Faye let her arms drop to her side. She stepped to the nursery door, looking in on Jakob, and then closed it. She turned to Nila, hands on her hips.
"Have you seen the room in the basement?" Faye asked.
Nila stared back defiantly. Who was this old woman to demand things of her?
"Well?" Faye said.
Nila nodded sharply and tried not to think of the room with the long tables and blood stains and sharp knives on the bench.
"He showed them to me, too," Faye said. "When I first got here. I don't want to go to that room and I imagine you don't, either. So keep him happy."
"I'm … "
"I don't care who you are," Faye said, "or why you're here. But you seem to care for Jakob. Vetas is not the kind of man to hesitate in turning his insidious practices on children."
"He wouldn't."
Faye took a step closer to Nila. Nila made herself stand her ground, but a look in the woman's eye frightened her.
Faye said, "He cut off my boy's finger while I watched. While my children watched. We all screamed, and his goons held us back. Then he sent the finger to my husband, to ensure his cooperation in one of Vetas's plans." Faye spit on the floor.
"And what are you doing now?" Nila said.
"I'm waiting."
"For what?" Nila scoffed.
"My chance." The words were barely audible. Faye wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and took a deep breath. "There's time for fury. And there's time for patience. And Vetas's reckoning will come."
"What if I were to tell him what you said? How do you know you can trust me?"
Faye tilted her head to one side. "Go ahead and tell him if you want. You think he doesn't know that I'd pull his guts out through his ass if I got the chance?" Faye shook her head in disgust. "My husband is an inspector. He's a smart man, a principled man. He's always thought the nobility were a load of inbred fools. I once asked him how he could put up with a baron's mockery or the obtuse idiocy of a duchess long enough to finish a high-profile case."
Nila remained silent, watching the side of Faye's face while she talked.
"He said," Faye went on, "that swallowing his pride and being patient in the face of adversity had allowed him to feed and protect his family for years, whereas giving in to his instincts to fight back would only land him in prison, or worse. Waiting is all I can do right now. So I wait. And you should, too. Put on the damned dress."
Nila watched the woman for any sign of dishonesty. There was fire in her eyes. Fury. The kind only a mother is capable of.
"Give me some privacy," Nila said.
She was dressed by the time there was a knock on the door. Not from Jakob's nursery but from the hallway. Nila swallowed her fear as she heard the door open and was glad that she had put on the clothes.
"That's progress," Lord Vetas said. "Turn around."
She turned to face him, forcing herself to meet his eyes.
He looked her up and down and slowly swirled the wine in the glass in his right hand. "You'll do," he said.
"For what?" she asked.
If he heard the anger in her voice, he ignored it. "I've been trying to secure a luncheon with a woman named Lady Winceslav for some time. I have finally succeeded. You will accompany me to the luncheon as my niece. You are a shy girl, and will say nothing more than ‘yes, ma'am' or ‘no, ma'am.' I intend on courting her, and she'll be more amiable to the idea if I have a close female relative. I'll only need you for a few weeks, at most."
"Who is -"
"That is of no concern of yours. Play your part well and you'll find I allow you to keep the small measure of freedom I've permitted. Play it poorly and I will punish you. Understand?"
"Yes," Nila said.
"Good. Where's the boy?"
Nila wished there was some kind of lie she could tell him. But where else would Jakob be but in his nursery? "Jakob," she called, "come in here, please!"
The door to the nursery opened and Jakob skipped across the room. He looked up at Vetas with a smile on his face. "Hello!"
Vetas grinned at him. The expression reminded Nila of a polished skull she'd seen once in an apothecary's shop. "Hello, my boy," Vetas said. "How are you enjoying your new clothes?"
Jakob spun around, arms out, to show off a smart suit of a blue jacket, matching knee-length pants, and high socks. "They're very nice," Jakob said. "Thank you."
"My pleasure, child," Vetas said. "I brought you something." He stepped back into the hallway and came back with a box not much bigger than the one Nila's boots had arrived in. Setting the box on the floor, he flipped off the top to reveal a set of wooden soldiers and horses, twenty in all.
Jakob gasped with delight and set about pulling them from the box all at once, scattering them across the floor.
"Take them to your room," Nila said.
Jakob stopped unpacking and cast Nila a scowl. He put the toys back in and began to drag the box toward the nursery.
"Do you like them?" Vetas asked.
"Of course! Thank you, Uncle Vetas!"
"You're welcome, child."
Vetas's grin disappeared the moment Jakob was out of sight. He took a sip of his wine. "Be ready in half an hour," he said. He left the room, and Nila heard the door lock from the outside.
"Uncle Vetas," Jakob had said.
Nila wondered how Faye planned on killing Vetas, and if perhaps Nila would get her chance first.
CHAPTER
9
Taniel hurried through the streets of Adopest, blinded by disbelief. Tamas dead? It couldn't be. The old bastard was too stubborn to die. It was late morning and the traffic was thick, and he had to shoulder his way past pedestrians and dodge carriages and carts. He could hear Fell apologizing to the people Taniel bowled over.
Taniel paused momentarily to make sure Ka-poel was still with them. She was right beside him, faithful as his own shadow. Fell appeared out of the crowd. Of the messenger who'd found them in the mala den, there was no sign.
"Pole," he said. "Do you know if he's dead?"
Ka-poel seemed taken aback.
He took her by the shoulders and pulled her closer. "Did you ever make a doll of him? Do you have some kind of connection?"
Her frown cleared and she shook her head. Nothing.
"Pit." Taniel turned around.
"I'm sorry about your father," Fell said, coming up beside him.
"I'll believe the old bastard is dead when I see his body," Taniel said. He suddenly felt ill as a vision of Tamas lying cold and stiff in an open coffin filled his mind. He pushed the vision aside, but found himself leaning on Ka-poel for support.
She looked up at him with her glass-green eyes. They contained a mix of emotions: anger, confusion, sympathy, resolve. Her eyes hardened and he looked away.
"Where the pit are we, anyway?" he asked. "I don't recognize anything."
"Because you've been charging headlong through the crowds," Fell said. "This way to the People's Court." She pointed east. They'd been going north.
Taniel nodded. "Lead on," he said. He still had his hand on Ka-poel's shoulder. She hadn't moved it. "Pole," he said, "I … " He stopped. His mind was a haze, but the man coming toward him along the street looked familiar. Taniel could have sworn he'd seen him hanging around Kin's mala den. He was tall, with wide shoulders and a slight limp. Something was off about him.
The man looked up and into Taniel's eyes. It was all the warning Taniel got.
The man took two great strides toward Taniel. He shouldered Ka-poel out of the way and then Taniel felt the man's fist connect with his sternum. He was thrown up, above the heads of the crowd, and then tumbled to the ground, landing shoulder-first on the hard cobbles.
Taniel gasped in ragged breaths. Had his ribs been broken?
A small crowd gathered around Taniel. He heard voices asking if he was all right. A gentleman nudged Taniel's arm with his cane. A woman screamed.
Only one kind of creature could have hit Taniel that hard.
A Warden.
Taniel snatched the gentleman's cane, ignoring a shout of protest, and pushed himself to his feet in time to see a young woman thrown to the ground as the Warden pushed past her and grasped Taniel by the throat with both hands.
Steel jutted from the Warden's throat and stopped mere inches from Taniel's eyes. The Warden threw him to the ground and whirled, to reveal a stiletto jammed into the back of his neck right at the spine. The Warden gurgled, and attacked Fell, who danced out of the way quicker than Taniel would have given her credit for.
Taniel leapt to his feet and brought the cane down on the back of the Warden's head. The hardwood cane splintered from the force of the blow.
The Warden barely flinched. He turned toward Taniel, then back at Fell, as if trying to decide which threat to attack. While they watched, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and with the other hand reached back and slid the stiletto from his own spine. Vile, black blood spurted from the hole in his neck. Taniel heard someone be violently sick on the street.
The Warden pushed his handkerchief into his wound to stop the bleeding. The whole grisly procedure had taken less than five or six seconds. The Warden then turned on Fell, leaping quickly.
Taniel was ready. He jumped forward, holding the jagged end of the broken cane like a dagger in one hand. He drew back his arm to ram it into the Warden's back.