The Drowning City - Amanda Downum [29]
Isyllt wasn’t sure how long she and Vasilios spent studying the shattered stone, but by the time Adam returned her back was stiff from leaning over the table. She straightened with a wince as the mercenary slipped into the study. Not yet sunset, but they’d drawn the shutters and stark witchlights lit the room.
“What happened?” Adam asked.
“Someone blew up an Assari shop, and everyone in it.” Isyllt shook her head, hair crackling. “He blew himself up too.” Her face still stung from the fire and itched with dried sweat. Adam’s eyes narrowed as he studied her, and she wondered how awful she looked.
He turned to the table and the pile of red dust and crystal shards glittering there. “A ruby?” He reached out a cautious hand; gooseflesh roughened his arm as he felt the heat still radiating from it.
Vasilios nodded. “They didn’t let the news out, of course, but we’d just readied a shipment of charged stones to be shipped to Assar. They were in the warehouse that burned—whoever started the fire must have taken the rubies. This Dai Tranh was dangerous enough with gunpowder and flash bombs, but now—” He shook his head. “But this stone was flawed, and we never charge flawed stones. Too easy for things like this to happen. They must have a mage working with them.”
“Zhirin?” Adam said, echoing Isyllt’s thought.
The old mage’s eyes narrowed. “I cannot believe that of her.”
Adam shrugged eloquent skepticism, but Isyllt believed the girl’s horror at the market had been unfeigned—if Zhirin had helped the rebels get their hands on these weapons, she doubtless regretted it now.
“Did they leave anything else behind?” Adam continued. “Today, I mean.”
Isyllt frowned. “I hadn’t the leisure for a proper search. I’ll go back after the soldiers have gone. I didn’t sense any ghosts lingering, but they might return.” It was a scant hope, but her best one.
Vasilios ran a hand over his face; his skin was gray and drawn in the unflattering light. “I cast a tracing on the stone, but it must have been covered until it was used. If I could find something of the assassin’s, I might trace it further.”
“We’ll see what we can find.” Isyllt glanced at Adam, tilted her head inquiringly. “The sooner we go in, the better our chances.”
“Tonight,” he said with a nod. “After the soldiers have left.”
Vasilios lowered himself into a chair. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t join you in sneaking around in the dark. I’ll keep working with the stone. Maybe there’s something I’ve missed. We won’t have a proper dinner tonight, but you can ask Marat to make you something.”
Isyllt and Adam left him to rest, following the scent of spices downstairs to the kitchen. All the houses in Symir seemed to follow the same pattern—tall and narrow, with the family’s rooms on top and only the ground floor open to strangers.
Isyllt frowned as she watched Adam descend the stairs. “You’re limping.”
He glanced down, flexed his right leg. “An old wound. I landed on it badly during the mess at the market.” He caught the question in her eyes. “I’ll be fine by tonight. What about you?”
She ran a hand over her frizzing hair, wincing as her fingers brushed her tender cheek. “No worse than a sunburn. Did you have any luck today?”
He shrugged. “Xin will do better than me. Vienh Xian-Lunh might be helpful, though—within reason. She has no love for the Dai Tranh.”
“Zealots are easier to use than to love. But maybe the Tigers will be use enough for us.” In spite of the cold practicality she tried to summon, she couldn’t be rid of the images of Lilani Xian’s fevered face or the corpses in the market. Practicality could only excuse so much.
Covered plates sat on the kitchen table, and a sweating carafe of ginger beer. Marat arranged more food on a tray as they came in.
“I know what it means when he locks himself in his study that way,” she said. “I’m amazed any of you sorcerers live so long, if this is how you take care of yourselves.” She shot a narrow-eyed glance at Isyllt.
Isyllt waved Adam into a chair and served them both. “Where’s Zhirin?” Her voice