“It’s not meant to be opened yet, Credo,” he told me for the third time, as we approached the door.
“I know,” I muttered.
I had been here only yesterday and saw the difference immediately. The sacks of grain stacked by the door for delivery to the bakers’ district were diminished; so too were the casks of beans. I circled the room, stepping among the vats, casks and cloth sacks of grains, vegetables, and fruit, the small precious bags of salt and other spices, my eyes constantly scanning. Toward the back of the warehouse the loose tiling and scuff marks in the beams showed where my attacker had broken in and cleared out a portion of our precious food.
“Does this door need a key from the inside?” I asked the man.
“No, Credo, you can lift the latch from here.” He indicated the mechanism.
“This is the Stone-Guilder’s sector, isn’t it? Please tell her to arrange a check against the inventory.” One man to enter the warehouse and let others in. He’d had help. We would need guards on here at all times now—day and night.
I started the long trek back the Manor, considering the theft. We were weeks into a siege and citizens might be driven to panicked hoarding. Businesses could try to exploit the shortages and run a black market in supplies. And Silasta had thieves, like everywhere else. But I’d recognized the charm necklace that had fallen out of the thief’s clothes as he bent over me; he’d been Darfri, I’d have staked my honor on it.
* * *
The physics were more concerned with my shoulder wound reopening than the new injuries. “Nothing broken,” one woman told me briskly. “But your head’s had a bit of a bump. If you can keep off physical duties for a few days, that’d be best.” We exchanged a look. “Well, as much as possible, anyway.”
The lump was like a small fruit sprouting out of the back of my head. I rubbed it gingerly as I returned slowly to the Manor, the walk up the hill far more taxing than usual. Several times I thought someone was following me, but no matter how suddenly I glanced around, or paused to adjust the cording on my paluma, there was never anyone there. Probably just leftover fear from my nightmares, but it was unsettling enough that I was unusually grateful to see Bradomir as I passed the Leka apartments, smoothing his moustache and giving me his usual charming, empty smile. “Has the Honored Chancellor summoned you too, Credo? I seem seldom to see him without you.”
“Our families have always been close, as you know, Credo,” I said, tone neutral as I could make it.
“Indeed, indeed.” He looked me over in a calculating fashion. “But you and the Chancellor, why, you practically grew up as brothers. Two motherless boys, drawn together.…”
I stiffened, and he patted my shoulder like a concerned Tashi. “Oh, my boy, my boy, I mean no offense. Of course you both have mothers. I just meant perhaps the fact that your mothers were so unavailable during those crucial early years strengthened your bond. And now, why, now you’re terribly fortunate to have his ear and his trust. Who could have known that he would become Chancellor so young, with so little time to prepare?”
This time I masked the stiffening and nodded blandly, though I longed to study his face the way he was studying mine. Was this meant to be intimidation, or an accusation? Did Bradomir suspect me of something?
Before I could think of how to phrase a reply, a litter approached from behind. Credo Lazar struggled out of it and dismissed his two manservants as he hastened to join us.
“Credo Jovan!” he said, patting my shoulders with sweaty hands. “Glad to see you! I had hoped to speak to you.”
“Yes?” I said, my interest picking up. “Have you learned something about Lord Ectar? Or someone else?”
He shook his head, regretful. “I fear not, Credo. I’m sure you have seen Lord Ectar working in your own sector. But when he is not there, I have observed the Talafan lord frequently at the training grounds, assisting the instructors there. Talafan are fine archers and I believe he has quickly become rather well regarded there. Oh, he is enjoying what pleasures Silasta still offers, of course, as well. He has become acquainted with the bathhouses and the last of the gaming establishments that are still open. But honestly, Credo, he appears no more than a tourist at worst.”
I nodded, continuing to walk toward the Manor entrance. I had not really suspected Lord Ectar in any case, but it was good to see that Lazar had put no insubstantial amount of effort into helping me. I could certainly believe that the spoiled Credo might have inadvertently contributed to the rebellion, perhaps by letting conditions on his land deteriorate, or by the common worker resenting his obvious and extravagant wealth. But actively assisting the rebels, or murdering the Chancellor, would be beyond him. Perhaps we could use him further to assist.
“I’ve also been sending runners with messages to Credo Javesto on and off the past few days,” he continued, huffing and puffing as he trotted beside me even at my substantially reduced pace. Unlike Bradomir, he hadn’t seemed to notice anything unusual about my disheveled appearance. “And always they found our fellow Councilor in his correct sector, instructing his people and taking reports. My runners said he was always easy to find, and had been prominent around his sector through the day.” He clicked his tongue, frowning, as though his target’s diligence were itself some character flaw.
Bradomir coughed. “I spoke to the Order Guard assigned to Credo Javesto’s sector personally,” he said. “She reported the same, that the Credo has been helpful and active in his sector each day, and takes no unusual meetings.” He waved a hand lazily at me. “Don’t worry, young Credo, I concocted plausible excuses to be asking. The Guard didn’t think it suspicious.”
“Thank you, both of you,” I said. “The good Credo is probably just outspoken, not a villain.” As I said it aloud I wasn’t convinced myself; after all, I had been right to act on my suspicion regarding the storehouses last night.
Tain waited for us in one of his Tashi’s favorite audience rooms; a quiet, curved space at the back of the Manor, built into the side of the mountain itself and lit by elegant blown-glass lamps suspended from the ceiling. He started to rise with immediate concern at the sight of me, but I shook my head quickly from behind Bradomir and he took the signal, diverting to clasp the Credo’s hand instead. “Thank you for coming,” he said. “I’m afraid I have further news about matters within the city. I’ve just been informed by the Stone-Guilder that thieves raided one of our storehouses last night.”
Bradomir froze and Lazar gasped. “How much was taken?”
“Enough to damage us,” Tain said. Even at prior levels there had been grumbling in the lower city about the rationing system, rumors others were hoarding, storing up for their own families or for trading if things got grim. If the rations had to be spread more thinly, things might flare up.
“And do we know who—”
“I’m afraid not.” Tain ushered the Credolen to a seat among the fat little chairs of which Caslav had been so fond; not quite the familiarity of sitting on cushions on the floor, but less formal than a full meeting room. He poured the tea carefully. “Was it opportunistic, or intended to weaken our position?”
“I rather think we should assume we have traitors within the city looking to assist their brethren out there,” Bradomir said. “After all, this theft confirms what we already suspected, that those in the country resent the wealth and power they see here in the city, and want to take it for themselves. It is no surprise that they would steal food, when this uprising is really at its core about taking what is not earned.”