Page 29 of Mistress of Bones

XX

THE ROGUE

ALMOST TWO YEARS EARLIER

Miguel Esparza had fallen in love many times.

With brunettes, with blondes, with coin, with liquor, and with more than a few cloaks.

So, he was fairly acquainted with the feeling when it rose, unencumbered and glowing, at the sight of the young woman mounted on a fine horse carefully parting the busy street.

“Are you listening, Esparza?” asked his companion in their guarding duty.

“Not in the least,” answered Esparza, leaving their spot by the corner and making his way toward the newcomer. He readjusted his rapier, tugged on his gloves, and made sure his hat sat at the perfect angle.

The woman had stopped her mount while she looked around, her expression part apprehensive, part lost, but mostly excitement.

Her midnight hair had been braided away from her face, and her tanned cheeks held the sun’s warmth as she bent to pat the horse’s neck.

A straw hat hung forgotten from a ribbon around her neck.

A countryface, no doubt. Dressed in expensive breeches and a traveling brown cloak bearing De Guzmán’s family crest, but a countryface nonetheless.

“Hello there,” Esparza said, pausing by her side and offering his best smile.

Her gaze snapped to him. Wary at first, then relieved when she recognized the blue color of his tabard and the insignia sewn on to it. Esparza might hate the outfit, but he sure thanked it in times like this.

“Your first visit to Cienpuentes?” he asked, stepping closer and running a reassuring hand down the horse’s neck.

“Sá.”

When she said no more, he took off his hat and gifted her a bow. “I’m Miguel Esparza, proud member of the City Guard. May I ask what brings you to the capital?”

Her answering grin was nothing but magnificent. “I’ve come to make my fortune.”

He chuckled at the enthusiasm in her words.

“A lofty cause, I see. If I may be of assistance? I couldn’t help but notice you seem lost. Are you in need of directions?

I know the city well, as you can imagine.

May I guide you to your destination? Is there anyone looking out for you and your future fortune? ”

Her merry laugh filled the air, and Esparza’s heart picked up its pace. “Sá, there is. You’ve seen the crest on my cloak, you must know of my brother and my sisters—I am told they are quite popular. I am Edine, the youngest.”

He let out a laugh of his own. “Which of your siblings will you be staying with, then? Perhaps I can be of further assistance during your stay.”

“I’m staying on my own. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be my fortune, would it?” A hint of regret entered her voice. “I can’t imagine we’ll be meeting again. I know how busy the Guard keeps my brother. Although I’d be thankful for a general direction, and I do appreciate the offer.”

Esparza winked. “Don’t worry on account of my duties. I think we’ll see each other again, Edine de Guzmán.”

And they did.

THE PRESENT

Esparza studied his drink. Murky as usual in the low light of Casa Rojita. The only sign of the earliness in the day came from the fact it was less crowded than usual. His hat lay abandoned on the bench by his side, and he was wearing his blue tabard instead of simply his shirtsleeves or a doublet.

“Drinking already,” said Nereida de Guzmán, sliding onto his other side.

Esparza shrugged to cover his surprise. “‘Happy is the life of a drunken fool.’”

“‘For he knows not the Lord Death is upon him,’” De Guzmán finished for him. “So, it’s come down to the cups?”

“Brawls aren’t helping, and nobody will cross swords with me anymore.” Really, Esparza mused dryly, must he do the Lord Death’s job all the way through?

“Don’t try so hard for a couple of days. I’m in need of your services.”

“We didn’t expect you back for a while.”

“Plans change.”

“So they do, if you seek my help.” Esparza sent her a sly look. “I’ve never known you to be so desperate.”

De Guzmán smiled, and for a heartbeat she looked so much like Edine, his heart lodged in his throat. Same nose, same brow shape, same cheeks. Esparza sipped his drink to give his mouth something to do rather than cursing De Guzmán for intruding into his solitude.

“A year and a half ago,” De Guzmán said, “you got into the Royal Crypt to make sure the vials of the queen’s blood hadn’t been stolen, so they could be used to identify the child king.”

Esparza remained silent while one of the servers placed a cup of ale in front of Nereida. She eyed it, not with distaste or with curiosity. She was too good at hiding the former and had long lost any wish to feel the latter.

To save her the effort of summoning any sort of response, Esparza traded his empty cup for hers.

“I need you to do it again,” she told him.

“We ended that business back then.” Esparza drank deeply, as if trying to drown the disgust in his voice.

“I don’t need the crypt this time. I need the ossuary.”

“No.” He shook his head sharply. “I’m done with the dead.”

“You aren’t,” she answered placidly, “or you wouldn’t be here so often.”

Esparza threw his cup against the wall, sending the room still. When no punches followed, it went back to hushed conversations and loud slurping.

“Esparza!” shouted someone from the counter. “You owe me for that.”

De Guzmán ignored both the demand and Esparza’s outburst, her voice calm as she said, “I need you to take someone into the ossuary.”

“Why?” Esparza asked with rancor. “What’s in it for you?”

“‘Don’t ask, reap your reward’—your motto, isn’t it?”

A smile flitted across his face. “The words don’t suit you.”

Her fingers tapped on the hilt of her rapier, offering no rebuke.

“Why can’t they ask to get in?” he asked.

“Time is of the essence, and people are too slow. If I had any Anchor to offer, it’d go faster, alas…”

“You would in spades, if you accepted De Anví’s courtship.”

“Is he still keeping the Witch in check?”

“Inseparable.”

“Is she still wearing Sío?”

“You’ve been gone mere weeks.”

“Feels longer,” De Guzmán murmured to herself.

Esparza forced himself to study her carefully. “You don’t sound like yourself. What’s changed?”

De Guzmán hesitated before answering, “I’ve met someone.”

Arching his brows in question, Esparza waited for her to continue.

“She reminds me of Edine.”

Inhaling deeply, Esparza stopped himself from upturning the table and thrashing everything else in the room. Then, viciously, “So, you’ve decided to help her like you should’ve helped Edine? How magnanimous of you.”

De Guzmán shrugged. “I will pay, of course.”

“Of course,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery.

“I will also need an audience with the Witch.”

“If you pay well enough, I’ll get you an audience with the Blessed Heart themselves.”

A tightening of De Guzmán’s jaw was the only reaction to his insolent tone. “Don’t tell her it’s me, and make it somewhere private.” She fixed him with her gaze. “Will you do it?”

Esparza met her eyes. “It’ll be the last thing I do for you, and only because your sister loved you.”

De Guzmán stood, put some coins on the table. “I count on your discretion. It must remain unknown I’m back in Cienpé. Surprise is… everything.”

Esparza called for more ale. “You have my word.”

“De Guzmán is back in town,” Esparza told De Anví as they strode along a busy street. Evening was falling, and the rushing of people hurrying home for supper hid their conversation.

De Anví’s steps didn’t slow, but his sharp inhale was audible. “How did you learn of this?”

“She asked for my help, on behalf of someone she’s met. A young woman, from the sounds of it.”

“Anyone we know?”

“I’m not sure yet. I couldn’t follow her.”

“You’re losing your touch,” De Anví admonished.

Esparza readjusted his rapier. “She must have new friends in town. She hasn’t touched her house or those closest to her, or been at the inns.”

“Something to do with the envoy to Valanje?”

“It’s too coincidental, but I don’t think so. Her business seems private.”

“Care to share?”

Esparza glanced De Anví’s way. He wore a dark waistcoat instead of his usual whites and golds—a concession he occasionally did when he didn’t care to be recognized—but his confident stride, his posture, was hard to hide.

“Why not, I’m already damned to the Void. She seeks an audience with the Witch.”

De Anví frowned. “That cannot be good.”

“Wanted to make sure the Witch is still wearing Sío.”

“Not good at all. Have you contacted her?”

“Not yet.”

“Good.”

Esparza had never been able to tell what kind of thoughts ran behind De Anví’s severe countenance—like De Guzmán, he had spent too long in court, had become too adept at making a mask out of his face—but he admired De Anví’s guts for worrying about Nereida in the face of her coldness.

But then, at least Nereida de Guzmán was alive. At least De Anví had hope.

She reminds me of Edine.

Damn De Guzmán and her attempts to assuage her guilt.

“Was that all?” De Anví asked.

“No.”

“Do I have to wring it out of you?”

“I’d hoped you’d allow me to retain some shred of professional integrity.”

“Integrity is for young lads aiming to be tabards. You and I lost ours long ago.”

Since it was well known Esparza shared this wisdom, he changed topics instead: “Do you ever wish we hadn’t found the king’s kidnappers?”

De Anví’s voice was heavy with sarcasm when he answered, “What do you think?”

“You could always murder His Majesty in his sleep and blame me.”

“I am not so far gone I wish to harm a child, tempting as it might sometimes be. Nay, someone will eventually find a way to supplant me, and the Witch won’t be able to do a thing about it.”

The thoughtful tone didn’t match his glib words. “It really worries you,” Esparza said, “De Guzmán asking to speak with the Witch.”

“It troubles me that she is back without a word. What a time to make her reappearance, right before court goes into session. What does she want of the Witch? She’s avoided her since she took over Sío. What has changed?”

Esparza didn’t answer. He had been running through the same questions since that morning.

“I will make the appointment on your behalf,” De Anví said. “Don’t go near the Witch.”

“De Guzmán won’t like it.”

“Well, she doesn’t like me anyway. What’s one more opportunity to disappoint her?”