, turning to Girard. He smiled back at her.
“I’m just sorry we won’t have time for you to go and look yourself,” he said.
“I think this makes up for it,” Hallie said, carefully folding the scarves away and setting the paper bundle on top of the box. “So, what’s the plan?”