Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
Right after I’ve stepped into the stable, I stop for a moment and simply breathe in the sweet and musky scents. A faint aura of comfort settles over me.
Not entirely purposefully, I find myself wandering over to the corner that holds Toast’s stall. The dark bay stallion lets out a huff at the sight of me and paws one hoof against the ground.
I reach out my hand and hold it steady a few inches from his face until he concedes to bowing his head so I can give his jaw a gentle scratch. Then he shakes his mane as if to make the statement that he doesn’t like the attention that much, so I shouldn’t get any ideas.
I click my tongue at him. “I wouldn’t take you out today anyway. We’re supposed to be making a good impression.”
Personally, I hope you never sit yourself on that beast again, Julita pipes up.
“Oh, he’s not as bad as he wants people to think. Are you, Toast?” I extend my hand upward, and he allows me to scratch beneath his forelock this time.
A soft chuckle rings out from down the aisle.
Casimir strolls over, his expression lit with amusement. “Making friends with all kinds of unlikely characters, I see. You got here early.”
All at once, I feel awkward, although I had no expectations of keeping the stable to myself. If anyone was going to interrupt my peace, I’d rather it was Casimir than any of the other nobles.
I offer Toast one of the apples I liberated from the breakfast spread and give Casimir a shrug. “I figured since I had to come out here anyway, I might as well make a visit of it. The horses are better company than a lot of the people back there.” I jab my thumb toward the college buildings.
Casimir’s chuckle expands into a full laugh. Something in his gaze feels more thoughtful than usual as he considers me. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you’d feel that way. Have you gotten to spend much time around horses before?”
An honest answer tumbles out of me before I can think better of it. “My family had a mare. She was better company than my parents most of the time too.”
Casimir nods as if he can hear all the things I haven’t said. “I’m fond of them myself. They’re spirited but straightforward animals. So many different personalities within that. And they don’t ask for much. I’d spend more time out here if it wouldn’t leave all my clothes smelling like horse.”
The affection is obvious in his voice despite that last remark. He follows it up with a wink. “I don’t mind, but it doesn’t go over well with most patrons.”
A pang passes through my gut at the thought of the people who are already enjoying Casimir’s various talents, even though it’s not as if I had any plans to do so myself.
He’s never shown a sign that he’s anything other than pleased to make his living by pleasing others. Why should it bother me?
It’s a little thrilling to discover there’s at least one thing he cares about just for himself, though.
I shoot him a grin in return. “Those patrons don’t know what they’re missing.”
Then I glance at the stalls around me. “Since you’ve gotten to know all the different personalities, maybe you can help me pick out a good ride for a trip through the city. I’d rather not test my truce with Toast that far just yet.”
“Hmm. Well, you can’t have Pepper, because she’s my best pal.” He pauses to stroke the forehead of a dapple gray mare who’s poked her head from her stall with a whicker.
Casimir offers her a beaming smile and considers the rest of the row. “Scout is a steady one, very stalwart but still knows his own mind. I think he’d be a good fit for you.”
I follow his gesture to a sorrel gelding who peers at me with curious eyes.
“You want to get out there and stretch those legs?” I ask the horse, who snorts eagerly.
I go to get a bridle and saddle. Toast makes a vague grumbling sound as I pass him by.
“Be nicer to me next ride, and I’ll pick you more often,” I call over to the stallion, and Casimir lets out another laugh.
Scout proves to be everything I could ask for in a steed, waiting for my commands and leaping to follow them without any dithering.
I let Casimir leave a few minutes ahead of me to give the illusion that we’re on separate errands, but it’s only a matter of minutes before I’m trotting through the streets of the inner wards to our chosen meet-up spot by the old wall.
As I draw up beside the courtesan, we pass through the ruined gate and into the middle wards. Looking over at him, I can’t help noticing how relaxed he looks astride the mare.
Casimir rarely comes across as anything less than content, but there’s a sense of deeper serenity to his stance as he sways with the horse’s strides that I’m not sure I’ve ever seen before. It lights a happy glow in my chest that I can’t quite bear to squash.
They don’t ask for much, he said before about the horses. Maybe the demands of his work get to him more than he normally reveals.
“Is riding part of the companionship curriculum too?” I ask.
Casimir adjusts his grip on the reins. “A small part, and only for those who aren’t tied to a very specialized area of focus like bardery or painting. We’d need to be able to keep up if a patron is in the mood to go for a jaunt on horseback, of course.”
“So you only go out if someone you’re attending to wants to?”
He shoots me a wry smile. “That’s essentially the job description. I can’t say I wouldn’t mind taking a ride through the woods more often, but I have plenty of other activities to occupy myself with.”
I don’t hear any complaint in his tone, but my gut twists. “It seems to me that you should have some time in there to think about what you want, to make yourself happy, you know. Don’t you deserve it as much as anyone who’d come to you as a patron?”
Gods above, from everything I’ve seen of him, he deserves true contentment more than the rest of those elite pricks.
Casimir blinks at me as if I’ve said something absurd. “Knowing I’ve brought some kind of joy into another person’s life does make me happy. I wouldn’t have gone into the profession otherwise.”
“I know. I only meant…”
I shake my head, not sure how to put the ache inside me into words. It isn’t really my place to meddle anyway. “Never mind. I obviously don’t know the ins and outs of it.”
I shift my attention to the streets we’re passing through.
“You’re sure the Riverside Institute of Child Wellness isn’t in Riverside?
” That ward lies not far beyond the old walls, in the middle-class zone where I’d imagine a man like Ster.
Torstem would feel more comfortable than the fringes we’re headed toward.
“It is on the side of the river,” Casimir says.
“I’d imagine Ster. Torstem picked the name knowing people would assume it referred to the neighborhood, so they wouldn’t realize and be surprised he’d invest in a facility in the outer wards.
But I can’t imagine there are two organizations with the same name, and Alek confirmed it’s in Siltston. ”
I hum to myself. I thought I’d be going on this venture alone—and not on horseback. But once we determined how official-sounding the possible source of Torstem’s child visitors was, approaching the workers there as nobles seemed more likely to get us answers.
I’ll still be using my street-rat wits to build a larger picture of the situation. And none of the other men argued about Casimir joining me.
He could cajole a mouse out of a starving cat’s paws, Julita said approvingly when he volunteered.
Let’s hope the opposition we face isn’t quite that desperate.
As we weave through the narrowing streets near the river, evidence appears of how Siltston got its name. A thin layer of dried mud and grit coats every low surface.
I learned early on to avoid the neighborhoods in this area right after a rain. The banks of the Starsil River drop lower in the fringes, and it splits off into several nearby culverts that all flood together when there’s a big enough storm.
Julita’s presence squirms at the back of my skull. Ugh. I can’t see why anyone would want to live here.
Does she think they have a real choice?
My silk dress feels uncomfortably light compared to the tunic I’d usually wear when moving through these streets—with pockets full of silver to leave on the windowsills of the needy. How many con artists have screwed over these citizens in the days since I last dealt out my version of justice?
I inhale deeply to settle my nerves.
I’ll be back. We have a far bigger heap of injustice to tackle right now.
Casimir leads the way through the last few turns, which end at a building slightly less ramshackle than its neighbors. The broad, three-story structure boasts a mix of stone, wood, and a few thin trees sprouting through the walls for reinforced stability.
It’s nearly ten times bigger than most of the shacks that serve as individual homes on the fringes, with a yard of scruffy grass and wan vegetables all around its gray walls.
Painted sigils for Inganne, Prospira, and Elox decorate the door, calling for childish delight, familial comforts, and good health.
I frown as I stare up at the place. “I’ve been past here before. I never knew what its official name was.”
Casimir lifts an eyebrow. “I see Ster. Torstem didn’t bother to have a sign erected announcing the institute’s formal title or his ties to it.”
“How very surprising,” I say wryly.
As we dismount and tie the horses near the gate, a babble of childish voices reaches our ears. A gaggle of kids who look to be around six or seven dash by through the garden.
A girl a few years older shouts at the wild ones from an open window. I spot a couple of others flitting by in another room.
They’re all dressed in plain cotton and wool, darned and patched to extend its use—no noble clothing here. The grubby faces and tangled hair tell a familiar story that Ster. Torstem’s fancy name for the place can’t paint over.