Once in, I lit a candle and held it aloft.
Somehow, I’d expected the Employer’s office to be more impressive, something worthy of such a secretive man. The study smelled faintly of leather and lavender. Bookshelves lined the far wall, their spines gleaming faintly in the low light that the candle was throwing off. There were several filing cabinets, a desk, an armchair, and only a few sparse pieces of dusty furniture that looked like they’d rarely, if ever, been used.
I frowned.
What was going on? The bounties were being paid, so the Employer had to be real. The money came from somewhere. Did The Employer ever come to the safehouse? More likely they were simply at a different location and relayed information via letters. I nodded to myself, satisfied. The Syndicate had more than one safehouse sprinkled throughout other countries. The Employer likely had to visit many. He didn’t need to only stay here.
I pushed the matter from my mind. I wasn’t here to hypothesize about the comings and goings of whoever coordinated and paid most of the bounties. I was here for information, and most fortunately, Ambrose’s meticulous nature had spilled into this room as well. All filing cabinets were clearly labeled and well organized.
I pulled open the R cabinet. Files for Rathbone, Renshaw, and Revenge were among them. I silently chuckled as I looked at the fat Revenge file and skimmed past it. Apparently, both the Employer and I shared the same deep-seated desire. Now, where was Roderick? There was Rook & Rook Shipping, Rosehaven Hall…
“Come on, where are you, Roderick?” I whispered.
I looked through all the R files until I finally concluded he wasn’t listed there, so I closed it and squatted down to open the cabinet labeled V. I ran my fingers along the folders there—Vaden, Vaire, Vellum Imports—until they settled on Vane.
A shiver of eager anticipation shuddered down my spine and my palms grew slightly sweaty. I eased the heavy file out of the cabinet and cracked it open on my lap, holding the candle close enough to illuminate the words scrawled across each page but not so close that wax would drip onto the letters.
My eyes scanned side to side as I instantly committed each sentence to memory. When I closed my eyes, I needed to recall every detail exactly as it was, from the slant of the ink to the spacing between words. I’d never been so thankful for my ability to perfectly recall everything I’d ever seen or read.
There was a great deal of information about Roderick Vane’s early teenage years as he applied to the Nightsworn but then devolved into criminal activity after his application was rejected. I skimmed over records of his many drug dealings and several more pages about his involvement with the slave trade, ship manifests and dates he had been seen at various ports andtaverns, including one occurrence seven months ago when he’d drawn up a contract with one Captain Tyrone Renshaw for three shipments of “porridge.”
Porridge? Who cared about porridge? It must’ve been a code word. I scoured the parchment for any mention of slave trade, but it seemed that each possible lead had a dead end. Several of the contacts listed were men or women that I’d personally brought in to collect bounties on or knew had been brought in. One note stated that many slave trade records had been lost several years prior, and that the drug smuggling industry had been dwindling in the most recent year because of Haven Harbor’s and Berkway’s princes cracking down on criminal activity.
I flipped the page over and held the candle a little closer, squinting at the page. Where was he? Even if the records had been lost, Roderick would know what had happened to my sister.
Nora’s face burst clearly into my mind’s eye. She must be in her early thirties now. Would I even recognize her if I saw her? Did she remember me?
Ambrose gave another snore and I hurriedly thumbed to the back of the file, where the most recent sightings and records were kept. The most recent entry was from two months prior, when Roderick had been sighted here in Avalon, Berkway’s capital. He’d been seen accompanied by an unknown young man with red hair wearing all green. At the very back of the file, a faded slip of parchment had been tucked in, its ink almost completely rubbed away.
Additional intelligence available
upon request. Ask Employer.
I stared at that line.
So the Employer had inside knowledge. He must have a personal interest in this case, unless all the other restricted files had similar notes. If only I had time to examine them all.
I read the entire file again, slower still, until the pages etched themselves into my mind like they’d been carved into stone. Eventually, a bead of hot wax scalded a bit of my finger, and I instinctively flinched. The candle had burned down more than expected; I must’ve lost track of time. I chanced a glance out the window and saw the inky blackness fading to a smooth, velvety blue. The early pinks and oranges of sunrise would come soon; I was out of time.
I gave one last look, then, a little regretfully, replaced the file exactly as I’d found it. I could see the pages perfectly in my mind, down to the way the corner of one sheet had been folded. Before leaving, I crossed to the window on the far side of the room and withdrew the pomegranate’s rind.
With a slight smirk, I plucked two of the remaining seed pods free and let them fall to the floor near the window. They landed with a barely audible sound against the rug, then I dug my nail into one of the pods so the dark juice stained my fingertips, which I brushed against the windowsill and along the desk.
There. That ought to be enough incriminating evidence.
I unlatched the window and slid it open as silently as possible, then heaved myself through to the open air beyond. As tempting as it was to leave immediately, I wasn’t done yet. I kept to the shadows and tiptoed back around to retrieve my jacket and shoes from where they’d fallen into the compost heap. My boots were half covered in something slimy, but I gritted my teeth together and held my breath as I pulled them on.
I went back to the window and made sure to leave footprints walking toward the Serenade Inn, where Elvin liked to stay,before hopping a fence, stripping my boots off, and backtracking toward my own pathetic lodgings.
A crisp breeze sent a waft of my jacket’s smell up to me and I grimaced. I would need to burn the jacket and boots, then, once I had a few hours’ sleep, I would purchase new boots from the cobbler.
I came to the old inn I enjoyed frequenting and crept up to my room to find the embers of last night’s fire still waiting for me in the hearth. I tossed the jacket and boots into the fireplace and stoked the embers, waiting for the jacket and boots to light.
Once they did, they filled the room with a foul, overripe scent that scorched my nostrils so I ran to open a window and vent the stench before it attracted the innkeeper’s attention. As the final bits of the jacket curled to ash, I added another log to the fire and stripped to bathe, pulling off my shirt and unwinding the long swathe of fabric from around my chest.
The bath was a short, efficient one, but even that short amount of time was enough to make me feel uncomfortably vulnerable. Even if a situation arose in which I wanted to look like the woman I really was, it was too risky. I hurriedly re-wrapped my chest and dressed in clean clothes so I could drop into bed, sighing with relief as my familiar disguise wrapped me in security that nothing else could bring.
I turned over in bed and punched my pillow to flatten out some of the lumps and frowned at the sky as it faded into lighter, warmer colors. Roderick’s file hadn’t been as helpful as I’d hoped for, but just before I fell asleep, one bit of information kept coming back to me.
