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“Several,” her mother said proudly. “I doubt any of them were quality casters, though. We’re talking about a street gang—not trained duelists from Balmerick.”
“Still, you resisted their magic… but you couldn’t resist what Nevelyn did to you?”
Her mother saw what Ren was getting at. It was their first hint of the abilities Nevelyn Tin’Vori possessed, and Ren thought it was a rather promising sign. She still hadn’t figured out what spell she could have used to wipe someone’s memory with such specificity and efficiency. The mind was fickle, and even the strongest manipulators in Kathor would need weeks to pull off something like that. Ren felt a mixture of excitement and foreboding. There was strange magic forming between herself and Theo. There was the bright possibility of Mat Tully shortening her journey. And then there were the mysterious Tin’Voris. It seemed the two of them were more than dangerous enough to be useful, but she knew the same power that might help her efforts could also turn against her. She would have to move forward with all caution.
Fire could burn both ways.
11 REN MONROE
It took some convincing, but her mother agreed to stay behind in the safety of their room. Ren had located the neighborhood doctor, who dispatched a nurse for the purpose of stitching the wound. Ren oversaw the first half of the procedure until she was certain the nurse knew what she was doing. As she gathered her things, her mother offered one final piece of advice.
“Don’t screw it up.”
Ren rolled her eyes and left. They’d mapped a route to her destination that kept her on the main thoroughfares. She held no delusions that this meant she was guaranteed to arrive safely, not after what happened with her mother. As she walked, she kept one hand on the horseshoe wand tucked into her waistband. Ren Monroe had no plans of being caught off guard.
Instead of danger, though, the city offered its most enchanting self. The sun had just dipped below the shoulders of the nearest buildings. Street lanterns were being lit, one by one. No enchantments, as it was done in Kathor’s Lower Quarter. Just an old man busying himself with a task that would charm a new world onto the streets for the evening. Ren navigated over three separate bridges before sensing a subtle shift in her surroundings. The call of hawkers vanished. The market sprawl fell away. Here, she saw couples on evening strolls. A mother was kneeling down, tending to a child who was eager to get back to his play. Ahead, she spied the crowded fish house that was her destination.
The place was known, rather charmingly, as the Severed Head. Mat Tully’s note had boasted about the quality of their bread, and Ren saw plenty of seated customers ripping great chunks of sourdough to be dipped into a variety of spiced chowders. It all smelled delightful.
Ren did not allow such comforts to dull her senses. As Mat flagged her down, she eyed the rest of the restaurant, memorizing where people were seated and at what angles. She would not be taken by surprise if Mat Tully turned out to be less trustworthy than she hoped. Mat had already had a glass of wine and now he was sipping a second. Apparently, her poor contact had enough money for drinks.
“You came,” he said with a wide smile. “I wasn’t sure you would.”
Ren shrugged into a chair. “I’m here. Did you locate them?”
Mat let out a laugh. “Gods. Always so serious. Yes. It wasn’t easy, though. They’d left their last apartment for another. Pretty common around here. There’s a lot of price shifting. Landlords will gouge someone if they feel like they’ve come into more money. It’s not regulated at all.…”
Ren made a noise. “While I do find city ordinances fascinating, I’d like to remain focused on the task at hand.”
That earned another laugh from Mat. “Of course, of course. I visited their old flat. For a small fee, I learned that a woman named Cath Invernette stopped by to provide their new address for…” Mat frowned midthought. He tugged a journal out of his breast pocket, flipped a few pages, and found the note. “… for a shipment of fabric? She wanted to be sent word if the delivery arrived at the old address.”
While Ren would have preferred to make first contact in a public setting—a business or out for drinks at a tavern—she would certainly not turn up her nose at a home address. She also mentally noted the name Cath Invernette. Was that an alias? A contact? A friend?
“Is it far from here?”
Instinctively, Ren reached for the journal. Mat was quick, though. He leaned back in his chair and tucked the journal back in his pocket. A broad grin surfaced.
“Apologies. Nothing against you, Ren, but I need the money first. The Winters family has shattered my trust in the concept of future payments. I have no plans of being stiffed again.”
Ren nodded. “Fair enough. How much?”
“Make me an offer.”
It was an annoying tactic, even if it was clever. He had no idea how much money Ren had in reserve for this supposed mission with House Brood. Mat certainly knew just how deep their coffers were, but forcing her to make the first offer was a fine test. Too low and he’d never take her seriously. He might even doubt her story about working for the Broods. Too high, though, and Ren and her mother would be left with very little money to navigate back home with. She could not access all her accounts while in Ravinia.
“I can pay two hundred—but only if you escort me directly to the address.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Really? That’s all? You’re about to be handed the actual location of the people you’re searching for—and you can only spare a day’s wage?”
“I have other means of finding them,” Ren noted. “Dahvid fights in the gladiator pits. All I have to do is attend a match.…”
Mat’s grin widened. “He’s scheduled to fight two weeks from now. If you can afford to wait that long—and pay for room and board—then surely you can do better than two hundred.”
“Four hundred,” Ren said through gritted teeth. “Two days’ wages should go a long way for someone without any prospects.”
Mat threw a hand over his chest, pretending to be wounded. “I’ll take eight, because I get the sense that time is of the essence. I am by far your fastest route to finding them. I can tell you’re trying to get to them before someone else does. I don’t know why, and honestly, I don’t care. But if you want to win whatever race you’re in—I’m the one that gets you across the finish line first.”
Ren disliked being back in this position. Beholden to the Mat Tullys of the world. And yet, he’d pegged the situation rather perfectly. Besides, there was some small pleasure in spending Landwin Brood’s money on his potential undoing. She reached into a pocket and carefully stacked the bills up, one by one. She stopped at six hundred instead of eight, though.
