The Eyes of a Doll (The World of Shijuren Book 2) (8 page)

“I don’t want to fuckin’ let Ylli know what I fuckin’ know.”

“Boss, why are we even telling this fucker anything? Might as well tell the fuckin’ Emperor for all the good it’ll do.”

Gibroz looked to Markov.

“Fuckin’ fool, because how the fuck else is he supposed to help?”

“You could just fuckin’ send him to Lezh and let him muddle around.”

“Yeah, I fuckin’ could, but I don’t fuckin’ want to wait that long.”

Gibroz looked to me.

“You hear that? I’m not fuckin’ patient. Ylli has fuckin’ killed one of my boys and I’m not fuckin’ letting that fuckin’ go.”

I nodded my understanding of that, got up, and exchanged pleasant smiles with Gabrijela as I took the scrolls. As I turned around, I knocked my shoes with Markov’s feet in them off the table.

“They’re good fuckin’ shoes. You don’t put good fuckin’ shoes on a table.”

Markov flushed and started to rise, but settled back down when he realized everyone else was laughing.

“Watch your fuckin’ back, Sevener. I’ll be happy to toss you in the lake when the time comes.”

“Get in line behind Andreyev. He claimed that right a month ago.”

Another round of laughs echoed as I left.

Svetislav’s barracks sat only a few streets away from Gibroz’s office, so it took only a few moments to reach them. Somehow, though, the light became so much brighter as I walked out of the Stracara.

The Lakewarden docks were at the north end of the harbor area, carved from the cliffs that rose from Achrida’s beach. A small path ran up to a gate where two Lakewardens stood guard.

They tensed as I approached.

“My name is Edward.”

“We know who you are.”

“Have we met?”

“No, but every Lakewarden knows who you are.”

I waited, but they did not move. “Are we just going to stand here, or are you going to get Svetislav for me?”

“The protokarabos is busy.”

“I’m sure. So am I, and I think he’ll be wanting to hear what I have to say.”

They snorted.

“I doubt that, Sevener,” one spat.

“You’re not welcome around here,” growled the other.

“Did Svetislav tell you that?”

They looked uncertain.

“Ah. Did Vesela say I was not to be allowed?”

They shook their heads.

“Did any of the, what do you call them, the bow officers, give you orders to stop me?”

“Any proreus?”

“Uh, no,” muttered the first guard.

“Nobody specifically ordered you to turn me away?”

They looked at each other.

“Uh, no,” repeated the other.

“But you still should leave now.” This guard spoke in a growl about as intimidating as a puppy rolling around in a field of daisies on a sunny day and barking at the darting bees.

I looked at him for a long while. They looked at their feet.

“Your old zupan, Pal, sent a score of men to kill me. They killed my closest friend in this wretched city instead. Truth to tell, there’s only one of you damned Enchelei I want to see and that’s Svetislav. Now, will you please go get your protokarabos before I get angry and break your spears over your heads?”

The one who had growled nodded hastily and went up the pathway into Lakewarden docks. I turned to watch the sun shining off the deep blue of the lake. I turned back when I heard Svetislav’s voice.

“Sevener.”

“Svetislav.”

We let memories keep us for a moment.

“I haven’t seen you at the Faerie.”

He grunted.

“Been busy here, I suspect?”

He shrugged in agreement.

“You should give these two orders about me. Give them the spine to actually turn me away.”

They looked down again.

“They got the right orders,” Sebastijan muttered.

I sighed with deep relief at that. We stepped up the path, away from the guards, to talk privately.

“You know I’m in the middle of something new.”

He smiled. “Amazing.”

“To me as well.”

He waited.

“Honker and his family might be threatened. Especially his youngest daughter.”

He sharpened his attention.

“They went to the springs you showed me out on the lake that one day and Ludmilja found a body.”

He shook his head with a hard smile.

“And she left her doll to watch the body. Honker didn’t know why, but he knew that she wanted her doll so he sent me to find it.”

“A doll.”

“Don’t you start.”

His smile did not waver.

“I just need to know something. Has Vesela has given you any special reason to watch the Lezhans?”

He shook his head.

“Heard anything else that might make you pay more attention to Lezhans?”

He shook his head again. “Don’t see them much.”

“You don’t see them much because most of the trade on the lake is controlled by Gibroz, who actively prevents Lezhans from interfering in his bailiwick?”

He nodded.

“I expected as much. I just spoke to Gibroz, but I don’t trust him. Just confirming things.”

He nodded and waited. I finally sighed.

“I’d do it again. I could not protect Pal without breaking my oath to Ragnar.”

This time it was Svetislav who looked out to the lake to collect his thoughts. Eventually he turned to me.

“I asked you to not apologize a week ago. That’s enough.”

I sighed and nodded. “How are the Gropa doing?”

He chuckled harshly but, as usual, said nothing.

“Let me guess. Vesela’s gathering what power she can. Jeremena’s clutching her beloved money-making institutions to her heartless breast. Zacharia is gathering info, but not sure who to give it to. Andrija is wandering around, clueless, not at all understanding what happened. Davorin is trying to manipulate Vesela, knowing it’s his one shot at getting control of the Enchelei. He knows he can’t control Agata, who is biding her time.”

He laughed louder and fuller than I had ever heard him laugh before.

“You know us too well, Sevener.”

I sighed and nodded. We both turned and stared at the lake with the afternoon sun at our backs.

“Whatever is happening with this body, it’s not the Gropa. You’re all just holding what you can and recovering.”

“That’s the right of it, Sevener.”

Svetislav was feeling loquacious. I had expected a sharp nod.

“See you at the Faerie?”

He shrugged. “Soon.”

I sat at my table facing a huge brute of a lamb shank, spiced with that same red spice Zoe put in her gulyas. It was so big I was not even sure how to eat it, much less recover from the spice.

There were honeyed turnips in a bowl as well. At least I knew I would like the turnips, a statement that would make my mother cover her mouth in shock.

“What is to be holdin’ you up, Sevener, ‘tis bein’ a fine lamb that is to be sittin’ in front of you and yer to be knowin’ that Zoe is to be cookin’ it right. Could it be bein’ that there paprika? Are you to be bein’ feared to be eatin’ it?”

I glared at Ragnar as he rattled all this off in the small moment it took for him to bustle past my table carrying mugs and plates.

No help for it. I started cutting off pieces small enough for me to handle. Soon my fingers and hands were soaked in the spicy juices, for despite the pain of the spice Zoe’s cooking was, as always, delicious.

With no shame I hung my tongue out from the heat. Karah’s scorn was a welcome price to pay for the relief a mug of cold lakewater provided.

When I had eaten my fill I looked desperately my plate. Most of the haunch sat there, taunting me. Suddenly Zoe stood before me.

“My cooking not good enough for you that you leave that much?”

My eyes opened in horror at the thought of eating anything more, even if it had been spiced solely with salt or ginger or dill.

Before I could say anything I realized that the entire crowd at the Frank Faerie was waiting for my response with mirthful smirks, and I laughed.

“You know better, you damned witch.”

She laughed.

“Watch your language dear, some of us here are innocent creatures.”

I gave her a dry look and we both laughed.

“You gave me everything that was left, didn’t you? Oh, you’re evil.”

I could not hear her prim laughter over that of all the patrons. I soothed my tongue, and my feelings, with more of the cool lakewater.

“I’ll just be takin’ this so as you can be havin’ it for tomorrow and you’ll just be lovin’…”

“I have to finish the rest tomorrow?”

At my horrified interruption of Ragnar, everyone burst into laughter again.

“No lad, we’ll just be bein’ usin’ that there wee piece of meat as but a small part of what’s to be served for everyone’s dinner tomorrow. You’ll be enjoyin’ it I’m to be sure, and you’ll be makin’ sure to finish it all so that me Zoe isn’t to be saddened, for I’m sure to be thinkin’ yer not to be wishin’ that…”

I shook my head, losing track of what he was saying as he walked away.

Soon the Faerie turned its interest to tonight’s scop, a small dark-haired woman with deep eyes and a husky, twisting voice that beckoned each ear irresistibly. After a while, I wrenched my attention to the scrolls that Gibroz had given me.

Gabrijela wrote as quietly and calmly as she stood by Gibroz’s desk. Periodically, I got distracted wondering why a woman with such calm eyes would work for such a man.

I read through each scroll several times, looking and looking again as Bedarth would have insisted, but after a while both swarmed into collections of unfamiliar names and places.

Unfortunately, Gabrijela’s style excluded many details about Lezh that I needed to properly evaluate the potential opportunities listed in the scrolls. I simply did not have the context to decide if I wanted to approach Behar or Besnik, which of the three Palis or two Pavlis might be more useful, or what other name I should note.

I needed fresh eyes, preferably some that knew more than I did, and to my fortune a likely pair walked in just after the sun had set.

“Good timing, Sebastijan.”

“Yes?”

“Gibroz asked me for help and thinks the information on these scrolls are the tools I need.”

“Gibroz asked you for help?”

I nodded

Sebastijan shook his head. “I don’t know how you do it, Sevener.”

“Do what?”

“Get everyone to trust you so quickly. Gibroz doesn’t trust me, and he’s basically known me since I threw my first dagger into the front door.”

“Are you trustworthy?”

He laughed. “Maybe not, at least not for him. He knows I won’t do many things.”

“He should know I won’t do many of the same.”

“I’m sure he does, but he’s got people to do that and everything else I can do. Not as well, of course.”

“Of course.”

“I’m lying, actually. I know exactly how you do it. And you should too if you think about it.”

I took his advice and thought it over for a while.

“I’m not Dassaretae. I’m not Enchelei. I’m not anything. You all ignore us outsiders. I can do things and no one will take any great notice. If I’m killed involving myself in the business of zupans or kraljevics no one will care, but by the same token, if I kill someone I’m still not upsetting any of your city’s precious balance.”

“Got it in one, Sevener. Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Ragnar and his family will care. Piri too. Even Svetislav.”

“You?”

He laughed.

“Me too. Now let me look at these scrolls of Gibroz.”

As he studied them, I sat back and listened to the scop. With a shock I realized she was singing a song about One Eye’s halls.

“Valhalla is ever receiving

As her sons are forever at war

But her gates are not barred, as you may have been told,

To the women and children worth fighting for.”

The song made me remember my sister’s training. She never fought in the shieldwall while I lived in Middlemarch, but she could have had she not had other duties. I wondered what it would be like to be drinking at a mead bench with her in Valhalla. Piri I could easily imagine, but my little sister? And yet, had she not sworn her oaths to a lord and kept them?

Suddenly homesick, I longed for mead, but Ragnar had told me almost at the very first moment I had met him he had no skill with mead.

“Hmmm.”

I shook my head and turned my attention back to Sebastijan.

“We need to talk to my brother and Zvono.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Kapric won’t like that.”

“I know. But I’ve promised to help you, and I can’t let his feelings stop me from doing my work.”

“Then we go down to their offices tomorrow?”

He laughed. “No, I don’t think it’s particularly healthy for me to visit there. Too many people in that building misunderstand me.”

I raised my eyebrows.

He smiled. “Remember, I have an interesting profession.”

“Of course. In that case, I’ll have to ask them to come here.”

“That would be good. Better yet, send Ragnar’s boy. They’ll be more likely to come.”

“If Ragnar and Zoe allow it and he’s willing.”

“He’s willing. He’d do just about anything for you.”

“I guess he might, at that.”

I waved Ragnar over. Not surprisingly, he scowled when I mentioned Kapric and Zvono, but he allowed that sending Eirik might be best. Eirik, who looked up to me far more than was healthy, quickly agreed.

“After your chores,” I said. “I don’t want Deor to be miscared for.” I could barely say that with a straight face after all Eirik’s spoiling of my friend.

“Oh, I’d never… I mean, I’ll make sure Deor’s taken care of.”

“And the other horses? And everything else?”

He nodded vigorously.

“Absolutely, milord.”

“Milord?”

“Uh… Edward.”

“Thank you, Eirik.”

“Oh, you’re welcome.”

Cheerily he went off to the hidden smiles of everyone around.