Hard Bound, page 5
“The administrative offices are through here as well as meeting rooms. Nothing very surprising there, but this also takes us to the private open-air deck,” he said, grinning and pushing the door open.
Fiona slowed her pace to match Gaili’s and put her hand on her shoulder. “Let’s slip away, shall we? No Seven means it’ll be easier to scout the administrative offices. I’m curious as to why a person would steal paperwork when there are actual valuables with easy-to-fleece gems to pick up instead.”
They walked through the eighth door at the tail end of the tour but continued down one of the halls and slipped around the corner as quick as they could. Luckily the floor here was carpeted, soaking up the noise of their shoes.
The rooms here were open with no doors to speak of on one wall and closed doors on another. “I suppose privacy for an administrator is unnecessary,” Fiona commented.
She moved down the hall, but she could hear their skirts and Gaili rustling behind her. She cringed at the noise. Soon there was another sound to block out their movement: two people were clearly in a heated conversation from one of the Seven’s chambers. Fiona listened at the door for a moment, motioning Gaili forward. It was muffled even with her ear pressed against it. As much as she wanted to know what they were saying, she reminded herself eavesdropping wasn’t currently her mission and found the room they were looking for, named banner still hanging on the wall. Orsa’s office.
It was a small room with a desk covered in papers, a chair, and scant of anything else. The treed walls grew to an apex ceiling and a dusty window sat as the only thing eye-catching in the place. “You keep watch and I will see what I can find.”
Picking through the paperwork on the desk, Fiona saw nothing especially interesting. It was clear the desk hadn’t been cleaned and looked as if someone had started work but not finished it. There was a small book of appointments tucked into a desk drawer. Flipping it open, she saw Orsa had many meetings with Dorin Glade. The last meeting was dated on Orsa’s arrest. Another larger ledger held tasks requested of Dorin, many related to making arrangements for him. She paged through and noticed that if she flipped the book around and upside down there was another set of tasks for Clara Garden only. One lingered past the date of her arrest, with the last being tonight at the Crystal Chest. Fiona tucked them both into her scarf beneath her dress, feeling them disappear from her fingers. She could examine them later when there was more time.
“Fiona,” Gaili whispered, backing up from the door, “I heard a door open. I think whoever’s here is leaving.”
“Well, we’re at the end of the hall. There’s no reason—” She cut off as voices got closer to them, not farther away. Why weren’t they leaving? She looked around for someplace for her and Gaili to hide or go. The window was the only option. She ran to it and tried to throw open its double panes, but they resisted her, clearly unused.
“Gaili,” she whispered, motioning to the window.
Clomping over, the faun pressed her hands against one side while Fiona pressed against the other. Though Gaili was petite, her looks belied the muscles of her arms detailing her smithing nature, and the stuck window edging cracked a bit before giving way and opening.
Gaili picked up the layers of her dress like an expert tailor checking the hem. She pulled herself through the window and landed on the deck gracefully.
Fiona picked up her own skirts, pressing them to her. She swung a leg out the window, wishing fervently that she was wearing her normal clothes. She pulled herself half out but felt a tug. The overdress Gaili’d lent her was caught on something. Fiona groaned inwardly as the voices moved closer. She could rip it, leaving evidence behind, but she still might not manage to get through the window in time.
“I could—” Gaili started, but Fiona waved her off.
“Go and join the group,” she whispered. No sense getting her in the bind along with herself. She swung her legs back over and stood up just in time to face the faekin entering the room.
They stopped in the doorway, fae and faun. The tall emerald-colored fae was dressed quite handsomely in a long verdant tunic over plum silken hose. His belt was decorated with stiches in dramatic style with small flourishes that contained glistening diamonds within the notches. They matched the ones pinned in his downy, floppy ears and the pin that tied his long honey-strawberry hair back behind his head. Though it was a typical warm end of day, he had a heavy plum velvet cloak trimmed in copper threads clasped to one shoulder. If it had been a book, the kind Fiona liked to read on breaks between cases, he would’ve been the dashing hero such authors wrote about.
Though the faun was shorter than him by only a foot, she didn’t seem diminished standing beside him. Her horns, brown and curved toward the back of her head, were nestled within a fashionable crown of alabaster braids adorned with small grass-green gems that reflected the amber light streaming in from the window. A black lace scarf capped her hair, draping to her shoulders. She held herself upright, if not a bit haughtily, with her arms crossed over an expensive beaded velvet bodice and layers upon layers of velvet dress. She looked proud, perfect, and perturbed. Both their faces were adorned with more swirling silver and cream-colored tattoos than Fiona had ever seen in her life.
They seemed surprised to see her, and Fiona wondered if it was just her ill luck that drew them here or if they’d already been headed to Orsa’s office. She smoothed down her dress, releasing the skirt on its snagged hem, then walked toward them and nodded cordially. Taking control of the situation was her best course of action. She placed a hand on her chest, “Oh, you startled me. I was trying to hide.”
“Hide?” said the faun, lily-white eyebrows furrowing. The faun glanced at the fae, who looked curiously at Fiona. “Hide from whom?”
Fiona smiled as she lied, “The guide. He does prattle on.”
“There are many other places to run to,” the faun said. “Away from the Pavilion, for one.” She advanced on Fiona. “What are you doing in here?”
Before she could answer, the fae broke in, no longer momentarily stunned, “That veil looks familiar.”
This threw Fiona off. “It does?”
“It does?” the faun echoed.
“Are you perhaps Investigator Thorne?”
Fiona froze. She had never in all her days been recognized. It left her off kilter. Unable to recover quickly, she fell back on childhood mannerisms. “Why yes. How do you do?”
“Investigator?” the faun said, moving between the two. Her eyes narrowed. “Are you spying around in here?”
“I thought you looked familiar,” the fae said, grinning and ignoring his companion.
She would not be ignored. She pulled his arm, and his attention snapped to her. “It doesn’t matter that she looks familiar, Dorin. Do focus. We have an intruder coming in here to do no one knows what.”
“I’m here to help you with your case, of course.” Since the fae, Dorin, somehow recognized her, Fiona thought she might as well try the best tactic she had at her disposal: the truth.
Well, some of it.
“The theft of a valuable item from within these walls is highly suspicious,” Fiona said, alluding in vague terms and hoping he would take the bait.
Before Dorin could speak, the faun glared at him and said, “That’s private information. And details will not be confirmed to strangers. We don’t require any help.”
“The theft of paperwork or curiosities…” She let a pause linger before continuing, bubbling up her theory. “…unrecovered sounds like you may need help. I came here to offer my services as a consultant.” She leaned in with a knowing tilt. Paperwork sounded light, and after looking at the curiosities, she suspected more than just that was taken.
“She’s the one who helped the Guild with Blaze,” Dorin said to the faun.
Fiona’s confidence slipped. “I didn’t help the Guild with anything. I did it with the fire denizens. Completely and wholly without their help.” She thought Dodger would forgive her this one occasion on not singling him out.
“They said you walked around with an unfashionable scarf. Many colors and many pockets.” Dorin stared at Fiona and shifted to look her up and down. “But you look taller in the sketch.”
“Dorin, please quit entertaining this intruder’s meaningless conversation.”
“What sketch?” Fiona said at the same time. Larrakane save her, what was he talking about?
“If she’s the Thorne woman, she could help us, Clara.”
Clara! So, this was Gaili’s old mentor. Fiona looked at the faun in a new light. Periwinkle eyes stared distrustfully at Fiona.
Fiona raised an eyebrow and shrugged lightly. “I’d be more than happy to help. It seems to me that others will figure it out soon enough. The crowns don’t give off a hint of warmth, which most items imbued with elemental essence do. You haven’t recovered them, otherwise the fakes would be replaced. So that means you don’t know where to find them and the culprit you’ve arrested isn’t talking. I can help with all that and retrieve them for you. If you hire me.”
“I have it in hand with the wardens,” Clara said. “You need to leave before I have you escorted out by them and charged with improper entry.”
“I didn’t break my way into anything. There are no doors here, and the tour guide will tell you I am part of the group.” Fiona casually shifted to smile at Dorin. They’d been arguing or negotiating with each other before in that room. If she could get Dorin to believe in her, perhaps it would give her a way forward here. She would need more access if her guesses were right to uncover evidence freeing Orsa.
Dorin stood up straighter, his height towering over the ladies. “Prove to us you’re really Thorne. Show us how the scarf works, and we can talk about it.”
Fiona rubbed the edge of the scarf between her fingers. She knew it was unusual, and to expose how it worked to scholars like them might have them making other demands. But if she did acquiesce, how far would it get her in information about Orsa and the theft?
Clara countered, “She’s a gawker, Dorin. Stop taking her seriously. We need to get Jacopo to escort her off the premises at once.”
Fiona, thoroughly aggravated at not controlling the situation better, sighed and held the scarf out to Dorin. “Put your hand in the black velvet pocket.”
Dorin glanced at Clara but put his hand forward, slipping it inside the scarf.
“Now think of gloves, soft leather, buttery to the touch. Dove-gray riding gloves.”
He closed his eyes, his mouth pursed in concentration. He pulled his hand back quickly, shocked as a pair of gloves sat half in, half out of the scarf. Fiona tugged them the rest of the way out and held them out to Dorin, who took them tentatively. He rubbed them in his hand. “Marvelous. Simply marvelous. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Clara’s mouth hung open, but she quickly closed it, her gaze intent on the scarf. Fiona had seen that look before and promptly pushed the scarf down her dress, tucking it away from the faun’s sight. She didn’t want to lose it again in this lifetime. Manners be damned.
She leaned back on the desk, clasping her hands in front of her as the two Keepers’ attention was captured. “Now, when would you like me to start?”
“Never,” answered Clara. She glared at Dorin. “As I said, we have it under control. The wardens are on it. Orsa is in jail and that’s all you need to know. Thank you for your offer of services, but they aren’t needed.” She turned, creating a gap for Fiona to exit.
Dorin turned to Clara, face still shocked. “She already knows about the crowns and the paperwork. We might as well use her skills to look for them. At the very least agree with that.”
Clara glowered. “I don’t trust her.”
Fiona moved slowly from the desk, weighing her options. Being dismissed was better than being arrested. But there was much here to dig into, and it would be easier if she had access to the Seven. She nodded. “The crowns seem quite powerful to be let out of your sight for long. I hope that the items are recovered in a timely manner before other people get wind of your vulnerabilities. Like the Travel Guild or the Painted Edge. Who knows what they may do.” The leaders of the pages had been warned about the Painted Edge by now. With their success in smuggling fire creatures out of Blaze, stealing the fire artifact from Soots, and an airship from Restless Rise, they posed quite a menace. No one knew where they were hiding. Naturally people thought they were everywhere since the Guild hadn’t yet found them. Perhaps the threat of them would have a better effect.
Dorin put up a hand, somehow standing even taller than before. “That won’t do. As a Keeper of the Seven, I wield my power to do what’s best for the page. It is in my right to hire you. And that I shall.” He turned to Clara. “We have it under control, but a consultant won’t hurt and will lighten the burden. I’ll vouch for the investigator, and I know that will be quite enough for the others. Will it be for you?”
The faun said nothing, pursing her lips. Staring daggers at Fiona, she slowly nodded.
She wasn’t going to be easy to work with after this turn of events. Not that she would have been easy in the first place.
Dorin’s shoulders sagged, but he smiled wide at Fiona. “I’m happy to give you my time today, Investigator, but I believe my colleague will be late for dinner soon.”
Without a word, the faun turned and stalked out of the room. Fiona said a quick blessing to Larrakane that she didn’t run smack into Gaili. She wanted to stand good on her word and protect her friend should that occur.
“Forgive Keeper Clara. She’s apprehensive about outsiders when it comes to Order business, and she’s heading a large project at the moment. She feels she can’t trust anyone but the Seven with most things. Finding out Steward Orsa stole from us was a shock to her as much as to me.”
“But she worked for you, yes?” Fiona said, sitting properly in one of the chairs.
He nodded, his eyes bright, and sat in the other. “You do know the half of it. I’m sure you won’t divulge your sources, but I hope this doesn’t get to that cursed Painted Edge. Or the Guild. We were very clear that only the paperwork had been stolen to maintain control of the story.”
Fiona understood that completely. Once a story set in, that became the format moving forward. “My lips are sealed, but let it be understood I only heard paperwork as well. I noticed a few things on my tour, however, that had me questioning the information. The crowns, as I noted, seemed off. It may just be my experience talking there, but it did niggle at me, and others may wonder too.”
His eyes appraised her. “Yes, your intuition on that accord didn’t deceive you.”
Glad to have her hunch confirmed, she said, “But I wonder, do you believe Orsa did it?”
Dorin sighed, leaning back against a plush pillow. If Fiona hadn’t been paying attention, she wouldn’t have noticed one of his willowy ears move as if listening for other sounds. Once it came back to its original position, he said, “No. No, I do not. Orsa was—is more than an administrator. She’s a friend to me. A valued one at that. She even granted us the right to search her home, which turned up nothing, of course. I’ve been distressed about what to do next. If I should find help for her or focus the Seven on retrieving the Summer Crowns. With you hired, I get to do one while hiding the other.” He seemed to smirk at that, but his mood shifted and he frowned. “But if you’re here with an agenda different than finding the missing artifacts, I will use the full press of this page to reprimand and ban you. Is that clear?”
Fiona nodded, a little surprised by the whiplash of his feelings. She could understand him being upset about Orsa, but the threat seemed a little much. Was he truly that worried, or was something else at play? “I assure you, my intentions are true.” And aligned, although she thought it best to keep that to herself for the time being.
“Good. I would ask for your promise but that seems archaically impolite these days.” He clapped his hands, all charm and grace once again, like a new fashion being thrown on quickly. “I’ll have one of our stewards be your guide while in the page and—”
She rose and inclined her head in politeness keeping her questions about archaic promises to herself. “That won’t be necessary. I have my own guide as it were. Can I return tomorrow to talk to you more and the other Seven? I should like to start promptly in the morning.”
“Of course. I’ll alert Jacopo—he’s the front guard—and the others to your inquiry and ask they comply with your questions. But as far as getting real answers out of them, I can’t force anyone, bound as the Keepers are to each other. You’ll have to do your part.”
“Of course.” Fiona moved to the door with purposeful grace, trying to seem as confident as she could. “Thank you for your time.” She wanted to discuss payment but didn’t want to tread on Dorin’s patience any longer than necessary today. She knew when the fickle nature of luck was on her side.
She headed down the hallway glancing in the open rooms to remember the layout of the floor and out to the open-air deck. The copper sky now deepened and dark held above like a veil over the tree tops. Small lantern lights twinkled in the branches and the outline of the deck, diffusing amber light like a shower around her. Such wonders like this weren’t in every page of the Book. The unique feel that one got in the Court of Copper made her heady and light despite her reservations about the case, and the state of her world in general.
She didn’t see Gaili, however, and was just about to turn around when she heard a light whisper: “Fi, Over here.”
Fiona peered through the trees to spot Gaili sitting on a branch high above the deck. “Whatever are you doing up there?”
“I saw Clara come out to the deck. The rest of the skimmers had gone, and I don’t know. I fled up here before she could spot me.”
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to intercede.”
“It’s alright,” Gaili said, swinging from the branch back onto the deck with more grace than Fiona thought was possible in her dress. “It helped a little to see her from afar. Now if I run into her, I will probably just stammer instead of running away.”
