Page 31 of Kingdom of Dance

“I’m sure its owners thought so, too,” she said dryly.

“Former owners,” he corrected her, tipping out the contents of the pouch and carefully inspecting them.

Zinnia barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “It’s the usual amount.” She hesitated at the doorway. “If you hear anything further about this Fernedellian enchanter…” She shook her head, cutting off her own train of thought. It was too risky to give this man any way to contact her. “Well, I’ll be back sooner next time, and I’ll pay extra for anything definite as to his whereabouts.”

The man looked up from the gold, his eyes keen. “When will you be back, precisely?”

Zinnia gave him a look. “Nice try.”

She would never be so foolish as to give him definite information about when to expect her, and allow him to organize for her to be followed, or worse. She tried to keep her movements in this secret life of hers as unpredictable as possible.

Pulling her cloak tightly around her once again, she slipped out the door, her eyes darting up and down the street. She thought she heard something above her and glanced sharply up. A mangy cat leaped from the roof of the building, landing in a rubbish heap below and hissing at her before running away on light feet.

Her mind churning over, Zinnia made her way quickly to a less seedy part of town. There were still taverns dotted around, but the laughter wasn’t as raucous, and a few people were still wandering the streets on respectable business. Zinnia hovered for a moment outside the area’s largest tavern, not eager to go inside. She would be too conspicuous, no matter how she tried to hide behind her cloak. She’d been careless in letting it fall open when passing that tawdry tavern, and the men outside had instantly recognized her as a woman.

As she hovered, undecided, a serving boy emerged from the doorway, carrying a bucket of scraps. She pounced on her opportunity.

“Excuse me,” she said, staying in the shadows and keeping her hood lowered. Her attempt to deepen her voice was feeble, and the boy’s expression was suspicious as he looked up.

“What is it?”

“I’m looking for Alonse. Is he here tonight?”

The boy scoffed. “He’s always here, isn’t he?” He jerked his head. “Right inside.”

Zinnia shook her head. “Can you send him out here?”

“Why would he come? Who’s asking for him?”

“Just tell him someone needs his help. He’ll come.”

The boy sighed, shaking his head disapprovingly and muttering about soft hearts and the trouble that followed. He clearly thought Zinnia was right in her assessment, and events quickly proved it. A minute later, a wiry white-haired man emerged from the tavern, glancing curiously around.

“Evening, Alonse,” said Zinnia cheerfully. She had her hood pulled over her face, but she made no attempt to disguise her voice this time.

He clucked his tongue, blinking a few times to clear his ale-fogged mind. “It’s far later than evening, my child, and you shouldn’t be about. There are all sorts of folks out.”

“If I run into trouble, you’ll pull me out of it,” said Zinnia cheekily.

He shook his head, but his smile was indulgent. For all his flaws, Alonse had a good heart. He’d proved that when he rescued her from her own foolishness on one of her first—poorly thought through—expeditions into the city. Dragon’s flame, she’d been lucky on that occasion. She shuddered internally at the memory of how close that had been to disaster. It was no exaggeration to say that Alonse had saved her life.

And the old man had held a soft spot for her ever since. This wasn’t the first time she’d made use of his offer to seek him out if she needed anything. He was an incredibly canny person. She was fairly sure he didn’t know who she was, but putting aside that exception, he had an absolute genius for people. He knew everyone, and everyone knew him. If he wasn’t so addicted to drink that he couldn’t keep a coin between his fingers for more than a minute, she’d probably try to find a position for him in the castle, to keep his valuable insights close by. Of course, that would involve revealing her identity, which would be a very bad idea.

In any event, if an escaped inmate from the magic prison was poking around Tola asking questions, Alonse would know about it.

“I’ve heard a rumor, Alonse,” she said, getting straight to the point. “Is one of the fugitives from Fernedell on the loose in the city?”

Alonse paled visibly in the light spilling out of the tavern. “Don’t go looking for him, lass. An enchanteranda criminal? He’s trouble of a kind you don’t want.”

“I don’t want to speak to the fugitive,” she assured him. “I just want to know who he’s been speaking to.”

Alonse ran a hand over his sparse white beard, looking only minimally relieved. “I heard he was directed to that woodworker, over near the city wall.”

Zinnia kept her face impassive, not wanting to let on that she’d seen the woodworker herself. She liked Alonse, but she didn’t intend to reveal to him who her own sources were.

“I also heard,” Alonse said thoughtfully, “that he was looking for any disgruntled enchanters, maybe the type not allowed into the guild.”

“And?” Zinnia pressed, her heart thumping wildly.

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