“What about Varina and Hassan?”
Tain shrugged. “They’re not going anywhere, and they can’t do any harm back there. They can wait a little longer.”
“Maybe you should stay here and wait for us,” Jov began, and anger closed my throat for a moment so that I couldn’t even respond. Thankfully, Tain scoffed at my brother on my behalf.
“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s the one the guard spoke to in the first place. You’re all right, aren’t you, Lini?”
I nodded, but my gratitude to him for standing up for me was tinged with inescapable sadness. The one person who really saw me properly, not as a weak thing to be protected. Familiar loneliness made my heart hurt. “Of course.”
“Then let’s go.”
* * *
The sewer guard met us in the Manor entrance hall. “Honored Chancellor, Credola, Credo,” she said, respectfully enough, but her chin jutted out as she quickly added, “You told me to come to you if I got a bribe.”
“I told you I’d triple it, and I meant it,” I told her. “Tell us what happened.”
The foreign man had approached her near her home that morning, with a murky story about escaping persecution in the city and returning home. He’d given her what amounted to half a year’s earnings on her regular job—repairing pots and other household items—to help him escape that night. “I told him if he wanted to go shit-swimmin’ I was happy to help,” she said. “He’s supposed to show up partway into my shift tonight.”
Jov paced behind me, visibly excited. Tain, calmer, squeezed the woman’s shoulders. “Tonight, I want you to do everything you would have done if you were really helping someone get out of there. Unlock the grate, lower the sewer dam, whatever. We’ll be there, too, ready to take him in.”
She shrugged. “I’d lower the sewer dam partway,” she said. “Drop the flow without too much risk of it all backing up.”
“You’ve earned much honor for this,” Jov said. “This might make a real difference to the defense of the city. Who knows what he can tell us?”
Relief filled me with renewed energy. We had the crooked Councilor—now we could take the poisoner, too, and perhaps learn how and why Doran had mobilized against us.
And now we could finally use our own resources without fear they’d betray us.
The afternoon was spent with Marco, several of our precious Order Guards temporarily borrowed from the sectors, and a sanitation worker from Eliska’s Guild. Batbayer had been elusive before; this was our one chance to catch him. We gathered information carefully and subtly, using diagrams, maps, and intelligence from recruited former servants from the Manor—we wouldn’t risk anyone prominent or identifiable near the site in case Batbayer was watching.
The plan was simple: station ourselves in the surrounding buildings, both upper stories and ground level. Watchers would form a perimeter to alert us when he approached. Order Guards lay ready to block every exit. Once he attempted to enter the sewer, our men would close in, but use no blades or arrows or anything else that could risk harming him. We needed his knowledge, and we needed him alive and available to play off against Varina, if it came to it.
I helped tie weights to the edges of fishing nets and Marco brought in some civilians who were competent hunters, capable of using a hunting tool consisting of rocks on the end of a short length of rope with surprising effectiveness. “You can take down a wild bindie in midflight, if you’ve a good eye,” one of them told me. “Feed a whole family hunting in the shallows around Green Bend.” Another bragged he could snag a kitsa on the prowl. When I tried, just for fun, the rope somehow came back at me and hit my own leg, causing great amusement among the hunters.
I had been expecting an argument with Jov about my role, but fortunately Marco headed that off before it could start.
“Credo Jovan, this man already knows you are looking for him. You are too well known in the city; he could easily have someone watching for your whereabouts to make sure this is not a trap.” When Jovan started to speak, Marco held up a hand. “I think you and the Chancellor should do something, visibly, at the other side of town tonight. Perhaps pay a public visit to inspect the sectors; visit the workers, boost morale?”
Tain nodded. “You’re probably right,” he said reluctantly. “We don’t need to be there, Jov, and it could put the plan into jeopardy. We can’t lose this chance.”
Then, even more unexpectedly, Marco turned to me. “Credola Kalina, would you be willing to come? I would keep you well away from any danger, but you have seen this man before, and your face is not so well known. I would value your presence if you are willing.”
“Of course,” I said before my brother could speak.
And so it was that I found myself wrapped in borrowed clothes, tattoos covered, in the attic space of a building near the sewer entrance. Marco removed a tile and propped the spyglass into the space, then showed me the points at which our watchers would flash a lamp if they saw someone approaching who looked like he could be our man. Oil rationing had meant giving up most of the street lamps, so the square below was dim, but the pool of light showed the grate and the guard standing watch to the side.
“It could be a while, Credola,” Marco said. “Will you be comfortable enough?”
I nodded. I was well practiced at holing up in strange places, observing from above. It felt strange, though, sitting there in the dark. To break the silence, I asked, “How did he expect to make it out of the tunnel at the other end, do you think? What if the rebels just killed him on sight? They killed our first runners through the same place.” I remembered again the cloth-bound heads and suppressed a shudder, sorry I had brought it up.
“He may have some way of signaling who he is at the other side.” Marco scratched his beard with a sigh. “Though I do not think this was a pre-planned exit, so perhaps he is merely taking his chances.”
I peered through the glass again. Nothing. “You’ve fought Doranite tribes before,” I said. “Why do you think they’d do this? It can’t be all about a couple of mines.”
He sighed again. “I do not know, Credola. Sjona has been largely a stabilizing force for good, and though it has profited from the trade route, so have its neighbors in both wealth and peace. Doran is more prosperous than it has ever been before. I suppose this has led to an increase in centralized power and organization—we thought that was a good thing, but perhaps they grew greedy.”
Outside, a tiny light flashed in an upstairs window. Marco made room for me with the spyglass and I watched, breath held, waiting for the approaching figure to reach the light.
Then I put down the spyglass and shook my head. “No,” I said, disappointed. The figure had not paused or even glanced toward the grate as they passed down the street.
Marco patted my shoulder. “Patience, Credola,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “He will come soon enough. We are ready.”
We sat there a while longer. I wondered about the big silent man beside me. While tensions ran high between locals and foreigners, he occupied a strange position, being both a trusted leader and yet obviously not a native Sjon. “Why did you leave Perest-Avana?” I asked him, curiosity getting the better of me. There was a long pause. Below, a chattering group walked past. One spat in the gutter, and I heard the faint sound of the guard giving him a warning to “move along.”