Chapter 53 Tiny Bat’s Arsehole
· · · ·
Tiny Bat’s Arsehole
The day after Auria’s paid suspension ended, she found herself back on night shift, staking out the Whitewing drophouse on Fallow Grange as though nothing had happened, nothing had changed, except it had.
Everything had, once again. Whenever she managed to find a foothold in the new order of her life, the ground beneath her shifted and cracked, sometimes almost imperceptibly, sometimes seismically.
That first rainy night, she sat at a small wooden table by the window—far enough back from the sill that while she could see out, her shadowed figure wouldn’t be obvious to anyone peering in from the street—and alternated between studying the drophouse and poring over Detective Alcabal’s handover notes.
The accomplished Brewer had covered for Auria while she was out of action, and though they’d had a thorough debrief in person, Auria was now comparing Alcabal’s notes with her own, searching for patterns.
There was little of significance—neither the King’s Prophet nor the boy in scholar’s blue had been seen since her last shift.
She was heating some water for a fresh pot of ginger tea when the downstairs back door flew open, banged against the wall, then slammed loudly shut.
For a few split seconds, Auria’s hackles raised, and she drew her wand, pointing it toward the open doorway leading out onto the landing.
But if this was an intruder, they were not trying to be subtle.
A familiar grunting and grumbling sounded as a pair of boots stomped up the stairs, and by the time Nissa Naszi appeared in the room, Auria had already laid her wand to one side.
“I brought snacks,” said Nissa flatly. Her usually sleek black hair was slick to her face from the rain, black and gold kohl streaking down her cheeks in rivulets, silver cloak sodden and boots squelching miserably.
Auria frowned at her colleague’s dishevelment. “You couldn’t have wielded the rain out of your own orbit?”
Nissa lifted her two tote bags emphatically, showcasing that she had, indeed, brought vast quantities of snacks.
“I had my hands full. There’s a ginger theme—nougat, pastries, candied peel, studded chocolate, flavored c?nnafyr—but it’s likely all drenched now.
You do like ginger, don’t you?” This last question was flung like an accusation.
A little snort of entertainment slipped through Auria’s nose of its own accord. “I do. But what are you doing here?”
Nissa dumped the bags of snacks on the table and squeezed some of the moisture from her hair, loosing the scent of the jasmine oil she used to keep it glossy.
“I was finally cleared for active duty, and Karvas, perhaps unsurprisingly, reassigned me from the Bloodmoons. Told me I should accompany you on your stakeout, in case your migraine auras ‘once again’ addle your judgment.” A feral, toothsome smile.
“Most inconvenient when you’ve been trying so hard to avoid me, I know. ”
Auria averted her gaze.
Ever since Nissa had perjured herself during the hearing, Auria had kept to night-shift sleep patterns so their waking hours didn’t overlap.
She spent as little time as possible at the precinct, ambling around the city despite the winter chill, picking up last-minute holiday gifts for loved ones—it was Sancsari tomorrow, and she had always enjoyed the gift-giving and large feasts associated with the anniversary of the Saints coming together to create the magical world.
Her efforts to steer clear of Nissa had been mercifully successful, but the time apart hadn’t helped to unmuddle Auria’s feelings about the inquest. Yes, Nissa had given an impassioned character statement in Auria’s favor, but she’d also committed a serious crime and put Auria in a terrible position.
For the first time in her career, Auria had failed to obey truth entire and truth alone.
If this ever got out, she could wave goodbye to the Grand Arbitership, to any future in prosecution or the courts.
Auria was livid with Nissa, but she was also livid with herself, and not quite ready to confront it.
In response to Nissa’s quip, she muttered, “After your positive facial ID of the kingpin on Silvercloak grounds, I’m surprised they didn’t want you heading up the task force.”
“Quite the contrary—it gave Karvas grounds to claim I was too close to the matter. His favorite line.”
Having grown used to operating in the patchy darkness of the apartment, Auria tipped a spoonful of tea leaves into her favorite pot—midnight blue and adorned with white-and-gold dawndoves, hand-painted by her mother Lulí—and dropped the lid.
Her stomach growled, and she longed to rifle through Nissa’s proffered snacks, but the petulant child inside her was still pissed off.
“What’s happening with said positive ID? Are they pursuing an arrest?”
“Not yet.” Nissa sat down in one of the two chairs by the window table. “I think they want to tie your boot prints to the kingpin—it’s more robust physical evidence than my say-so. And it doesn’t look like Killoran is going to provide anything more definitive anytime soon.”
Auria frowned. “You don’t think so?”
As Nissa braided her still-damp hair into a plait, the rain-streaked light from the streetlamp poured through the window and illuminated the runes tattooed up her brown throat. It felt so oddly intimate that Auria had to look away.
“The last time I spoke to her was a couple of weeks ago, right after I woke up. She stole into the hospital wing through an open window.”
“And after that, you didn’t think to close said window?”
“The heart wants what it wants, and what mine wants is achullah. It was either that or smoke out all the other patients, which seemed inconsiderate.”
Auria idly stirred the tea, gaze still pinned to the street outside. “So Saffron came to see you.”
“I told her I’d asked you to help me get her out—and that you’d refused.”
“Thanks for that.”
Nissa shrugged. “If you’re going to make shitty decisions, you have to own them.
Anyway, Saffron was unsurprised, but didn’t want us to extract her yet anyway, because she didn’t have what she went for—evidence.
I offered to be her bridge in Aspar’s absence, somewhere for the evidence to go when she procured it, but she was skeptical.
She knows Dematus and Karvas are corrupt, that they have the power to bury said evidence. Bury her.”
“Did she agree to keep informing?”
“Sort of, but then…she asked me to steal the letter for her. Didn’t seem to give a tiny bat’s arsehole that it could cost me my career. I lost it, to be honest. Much like I did with you when you refused to help her. If there’s one thing I can never stomach, it’s selfishness.”
Auria forced herself to stay calm, measured, to not give Nissa the satisfaction of the rise.
“That’s a strange thing to say to someone who breached their entire moral code to save your life.
When there was a knife to your throat, I was thinking of you, not of me.
” The spoon grinded around the inside of the teapot.
It was, by now, the most relentlessly stirred tea that had ever existed.
“I’m not selfish, and I didn’t turn my back on Saffron just because I want to be Grand Arbiter someday.
I did it because I thought it was right. ”
Nissa stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. “Yes, yes, I know. I’m tired of hearing about good and right and lawful.”
Biting her tongue down on the savage retort, Auria blandly asked, “How did it end with Saffron?”
“I told her to bring me evidence so ironclad that it’d obliterate the Bloodmoons forever, and I’d make sure it was escalated over Karvas’s head. All the way to the commissioner.”
“And you don’t think she’ll do that? Even if she does find such evidence?”
A loaded silence. “I have my doubts.”
“Why? She’s dedicated her whole life to bringing down the Bloodmoons—she’d sacrifice you or me or herself for it. Why would she secure evidence, then continue to operate as one of their own?”
“I don’t know.” Nissa leaned back in her chair, the wooden legs creaking in the too-quiet night, and stared out across the street.
“There’s something strange going on—something larger at play.
Something to do with that letter, with the reason the kingpin risked everything to get it. I just can’t figure out what.”
Steeling herself, Auria finally crossed to the table with her cup and teapot, the lid rattling as her hands shook. “Is that why you lied about seeing the kingpin’s face? Because you no longer trust Saffron to bring him down, and you wanted to take matters into your own hands?”
Nissa, who always found the most infuriating possible response, erupted into low laughter.
“It’s not funny, Nissa,” Auria hissed, narrowly suppressing the urge to slam her palm on the table.
“Oh, I do love when you spit my name like that.”
“It’s a serious offense, and as a lawyer I—”
“Look, if we’d lost our livelihoods over that night, I at least wanted something good to come of it. I wanted it to lead to his downfall. And I also did it to save Killoran, since she clearly has no interest in saving herself.”
“You committed perjury, Nissa. And you forced me into allowing it.”
“You weren’t forced. You could’ve abdicated from the case, gone to the judge. But you didn’t. You’re as complicit as I am. You chose what was right over what was lawful, and I’m proud that you did.”
“False testimony is neither lawful nor right.”
“So why didn’t you come forward? Why did you allow it to happen?”
Auria shrugged heavily, thinking of the Grand Arbitership. “Maybe I am more selfish than I like to admit.”
Nissa studied her with hawkish curiosity. Her golden eyes were the only sources of light in the otherwise darkened room, and everything still smelled of jasmine oil. Auria hated that she smelled good.
“Do you resent me for putting you in that position?”
“It was a very conflicting few minutes,” Auria answered, without really answering. “First you perjured yourself, made a liar of me, turned your back on truth entire and truth alone…then you gave that character statement. Why did you do that? Defend me so ardently?”
Nissa looked away. Flushed, perhaps, though it was hard to tell in the dark.
“You need to get me up to speed on the Whitewings,” she said, a sidestep, a detour.
Auria slid her stack of papers and parchments across the table. “Here are my notes, compiled with Detective Alcabal’s. It makes for thrilling reading.”
“Or you could just tell me what I need to know, like a normal person.”
“Normal people don’t read?”
Nissa shrugged off her sodden cloak and rummaged around in the pocket. “It’s hard to read and smoke at the same time. I don’t want to get ash on your precious paperwork. Mind if I crack a window?”
“No, Nissa.” Saints, there she was, hissing and spitting the name once more. Even when Nissa smirked triumphantly, Auria couldn’t resist pressing forward with the beration. “I’d rather you smoked me out than alert the Whitewings to our presence.”
Nissa’s smirk broadened, eyes glinting evilly. “Smoking you out sounds sort of sexual.”
Heat rose to Auria’s cheeks—she’d always been a prude. “You get a real kick out of making me uncomfortable, don’t you?”
“Our interactions have always given me a kick, Marriosan. I thought you knew that.”
“That’s a strange way of describing our historic enmity.”
Another laugh as Nissa lit her achullah. “In Eqora, hostility is a sign of affection.”
The deserted street below suddenly became immensely more fascinating.
Auria raked her gaze up and down it assiduously enough to carve lines in the cobbles.
“Are you just being nice because you feel bad for the perjury? Because I saved your life at immense personal cost? Or because Tiernan died and you know I’m ruinously sad about it? ”
“I’m not being nice, and I resent the accusation. I think you’re an obnoxious bat’s—”
“Bat’s arsehole, yes. Got it.”
A tentative truce struck, Auria pulled a second midnight blue cup out of her satchel—it was only civilized to carry a spare—and poured Nissa a cup of ginger tea, thinking the flavor profile might complement the spice of the achullah quite nicely.
She was surprised to find she didn’t mind the scent of it fogging the room, earthen and clove-laced.
Nissa grinned devilishly and lifted her cup by the delicate handle, as though making a toast. “To reluctant allyship—and bringing down the scarlets and the whites.”