It made it easy for me to slip away once curiosity got the better of me. I zigzagged through the crowd, head bowed low, and stopped near the door where Lukain had disappeared into.
A hulking man stood in front of the door now. He wasn’t glaring at me—the stage had caught his attention—but he was still in my way.
I circled around him and took the nearby staircase instead, cinching my cloak tightly around my body. My fingers danced over the hilt of the dagger at my belt.
At the top of the stairs, the din from below became a muffled murmur, a coagulation of raised voices.
I walked down a rickety, dark hallway with doors on either side—likely bedrooms, if this was some kind of brothel. Only a single torch kept the hall lit in a dim orange glow.
I turned a corner and aimed for doors at the end of the hall, ajar from a breeze cracking them open. The doors opened onto a balcony overlooking a drab alleyway. The balcony connected with another building in a second-story bridge, and I started to wander over the bridge—
Before I froze at the railing of the plank-bridge, my throat catching. My gaze swept down into the alley below, where Master Lukain stood. He spoke to a man hidden in shadows at the back of the alley.
I made myself small and popped my head over the railing, trying to eavesdrop without making my face noticeable against the backdrop of the purple sky.
The wind on the second level amplified their words, pushing their conversation upward, but they spoke in hushed voices and I could only pick up every third word or so.
“. . . The one?” asked the man. “. . . You’re sure?”
They were huddled closely. The man wore a hood. The only characteristic of note I picked up was the paleness of his skin and the fact he spoke with his hands, and his left hand was missing its pinkie finger.
Lukain nodded at the man’s question. “. . . Tasted . . . cursed . . . rid me . . .”
“Mistress Mortis . . . information . . . liars.”
Mistress Mortis?I wasn’t sure if I had heard the man correctly. Either way, I’d never heard the name before.
Is this man working for this “Mortis” person? What could Lukain want from him?
It was frustrating being unable to hear more. If I was on level ground, it would’ve been different. It also would’ve been easier for Lukain to spot me spying on him.
Their voices became even lower, until I could hear nothing but babbling. But I heard one more word that made my hackles rise, spoken from the hooded man.
“. . . Gala . . .”
I leaned away from the railing, my forehead creasing with wrinkles, trying to play over the words I’d heard and what they could mean.Cursed, tasted, information, liars. It all means nothing to me.
When I glanced down a minute later, Lukain and the shadowy man were gone.
I hissed, “Shit,” and dashed down from the bridge balcony, rushing through the hall and no longer attempting to keep myself unnoticed.
I took the stairs three at a time to the auction room, hopping down the last few to the base, ducking low—
Just as Master Lukain emerged from the doorway and walked past me without noticing, heading for Antones, who was still locked in a bidding war with a few other men.
I tiptoed behind Lukain, coming to stand next to him.
He glanced over. “Where were you?” Narrow-eyed suspicion was rich in his voice.
“Had to find a place to piss. I could ask you the same, Master.” My eyebrows bobbed snootily, trying to hide the vying emotions flooding through me.
His jaw muscles tightened as he stared daggers at me. “Difference is, little grimmer, I’m not obliged to answer your questions, but you are obliged to answer mine. I’m the owner, you’re the property.”
Chapter 22
I was quiet the entire cart-ride back to the Firehold. Leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, I played over everything I’d heard from Lukain and that shadowy man, but still couldn’t make anything of it.
Two boys sat between us. Antones had won them as a “package deal.” Their gaunt, dirty faces were scrunched with confusion and fear.
