Inherit the Flame

Chapter Thirty-Six

During Aransa’s fall, the streets had gone quiet as grainmice, the people locked away inside their homes until the bulk of the conflict was over. Hond Steading was handling things a bit… differently. People crowded the streets, drinking and reveling, throwing rude gestures at the ships that shadowed their sky and singing even ruder songs to toast their new ruling couple. Ripka found she much rather preferred Hond Steading’s method of coping. At least with all the confusion on the streets, their little party was less conspicuous.

“You’re certain this woman is the contact?” she asked Dranik.

He threw her an insulted glance. “The other night…” He cleared his throat. “Yes. That is who we brought the last one to.”

The last, and the first, as far as Dranik’s group was concerned. But how many other deviants had Thratia’s network scraped up and delivered into the songstress’s hands?

“The woman who sings at the Ashfall Lounge?” she pressed again. Dranik let loose an irritated sigh.

“Yes, the very same.”

Enard kept stealing glances at her, sensing her agitation. She debated telling them what she knew, that the woman who sang at the Ashfall Lounge was Laella, the young Valathean girl that had come to Hond Steading on Pelkaia’s ship.

She was supposed to be one of Pelkaia’s rescues, a noble girl who came into her deviant ability in her late teens and hid them well enough, until rumors began to leak and Pelkaia came knocking. She was adept at her craft, one of Pelkaia’s fastest learners, but Pelkaia’s prejudices against Valatheans weren’t an easy thing to hide. Even in the short time Ripka had been aboard the Larkspur, the tension between those two had been palpable.

“Care to share your troubles?” Tibal asked. She flinched. While she’d felt Enard’s curiosity, she’d been oblivious to Tibal’s sly observations.

“Just questions,” she said by way of explanation.

“Maybe you should let us help you chew them over.”

That was fair enough. Tibal had proved she could trust him, and she doubted Dranik would understand half of the implications. “The Songstress is Laella Eradin.”

“Whoa,” Tibal said. “You sure?”

“Saw her myself.”

“When was this?” Enard asked.

“I looped around the back of the Lounge to shake the watchers after Dranik set them chasing us. She was on the back patio, half in costume, smoking.”

Tibal whistled low. “Pelkaia’s got herself a leak.”

“Or Thratia’s network has already been compromised.”

“Who are these people?” Dranik asked.

“Deviants working to get other deviants to safety.” Ripka flicked her gaze to Sasalai, whose brows were raised high in curiosity. She’d stopped dragging her feet, and leaned more easily on the cane Tibal kept tucked carefully under the woman’s arm. She should be terrified, but she appeared a strange combination of pissed off and intrigued. Ripka thought she’d like the woman, under different circumstances.

“And this Laella person works for Pelkaia?” Dranik frowned so deeply in thought that Ripka imagined his lips might slip clear off his face.

“Honestly? At this point, I have no idea. But we’re about to find out.”

The Ashfall Lounge was empty for the evening. A little light filtered through the upstairs windows, seeping out around the edges of pulled curtains. Someone was home, someone who was making it pretty clear they didn’t want any company.

“Rules say we go around back and knock the pattern,” Dranik said.

Enard gestured the way. “After you then, sir.”

Dranik quirked a brow at his use of “sir”, but crossed the distance anyway, leading them through the burnt-out remains that gave the theater its sense of danger. He knocked three times, a rather boring pattern in Ripka’s opinion, and they waited tense as rockcats.

The door swung open, and the Songstress stood there in her full get-up, wig and all, but now that Ripka knew what she was looking for the girl couldn’t hide her face.

Laella drew a deep drag from her cigarillo, flicked ash to the floor, and gave the party on her doorstep a long, appraising look. After a moment, she sighed and shook her head.

“I should have known this would happen after you saw me on the patio. Can’t let a mystery lie still, can you, Captain?”

“‘Fraid not,” Ripka said.

“Well, you’d all better come in and have a chat. Is this the deviant?” She tipped her chin to the gagged grandmother.

“No, this is how I treat all my friends.”

Tibal snorted behind her, and Laella narrowed her eyes. “You spent too much time with that Honding man. Now get in, before you’re seen, will you?”

Ripka didn’t much like the idea of entering Laella’s lair without knowing the girl’s motives, but she could hardly quibble with her logic.

“After you,” she said, and Laella rolled her eyes as she spun around, leading them all into the dreary half-light of the theater’s back rooms.