A Gathering of Shadows

  “Is that an element joke?”

  “Hah,” said Jin, “I didn’t even think about that.”

  “I thought you kept a list of wind jokes,” teased Alucard. “I certainly do, just for you. I’ve broken them down into chills, gales, steam….”

  “Just like your sails,” jabbed Jin, hopping down from the chair. “So full of air. But I’m serious,” he said, leaning in. “I haven’t even seen half the competition. Hidden away for effect perhaps. And the pomp surrounding everything! I was at Faro three years back, and you know how much they like their gold, but it was a pauper’s haunt compared to this affair. I’m telling you, the air of spectacle’s run away with it. Blame the prince. Always had a flare for drama.”

  “Says the man floating three inches off the ground.”

  Lila looked down, and started slightly when she saw that Jinnar was, in fact, hovering. Not constantly, but every time he moved, he took a fraction too long to settle, as if gravity didn’t have the same hold on him as it did on everyone else. Or maybe, as if something else were lifting him up.

  “Yes, well,” Jin said with a shrug, “I suppose I’ll fit in splendidly. As will you,” he added, flicking the silver feather on Alucard’s hat. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I should make the rounds and the welcomes. I’ll be back.”

  And with that, he was gone. Lila turned to Alucard, bemused. “Is he always like that?”

  “Jinnar? He’s always been a bit … enthusiastic. But don’t let his childish humor fool you. He is the best wind mage I’ve ever met.”

  “He was levitating,” said Lila. She’d seen plenty of magicians doing magic. But Jinnar was magic.

  “Jinnar belongs to a particular school of magic, one that believes not only in using an element, but in becoming one with it.” Alucard scratched his head. “It’s like when children are learning to play renna and they have to carry the ball with them everywhere, to get comfortable with it. Well, Jin never set the ball down.”

  Lila watched the wind mage flit around the room, greeting Kisimyr and Losen, as well as the girl in blue. And then he stopped to perch on the edge of a couch, and began talking to a man she hadn’t noticed yet. Or rather, she had noticed him, but she’d taken him for the cast-off member of someone else’s entourage, dressed as he was in a simple black coat with an iridescent pin shaped like an S at his throat. He’d made his way through the gathering earlier, hugging the edges of the room and clutching a glass of white ale. The actions held more discomfort than stealth, and he’d eventually retreated to a couch to sip his drink in peace.

  Now Lila squinted through the smoke and shadow-filled room as Jin shook his hand. The man’s skin was fair, his hair dark—darker than Lila’s—and shorter, but his bones were sharp. How tall is he? she wondered, sizing up the cut of his shoulders, the length of his arms. A touch of cool air brushed her cheek, and she blinked, realizing Jin had returned.

  He was sitting again on the back of Alucard’s chair, having appeared without so much as a greeting.

  “Well,” asked Alucard, tipping his head back, “is everyone here?”

  “Nearly.” Jinnar pulled the competition roster from his pocket. “No sign of Brost. Or the Kamerov fellow. Or Zenisra.”

  “Praise the saints,” muttered Alucard at this last name.

  Jin chuckled. “You make more enemies than most make bedfellows.”

  The sapphire in Alucard’s brow twinkled. “Oh, I make plenty of those, too.” He nodded at the man on the couch. “And the shadow?”

  “Tall, dark, and quiet? Name’s Stasion Elsor. Nice enough fellow. Shy, I think.”

  Stasion Elsor, thought Lila, turning the name over on her tongue.

  “Or smart enough to keep his cards close to his chest.”

  “Maybe,” said Jin. “Anyhow, he’s a first-timer, comes from Besa Nal, on the coast.”

  “My man Stross hails from that region.”

  “Yes, well, hopefully Stasion’s stage manner is stronger than his tavern one.”

  “It’s not always about putting on a show,” chided Alucard.

  Jin cackled. “You’re one to talk, Emery.” With that, he dismounted the chair, and blew away.

  Alucard got to his feet. He looked at the drink in his hand, as if he wasn’t sure how it had gotten there. Then he finished it in a single swallow. “I suppose I better say my hellos,” he said, setting down the empty glass. “I’ll be back.”

  Lila nodded absently, her attention already returning to the man on the couch. Only he wasn’t there anymore. She searched the room, eyes landing on the door just in time to see Stasion Elsor vanishing through it. Lila finished her own drink, and shoved herself up to her feet.

  “Where are you going?” asked Stross.

  She flashed him a sharp-edged smile and turned up the collar of her coat. “To find some trouble.”

  V

  They were nearly the same height. That was the first thing she noticed as she fell in step behind him. Elsor was a touch taller, and a fraction broader in the shoulders, but he had a narrow waist and long legs. As Lila followed, she first matched his stride, and then began to mimic it.

  So close to the river, the streets were crowded enough to cloak her pursuit, and she began to feel less like a thief with a mark and more like a cat with its prey.

  There were so many chances to turn back. But she kept going.

  Lila had never really bought into fate, but like most people who disavowed religion, she could summon a measure of belief when it was necessary.

  Elsor wasn’t from London. He didn’t have an entourage. As she closed the gap, she wondered how many people had even noticed him back at the tavern, besides Jinnar. The light in the Sun had been low. Had anyone gotten a good look at his face?

  Once the tournament began, they’d have no faces anyway.

  Madness, warned a voice, but what did she have to lose? Alucard and the Spire? Caring, belonging, it was all so overrated.

  Elsor put his hands in his pockets.

  Lila put her hands in her pockets.

  He rolled his neck.

  She rolled her neck.

  She had a variety of knives on her, but she didn’t plan on killing him, not if it could be helped. Stealing an identity was one thing; stealing a life was another, and though she’d certainly killed her fair share, she didn’t take it lightly. Still, for her plan to work, something had to happen to Stasion Elsor.

  He rounded a corner onto a narrow street that led to the docks. The street was jagged and empty, dotted only by darkened shops and a scattering of bins and crates.

  Elsor was no doubt an excellent magician, but Lila had the element of surprise and no problem playing dirty.

  A metal bar leaned against a door, winking in the lantern light.

  It scraped the stones as Lila lifted it, and Elsor spun around. He was fast, but she was faster, pressed into the doorway by the time his eyes found the place she’d been.

  Flame sparked in the man’s palm, and he held the light aloft, shadows dancing down the street. A fireworker.

  It was the last sign Lila needed.

  Her lips moved, magic prickling through her as she summoned a couplet of Blake. Not a song of fire, or water, but earth. A planter on the windowsill above him slid off the edge and came crashing down. It missed him by inches, shattering against the street, and Elsor spun to face the sound a second time. As he did, Lila closed the gap and raised the pipe, feeling a little less guilty.

  Fool me twice, she thought, swinging the bar.

  His hands came up, too slow to stop the blow, but fast enough to graze the front of her jacket before he collapsed to the street with the sound of dead weight and the hiss of doused flame.

  Lila patted the drops of fire on her coat and frowned. Calla wouldn’t be happy.

  She set the bar against the wall, and knelt to consider Stasion Elsor—up close, the angles of his face were even sharper. Blood ran from his forehead, but his chest was rising and falling, and Lila felt rather
proud of her restraint as she dragged his arm around her shoulders and struggled to her feet under the load. With his head lolling forward, and his dark hair covering the wound at his temple, he almost looked like a man too deep in his cups.

  Now what? she thought, and at the same exact moment a voice behind her said, “What now?”

  Lila spun, dropping Elsor and drawing her dagger at the same time. With a flick of her wrist the dagger became two, and as she struck metal against metal, the two blades lit, fire licking up their edges.

  Alucard stood at the mouth of the narrow road, arms crossed. “Impressive,” he said, sounding decidedly unimpressed. “Tell me, are you planning to burn me, or stab me, or both?”

  “What are you doing here?” she hissed.

  “I really think I should be the one asking that.”

  She gestured to the body. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  Alucard’s gaze flicked from the knives down to the metal bar and the crumpled form at Lila’s feet. “No, not really. Because you couldn’t possibly be foolish enough to kill a competitor.”

  Lila snapped the knives back together, putting out the flames. “I didn’t kill him.”

  Alucard let out a low groan. “Saints, you actually have a death wish.” He gripped his hat. “What were you thinking?”

  Lila looked around. “There’re plenty of transports coming and going. I was going to stash him away on one of them.”

  “And what do you plan to do when he wakes up, turns the boat around, and makes it back in time to have you arrested and still compete?” When Lila didn’t answer—she hadn’t exactly gotten that far—Alucard shook his head. “You’ve got a real gift for taking things, Bard. You’re not nearly as good at getting rid of them.”

  Lila held her ground. “I’ll figure it out.” Alucard was muttering curses in a variety of languages under his breath. “And were you following me?”

  Alucard threw up his hands. “You’ve assaulted a competitor—I can only imagine with the daft notion of taking his place—and you honestly have the gall to be affronted at my actions? Did you even think what this would mean for me?” He sounded vaguely hysterical.

  “This has nothing to do with you.”

  “This has everything to do with me!” he snapped. “I am your captain! You are my crew.” The barb struck with unexpected force. “When the authorities find out a sailor aboard my ship sabotaged a competitor, what do you think they’ll assume? That you were mad enough to do something so stupid on your own, or that I put you up to it?” He was pale with fury, and the air around them hummed. Indignation flickered through Lila, followed swiftly by guilt. The combination turned her stomach.

  “Alucard—” she started.

  “Did he see your face?”

  Lila crossed her arms. “I don’t think so.”

  Alucard paced, muttering, and then dropped to his knee beside Elsor. He rolled the man over and began digging through his pockets.

  “Are you robbing him?” she asked, incredulous.

  Alucard said nothing as he spread the contents of Elsor’s coat across the frozen stones. An inn key. A few coins. A handful of folded pages. Tucked in the center of these, Lila saw, was his formal invitation to the Essen Tasch. Alucard plucked the iridescent pin from the collar of the man’s coat, then shook his head and gathered up the items. He got to his feet, shoving the articles into Lila’s hands. “When this goes badly, and it will, you won’t take the Spire with you. Do you understand, Bard?”

  Lila nodded tightly.

  “And for the record,” he said, “this is a terrible idea. You will get caught. Maybe not right away. But eventually. And when you do, I won’t protect you.”

  Lila raised a brow. “I’m not asking you to. Believe it or not, Alucard, I can protect myself.”

  He looked down at the unconscious man between them. “Does that mean you don’t need my help disposing of this man?”

  Lila tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’m not sure I need it, but I’d certainly appreciate it.” She knelt to take one of Elsor’s arms, and Alucard reached for the other, but halfway there, he stopped and seemed to reconsider. He folded his arms, his eyes dark and his mouth a grim line.

  “What is it now?” asked Lila, straightening.

  “This is an expensive secret Bard,” he said. “I’ll keep it, in trade for another.”

  Dammit, thought Lila. She’d made it months at sea without sharing a thing she didn’t want to. “I’ll give you one question,” she said at last. “One answer.”

  Alucard had asked the same ones over and over and over: Who are you, and What are you, and Where did you come from? And the answers she’d told him over and over and over weren’t even lies. Delilah Bard. One of a kind. London.

  But standing there on the docks that night, Alucard didn’t ask any of those questions.

  “You say you’re from London …” He looked her in the eyes. “But you don’t mean this one, do you?”

  Lila’s heart lurched, and she felt herself smile, even though this was the one question she couldn’t answer with a lie. “No,” she said. “Now help me with this body.”

  * * *

  Alucard proved disturbingly adept at making someone disappear.

  Lila leaned against a set of boxes at the transport end of the docks—devoted to the ships coming and going instead of the ones set in for the length of the tournament—and turned Elsor’s S pin over in her fingers. Elsor himself sat on the ground, slumped against the crates, while Alucard tried to convince a pair of rough-looking men to take on a last-minute piece of cargo. She only caught snippets of the conversation, most of them Alucard’s, tuned as she was to his Arnesian.

  “Where do you put in … that’s what, a fortnight this time of year …?”

  Lila pocketed the pin and sifted through Elsor’s papers, holding them up to the nearest lantern light. The man liked to draw. Small pictures lined the edges of every scrap of paper, save the formal invitation. That was a lovely thing, edged in gold—it reminded her of the invite to Prince Rhy’s birthday ball—marred only by a single fold down the center. Elsor had also been carrying a half-written letter, and a few sparse notes on the other competitors. Lila smiled when she saw his one-word note on Alucard Emery:

  Performer.

  She folded the pages and tucked them into her coat. Speaking of coats—she crouched and began to peel the unconscious man out of his. It was fine, a dark charcoal grey with a low, stiff collar and a belted waist. For a moment she considered trading, but couldn’t bring herself to part with Calla’s masterpiece, so instead she took a wool blanket from a cart and wrapped it around Elsor so he wouldn’t freeze.

  Lastly she produced a knife and cut a lock of hair from the man’s head, tying it in a knot before dropping it in her pocket.

  “I don’t want to know,” muttered Alucard, who was suddenly standing over her, the sailors a step behind. He nodded to the man on the ground. “Ker tas naster,” he grumbled. There’s your man.

  One of the sailors toed Elsor with his boot. “Drunk?”

  The other sailor knelt, and clapped a pair of irons around Elsor’s wrists, and Lila saw Alucard flinch reflexively.

  “Mind him,” he said as they hauled the man to his feet.

  The sailor shrugged and mumbled something so garbled Lila couldn’t tell where one word ended and the next began. Alucard only nodded as they turned and began to haul him toward the ship.

  “That’s it?” asked Lila.

  Alucard frowned. “You know the most valuable currency in life, Bard?”

  “What?”

  “A favor.” His eyes narrowed. “I now owe those men. And you owe me.” He kept his eyes trained on the sailors as they hauled the unconscious Elsor aboard. “I’ve gotten rid of your problem, but it won’t stay gone. That’s a criminal transport. Once it sets out, it’s not authorized to turn around until it reaches Delonar. And he’s not on the charter, so by the time it docks, they’ll know they’re carrying an innocent man. So no
matter what happens, you better not be here when he gets back.”

  The meaning in the words was clear, but she still had to ask. “And the Spire?”

  Alucard looked at her, jaw set. “It only has room for one criminal.” He let out a low breath, which turned to fog before his mouth. “But I wouldn’t worry.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because you’ll get caught long before we sail away.”

  Lila managed a grim smirk as Stasion Elsor and the sailors vanished below deck. “Have a little faith, Captain.”

  But the truth was, she had no idea what she was going to do when this fell apart, no idea if she’d just damned herself by accident, or worse, on purpose. Sabotaged another life. Just like at the Stone’s Throw.

  “Let’s get something straight,” said Alucard as they walked away from the docks. “My help ends here. Alucard Emery and Stasion Elsor have no business with each other. And if we chance to meet in the ring, I won’t spare you.”

  Lila snorted. “I should hope not. Besides, I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

  “I suppose you do,” he said, finally glancing toward her. “After all, if you run far enough, no one can catch you.”

  She frowned, remembering his question, her answer.

  “How long have you known?” she asked.

  Alucard managed a ghost of a smile, framed by the doorway of their inn. “Why do you think I let you on my ship?”

  “Because I was the best thief?”

  “Certainly the strangest.”

  * * *

  Lila didn’t bother with sleep; there was too much to do. She and Alucard vanished into their respective rooms without even so much as a good night, and when she left a few hours later with Elsor’s things bundled under her arm, Alucard didn’t follow, even though she knew he was awake.

  One problem at a time, she told herself as she climbed the stairs of the Coach and Castle Inn, the room key hanging from her fingers. A brass tag on the end held the name of the place and the room—3.

  She found Elsor’s room and let herself in.

  She’d raided the man’s pockets and studied his papers, but if there was anything else to learn before she donned the role at nightfall, she figured she’d find it here.