Chapter 34 #3
“So,” he says in that cool drawl of his, “you’re even more of a thief than I guessed.”
My hackles rise automatically, but my sense of self-preservation holds me in place, my stance rigid. A slightly hysterical laugh forms at the base of my throat.
Have I gone through all this only to be arrested for petty theft?
I adjust my feet against the uneven dirt of the road in case I need to run for it. “I don’t consider it quite theft when it’s money essentially stolen to begin with. What are you doing here?”
Stavros keeps the same implacable expression. “I saw you hurrying across the courtyard and wondered what your urgent mission is. And I didn’t suppose you were likely to tell me if I simply asked.”
The gleam in his dark gaze dares me to argue. I can’t.
“So you followed me all the way out here?” My skin itches with both irritation and horror. How did I not realize?
Stavros shrugs. “My father was a believer in smarts as well as might. He taught me plenty about stealth when he was there to teach. Where did you get the coins?”
My fingers tighten around the empty pouch. I don’t see any point in lying about that. “Anya was bragging about how she’d won it off one of the kitchen staff.”
“Hmm.” His gaze lifts to the house behind me with a brief head-twitch. He must be able to just make out the glint of the silver by the back window.
To my shock, a genuine guffaw tumbles out of him.
Stavros shakes his head in apparent bemusement. “All this time—Great God help me. All this time I had the Hand of Kosmel sleeping on my fucking sofa.”
My jaw goes slack. I snap my mouth closed again, my stomach lurching, but my initial reaction will have more than confirmed I recognize that nickname.
Stavros’s gaze is back on me, studying me with another focusing twitch.
“What are you talking about?” I say, because I can’t quite bring myself to give up that easily.
Stavros dismisses my attempt at denial with a careless wave of his prosthetic hand.
“Do you think the stories don’t get around that far?
The Crown’s Watch listens to gossip, and then they gossip about the more interesting stories among themselves, and I do pass the time with them now and then.
I’m more curious how many of the disgruntled merchants they’ve had to pacify were your victims.”
I draw my chin up. “I don’t have anything to say about that.”
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t.” He studies me for a few moments longer with another subtle twitch of his head. What exactly is he looking for?
I cross my arms in front of me. “I do take our investigations seriously, whatever you happen to think. I just—I needed to step away and remember why it matters. I was on my way back to the college.”
“I know. I heard you saying so—to Julita, I assume.”
“Yes.”
With a beckoning gesture, he turns in the direction I was headed. “Well, come on then. If you’re well enough to run around the city, you can assist me with my Siege Survival class.”
Is that all? “You’re not going to arrest me?”
“I wasn’t planning on it, but I could drag you over to the nearest station of the Crown’s Watch if that’s what you’d prefer.”
“No. No.” I lope forward to join him, feeling abruptly awkward.
The awkwardness turns into sarcasm on my tongue. “You’re not even going to lecture me about taking off on my responsibilities? Or failing to properly inform every concerned party of where I was going?”
Stavros lets out a bark of a laugh so raw it startles me. “I got the impression I did more than enough of that yesterday.”
I open my mouth, close it again, and finally settle on, “I suppose you did.”
We walk in silence for several minutes, leaving behind the fringes for the less shabby streets on the edge of the middle wards. Stavros rests his prosthetic hand, the realistically sculpted one he’s currently got on, on his opposite palm, running his thumb over the inflexible fingers.
“You’ve been at it for a while, this charity project. I first heard the talk about ‘the Hand of Kosmel’ a few years back.”
“Yes.” If he’s not going to ask a proper question, I don’t see the need to give more than a single-syllable answer.
“From what I heard, most of the merchants complaining about lost earnings were of the particularly slimy sort.”
In answer to that comment, I simply grunt.
Stavros glances over at me. “You would have been putting yourself at an awful lot of risk, over and over. Leagues more than if you’d only been stealing to get by on your own. Why?”
It’s the shortest question possible, but it compels me to give a proper response anyway.
“You put yourself in an awful lot of danger every time you led the army into battle against our enemies. Somehow you felt that was worthwhile.”
I don’t need to spell my motivations out more. He considers my answer for a moment and then says, “I was trained for that danger. Brought up for it. You wouldn’t have—”
“I had my own experiences to prepare me. I’m not happy about everything I’ve done in my entire life. If I can set some things right, it seems only fair.”
He hesitates. “Well, that explains rather a lot. I know your family treated you harshly. I can’t imagine anything a child could do that would warrant those scars on your back.”
Oh, he can. He just hasn’t let himself.
I grimace, but part of me wants to be a little honest, just this once. To keep being who I actually am a bit longer.
“My little sister died when I was seven,” I say. “My parents resented the fact that I was alive and she wasn’t.”
And the fact they suspected: that I’d been the one who killed her.
How can I blame them, really, when I’ll never forgive myself either?
I keep that half of the answer to myself, which is the only reason Stavros’s mouth tightens with sympathy rather than disgust. But he must sense it’s not a subject I want to dig into any further.
He drags in a breath. “The Watch raided The Night’s Calling last night. The attic showed some signs of habitation, but no one was currently living there.”
I’d be grateful for the change of subject, but my heart sinks at the news. “Another dead end.”
Did Ster. Torstem secret his special ladies away to some other place? Does he know we’re on to him—did he direct the attack on me?
“For now,” Stavros says. “It does suggest that everything is connected. Torstem didn’t say anything about them leaving when you were listening in, did he?"
“No. I suppose it could be a coincidence.”
He snorts. “I’d rather not bet on that.”
I guess I wouldn’t either.
The former general picks up his pace, and I manage to match it on my shorter legs. It’s only when the spires of the temple come into view up the sloping inner-ward street ahead of us that he gets back to business.
“All circumstances considered, I’d strongly prefer if you’d oblige me and not make any more impromptu trips around the city. Whoever made that attempt on your life is likely to try again.”
I wrinkle my nose at him. “Don’t you think you should be worried about yourself too? Are you keeping tabs on the other men or just me?”
“I can look after myself. And the others have barely been seen around you. There’s no reason for anyone to think you’ve been making arrangements with them.”
“Still, I—”
A chill races through my veins.
My gaze jerks to Stavros. “Have you seen Esmae since my attack?”
His brow furrows. “The dormmate of Julita’s you’ve been friendly with? I can’t say so, but I might not have noticed.”
My heart starts thudding faster. “She didn’t come by to check if I was okay?” I assume word about my trip to the infirmary must have gotten around the college by now.
“Not while I was with you. Why?”
I release a hiss of frustration. “I’ve been seen talking with her several times. If someone’s looking for potential allies of mine, she’s the first person they’d think of.”
Stavros frowns. “I’m sure if anything had happened to her—”
“You don’t know.” I grasp my skirt at the sight of the college gate ahead of us, preparing to hustle forward. “I’ll play assistant after I’ve checked on her. If my would-be murderer hasn’t gotten to her too.”