A Tempest of Tea, page 4
“Five years now. Not a single missed payment,” Jin continued, quiet and slow.
“Each one bigger than the last,” Arthie added.
The proprietor scratched at his head with a laugh that rattled like dice in a drunk man’s cup.
Jin gripped his umbrella. “What’s with the laugh?”
He mopped at his brow, muttering incoherently. Their proprietor had indeed been compromised.
“Next time, I’m placing a bet,” Arthie told Jin.
“I was only trying to be optimistic,” he replied. He’d expected more from the man. If Jin was being honest, he was even hurt by the betrayal.
In one sharp move, Arthie snatched the specs off the proprietor’s face and slammed them on the table. The lenses shattered but remained in place. One loose stone made for an imperfect foundation, and the proprietor was faulty mortar in her empire. He sputtered in surprise.
“Put them on,” said Arthie.
The proprietor didn’t move.
“Put them on,” Arthie repeated, voice as quiet as the night. “Or Jin will help you.”
Jin scanned the dry dock and the surrounding offices. Behind the glass of Eden Teahouse, the thin man was smart enough not to obtrude. The proprietor reached for the specs with trembling hands, hesitating before putting them back on his face.
“Do you see how the world looks when you wrong me?” she asked. This was why Arthie didn’t need dead bodies littering the streets of White Roaring. She had her ways. They kept her clean and the whispers rolling.
He clutched at the specs and nodded.
“Let’s try this again,” Arthie said. “Why is the Horned Guard speaking of eviction when we’ve abided by our agreement for half a decade?”
“I might have even thought we were friends,” Jin said with a sad laugh.
The proprietor … stopped. He stopped trembling, he stopped wringing his hands. Jin thought he might have stopped breathing too.
“They threatened my family,” he finally said. The admission was a whisper on the breeze. “I know what the pair of you are capable of, but I also know your limits. You might threaten me, you might threaten to run my coffers dry or never let my daughters marry, but you will not kill them.”
Arthie went still.
“Our arrangement is no longer because in two weeks the building will no longer be mine. I—I am deeply sorry.”
She flinched at the kindness in his tone, the pity. Jin didn’t know how to react. If the building no longer belonged to the proprietor, who did it belong to, and what did that mean for them and Spindrift?
“Who are ‘they’?” Arthie asked.
The proprietor pulled a letter from his coat and set it on the table. The wind ripped at its edges, but he held it in place. Jin pushed away from the post and looked over Arthie’s shoulder, his stomach sinking at the sight of that insignia with horns that curled like those of the devil.
The Ram was kicking them out. In two weeks.
Arthie looked down at the proprietor. “Leave White Roaring.”
The man’s head snapped up. His eyes were fractionated and comical behind the shattered lenses. “But—but my properties.”
“Properties?” Arthie laughed, low and humorless. “The only one that mattered was Spindrift, and it’s no longer yours. If you set foot in the district again, I will fit you in a box and ship you off. Your occupation is the least of your concerns.”
She might not hurt his family, but a slight was a slight, and Arthie did not forgive any more than she forgot.
People are afraid of you, Jin remembered saying once, feeling a little afraid himself.
That’s not true, but it will be, she’d replied. She was always pushing the limit, reaching for more, prodding beasts with sticks when she was in the cage with them.
At last the proprietor nodded.
“Now,” she commanded.
“But—how?” he protested. “The vampires outside the city!”
“We’re holding your life in our hands, and you’re worried about someone taking a sip out of you?” Jin asked.
Vampires were victims just as much as humans lately, disappearing without a trace. There was a new report this morning, a new ripple of disquiet through the underworld because despite inquiries and investigations, there was nothing to be found on those who had gone missing. No proof of a struggle, no bodies or weapons, no ransom notes.
Given Jin’s early education, he had an extensive vocabulary of words he’d use to describe vampires. They were deadly, cruel, sibylline, and powerful. Bestial and sanguisuge. Beautiful and vicious. Endangered had never been one of those words.
For being undead, they had quite the physique, with some rumored to have fascinating gifts, such as the ability to manipulate the elements or even control minds. It was dangerous and frightening and really quite unfair, but they were well-nigh impossible to kill, which made their disappearances extra troubling.
The proprietor hiccuped and nodded, at last, in what could only be understanding.
Jin tilted his head. “This is the part where you grab your hat and make a run for it.”
The man nodded again, hastening out of his chair. He tripped on one of the legs as he staggered down the wooden steps like a boulder rolling about and took off without a backward glance.
The waves crashed against the cliff face, angry and restless, heaving a new weight into the proprietor’s absence. In the five years since opening its doors, not once had they ever truly feared Spindrift might close.
Arthie set a trio of duvin on the table for the tea and turned to Jin.
“I—” he started.
“Home?” she asked.
She was calm. Too calm. But Jin was too frazzled to question it. Two weeks. He simply nodded, wondering how much longer Spindrift could be defined as home.
5
ARTHIE
Back in Spindrift, Arthie slung her coat over her arm and headed up the stairs to tally the day’s invoices in her office. Too tired to sleep, she’d told Jin. The numbers would help her clear the fog in her mind.
Seeing the glee of her rivals would feel even worse than losing Spindrift itself. If there was anyone outside the Ram who would rejoice, it would be the Athereum. The underworld was home to White Roaring’s elite vampires, a society standing by its own rules and regulations. It was just as powerful as the monarchy, even if unofficially.
Most notably, the Athereum wasn’t fond of Arthie’s catering to the common vampire any more than she was fond of their pretension.
With a sigh, Arthie closed the glass-paneled doors behind her and settled in her chair, not bothering with the light. She cracked open the cabinet by her desk and took out her slowly diminishing decanter of coconut water. The liquid inside sloshed as she poured exactly a quarter of a cup and drained it, clarity returning when she set down her glass.
That was when she realized two things: There was a breeze coming in from the window she had closed hours ago, and a figure was silhouetted on the sill.
She slammed on the light switch under her desk, dousing her intruder in hazy gold.
A boy. A Horned Guard.
He sat against the window frame with far more gall than he should have had the sense to display. In her office. In her home.
“The great Arthie Casimir.” His voice lilted in an accent that hinted of elsewhere, and his white hair sat stark against his brow. He couldn’t have been much older than her.
The Horned Guard was large, with numerous ranks to enforce Ettenian law on every level. The lighter a guard’s uniform was in color, the higher they were ranked.
His uniform was snow white. A captain.
Arthie lunged out of her chair, finding a grip on the checkered scarf he had draped around his shoulders. They staggered, shoes scuffing the floorboards, until she threw him up against the wall.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t flay you,” Arthie hissed, pressing her knife against his neck. He might have been a head taller, and she might have been alone, but she didn’t care.
“Because I can give you what you need,” he said, and she took pride in the strain in his voice.
“All I need right now is a shovel to dig your grave,” Arthie seethed.
His chest heaved. His features were rugged, a ruthless sort of beautiful.
“Tell me,” he said softly, tilting closer until his throat bobbed against her blade, “do you remember what it’s like to live?”
She stumbled back, releasing his shirt. Her mind and limbs were slow to communicate. His eyes clutched hers, knocking her off-kilter, and she saw herself in them. An unshakable pain. An endless torment.
He straightened his clothes, severing the connection, and before he could blink, she cocked her pistol and the night went quiet. The shutters ceased their creaking, and a restless silence crowded through the window.
“Such vain weapons, guns. Loud. Violent. Jarring,” he mused before his voice fell flat. “Put that away.”
“You forget, guard,” Arthie murmured. “Spindrift is my home, and you’ve set foot in the wrong den.”
“Oh, but I hear that in a fortnight Spindrift will be brought to the ground and your cargo blown back to the sea,” he said, unaffected by the barrel pointing at his chest. “We’ll have ourselves a tempest of tea on the horizon.”
Arthie took a step closer to him, her aim steady. “Now you’re simply begging to die.”
“I will not beg for what’s been promised.” He took an equal step closer, and the barrel of her gun settled over his heart. She felt the warmth of his exhale, the cool sting of mint on his breath.
He lowered his chin.
“I’d like to propose an alliance.” There was something dark in the timbre of his voice when he said it. “The palace is in lockdown, leaving staff and many officials trapped, because the Ram is in a frenzy. Confidential documents have gone missing. Specifically, a ledger.”
The Ram, in a frenzy. If only Arthie could rejoice. But at least now she knew why she hadn’t heard from her snitchers. The palace really was under lockdown.
“It’s damning enough to threaten royal rule,” he continued. “The Council could oust the Ram.”
The Council was as arcane as the way they chose their monarchs and the masks they hid behind. By all appearances, they offered so little resistance that the Ram ruled the empire autocratically. If it could spur the Council into action, the ledger was damning indeed.
“And how do you know this?” she asked.
He gave her a look. “I work for the Ram.”
“Every Horned Guard does.” She wouldn’t let him get away with half-truths, especially when his uniform was nothing like a typical guard’s.
He hesitated a beat. “I’m one of several high captains sworn to act with discretion because the Ram doesn’t want the disappearance known.”
She’d heard of high captains but had never seen one to know they really existed.
“Known by whom?” Arthie asked, sensing that he was choosing his words with great care.
“Officials, advisers,” he said, then worked his jaw. “Potentially other countries. A confidential ledger does mean illicit transactions.”
Which meant this was trade related, possibly even connected to the East Jeevant Company. Her distaste for both the Ram and the EJC only continued to grow.
But things like that didn’t just go missing. No, it was stolen by someone who knew exactly what they were doing.
“And you’ve been tasked with retrieving it,” she surmised. With a mirthless laugh, she dug the barrel into his rib cage, forcing him back against the wall. “Do you think I’m desperate enough to work for the Ram?”
“Do you think I’m reckless enough to confide in White Roaring’s favorite criminal?”
What a compliment.
He looked like he was trying to calm himself. “We might be on opposite sides of the law, Casimir, but we can both agree the Ram has too much power.”
This boy just might be the first Horned Guard she ever agreed with.
“And I have no intention of handing over the ledger to anyone,” he continued. “I want to take the Ram down with it.”
“Treasonous words, but I have no desire to get involved with politics,” Arthie replied.
“No? Not even if you can leverage that ledger to save Spindrift first?”
He might even be the first Horned Guard to leave her speechless. To give her hope.
“If I use the ledger to save Spindrift,” she said, “you lose any chance of toppling the Ram with it.”
The boy grinned. “Oh, but you’re smart enough to do both.”
She wouldn’t give in to his flattery. She might have been smart enough to do both, but that didn’t mean she would. As much as she’d love to see the Ram gone, Arthie preferred her method of chaos. She couldn’t blackmail someone she’d nixed. She couldn’t be a thorn in someone’s side if they no longer existed.
The high captain didn’t need to know that. Besides, she had no reason to fix a country that wasn’t hers.
She pulled back, holstering her pistol. “And why should I believe you?”
He could easily make use of Arthie and her crew’s resources, steal the ledger, and turn tail. He could go even further and claim Arthie had stolen it and lock them up for good. They might agree about the Ram’s reign, but that didn’t change the fact that the boy in front of her worked for the monarch.
And nothing good ever came from partnering with the enemy.
“You holstered your pistol because you’ve already decided you don’t have to,” he said.
He was perceptive.
“But I doubt I’m the only high captain who thought you might be of use. I’m offering you a deal. The others won’t be so friendly.”
She knew cunning when she saw it. “I don’t like being threatened.”
“Then don’t let them threaten you.”
If what he said about the other captains was true, they’d no sooner discuss their plans with the Ram than come directly to Arthie.
“All right,” she said, gathering the invoices on her desk. “Where was it last seen?”
“In the Athereum.”
The Athereum. That all-powerful vampire society where entrance was restricted to those with dedicated markers, and trespassers were killed with a stake through the heart. She couldn’t waltz in. No one could.
“White Roaring is full of petty crooks. Take your pick. The Horned Guard seizing Spindrift doesn’t make me a criminal any more than it makes you a saint, so enjoy your tea. I wish I could say it was a pleasure, but I’m not one to lie.”
She started for the door to see him out.
“Are you aware of what happened to the museum known as the Curio?” he said from behind her.
She paused.
“Priceless artifacts stolen and replaced with those from the private collections of White Roaring’s elites, all in a single night. They still haven’t caught the robbers or the relics they stole from the museum that stood where your establishment does now. Such an odd coincidence, isn’t it?”
It wasn’t coincidence. It was her and Jin, and he knew it. Arthie chewed the inside of her cheek. He’d somehow sniffed them out. But how?
“Did you know there were rumors of a young brown girl in the museum that very morning?” he asked. “Foreigners aren’t known to peruse colonizer collections.”
She wouldn’t indulge him. “And because I was in the museum before the theft happened, you believe I’m capable of thievery.”
The guard almost looked amused. “You only need to be present in the room when the ledger goes missing again. This isn’t a job for a pickpocket. Whoever infiltrates the notorious society has to have the right connections and knowledge of vampires. That’s you.”
Arthie wished Jin were here to hear all this praise. She returned to her desk and shuffled the mess on top of it.
“And once we worm our way into the Athereum, are we to grab every book we see until we find it?”
“It’s a bound ledger. Violet ribbon, standard leather casing. Nothing out of the ordinary, but it’s in the possession of a man named Penn Arundel who hasn’t been seen outside the Athereum in weeks.”
Sheets slipped out of her grasp and floated to the ground. Disquiet quivered through her at the name, but she couldn’t let him see it.
“And,” she started, stringing words together, “does the Ram know it’s in the Athereum?”
“Not to my knowledge,” the high captain said, and she wondered just how many guards with ears all over the city reported to him—and how much of those reports never made it to the Ram. “Otherwise we might have seen an army storming the place.”
Arthie didn’t think that would do any good, and the Ram had to have known as much. Vampires were a force to be reckoned with, but Athereum vampires with bottomless resources on hand? The Ram wouldn’t stand a chance. Still, Arthie couldn’t tell if the captain was certain the Ram didn’t know, or if he was assuming as much because no one had yet stormed the place.
“If only you weren’t so good at what you do, Casimir.” He gave the room a slow perusal, pausing at the double doors when laughter rose from the lower floor, free and unrestrained. She thought she heard sympathy in his voice. “Spindrift might never have grown to the point where it threatened the Ram’s ego.”
The Ram’s ego. That was a good way to put it. Arthie wasn’t a menace to society, she wasn’t ruining the economy. Spindrift wasn’t loud or brash or an eyesore. She, a lower-class immigrant, was successful, and that made people mad.
“Seems you’re on a quick path to becoming a criminal yourself,” Arthie said, refusing to let him get through to her.
He gave her a soft smile. “I’m no criminal. I still work for the law that you break by breathing.”
“Did you learn that from the little handbook the Horned Guard gives every recruit?” Arthie asked with a laugh. “What’s in it for you? The Ram might need a reckoning, but by allying with me, you’re risking your life.”
“Is that not the duty of a guard?” he asked.
Self-righteous sod. She didn’t believe him, but what he offered was enough to make her overlook it. For now.
