Steelhands - Jaida Jones [38]
Even though it was marked clearly on the map as a part of Thremedon, I felt like I’d stepped into another world entirely.
Close by, a group of children were gathered around a poster with a beautiful young woman painted on it. The title read CINDERFOLD in garish, snowcapped letters, and, in smaller print, starring Angerona Greylace, but underneath that someone had written a word that made me laugh and Toverre gasp with how dirty it was. So that was what all the young ones were staring at, I realized. Before I knew it, one of them even reached up to pull the poster down, rolling it up and tucking it under his arm as he ran away, followed by the rest of the gawkers.
“Well,” Toverre said.
“Think of it as romantic,” I suggested. “Have you ever heard of Angerona Greylace?”
“Not at all,” Toverre admitted. “But trust me, by tomorrow, I will have. She must be very famous.”
“For one thing or another,” I replied, a little bit too practical to keep up the pretense of romance any longer.
Another group of women moved past us then, and they were the sort to give a simple country girl pause, no matter how much she tried not to think about things like how her hair looked or whether her nose was turning red in the cold. They wore little drop earrings and had white powder all over their faces, and I could see how fine their dresses were underneath their light coats. They must have been very cold, and they were practically running as they laughed among themselves—out of one small set of back-alley doors, across the cobblestones, and into another, larger door that opened onto the main street. A sign above the door said it was The Cobble. It appeared to be some kind of eatery, judging by the smells that drifted out of it.
“My educated guess is that they are actresses,” Toverre said simply, with a sniff. “Too much perfume, and one of them was very plain. They can’t possibly play more than supporting roles.” Then, with a mischievous tone I’d never heard him use before, he added, “Let’s follow them.”
I was all for it, and about to tell him so, but before I could do so, something caught my eye.
“Hang on,” I said. “Isn’t that Gaeth?”
I knew it was before Toverre answered—we’d taken enough meals with him, even sat next to him in a few classes, for me to recognize the easy slope of his shoulders, the relaxation of every movement. He was definitely a country boy through and through, but the sort who came from the other side of Nevers, men and women renowned for their comfort in the sunlight and their lazy demeanors. Besides which, I recognized his threadbare gray coat because it was missing part of the collar, like some stubborn horse had bitten a piece out of it.
Maybe it had, but I couldn’t imagine any animal taking offense at him.
“Hey there!” I called out, startling a few of the people around me. “Gaeth!” As much as Toverre would be horrified by my clumsy tactics, saying hello to the one person you actually knew in a city as big as this one was only polite.
Everyone but Gaeth seemed to hear me at first. Then, very slowly, he turned around, like he was waking up from some deep dream.
“Oh,” he said, as we drew up to him. “Laure. And Toverre. What are you doing all the way out here on a school night?”
“Couldn’t we ask the very same thing of you?” Toverre demanded, the talons coming out. Apparently having latched onto Hal wasn’t making him any less sharp with Gaeth. I’d never known him to have it out for two people at the same time; I didn’t know whether that made Gaeth lucky or just a real poor son of a bitch. Maybe Toverre was just flustered.
“Suppose you could,” Gaeth agreed.
I sought out Toverre’s foot with my own and stepped on it lightly. He winced with his entire body, but for some reason, Gaeth didn’t seem to notice. It had to be that lackadaisical, old-country demeanor, I supposed, but then he’d never seemed as far off as this. Long day, maybe, I thought, and felt a little sorry for him.
“I was just on my way back from the Crescents,” Gaeth continued without further prompting, like