Page 83 of The Lost Reliquary

“Okay.” Guilt wriggles in the pit of my stomach. “Good luck with that. Let me know if you need an Executrix. I know someone back at the Dawn Cloister who’d be interested in the job.”

Despite it all, he laughs. I can feel the echo of it in his ribs, reverberating against my guilt. I grit my teeth and straighten, not wanting to hear it.

We ride a bit more before he speaks again.

“I really am sorry about Mortimer.”

“Me too.”

“Really,” he presses. “I…”

“A horse,” I interject. “That’s all it was.”

“Not to you.”

I swallow. “Thank you for helping me cremate him.”

“Please don’t tell anyone we did that.”

“Sorry. I added it on my snitch list already.”

“Of course you did.”

Cyprene’s early risers are stirring by the time we make our way back. We keep a sharp eye out for Caerula as we navigate the streets. Or Nolan does. Fatigue—and probably the side effects of the balm—plays tricks on me. My vision swims, then sharpens, then creates impossible tableaux. I see Innara in a young woman bent over a fountain. Mortimer in the horse drawing a cart of water barrels. Even Avery, a hurried figure ducking into a doorway. Phantoms all, raised by… what? Guilt? Frustration? The narcotic effects of the divine? I can only hope it passes soon; I won’t be much good against an enemy if I’m not sure they are even there. The Caerula may not have seen our faces, but they might recognize the cloak I’m wrapped in, which is still less conspicuous than clothing drenched in blood. Nolan, mostly unspoiled, discarded his cloak. The question now remains whether they know where we’re staying.

The answer is clear the moment we get close enough to see the Petrel, from the vantage of a nearby alley. Half a dozen Caerula linger outside it, and judging by the number of horses, there are more inside.

I curse. Probably a bit more than necessary, but I was really hoping to lie down in bed, even briefly. “Now what?”

“I’m not sure.” Nolan watches the gathering. “We could try to find somewhere else to hole up.”

“Or,” says a voice from just beyond the alley opening. “You could simply wait until they’ve gone.”

I peek around the wall, already recognizing the speaker: Rion. I’m not seeing things; Nolan’s reaction confirms he’s actually there. The two of us must be really exhausted to have missed him. Rion leans against the building, book under one arm, mug of coffee in hand, appearing quite put out.

“They were making the common room unbearable.” He doesn’t turn our way as he speaks, giving away nothing. “Exciting night, was it?”

I snort, keeping to the shadows. “Not the word I’d use.”

“I’d ask what you did to fall afoul of them,” Rion says, “but plenty of folks manage the same, and besides, it’s none of my business.”

Nolan shifts nervously, and I realize it’s intentional, that he’s slipped back into his merchant character. “It wasn’t so much us as agentleman we’d become acquainted with,” he lies smoothly. “Seems like the Caerula had reached the end of their patience with him.”

“Ah. Theendend?”

“Unfortunately.” Nolan waits a respectful beat. “We can’t stay here. If they are searching the Petrel, they must have been told we’re staying here.”

“They’re searchingallthe guesthouses.” Rion calmly sips his coffee. “Been working their way through them for hours, after two recently arrived strangers. There was a pair like that, but they returned sometime late last night, hastily packed before sneaking out, leaving their bill unpaid to boot. At least, that’s what Hiram told them.”

I’m amazed I still have the energy to be surprised. “And why would he do that?”

Rion gives an amused snort. “Ramiro and the Caerula have as many enemies as friends in this city. Most of the time they aren’t smart enough to realize which it is they’re talking to. Oh, sure, they’ll make a show of interrogating folks, but by now they think you took the first boat out on the morning tide.” He straightens. “Ah, here we are. Good riddance, you bothersome bastards.”

I relax a little as Caerula appear from out of the Petrel. Even more so when they ride off, disappearing into the web of streets. Only then do we file out of the alley.

Rion takes us in. “An exciting night indeed. Are you injured?”

“It looks worse than it is.” Only half a lie. Thanks to the salve, my shoulder will heal even faster than normal, though every movement brings a stab of pain. “Nothing some rest won’t take care of.”