Page 37 of The Study of Poisons
“You what?”
“Keys. Now. You’re no longer my housekeeper.” Ambrose was too paranoid to keep any sensitive information where Margg could find it. Or anyone. A valuable lesson Valek should have learned. He’d become way too complacent these last ten years.
“Fine.” She pulled out her keys. An impressive amount. Margg threaded two from the ring and gave them to him. “When you’re sick of living in your own filth, don’t come crawling to me.” With that she spun on her heels and left his office.
* * *
Valek spentthe rest of the day getting ready for the fire festival. After a brief meeting with Hildred and Inrick, Yelena’s shadows, and another with Kenda regarding assigning two more corps to Yelena’s detail for that evening, he worked on his disguise.
This time he used putty to soften his angular features and to add wrinkles, aging his face by ten years. Covering his skin and the putty with makeup, he then rubbed some soft wax into his hair, giving it a slightly wild look. The beauty of the wax was he could smooth his hair or make it messier, depending on the circumstances.
Of his collection of uniforms, he chose the simple blue tunic and pants that farmers wore. Officially Castletown and the Commander’s castle were in MD-6, General Hazal’s district, but the residents of both wore the Commander’s color of red and black. The farmers who worked the fields around the city wore Hazal’s colors of blue and black.
Valek tucked various weapons into his clothing. Everything needed to be hidden or he’d draw attention. Pity he couldn’t take his new cloud-kissed blade, but the switchblade strapped to his thigh would do in a pinch—the right pocket of every single pair of pants he owned had a hole big enough for him to draw the weapon. Finally, he clipped a leather pouch and his pewter mug onto his belt to help with his farmer cover. The pouch was supposedly to carry his purchases, and the mug to taste all the ales for sale.
A low-level anxiety simmered in his chest. Another unfamiliar experience. Valek had complete confidence in his team of shadows and in himself to keep Yelena safe, but she was the wild card. Young and inexperienced in this type of work, her reactions and body language tonight could warn off those who sought to harm her. Not that he wished her harm, but he needed to discover who was after her, and why.
Satisfied with his disguise, he left the castle complex through the west gate. The thick air still held the day’s heat, but the cloudless sky promised for a cool night. A wash of pink and indigo colored the western horizon and transformed the sun into a bloated blood orange.
He spotted the bright flags flying above the massive pavilions that had been erected earlier in the day. Streaked with candy colors, the dozen canvas tents hosted the main attractions, while their smaller cousins held various competitions and displayed award-winning crafts. Market stands, food vendors, and entertainers were scattered everywhere, wedged into every space between tents.
Valek marveled that the festival workers had set it all up in a day. A few people rushed from tent to tent, attending to last minute details. Sunset marked the official opening, but he’d wanted to scope it out before dark and before Yelena arrived.
As he wove through the festival, Valek noted hiding spots, narrow gaps, and hidden entrances to the pavilions. On his second circuit, he created a mental map. The layout remained basically the same each year. Only the denizens changed. Attendees arrived as the sun sank and the festival workers lit the torches lining the walkways. The aroma of cooked beef, fried vegetables, and baked goods laced the cooling air. Valek’s stomach grumbled in response.
On his last loop, Valek stopped at a stand selling kitchen wares. Sure enough, Sven crouched under the table, sorting through a box.
When he straightened, he smiled. “Did you come to steal another dagger?”
“It’s not stealing whenI’mfunding the operation. Speaking of which, don’t tell me you’re selling black market goods at the festival?”
“Selling? No. Taking orders for goods delivered later? Yes.”
“Enough to cover the cost of the stand fee?”
“Oh, yes. This is the most profitable time of the year.” He swept a hand out, indicating the thickening crowd. “People are having fun, they’re drinking, they’re splurging on luxury items, and souvenirs.”
“Souvenirs?”
Sven picked up a short and wide tumbler and handed it to him. Orange, yellow, and red flames decorated the thick glass as if someone had rolled up a stained-glass window.
“These were specially made for the fire festival,” Sven said with pride.
“In Ixia?”
“Hell no. Nobody has that type of creativity here. But the glass artists in Sitia are very talented. Especially in the city of Booruby.”
Valek stared at the rows of glasses. “You said you weren’t selling any illegal goods.”
Sven pished. “There’s no way to prove they were manufactured in Sitia. If I didn’t tell you, you wouldn’t have looked twice at them.”
True. “I think you’re enjoying your new role entirely too much.”
“Just doing my job. And if I happen to make a pile of money for the Commander and he agrees to keep me in business…” He shrugged.
Valek laughed and waved good-bye. Most of Valek’s operations were difficult, requiring his corps to make sacrifices and be constantly vigilant about being discovered. It was a nice change of pace when an agent enjoyed the operation.
At a barbecue pit, he bought a shank of beef and paid to fill his mug with his favorite barley ale. Carrying his dinner to a place where he could watch for Yelena, he settled in. The sun had set, but the blazing bonfires and torches kept the central thoroughfares brightly lit. He had found a deep shadow near the main entrance in which to wait for her.
