Django Wexler - The Shadow Throne

And what if he just comes out with it? She’d seen a look in his eye a couple of times that seemed to indicate he was on the verge of a confession of love, and only a hurried change of subject had distracted him. If he ever managed to spit it out- Then what? Break his heart, and risk him leaving the group? That didn’t sound like Ben, but Raesinia didn’t have much experience when it came to men and romance. Or else. . play along? How? That possibility was just a blur in her mind, a vaguely unthinkable gap. I don’t think I could fake love well enough to fool him.

It would have been easier for all concerned if she had actually fallen in love with him. She wasn’t certain she was still capable of that, though. Aside from Cora, he was probably her best friend among the conspirators. She could see, objectively, that he was kind, honest, idealistic, even handsome. But love? No.

Maybe the binding sees love as an illness, like drunkenness, and purges it before it has a chance to settle in. She wouldn’t mind that, on the whole. As far as she could tell, love was mostly good for making people act like morons.

Oh well. She looked down at the paper, where the ink had dried by now, and picked it up carefully to add to the stack. That should do it.

“Finished?” Ben said.

“I think so,” Raesinia said. “You two will have to look it over.”

Maurisk, who had his own portable writing desk set up in a corner of the room, gave a derisive snort.

“You already decided not to use my version,” he said. “So I don’t see what good my advice will do.”

“We all agreed that your version was excellent,” Raesinia said, trying to be soothing. “It would have done credit to a University symposium. It’s just that the common people aren’t up to your level, that’s all.”

Not to mention that your version was three hours long. Raesinia had no doubt that Danton could make an exhaustive history of the practice of banking in Vordan sound riveting, but she personally wouldn’t have been able to stand it.

“We should be educating them, then, instead of lowering ourselves to the lowest common denominator.”

“You’re still sore about the slogan,” Ben said.

“‘One eagle and the Deputies-General,’” Maurisk said, and sniffed. “What does that even mean ? Our grievances go far beyond the price of bread, in any case, and it’s no good calling for the deputies without saying what you want them to do .”

“It’s caught the popular attention,” Raesinia said. “And you’ve been writing those broadsheets. That’s what will educate people in the end.”

“If you’d let me give a proper speech, instead of letting that lummox do everything, we might be farther along now,” Maurisk said. “He doesn’t read what I write properly.”

Raesinia wanted to point out that Maurisk’s writing was as dry as week-old bread crusts, but she refrained. The door opened and Faro came in, the noise of the common room of the Blue Mask following him for a moment before he shut the door behind him. He’d covered his customary finery with a heavy black cloak, and carried a thick leather satchel under one arm.

“God,” he said, “I never want to do that again. I felt like everyone on the street was watching me.”

“You look ridiculous in that cloak,” Maurisk said. “You might as well carry a sign saying ‘I’m up to no good.’”

“I’d be happy to,” Faro said. “Much safer than one saying ‘I’m carrying enough money to buy a small city.’ Besides, it’s essential. Cloak-and-dagger work, you know? Cloak”-he pushed the cloak back, revealing a steel gleam at his belt, opposite where he normally buckled his sword-“and dagger! I wouldn’t feel properly dressed otherwise.”

“You didn’t have any problems?” Raesinia said.

“Not unless you count the pounding of my heart.” Faro handed her the satchel. “I still don’t see why we couldn’t have all gone, in daylight.”

“We would have been noticed.” Raesinia undid the tie and riffled through the contents. Everything seems to be in order.

“I thought we wanted to be noticed,” Faro said.

“Not until tomorrow morning,” Raesinia said, retying the satchel. “All right. I’ll take this on to Cora.”

This, as expected, drew a protest from Ben. “I really wish-”

She cut him off. “I know. But let’s face it: I’m a lot less threatening than you are. We don’t want to spook anyone. I’ll be perfectly safe.” She couldn’t tell them that, in addition to her own personal immortality, she’d have Sothe riding escort. “You concentrate on going over the speech and getting Danton ready for tomorrow.”

“All right.” Ben got to his feet and met her by the door, catching her off guard. He wrapped his big arms around her in a tight hug, crushing her against his chest. “Be careful.”

Raesinia forced herself to relax, waiting patiently until he let go. She fussed awkwardly with her hair for a moment, then turned to the others and nodded.

“See you in the morning.” She paused. Something more seemed needed. “This is going to work. I can feel it.”

“He’s getting too forward,” Sothe said, from the darkness beside the Blue Moon’s entrance.

“Who? Ben?” Raesinia didn’t bother to ask how Sothe had been watching. Sothe seemed to know everything. “He’s harmless.”

“He’s besotted with you.” Sothe fell into step beside Raesinia. “That can be dangerous if you let him take liberties.”

“Given everything we’re involved in,” Raesinia said, “I think Ben is more or less the least of my worries, don’t you?”

Sothe frowned but didn’t answer. She led Raesinia around into an alley beside the tavern, where one of Vordan’s ubiquitous hired cabs was waiting. The driver tipped his hat respectfully, which Sothe ignored, vaulting into the carriage and turning to help Raesinia up after her. She rapped on the wall, and a snap of the driver’s reins coaxed the horses into motion.

This wasn’t a new cab, so they clacked and jolted over the cobbles. Raesinia patted the satchel again, to make sure it was still there, feeling an echo of Faro’s anxiety. It was an awful lot of money. Certainly enough to kill for, or try to, if anyone knew what they were doing.

“I’m worried about our security arrangements around Danton,” Sothe said after a while, apropos of nothing.

“I don’t think he’s a target,” Raesinia said. That had been preying on her mind. Danton went along cheerfully enough, but he’d never asked to be a part of any of this. “He’s too public a figure now. If he were arrested, or someone took a shot at him, the backlash would be worse than anything Danton himself could accomplish. That was the whole point of bringing him out in the open.”

“I’m not worried about him . I’m worried about us. It’ll be obvious that someone is pulling Danton’s strings, and Orlanko will be looking.”

“I thought your trick with the couriers was supposed to cover that.” Once they’d ensured that a steady stream of uniformed couriers was coming and going from Danton’s hotel suite, it was easy to slip an extra one through, letting the cabal members come and go without being followed.

Sothe waved a hand dismissively. “It won’t hold for long. It makes it too obvious we have something to hide. He’ll figure out a way through, depend on it.”

“It doesn’t have to hold for long,” Raesinia said. “Just long enough. My father is not getting any stronger.”

“Nevertheless-”

A splashing sound from outside drowned her out for a moment. They’d been following the Old Road south from the Dregs, avoiding the bridged section of the river around the Island. Just south of the University, the road ran across the Old Ford, a wide stretch of river that was only ankle-deep in places, made more passable over the years by the addition of large, flat stones to form a sort of causeway. The barrier to river navigation this created required a time-consuming portage for most vessels, and according to legend this blockage had been the original seed that had sprouted into the city of Vordan itself.