Steelhands - Jaida Jones [44]
“Oh, great,” I said, meaning it with every fiber of my being. “Why’s it that as soon as it starts raining, the rain turns to piss? I must’ve been a real son of a bitch in some past life, I’m telling you.”
“Don’t overreact,” Royston said, chiding me softly. “It might not be anything. It’s only that Margrave Ginette’s been absent from the Basquiat for several days. No one’s seen her, or had a word of communication for that matter, and she’s not the type just to drop all her responsibilities without warning. She had a fair few—work that a great many of us were interested in. I’d been meaning to talk to her myself, only I’ve been busy.”
I snorted, knowing full well the kinds of things he’d been busy with. “Why’s it that I know that name from somewhere, then?” I asked.
“Who knows?” Royston replied, leaning back in his chair. “An indiscretion in your wilder youth, perhaps? She was a very beautiful young woman. I’d say she was just your type, but then, I’ve no idea what your type even is.”
“Not your type,” I said. “You can bank on that.”
Roy assumed that funny, wry smile of his. “Of course not,” he said.
It was bothering me, though, a familiar name I couldn’t place. What business had I ever had with magicians? It’d be a real laugh if she was one of the ones who’d worked on my girl, but then, those names’d never been released and I was pretty sure all those who’d worked on the dragons were no longer in the city—either removed to make sure they kept their secrets or because they didn’t want to stick around and reap whatever “reward” th’Esar had coming for them.
I wasn’t one for treason, though my thoughts could’ve easily been called treasonous. I just knew on which side to butter my bread, what separated night from morning, and how little you could trust th’Esar when he promised you something. I tried to remember if it was nostalgia getting the better of me or if he hadn’t always been like that, chasing down shadows at every turn. But I guessed the war could make even the strongest mind jump at noises that weren’t there. I sure as shit wouldn’t’ve wanted to be in his position; I was just lucky I hadn’t been born underneath a heavy crown.
No, I’d just been born to be a part of something—somebody, which was the way I’d always looked at Proudmouth—a damn sight bigger than I was. Then, just as quick as you like, it was over and gone.
At least I still had my hands, I thought, staring down at them and feeling sorry for myself, whether I liked it or not.
“Any luck?” Roy prompted me.
“Yeah, actually,” I said, the whole thing dawning now. “Balfour mentioned her once, back at the beginning. Margrave Ginette was working on his—you know. His hands. Looked into her to make sure th’Esar was giving him proper care, but those I asked said she knew a fair bit about that kind of thing, so there you have it.”
“Of course, you would do something like that,” Roy said, almost fondly. I didn’t like his tone.
“Care to explain what that one means, or should I play questions?”
“It’s just that you’re such a mother hen,” Roy said. “Don’t get mad, you know it’s true. I bet it’s killing you to spend all your time with new recruits when you want to be looking after your old ones.”
“Anyway,” I said loudly, because Hal’d just come back into the room, and whether or not I was slowly taking a shine to him, this wasn’t a conversation he needed to hear. Wasn’t a conversation I needed to hear, either. It’d give me indigestion. “What’s that have to do with the mole on Lady Greylace’s left tit?”
“How colorful,” Roy said. “I’ll have to remember that one.”
“And you,” I told Hal, “should probably cover your ears.”
“Oh, no,” Hal replied. “I’ve already heard that one.”
I cleared my throat and Roy took his water from Hal at last, covering up a laugh and sputtering just a little on it. “I’m not sure yet,” Roy said finally, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with his napkin. “Margrave Ginette was working