Chapter Twenty-Eight Running Together
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
RUNNING TOGETHER
“A IN ’ T EASY WORK pretending to be hard at work,” Ilden quipped, bouncing a cloth-wrapped package in his hands.
“But I feigned it long enough to register for the construction under my alter ego and sneak out with this treasure. The flats were blessed by the presence of Marcielot Perryweather but for a day alone! Come, praise me.”
“Good work, Perryweather,” Lythlet obliged as she plucked the bouncing package from his reach. He had come with Shunvi that morning to her flat, and they sat in a circle on the floor. “Dreadful name, though.”
Ilden beamed. “Isn’t it simply? If you must know Perryweather’s heartbreaking backstory, he’s the bastard child of a Central highborn, abandoned as a mere babe to spare his father the shame of an illicit affair.
But mark my words, Marcielot will one day ascend the highborn ranks and seek his vengeance.
Curse you, Father! Ah, Shunvi and I got up to a lot of silly business after we won our jackpots, and we had to swap between an alias or two to keep our shenanigans under wraps. ”
“Silly business?” she repeated, blinking at them.
“Oh, just some havoc we used to wreak at the casinos—” he cut himself short as Shunvi shot a glare at him. “Never mind, let’s not bring up the past.”
“Yes, let’s not,” Shunvi said, swiftly. “Still, Marcielot wasn’t his worst name.”
“First time I had to come up with a fake identity, I was put on the spot and blurted out that I was Pompatom Tumblebear. The ego really struggles to survive under the weight of a name so ridiculous.”
“Now I wish I’d come along with you to the flats,” said Shunvi wistfully. “It’s been a while since we had some fun.”
Lythlet unraveled the cloth. A fist-sized lump of icterine rock sat in the center of their circle like an offering to the divine. Powder flaked off as she delicately maneuvered it around with a corner of the cloth.
Shunvi leaned forward. “Is it what you think it is?”
“It certainly looks and smells like golden rot to me,” she said, nodding. “But I require proper confirmation.”
“From the hive-master,” he finished tentatively.
A grim feeling settled over her.
“Will you be all right?” Ilden asked sheepishly, as if still guilty for pushing her into it.
It took a moment, but she nodded. “I know what I need to do. You boys run along now. If you want to visit Desil, he’s at The Steam Dragon. You might catch him on a break if you’re lucky.”
“Are you sure you don’t want us to come with you?” Shunvi said. “There’s no shame in wanting help.”
“I’ll need some peace and quiet to think through my plan,” she said.
“We’re to establish an ongoing partnership with Master Winaro, and I must find the right words to make him willingly work with us.
And I suppose I ought to be brave and go at it myself.
As General Lauturo once said, if I want to run fast, I ought to run alone. ”
Shunvi and Ilden exchanged an uneasy, conflicted glance at each other, but after a moment, they nodded.
· · ·
B Y THE TIME Lythlet reached the doorstep of Master Winaro’s hive-workshop, she had mentally prepared and revised a script multiple times, a script she knew would prey upon the hive-master’s deepest desires.
Yet her hand trembled with the burden of memory as she looked inside and saw Master Winaro on a stool, delicately carving out hive-rot with a scalpel. Steeling herself, she pushed the door open.
The bell, ever so familiar from her months in the workshop, tinkled, announcing her entrance.
Master Winaro paused his work, lowering the tool. “Welco—” He stopped himself short. A murderous look entered his eyes as he recognized her. “I thought I warned you what would happen if you ever came back here.”
She clenched her shaking fists tightly, trying not to let her stutter emerge. “Master Winaro, I have not returned to discuss our past—”
He rose from his seat. “Do you think I give a shit what you’ve come here for? You disrespected me, and you dare show your face here?” The scalpel flashed in his hand, reflecting the bioluminescent hives surrounding them.
Time should have blunted the edge of her painful memories with Master Winaro, but as she stared into the face of the man who had beaten and belittled her for months, every bit of bravado and dignity she’d accumulated since leaving him evaporated.
She could feign ironclad arrogance before a man like Khavi Monul, one who only knew her for her conquessorial achievements.
But she could not bluff Master Winaro with a brand-new persona, not a man who knew her woebegone days and erstwhile existence of groveling timidity.
He would see through any act she put on now and scorn her harder for it.
“If there’s one thing I’ll offer you, it’s my gratitude that you’ve returned to the scene of the crime,” he spat.
“You robbed us, didn’t you? I would’ve dragged you to the watchmen if only I’d found a single scrap of evidence.
Did you use my wife’s necklace to pay for those boots, you piece of trash? ”
“Master Winaro,” she tried her script again, syllables slipping into a stutter, “I have come to make a merchant’s deal with you—”
“I would sooner slit my own throat than ever think of entertaining a bargain with a slumdog like you. Now leave before I slit yours.”
The bell rang once more, a waft of cool wintry air flooding the workshop as the door swung open.
Lythlet stayed still, shrunken, shoulders huddled together.
She turned her head away from the newly arrived party, not wanting them to see her trembling lips.
Master Winaro, on the other hand, immediately straightened, lowered his scalpel, and bowed deeply in the direction of the newcomers, deep enough to signify they were either upper merchants or highborns.
“Welcome, welcome, sirs,” Master Winaro greeted. “Step right this away and I’ll assist you. Please, don’t let this woman bother you—I was just in the process of having her removed from the premises.”
“Hive-master, stay your tongue,” said the customer coldly. “I did not come to engage your services, and I’ll thank you to spare me your needless salesmanship.”
Lythlet startled at the familiar voice. She spun on her heels.
Shunvi was drawn to full height as he glared at Master Winaro with a steel-edged gaze.
With his fashionable robes and well-groomed bearing, it was impossible to mistake him as anything beneath an upper merchant—and the haughty upturn of his chin tipped his scales toward highborn.
Behind him were Desil and Ilden, each casting concerned looks at her that told her they had overheard Master Winaro’s words from the outside.
They must have picked Desil up and tailed me here while I was too caught up with preparations to notice , she realized, heartened by their presence .
A flicker of suspicion wavered in the hive-master’s eyes at Shunvi’s words. “Who are you?”
“I am Shunvi Tanna, proprietor of The Golden Peach and The Silver Phoenix teahouses in Central and Northeast respectively. I’m sure you’ve heard of them.”
Suspicion vanished, and Master Winaro bowed deeply to his mercantile superior. “An honor to have your presence here, Master Tanna. The reputation of your teahouses precedes you. And your companions?”
Shunvi cast a quick look behind at Desil and Ilden. “This is my family’s sworn guardsman Dedaro Demothen and my personal manservant Pompatom Tumblebear. Isn’t that right, men?”
“Yes, Master Tanna,” Desil barked with a stifled smile.
Shunvi raised his brows at Ilden. “Pompatom, did you hear me?”
“Yes, Master Tanna,” Ilden wheezed out with a chagrined smile.
Just like that, Shunvi had solidified his status as a highborn—one with enough means to have a retinue accompanying him at all times.
Impressed, Master Winaro said, “If you did not come here to engage my services, then how may I help you, Master Tanna?”
“I came simply because I could not abide your treatment of this lady,” he said sternly, gesturing toward Lythlet. “I could hear your insults and threats through the window, and I found them most shameful.”
Master Winaro forced a polite smile. “Master Tanna, your chivalry is most respectable, but you needn’t defend this woman. She is far beneath us in station—yours especially.”
“A most reprehensible attitude to have, hive-master. It is my duty to defend this lady’s honor—”
“She has none,” the hive-master interrupted, patience wearing thin.
Imperative as it was to show deference to his superiors, his hatred for Lythlet was all-consuming.
“Master Tanna, forgive my impertinence, but on what basis do you wish to defend this woman? She is no more than a thief who once worked under me—poorly, if I may add. I strongly suspect she robbed my wife and I when she left us.”
Lythlet swore she could see the cogs in Shunvi’s head spinning in the split second before he slammed his fist on the counter. “On the basis that a man must defend the honor of his betrothed!”
Lythlet blinked.
His what?
“Your betrothed?” Master Winaro’s dumbfounded look vanished into an incredulous laugh.
“Master Tanna, I don’t know what game you’re playing with me, but I’m beginning to doubt you even know this woman’s name, let alone your engagement.
It seems highly unlikely a man of your standing would choose to wed someone so far beneath you. ”