Chapter 46
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
AUDREY
Continue to watch. MiM identity has been confirmed. Be careful of other operatives. Those you recognize may not all be friendly. Maintain your identity at all costs. Do not send names, even in code. —coded missive from Nightingale to Raincloud
La’Angi Faire Grounds
There was no rain. The drinking water was clean, the spigots working.
We’d had a few issues with people disliking their location, one person who couldn’t physically get their wares to their stand due to the width of their cart and a few of their neighbors’ tents having legs that were too wide, and one vendor who had gone missing somewhere between Ange’s Pass and the little town of Bellhollow, if the information I had was accurate. But there was no rain.
“Such a beautiful day, m’lady,” said yet another person, beaming at me around a barrel in their arms as they paused en route to wherever they were selling today. “All your doing, I’ve no doubt!”
“I’ve booked more such fine weather for the harvest,” I assured them. They laughed at the jest, not knowing I’d told it a dozen times already.
“And a good, soaking rain for the week before,” they agreed, with a grin. “I look forward to seeing you soon, m’lady. I’ve a taste just for you!”
I nodded and smiled, retreating to one of the four recovery tents.
I’d positioned them on each edge, in a quieter location.
They were stocked with plain water, soft places to sit, some basic first aid and a staff member who had copies of maps.
Runners knew to visit regularly, and there were a series of safeguards for people who were lost, unwell, or needing to leave.
The guard at the door was one of the more recent arrivals.
He straightened his posture as I approached.
I had a vague memory of his back and shoulder having been injured when he’d returned, but I couldn’t recall his name, only the name of his only surviving child, a whipcord lean lad who’d been put on as a runner about the faire today, no doubt in deference to his father’s position.
Inside the tent I sat, making sure it was arranged as I’d asked. Dim lights, decent ventilation, a few cushions. Outside, the hubbub of everyone rushing to get set up met my ears. People would be walking in at any moment.
It was all working. There were issues, I was sure, but Brian was managing most of them. And there was no rain.
It’ll be okay. I breathed deeply. Beside me, Isolde settled in the chair, folding her skirts around herself.
We were both in brilliant blue skirts and crisp white jackets in the comfortable cavalry style the tailors had shown me what felt like so long ago.
My jacket clung firmly around my chest and shoulders as I drew in another deep breath, held it for a moment, then released it slowly.
Isolde was doing the same. We stayed there, meditating.
I felt the comfortingly sturdy fabric hugging me, the chair beneath my thighs, the rug beneath my boots.
The air smelled of sweet cakes, salty treats and simmering exotic sauces.
This early in the morning it had the edge of winter, but it would mellow soon to be a lovely day.
I anticipated the cool breeze would be a pleasant change this afternoon.
Outside of the tent, I heard Chay’s frog clink as he moved, then the low murmur of conversation.
The temptation to remain there, waiting for time to pass and for everything to just unfold around me, was strong.
But I didn’t want to be caught hiding, either, which, if I was honest, was exactly what I was doing.
When Luca’s shadow fell across the entrance, I was already climbing to my feet. He stood by the door, looking in with a bit of a smile. “You really did think of everything,” he told me, offering his arm.
I pretended not to see it. “I thought of a lot of things that you’ll never even know about,” I admitted, moving past him.
The first of the faire-goers circulated.
A few sellers, or their assistants, flitted around, talking to people while it was still quiet enough that such socialization wouldn’t cost them sales.
“So much that didn’t end up being included, and many things that are, but aren’t,” I waved a hand. “Obvious.”
“I’ve no doubt.” He shook his chin-length hair a little back from his face, stopping beside me to look over the sea of colorful awnings, tents, stands and stalls.
From our angle, one couldn’t see the neat, logical walkways I’d enforced with every ounce of my sway when this one wanted just a little more space and that one wanted to invite their cousin to have just a small stall, or even a half table.
We had a maximum capacity for sellers. It was critical that people could move around, otherwise no one would buy anything.
How could they if they couldn’t get to the sellers or leave with the item?
“Guards have already turned back one noble who wanted to ride,” Luca told me, with amusement. “I suspect, next time you run it, we’ll have a small handful of people with handcarts, ready to pull the wealthy through the crowds.”
My mind went immediately to Kadan, who I’d seen riding in with the grace you’d expect from the heir of the horse-powered empire that was Raider’s Ban, and then struggling to walk across the uneven cobbles.
We did have provisions for people with mobility barriers, but mayhap offering to hire those provisions out for the wealthy would reduce some of the stigma.
Free for those who needed it, a cost for those who wanted it.
I didn’t hate the idea as long as there were still enough for those whose bodies wouldn’t carry them around consistently or without pain.
That assumed I lived through my father’s return.
Regardless, I’d seen the full inns, the busy taverns, the money being tossed toward shoe-shiners and stableboys.
While there was a huge cost to this event, there was also a profit to it.
Some of it would be easily measured in taxable profits.
Some of it would be measured only in the confidence people had in their own futures and their quality of life.
“Have you got a good connection with Gregor V’nell?” Luca asked me.
The name was familiar, and I thought I could link a face to it, but I couldn’t recall which company he belonged to. “Probably not.”
He nodded, steering us around a group. We both flashed smiles and they greeted us as we moved on by.
“Gregor is a major supplier of metalworks,” he told me quietly.
“Gregor isn’t officially important, but unofficially, he’s Marcus V’nell’s most trusted advisor.
I wouldn’t be surprised if the business passes by Marcus’ sons and ends up, at least somewhat, with Gregor.
And Gregor will do good things. He’s got a lot of connections. ”
Gregor’s Silver Peak Smithing and Design weren’t represented at the faire officially, but they were the power behind Silver Scrolls and Golden Bells, the biggest whitesmiths by far to show an interest in the faire.
“I see,” I said. Luca was steering me in that direction. He must’ve spent some time learning the map because he navigated us without stopping to think.
There were definite downsides to being seen with Luca.
So far, I’d avoided him in public, unless he was in a group I was speaking to.
Mayhap it was simply my worry, but it felt like there were a lot more eyes on us than I’d had on me before as I was making the rounds with just Isolde and my two guards.
I linked my hands together in front of me and stepped a little further away.
“Just introduce yourself when we go past,” Luca told me. “Then go past at some point this afternoon, when things are quieter. Ask him for a small favor—something he could easily do, like telling you the hour.”
I frowned, glancing toward Luca, but his eyes were directed past me. I saw him smile and nod in greeting at someone at their stall.
For a backwater lordling with little to his name, Luca seemed to know people.
“Once he’s done that,” Luca said, “then praise his wares and strike up conversation.”
“Wait.” I went back to his earlier instructions. “I’m asking him for a favor?”
“Yes. People like you more if they’ve done something for you.” This time, he did meet my eyes. There was no laughter in his expression. “You want Gregor to like you. If he’s the one connection you get out of this event, Audrey, you’ll be well off.”
There was no opportunity to ask questions without being overheard.
We’d hit the first serious group of shoppers, wealthy young men here to enjoy the tourney.
One of them already had a plaited ribbon with a ticket on his belt, evidence of a purchase, including the cost of its delivery to where he was staying.
The sight made relief rush through me with such force I suddenly felt lightheaded.
I’d already been successful. I knew there would be sales. But the evidence of it was something different. I hadn’t expected it to hit me quite so hard. I linked my fingers tighter together and focused on feeling the ground beneath my boots as I walked.
Gregor, when we passed by, had people already gathered around the table.
He was clasping a necklace around the throat of a woman who wore Azashi fashion and was visibly excited.
Her friends looked in consideration, suggesting alternative pieces or commenting on the one she was trying on.
I didn’t try to introduce myself, though I returned the stallholder’s greeting.
I had the right name to the right face for Gregor, at least.
“Ah, Luca, escorting the lovely lady herself.” An older man wearing velvet stopped, bowing to me.
The sword at his hip was in a plain scabbard, and his boots were sensible.
A silver scar split one of his lips and his nose looked like it’d been broken more than a few times.
The contrast of money and fighter caught my attention.
“What a handsome pair the two of you make.”
That was exactly what I’d been hoping to avoid. Not that it needed to matter. My father was going to be looking down the line of my sword regardless of whether his ego was hurt.
With that in my mind, I smiled and put my hand on Luca’s arm. “He’s been paying attention to the map of the faire, sir. I haven’t had to correct him once!”
The man laughed. “You’re doing better than I,” he said, with a friendly pat on Luca’s shoulder. “Bryenne has already hit me twice with it.”
“I had an excellent tutor,” Luca told him, with a wink. “And a small head-start.”
The implication irritated me, but I kept the smile on my face until we could move along. “Who was he?” I asked Luca.
“Sir Connor,” he said quietly. “One of the Crownguard, though he hasn’t worn a tabard since before I was born.
Took an arrow for the old king and accepted a nice quiet keep on the west coastline as his payment.
They thought he’d live quietly, I gather.
Turns out, he’s a head for business. Keep an eye on him.
He isn’t here for the tourney, or gifts for his family. ”
I fixed the man’s face in my mind. “I’ll be wary.” I kept my words quiet. Now I had my hand on his arm, we were close enough I could do so.
“Very. He calls your father by his first name.” I resisted the urge to glance back at the friendly-looking older man. “One of his sons by law is in the Crownguard. Another is a lieutenant at Black Borough.”
I heard the grim note in his voice and was still gathering my thoughts to question him when we were stopped again by a group of older boys.
They all wore swords in fancy scabbards and looked to be of the class to dream of competing in the tourney in less than a decade.
As Luca stopped to greet them with the warm familiarity of a cousin or family friend, I tried to arrange the right expression on my face.
Luca hadn’t stopped, though, only hesitated momentarily, changing his pace and the angle of his body.
I, however, had stopped, which made for an awkward transition.
In his lee I went, feeling like a leaf ripped from the limb. I refocused hard on what I needed to do, greeting people, making small talk.
Were there enough stalls to keep people busy for four days?
Were there too many?
My head buzzed with names and relationships, with details I didn’t know whether I needed to recall or not.
The day melted away, and Luca proved an excellent companion. Every now and then, he’d mention a little detail about someone that helped me fit them into a mental map of enemy and ally.
But that was all based on the information he was giving me.
I sat across a bale of hay that served as a table, watching as Luca spoke with two older, merchant-class men.
I’d signed an agreement with one to buy sugar, the other to sell him knappchs.
I couldn’t remember which one of them belonged to the wife who sat beside me, twice my age and shooting my outfit disapproving looks at regular intervals.
Her own dress was richer than some noblewomen’s outfits and perfectly modest.
The fresh, generously salted and fried bread felt good going into my body, but I didn’t taste a bite of it. I was past tasting. I should’ve eaten hours ago.
The distance between Luca and me felt like a chasm. Chay’s words haunted my mind, except I couldn’t recall exactly what he’d said. I could recall the bite of betrayal, the white-hot sting of rage, and the utter disbelief. Beyond that…
Could Luca be some sort of rebel?
Across from me, he laughed with the two older men. One of them reached out and clasped his shoulder. I hadn’t heard a jest, so it was clearly some sort of inside information Luca had spun in a way they found amusing.
He was no rebel.
He was a bean counter.
And I?
A sharp edge of bread stabbed the roof of my mouth as my eyes fell on a stall off to the side, with pretty, bright bottles wrapped in classy labels.
“I’ll see you about,” I told the wife, absently, wiping off my fingers.
“You enjoy the sunshine, won’t you? I’ll be back for that spiced juice you mentioned,” I assured her, before she could farewell me.
Luca wouldn’t even notice I’d slipped away, not until I’d vanished into the crowd.
I didn’t know what I truly was. But for today, I needed people to see me as a kraken.