The Duchess of the Shallows by Neil McGarry, Daniel Ravipinto Page A

told him the rest of it, and watched as his eyes widened and his fist crushed the bread to crumbs.
    It was then that he'd given his proclamation on her sanity.
    "It's completely impossible. Robbery, maybe. Theft from a noble's house in the Temple, possibly. But to steal some priceless relic from under the noses of a house full of guests? And Eusbius?" He shuddered. "Duchess…you have no idea just how out of your depth you are."
    She felt her stomach tighten but resolved to continue. "I know it's risky," she began, determined to be all Steel, "but I just have to come up with the right plan. So, what I need now-"
    "What you need is a swift kick in the arse," Lysander snapped. She blinked; he wasn't often that short with anyone, and never with her. He seemed to realize what he'd done at the same moment she did. He frowned and sighed. "I'm sorry, it's just..."
    "Lysander, what is going on ? You've been acting strangely ever since I mentioned Eusbius' name."
    He watched her for a long moment, saying nothing. Then he stood and wandered to the window. He pressed his head against the glass, watching the people wandering in the Shallows below. "This is the second time this week I've heard the name Eusbius , I'm sorry to say. That man..." He watched the movement outside. "I only know a little about him," he said at last. "But it's what I don't know that frightens me."
    It was rare for Lysander to admit to such a thing, wise in the ways of the city as he was. She said nothing; best to let him speak his mind in his own time.
    "For once I don't have the whole story," he said, turning from the window, "And perhaps this time I don't want to know." She signaled for him to continue and he wandered back to the hearth, picked up his knife, and poked idly at a chunk of sausage. "You know Brenn, right?" She nodded, suddenly remembering the boy she had seen with Lysander the day before on her way back from the market, the one who looked as if he'd been beaten. Brenn, Duchess recalled, was as light-fingered as Lysander, although not nearly as clever. "He's...had some dealings with the baron."
    "So? That's hardly unusual. You've all had noble clients at one time or another."
    "We have," he allowed, looking at her darkly, "but it is unusual for Brenn to come back from a job quite that beaten. He's not into the rough stuff, you know." He popped the piece of sausage idly into his mouth, as if eating were better than talking.
    "What happened?"
    He chewed at his chunk of sausage for awhile, then gave up hope of swallowing and simply talked around it. "That's the thing; nobody knows. Deneys had the notion of getting him blind stinking drunk last night in an attempt to get the tale out of him, but even though he could barely stand, he wouldn't talk."
    "I don't understand. What's so frightening about..."
    " That's what's so frightening, Duchess. This is Brenn I'm talking about. Brenn, not some delicate blossom, or even a Poor Gabe. The boy can stand up for himself." He swallowed tremendously. "I've never known him to keep quiet about a job no matter how badly it went. And after he bagged himself a nobleman, he wouldn't shut up about it. He had a bright future as a kept boy, bruises or no. But he won't talk about why it ended...or where those bruises came from."
    "What do you think it could be?"
    "I don't know. I'm left with only my imagination, and somehow that makes it worse. And now you tell me you plan on sneaking into the house of a man who can frighten Brenn into silence, with no plan and no promise you'll walk back out. What do you want me to say to that? What do you want me to do ?"
    She weighed her response for a long moment, then stood, brushing crumbs from her trousers.
    "I want you to help me find Brenn."
    * * *
    "It had to be arsing Trades, didn't it?" Lysander muttered, leaning dramatically against a wall, huffing and out of breath.
    When she insisted they visit Deneys, she'd forgotten how much Lysander hated walking through Trades District.