The word “job” cut through Cole’s haze like a blade, and his head snapped up. “What job?”
“Working for Frederick Yarden.”
Sir Fenris’s father. Cole chased the crumb. “What did he ask you to do?”
“Look the other way. I was in…the Tsaftown army. He stationed m-m-me near the…the docks so I wouldn’t r-report anything…suspicious.”
At last, a glimmer of progress. “But you saw something? And they framed you?”
Crispen chuckled. “I-I saw plenty…but that job…it has no connection to wh-why I’m here. If I tell you about that…I’m dead.”
The words rubbed against each other and didn’t fit. “So you’re innocent?”
Crispen stared for so long, Cole thought he might not answer. But then he nodded once. A confession.
The air left Cole’s lungs. Innocent. All these years, Cole had been so sure his father was a deserter, a coward, the kind of man who ran off without looking back. But this—this was something else. A man rotting in chains for someone else’s crime.
“Then I’ll figure it out,” Cole said, his voice raw. “And I’ll get you out. You’ve got a lot of years to make up for.”
“Coley, m-m-my boy. It’s too dangerous.”
Dangerous? Cole almost laughed. What did danger matter when his father’s whole life had been stolen? “I need to know about the missing,” Cole said, fighting to steady his voice. “And Thusk.”
“And I-I need you to…stay alive.”
Cole bit down on the swell in his throat. Stay alive. The kind of thing a father said. Meaningless coming from Crispen, yet the words sank deep. “Arman will keep me alive. Help me, or I’ll figure it out myself. That means taking Mistel to Thusk’s warehouse so we can?—”
“All r-right.” Crispen bounced one knee, rattling the chains around his ankles. “Years ago…the Thusk brothers befriended a-a Barthian noble…He had them spy on…Lord Livna, Lord Orson, Lord G-Gershom, Duke Amal, Lord Yarden. Passed information south. It’s how they g-got into…smuggling. Wh-when they tried to…break free…he threatened to-to go to the king.”
Cole’s stomach turned. So this was what had stolen his father away and put him in chains all these years. “Who’s the Barthian?” he asked.
“Name’s Falkson…Dovev Falkson. Son of the Duke of Barth. Far as I know…he’s still…pulling their strings today.”
“I knew Falkson was dirty, I did,” Kurtz said. “He should be on Ice Island with Duke Hamartano, eh? He tried to sacrifice Achan to Barthos, yet he’s still free, in charge, and on the Council of Six.”
“How?” Cole asked.
The four sat at a corner table in the Ivory Spit, bellies full after their harrowing concert on Ice Island and Cole’s life-changing conversation with his…father. He shoved the thought away and scribbled Falkson’s name on a piece of parchment.
“Same tricks he’s using on the Thusk brothers,” Kurtz said. “Blackmail.”
“He’s blackmailing the king?” Cole couldn’t believe it. “Achan would never allow that.”
“Oh, the king’s furious, he is.” Kurtz absentmindedly swirled the ale in his mug. “Put a warrant out for Falkson, but when he sent Inko to arrest him and take over, the Barthians captured Inko and refused to give up the duke. With assassination attempts and Jaelport to handle, the king made a deal. Falkson stays as lord, but Inko serves as a land warden.”
“He got his man inside,” Zanna said. “It’s a start.”
Kurtz hummed. “That’s how he sees it, but Falkson’s his enemy. And I know he was involved in King Axel’s murder. I just can’t prove it.”
Cole steered the conversation back. “So, what did we learn? We already knew Thusk was dirty.”
“But now we can link him to Falkson,” Kurtz said, “which gives us reason to investigate.”
Cole drew a line on the parchment from Falkson’s name and wrote Thusk. “But we still don’t know their motives. Or why people are disappearing from Ice Island.”
“Their goal is money,” Kurtz said. “Smuggling and getting rich without paying taxes.”
“Agreed,” Zanna said. “And they must be sneaking prisoners out through that tunnel.”
