Hallie didn’t care about Zurine’s safety. She’d made her choices, and doubtless knew the risks. Hallie did care, very much, that Rosalia could be in trouble with the Conclave if anyone connected her to the forger. Barely a few months before, Rosalia had been in an arrangement with one of the elite. Kept by him in a luxurious apartment, provided with a generous financial allowance. The arrangement had soured, with the man in question turning violent and Rosalia had been making plans to flee. Plans which had involved obtaining a fake ID. Hallie had nothing but sympathy for the position her friend had been in. The man she’d been connected with had resources enough that there was nowhere in the world that Rosalia - in her own identity - would have been safe, if she’d simply left him and he’d chosen to pursue her. In any event, someone else had killed him, so Rosalia hadn’t needed her escape plan but had agreed to see if she could get the contact information for the forger to assist Hallie.
And now Rosalia had sent Hallie the information she’d gathered. Rosalia had done so from her own phone, so her name was attached to the message. The device in Hallie’s hands was her own, not one provided by the Conclave Investigators, but a chill ran through her as she wondered if they would ever ask for her phone or just seize it. She was part of their team now, after all, and gathering information for their investigations. They had procedures in place for gathering and recording evidence. All things that Hallie had never had to worry about when she’dbeen a skip tracer. The low city police hadn’t cared too much about how the fugitives got caught, as long as the criminal was in custody. And Hallie’s employer - also her aunt - had taken the same approach. Gin had never once, in the ten years Hallie had worked for her, asked to see what was on Hallie’s phone. But Hallie couldn’t be sure the same would apply to the investigators. She was certain that even if she deleted the message, one of the forensic techs would be able to retrieve it. She’d heard of things like that happening. She could destroy the phone, but it was full of things she didn’t want to lose, and backed up to secure net storage as well - a precaution taken a long time ago after a fight with a skip had smashed Hallie’s phone.
If she’d only had Girard to consider, Hallie knew she wouldn’t be worried. If she asked Girard to keep her source a secret, he would. But he reported to Peredur Roth and while Hallie had a great deal of respect for the director, she didn’t trust him in the same way as Girard. So she hadn’t told Girard who her source was, not wanting to put him in the position of having to lie or conceal more information from the director.
Hallie’s mouth twisted as she wondered if she was over-thinking this, or making too much of the information that Rosalia had sent her. Perhaps the Conclave Investigators wouldn’t care how Hallie had got hold of the details. They would care - very much - about the information itself. Of that Hallie was quite sure.
She copied the contents from Rosalia’s message into a note on her phone so she had it as a neutral piece of writing to share if needed, and sent a thank you reply to her roommate, still wondering if she should delete the text.
While she had her phone open, another message appeared on screen that had her frowning, a different sort of unease creeping over her. The message began withYour attendance is required,then went on to list a date, time and place in low city. There was no name or sign-off, but Hallie knew the place. It was her mother’s workshop in low city. The message was almost certainly from her mother, Wilona Talbot, Magravine of the Talbot family vine, summoning Hallie as she might any member of the vine. But Hallie was no longer a member of the family vine. She had been severed, the repudiation recorded in a brief, formal legal document that was safely stowed in a bank vault in low city.
The legal document and the fact that she had signed the severance hadn’t stopped Wilona from trying to get Hallie back into the family vine not long ago - shortly before she and Girard had been sent after Findo Trask. Wilona had turned up at Hallie’s house in low city with another legal document, demanding Hallie’s return to the vine. A chill ran over Hallie’s skin at the memory. She hadn’t given in to her mother’s demands. Instead, she’d called her ancestor, Lady Cotovatre, one of the most prominent and ancient of thehochlen. Cotovatre had been the one to negotiate Hallie’s severance from the Talbot family vine and the lady had not been pleased that Wilona was trying to break their agreement. The lady had put matters into the hands of her lawyers, and from what Hallie knew, the Talbot lawyers and Cotovatre’s lawyers had been exchanging correspondence for the past two weeks but not getting far. Or, perhaps more likely, the Talbot lawyers hadn’t been able to convince their client to back down. Cotovatre was absolutely confident that Wilona’s change of heart would not stand.
Hallie stared at the blunt words on the screen, wishing Cotovatre was there. Hallie knew her mother. Knew how stubborn Wilona was. The fact she was messaging Hallie demanding her attendance meant she was not giving up. And although Hallie would back Cotovatre against Wilona, she needed her ancestor’s confidence right now. Her finger hoveredover the call button, wondering if the lady might be available. Then she caught sight of the time on her phone screen and realised she’d been sitting, thinking and worrying, for too long and she needed to move if she was going to make it to dinner on time. So she forwarded the message to Cotovatre, with a cover note:Sorry to bother you. I just received this. I think it’s from Wilona - the address is her workshop in low city. Any progress with the lawyers?
That would have to do for now. And she had a suspect to question, so she needed to focus on that and not the family drama playing in the background.
Chapter four
Afteraquickshower,Hallie came back down the shallow stairs wearing a pair of the soft slippers that most of the women wore all day around the city, wide-legged navy trousers, and a hip-length white tunic top with a single pocket at the front. The clothes, like the ones she’d worn earlier, were of better quality than she was used to, but when Hallie had been assigned to travel to the Lucien Islands and beyond, Cotovatre had insisted on gifting Hallie some clothing that the lady claimed she no longer wore. Hallie hadn’t been able to find a gracious way to refuse, and had been deeply grateful for her ancestor’s kindness over the past weeks. The extra clothes had allowed Hallie to blend in and move more comfortably in the stifling heat.
Although she was dressed in soft house clothes, Hallie had hesitated in her room before reluctantly adding a belt under the tunic to carry her flexi-cuffs and the weapon she’d been issued. Kasmo and Oreste would have kept an eye on Manjuand would have reported any escape attempts. As no alarms had been raised, Hallie assumed Manju was content to stay here for the moment and didn’t think he was going to require restraints again. But she was still working and she was trying to get used to carrying the weapon. She’d moved the holster and cuffs to the small of her back for comfort and ease of movement. She supposed she should find it strange that she was far more uncomfortable carrying a weapon than the magical artefact currently tucked into one of the trouser pockets. Thezauberlooked like a jewelled egg but was an ancient and complex work of magic that had chosen Hallie as its bearer. Despite having no voice or face to express itself, the artefact had made known that it did not like being left behind and so Hallie had taken to carrying it at all times, and it had simply become part of her wardrobe, unlike the gun. Girard carried his weapon with the same natural ease that she wore her normal work clothes, and one day, perhaps, she’d get to that point. For now, though, she was aware of the weight of the gun as she reached the ground floor.
Kasmo stepped out of the shadows and put her hand on her heart. Hallie had given up trying to reassure the young woman that no such courtesy was needed.
“Oreste has shown your guest to the dining room. Food will be served shortly,” the woman said.
“Thank you,” Hallie said and headed for the dining room, aware of the sound of her feet against the tiled floor even as Kasmo drifted away in silence. Hallie always felt large and clumsy next to the slender, delicate woman. It was not Kasmo’s fault, but Hallie had wondered once or twice if the other woman might give her lessons in how to move so gracefully and silently.
She paused in the doorway to the dining room, realising that Oreste hadn’t just shown Manju into the room but had stayedwith him, perhaps to make sure their guest didn’t make a run for it.
The dining room was Hallie’s favourite of the house. It was a large rectangle, with a low, highly polished wooden table in the middle surrounded by floor cushions. The walls were painted with fantastical murals of plants and birds in vivid colours so that after dark it felt like sitting in the midst of an exotic zoo. The whole effect was enhanced by the small water feature at one end of the room and the air that was scented with tantalising trails of Kasmo’s cooking that had made their way through the house. In what Hallie still thought of as an odd choice, the doors to the room were set at either end of the long wall, but it did mean that no one sitting at the table had to have their back to a doorway.
Manju, dressed in the same clothes as he’d been wearing earlier, was standing by the table. Oreste was a few paces away, watching Manju closely.
“Dear lady, you look delightful this evening,” Manju said, putting his hand on his heart and bowing slightly.
“Thank you,” Hallie said. She was never quite sure what to say when people paid her compliments. She looked at Oreste, trying to think of a polite way to dismiss him. “Thank you, Oreste.”
“Of course,” he answered, and left the room on silent feet. Perhaps he and Kasmo had had the same training in how to move soundlessly.
“Please sit. We’ll be eating soon,” Hallie said, and took a place on the closest side of the table, which meant Manju would need to sit on the other side, farthest from the doors.
He took his place without complaint, settling on the heavy floor cushions and looking around with a smile. “This is a truly beautiful home.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Hallie agreed. She gestured to the pitchers of fruit juice and water already on the table. “Please, help yourself.”
“No wine?” Manju asked, mischief back in his face.
It was a trick question, Hallie knew. Almost no one in Minamaan drank alcohol. It seemed both a religion and a custom.
She was spared the need to respond by Girard’s arrival. He looked much better. There was still a bruise and some swelling on his head, but there was more colour back in his face. He’d also changed out of his blood-stained clothes into wide-legged dark trousers and one of his normal t-shirts. Hallie spotted his own gun and flexi-cuffs at his belt as he settled on the cushions near her and was glad she’d thought to bring her own. It was clearly a work event.
No sooner had Girard taken his place than both Kasmo and Oreste came into the room carrying trays of food. The smoky scents curled into Hallie’s nose and her stomach growled. It didn’t seem all that long since she’d had the snacks Kasmo had prepared earlier and yet she was starving again.
“Grilled vegetable skewers, with spiced lamb and fragrant couscous,” Kasmo said, as she and Oreste added the bowls to the table. “A simple meal, but I hope you enjoy it.” Kasmo seemed unwontedly humble about her cooking. She presented most meals with the description of them being simple.
“It smells wonderful, thank you,” Hallie said. Manju and Girard echoed her comments and Kasmo and Oreste left the room, closing the doors behind them.
