Julienna nodded. “More than we like.”
“Not to mention the unrest in the city,” Aunt Lissa added. “I swear, for the last month or so it’s been like sleeping on a beehive.”
“What kind of unrest?” I asked. “What have you seen?”
“Oh, you know, the little things. Bars on the windows. Guards for hire standing at attention instead of slouching like they usually do. And you hear all kinds of things in the market. Those robberies on Lithosmith Row, doubled shifts for the City Watch, riots in the Fourth Circle. Then there was that—Gregory, when was that incident down by the docks?”
“Eh?”
“You know. That captain from the Principalities tossed out of the tavern for raving about, what was it? Ghouls?”
“Ghasts, I think,” Uncle Gregory said.
I sat up and looked at Julienna. Her eyes widened. Neither of us had mentioned Wydrick or the ghastradi.
“Yes, yes, ghasts. When was that?”
“Last fortnight,” Uncle Gregory said. “Or was it last week?”
“What happened?” Julienna asked.
Aunt Lissa leaned forward. “Well, I had it from the greengrocer, who had it from a tavern maid, who had it from the cook. He said that Captain Teg went quite mad, yelling all kinds of things about monsters and murder and ghouls.”
“Ghasts, dear,” Uncle Gregory murmured.
“Them too. Apparently, the captain even threw her beer at the barkeep.” Aunt Lissa waved a hand. “They tossed her out after that, of course, but then from what I hear that’s hardly new for her. Teg’s supposed to have a vicious temper.”
Captain from the Principalities . . . murder . . . monsters . . . A memory stirred at the words, so faint it vanished each time I grasped at it, but something, something told me this was important. “Uncle Gregory, Aunt Lissa, this Captain Teg. Do you know if she’s still in the city?”
They looked at each other. “I think she has a place in the Street of Salt,” Aunt Lissa said after a puzzled pause, “but why on earth do you want to know?”
“Do you know if she’s here now?”
“No idea.”
I hid my disappointment. Further questions revealed nothing beyond rumors of the kind I’d begun to expect: the market was buzzing with speculation on the approaching trade negotiations, Tekari sightings around the outskirts of the city were on the rise, and folk had begun to arm themselves before they went outside. Everything to stoke our fear, and nothing to hint at how we could stop it.
We didn’t stay long after finishing lunch. Uncle regretfully told us he had made an appointment to deliver a bellboil draught to an apothecary in the Second Circle that afternoon, and he had yet to finish it. To the background of Aunt Lissa’s gentle scolding, we bid them both a fond farewell.
A stiff wind blew dust in little eddies in the doorways as we stepped out into the street, whipping Julienna’s whistled summons toward the sea. She pushed her plait out of her face and folded her arms as we waited for Mar’esh. “You want to go poking around, don’t you?”
I smiled guiltily. “Is it that obvious?”
“Well, yes, but hardly surprising. Besides, Alastair told me you would.”
“He did?”
“Several times.”
“What did he say?”
“That bloodhounds are easier to drag off a scent.” She laughed at my expression. “Come on, Aliza, why do you think I wanted to stay with you today? Alastair and Edmund and Aunt Catriona can beg and scrape and wheedle for an audience with the king all morning; they’re not going to learn anything. The most they’ll manage today is warning the rest of the Riders of what’s coming, but with you . . .”—she shrugged as Mar’esh appeared over the roofs of Galley Street—“well, we have something, don’t we?”
My heart swelled. “We do.” Someone else in the city knew about the ghastradi. This Captain Teg, whoever she was, might have the answers we needed. It was a little lead, and flimsy, but Julienna was right. It was something.
“Are we meeting the others at the Sword and Crown?” Mar’esh asked as we mounted.
I shook my head. “Not yet. We’re going to the Street of Salt.”
Chapter 15
Salt and Ashes
The Street of Salt wound through the last circle of the city, close to the docks and the maze of streets that formed the Lower Quarter of Edonarle. Most were too narrow for Mar’esh, so he resorted to running along the rooftops. As we traveled, I told Julienna details about our contract in Lake Meera that Alastair had not shared earlier.
“Let me get this straight,” she said as we passed the wheel-and-barrel sign of the Coopers Guild. “A band of Vesh attacked you in Langdred? They knew who you were and they attacked you?”
“Aye.”
She whistled under her breath. “I knew Vesh could be unsavory, but I never figured they’d be so stupid.”
“Unsavory, yes. Stupid?” That front room in the Langdred tavern swam before my mind’s eye and I heard, as clearly as if I was standing there again, the tiny splash and thud of Rookwood’s finger falling to the bloodstained floor. “No, I wouldn’t call them stupid. They were too well prepared for that. It was just bad luck we walked in the door that night.”
She glanced over her shoulder, and I smiled at her look of relief when she realized I wasn’t wearing the brooch.
“Don’t worry, we learned our lesson. Our heartstones are back at the townhouse,” I said.
“Good, because if they weren’t we’d be turning around and taking it back right now.”
“After all that— Hang on . . .” Mar’esh grunted, and we sailed over a wide avenue. “After all that, I’m amazed Akarra didn’t burn that town to the ground,” he said. “I would have.”
Julienna patted his neck and thanked him in Eth.
“Not everyone there was Vesh,” I said.
“Not everyone was innocent either,” Julienna said as Mar’esh drew up short at the top of a broad street overlooking the bay.
“The Street of Salt,” he said. “Do you know which house is this Captain Teg’s?”
My heart sank. I’d not thought this far. “No idea.”
“Your uncle said she was from the Principalities, right?” Julienna asked, and I nodded. “Let’s try that one first.”
I looked where she pointed. Indeed, the house was hard to miss. It had a bright cerulean door, cross-barred and decorated in intricate iron scrollwork in the style of the Southern Principalities. We dismounted and stepped up to the stoop. A heavy iron knocker in the shape of two twined serpents hung from the center of the door. Please be home, I thought and tapped the serpents twice. I counted to twenty under my breath. No answer. Julienna glared at a knot of pedestrians who slowed to gawp at Mar’esh.
“Anything?” she asked.
I started to knock again, but just as I touched the serpentine knocker there came the sound of a bolt being drawn on the other side, then another bolt, then a third. There was the rattle of a chain. At last the door swung open and a woman stepped out onto the stoop.
I reminded myself not to stare. The Southron captain, if it was the captain, was a portrait in opposites. It was impossible to tell her age, for one thing. Older than me, certainly, but not old, even though more than one white lock of hair coiled through her black braids. Despite the chill in the air she wore a high-necked sleeveless tunic, which showed off an impressive assortment of tattoos, black against her brown skin. Arresting. That was the word. The woman on the threshold was arresting. If the jeweled scimitar on her hip gave any indication, dangerous as well.