seascapes were
mixed in. On a whim, and with nothing better to occupy her time, Soria looked
into the aether. The dashing Mr. Harwick seemed ordinary enough as Sources go,
and the artist girl seemed robust and healthy, but nothing special. She noticed
a necklace that the girl wore. It was some cheap jade thing that they sold far
and wide in Khesh and shipped by the crate to foreign lands where they would
fetch better prices. It was the sort of stuff jade-workers gave their
apprentices to practice on. The artist was wearing one that had a bit of aether
in it.
Where did you learn to do that little trick,
Brannis?
After an uncomfortable half hour of forcing herself
repeatedly to try to relax, the sitting was finally at an end. Tomas Harwick
was overjoyed at his likeness and promised to send a servant by to collect it
later that day. Soria had muttered some platitudes to keep in character.
“So, Lady Silverweave, thank you for waiting. How may I be
of service?” the artist asked cheerily.
You can tell me where Brannis is and save me the trouble
of beating the information out of you!
“I was hoping you might paint a simple portrait for me,”
Soria said instead. She reached into her handbag and removed a scrap of paper.
It was the bounty notice of Kyrus Hinterdale, with the written part at the bottom
torn off, leaving just the sketched image. “I have made inquiries and I have
come to understand you knew the subject of this crude likeness.”
Soria saw the girl’s smile falter. “Aye, milady. Put it away
please, if you would not mind so much. I could paint Expert Hinterdale from
memory well enough, should I wish to. If you do not mind my asking, what is he
to you?” the artist asked.
Aha! The first sign of jealousy, eh? He was mine before
he knew you existed.
Soria had done her scouting, though, and had everything
prepared. “My father is a dear friend of Expert Davin Chartler, to whom Expert
Hinterdale was once apprenticed. I understand that they were quite close, and
Expert Davin has taken hard the awful news to have come out about Expert Kyrus.
The portrait would be a gift to him.”
Abbiley’s suspicious demeanor melted like chocolate left
under the summer sun. “Oh, that is so kind of you.”
I have a talking duck I can sell you as well, Soria
thought. How does this girl run a business being this naive?
“Have you any news of Expert Hinterdale that you could
share? Any word at all might be some comfort,” Soria crooned, hamming up her
performance now that she realized how easily the girl was taken in.
“No, but if you must know, he did admit to me that there was
some truth to what they accused him of,” the girl said sheepishly. “Not that I
believe for a moment that he meant anyone harm, of course.”
“If you believe he is a witch, why would you not believe he
killed two men and escaped with a pirate?” Soria prodded, having heard the same
rumors and tales as most folk about the night Kyrus made off with one of the
navy’s finest ships, reportedly in the company of Denrik Zayne.
“I am sure he had nothing to do with that,” the artist girl
said, raising her voice. “He might have escaped, but he did not do the rest of
that awful stuff.”
“I think it just might be possible that you did not know him
as well as you thought. If you truly ever loved him, he could tell you that all
that happened is true, and it would change nothing. Consider for the moment
that every bit of what people say about him is true. Consider that he killed
men who wished him ill and took the only means of escape at hand, making
allegiance with a pirate. Could you still love him?” Soria pressed, forgetting
to keep the Kheshi out of her Acardian. Abbiley seemed disinclined to notice.
“Kyrus isn’t like that! He told me that he had dreams of
being a knight,” Abbiley said.
“Then he wishes to be like that. That is the sort of thing
knights do.” Soria stabbed the verbal dagger into Abbiley’s heart. Feeling
mixed in. On a whim, and with nothing better to occupy her time, Soria looked
into the aether. The dashing Mr. Harwick seemed ordinary enough as Sources go,
and the artist girl seemed robust and healthy, but nothing special. She noticed
a necklace that the girl wore. It was some cheap jade thing that they sold far
and wide in Khesh and shipped by the crate to foreign lands where they would
fetch better prices. It was the sort of stuff jade-workers gave their
apprentices to practice on. The artist was wearing one that had a bit of aether
in it.
Where did you learn to do that little trick,
Brannis?
After an uncomfortable half hour of forcing herself
repeatedly to try to relax, the sitting was finally at an end. Tomas Harwick
was overjoyed at his likeness and promised to send a servant by to collect it
later that day. Soria had muttered some platitudes to keep in character.
“So, Lady Silverweave, thank you for waiting. How may I be
of service?” the artist asked cheerily.
You can tell me where Brannis is and save me the trouble
of beating the information out of you!
“I was hoping you might paint a simple portrait for me,”
Soria said instead. She reached into her handbag and removed a scrap of paper.
It was the bounty notice of Kyrus Hinterdale, with the written part at the bottom
torn off, leaving just the sketched image. “I have made inquiries and I have
come to understand you knew the subject of this crude likeness.”
Soria saw the girl’s smile falter. “Aye, milady. Put it away
please, if you would not mind so much. I could paint Expert Hinterdale from
memory well enough, should I wish to. If you do not mind my asking, what is he
to you?” the artist asked.
Aha! The first sign of jealousy, eh? He was mine before
he knew you existed.
Soria had done her scouting, though, and had everything
prepared. “My father is a dear friend of Expert Davin Chartler, to whom Expert
Hinterdale was once apprenticed. I understand that they were quite close, and
Expert Davin has taken hard the awful news to have come out about Expert Kyrus.
The portrait would be a gift to him.”
Abbiley’s suspicious demeanor melted like chocolate left
under the summer sun. “Oh, that is so kind of you.”
I have a talking duck I can sell you as well, Soria
thought. How does this girl run a business being this naive?
“Have you any news of Expert Hinterdale that you could
share? Any word at all might be some comfort,” Soria crooned, hamming up her
performance now that she realized how easily the girl was taken in.
“No, but if you must know, he did admit to me that there was
some truth to what they accused him of,” the girl said sheepishly. “Not that I
believe for a moment that he meant anyone harm, of course.”
“If you believe he is a witch, why would you not believe he
killed two men and escaped with a pirate?” Soria prodded, having heard the same
rumors and tales as most folk about the night Kyrus made off with one of the
navy’s finest ships, reportedly in the company of Denrik Zayne.
“I am sure he had nothing to do with that,” the artist girl
said, raising her voice. “He might have escaped, but he did not do the rest of
that awful stuff.”
“I think it just might be possible that you did not know him
as well as you thought. If you truly ever loved him, he could tell you that all
that happened is true, and it would change nothing. Consider for the moment
that every bit of what people say about him is true. Consider that he killed
men who wished him ill and took the only means of escape at hand, making
allegiance with a pirate. Could you still love him?” Soria pressed, forgetting
to keep the Kheshi out of her Acardian. Abbiley seemed disinclined to notice.
“Kyrus isn’t like that! He told me that he had dreams of
being a knight,” Abbiley said.
“Then he wishes to be like that. That is the sort of thing
knights do.” Soria stabbed the verbal dagger into Abbiley’s heart. Feeling
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