Epilogue
Cal
Cal leaned back in his seat at the Siren’s Call theater, letting his gaze rove over the stage below.
The curtain was still drawn, the show not yet ready to begin.
He wore his Lord Heneford persona, grateful that it hadn’t been compromised.
It really was one of his favorites. Plus, it had its uses—like gaining him access to the Pentarchy’s private balcony.
Griff shifted beside him, and Cal glanced over, fighting the urge to smile. He got that a lot around Griff these days. He supposed that was one downside to using this disguise in public: it cost him the right to hold Griff’s hand. At least without sparking a minor public scandal.
Griff was talking to High Scholar Neddard seated beside him.
High Scholar Vesalain’s replacement seemed nice enough—a grumpy old friend of Nathaniel’s with strong ties to the Sunseekers.
Cal was seventy percent sure that the man liked him and Griff…
though in the vaguely disapproving way of a mildly disappointed father.
Of course, so far as Cal knew, High Scholar Neddard had no idea about Cal’s power or his alter-egos. Cal wasn’t sure if that knowledge would make him go down in the man’s estimation…or up. Cal leaned in, listening in on their conversation.
“—really is a good opportunity,” the High Scholar was saying.
“You have the calm, solid temperament to serve as a stellar ambassador. And while tensions may not be quite as high with Nalax as they were a year ago, a talent like yours never hurts when dealing with a people renowned for their backstabbing and deception.”
Sounds like my kind of people, Cal thought with a smirk.
Though he might’ve abandoned his thieving ways since his trial last year, that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy a good con now and again.
Which came in quite handy when helping with one of Griff’s investigations…
or with embarrassing his boyfriend in public.
“Why, I’ve been telling the inspector the same for months!
” Cal exclaimed in his Lord Heneford drawl.
Griff shot him a look, which he pointedly pretended not to see.
“If you ask me, there’s no finer inspector in all of Allaria.
Why, after that nasty business with your predecessor, he’s practically a hero!
They’d do well to consider him for a spot on the Pentarchy in the future, you mark my words. ”
Griff’s cheeks reddened, and Cal fought down a grin. He’d never get tired of watching Griff squirm beneath well-deserved praise. The inspector’s embarrassment only intensified when the High Scholar grunted his agreement.
“Wouldn’t surprise me one bit. Just look at what he’s already accomplished. Greatness must run in his family.”
Griff’s eyes flicked between Cal and the High Scholar with something close to panic. He cleared his throat. “Thank you for the generous offer, High Scholar. But as I’ve told the other councilors, I am perfectly content with my current position at this time.”
“Such a waste,” High Scholar Neddard sighed, settling back in his seat. “You’re meant for great things, Griffin. Mark my word!”
“There is no greater purpose than serving my country.”
Once, such a declaration would’ve elicited an eyeroll from Cal or a disbelieving snort. Yet he’d spent enough time around Griff by now to know that the inspector was completely serious.
Since his unmasking of the void relic conspiracy, his reputation had only grown. And while the Pentarchy had decided it best to keep most of the details of that little affair away from the general public, there was no shortage of offers from the Pentarchy.
So far though, Griff had turned every single one down.
He’d even declined High Commander Pern’s offer to take on Sasha’s old role as his personal liaison.
Griff had talked to Cal about it, confessing that he was worried he was letting them all down by refusing.
But Cal had assured him it was what he wanted that mattered.
No matter what he decided, Cal was proud to have earned a spot by his side.
The theater lights blinked three times in rapid succession: the signal that the show was only minutes away from beginning. Griff and Cal shared a look.
That was his cue.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Cal murmured, rising. “I’m going to go hit the little boy’s room while I can.”
“Of course,” the High Scholar said. “White wine always does seem to go right through you.”
It wasn’t until he was nearly to the exit from the balcony that Cal realized he hadn’t been drinking any wine tonight. That was, however, his usual drink of choice whenever he and Griff joined Nathaniel and High Scholar Neddard for dinner.
Eternal Dark, he knows who I am!
A faint blush colored Cal’s cheeks. But…how? Had he slipped up tonight, said something he shouldn’t? He didn’t think so. Nathaniel must’ve told him. Either that, or the High Scholar had his own subtle form of divination powers.
“Void-cursed sages,” Cal muttered to himself as he exited into the hall.
Shaking his head, he cast the matter from his mind as he weaved through the crowd on their way back to their seats. He smiled and nodded politely at everyone he passed until he reached an inconspicuous door set into the wall.
Slipping through it into the private back room, he channeled his duskflame the instant he was out of sight to swap to the other disguise he’d prepared for tonight: a minor merchant who’d recently confessed to selling state secrets to the highest bidder.
The secrets themselves weren’t all that important.
But what had caught Griff and Cal’s interest was the merchant’s contact.
That was who Cal was on his way to meet now.
He just hoped their careful preparations had worked and the target hadn’t caught wind of the merchant’s arrest earlier that afternoon.
He followed a narrow hall deeper into the bowels of the theater.
He’d had plenty of time to become acquainted with this place while preparing for his last heist here—as it turned out, the last heist Blackjack would ever commit.
Unless you counted stealing the void orb, though he preferred to think of that as an accidental act of civic duty.
Either way, it was easy enough for him to navigate his way to the agreed-upon meeting spot.
He settled in to wait once he arrived in the storeroom, listening to the distant murmur of music marking the start of tonight’s show.
He wasn’t sure how long the contact would take to show, but he intended to wait all night if he had to.
A rustling noise came from overhead, and he glanced up just in time to see a coiled rope darting down at him from the rafters. He shouted in surprise that was only half-feigned as the rope bound his arms behind his back, slithering tight about his wrists like a fibrous serpent.
A figure dropped down after it, landing in a crouch before Cal. Though the figure wore a gray mask that covered everything except his mouth and eyes, Cal would’ve recognized his patchwork cloak anywhere.
“What’s the passcode?” Kelsith demanded.
Cal made a show of struggling against the rope, mimicking the indignant merchant he’d watched Griff interrogate. “How dare you! Unhand me at once, rogue!”
Kelsith sighed. He tugged a dagger from his belt, using it to pick at his fingernails. “Passcode. Quickly, if you please, unless you want this to end badly for one of us.”
Glaring at the cocky thief, Cal spat, “The silver squid has the blackest ink.”
He tried not to let his nerves show at Kelsith regarded him. This was the riskiest part of the plan. If that merchant had tricked them by giving them a false code…
Cal breathed out when the rope abruptly released his wrists, coiling back up and around Kelsith’s forearm.
“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Kelsith chuckled as he tucked his dagger back in his belt. “It’s good to see you again, Gamund. Now, do you have the package for me?”
Cal huffed and made a show of brushing off his suit, straightening his tie. Only when Kelsith frowned impatiently did he finally tug out a manila folder. He started to hold it out, then pulled it back, feigning hesitation.
“This will wipe the slate clean with Bald Locke, right?”
Kelsith snatched the folder from his grip and tucked it beneath his cloak with a smirk. “Of course. Pleasure doing business with you.”
Cal held back a grimace. Their research had already determined that Kelsith was operating alone without the Brotherhood’s knowledge.
Somehow, he’d caught wind of people who owed the Brotherhood money or favors and begun collecting, claiming that he worked for Bald Locke and that doing these tasks for him would clear their debt.
As usual, Kelsith was nothing more than a fancy con artist.
Not that the minor merchant Cal was playing had any idea of that fact.
He feigned relief. “Good. That’s good.” The exchange made, he stepped back, watching as Kelsith moved toward the door. Unease bloomed in his chest with each step Kelsith took.
Where the Void is Griff? The protectors should have been in position by now. If Cal let Kelsith stroll out of here, they might never get another chance to catch him.
Improvising, he shouted, “Wait!”
Kelsith turned. “What is it? I was really hoping to catch this show. It’s one of my favorites.”
Licking his lips, Cal let his nervousness show. “Those documents are highly sensitive. What are you going to do with that information?”
Kelsith sneered at him. “That’s for Bald Locke to decide, not for you to worry about.”
He turned again to depart, and Cal shuffled a step closer. “Please. It would help me sleep better if I knew it wasn’t going to hurt anyone.”
Kelsith gave a derisive snort. His hand strayed back to his dagger, toying with the hilt. “Again, that’s not your concern. Now quit with the questions, or the only one here who’s going to end up hurt is you.”
Cal clenched his jaw. Eternal Dark, this isn’t working. If he didn’t want this to devolve into a fight, he needed a new tactic.