Chapter 7

I clattered down the stairs to the guild's main hall, fists clenched and ready to spit nails. I couldn't believe the masters had trapped me in a corner like this. Lorget was forcing me to train his bit of fluff, even though he knew I didn't trust her. I could understand his interest—I bet that supple slender body was terrific in bed—but did he have to use me to advance his personal agenda? Couldn't he damn well train her himself? Although I supposed that would have been too blatant for Lorget. He was a subtle bastard and wouldn't want it said she was sleeping her way to the top.

I paced back and forth at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for Ziola to peel herself away from the directors and descend. Slowly, I wrestled my anger into submission and shoved it back in the cage where I kept all my strong emotions. By the time Ziola appeared, I was sitting at the large oak planning table in the middle of the room with another whiskey from the guild liquor cabinet. I knew I needed to slow down. I could put away gallons of ale, but I didn't have much of a head for hard liquor. But, if I had ever needed it, it was now.

The late afternoon sun streaming through the window caught the highlights in Ziola's auburn hair. The first two times I'd seen her, it was pulled tight back, but today it hung loose around her shoulders, framing her delicate, heart-shaped face. Her full lips looked petulant as she approached the table, and I found it satisfying that she didn't want this arrangement any more than I did.

"Sit," I said, gesturing to a chair. "We need to figure out how to approach this."

She sat and regarded me warily. "Is there any more information in those documents?"

"Not really. It's mostly just rumors and gossip." I handed them to her. "Burn them when you finish."

"You don't want them back?"

"I scanned them before you came down."

Her brows shot up, but she just said, "OK."

"Do you have any contacts that might have information about this?" I asked.

Ziola looked down at her hands. "No."

Suspicion dawned, and I peered at her. "Do you have any contacts at all?"

She hunched down in her chair. "No."

"How long have you been in Sageport?"

"Six months."

I eyed her thoughtfully. The other female guild members were sent on honey trap assignments, not break and enter jobs. Young, agile girls were sometimes part of a team that required someone small, but they were usually redirected when they developed more womanly attributes. Ziola, however, didn't fit that mold, and I could only think of one reason Lorget would sponsor her into the guild as an adult.

I sighed with resignation. "What skills can you offer here?"

"I'm good at surveillance and infiltration."

"Wonderful." I said, my tone scathing. "Any idea what we should surveil?"

Ziola shrugged. "Um, no."

I threw my hands up in the air. "What good are you on a job that requires gathering information?"

If possible, she got smaller in her chair. Abandoning my previous plan to slow my drinking, I tossed back the whiskey I had been sipping and banged the cup down on the table. Ziola flinched.

I took a slow, deep breath and dragged a hand down my face. I didn't like anything about this situation, but it wasn't her fault she didn't have a network. I'd lived in Sageport all my life. I could hardly expect her to have cultivated informants in six months.

"If it makes a difference," she said stiffly, "I didn't ask for this either."

"Well, it doesn't. I'm still stuck figuring out what to do with you."

Her face flushed, and she sat up straight, jabbing a finger at me. "Maybe if you hadn't whined to Lorget like a spoiled child, he wouldn't have decided I need to work on team player skills."

Stung, I fired back, "Maybe if you'd stuck to fucking masters instead of backstabbing everyone else, we'd all be better off."

The color drained from her face, and she got shakily to her feet.

My stomach twisted with chagrin. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for," I said quickly. What in the hells was the matter with me? I never lost control like that.

Ziola's shoulders slumped, and she inhaled deeply while staring at her boots. "I'll tell Lorget this is impossible. If they don't want to give me another assignment, I'll move on. It's not like I've been in Sageport long enough to put down roots."

I felt like a cretin and also stood. "No. Please sit back down." Catching hold of her sleeve, I gave a little tug. "I'm talking out my ass. I should have stopped with the whiskey at least two shots ago."

She stared at me a long moment, then gave a tight nod and sank back down in the chair. I sat as well and tried to come up with a plan. I had contacts all over the city, but I wasn't about to expose them to her. We could see if Ralph had heard anything at The Stony Mug. The pub was always a good source of gossip, and I didn't have to worry about Ziola trying anything with Ralph.

"C'mon, I know a tavern owner who hears lots of things."

She eyed me warily. "More whiskey?"

I snorted a laugh. "I'm done with whiskey for the rest of the day. Maybe the rest of the month." I winced. "Truthfully, I rarely drink it at all." Looking down, I rubbed the back of my neck. Drinking this all away was terribly appealing, but I knew I needed all my wits, not only for the job, but to deal with Ziola.

I cheered up as soon as we pushed through the doors to The Stony Mug. The polished wood and brass bar reflected the gleam of fairy lights on the ceiling, and rough tables filled the room. A small stage stood in one corner where musicians would play raucous tunes on weekends and dart boards hung on one wall. This was one of the few places in the city where I felt totally safe and could relax. The crowd here could be rough some nights, but no matter what, Ralph and even his staff would always have my back. It was a nice, if rare, feeling.

It was still early so the bar wasn't packed and Ralph wasn't being run off his feet yet. I slid onto a stool and patted the one next to me for Ziola to sit. She perched gingerly on the edge and watched Ralph closely, as if ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. Ralph's formidable appearance with his warrior's physique, greenish-gray skin, and clan tattoos belied his gentle soul. Although Ralph was only too accustomed to reactions like Ziola's, I knew it would still bother him.

Leaning over, I spoke softly in Ziola's ear. "Ralph is one of the finest men I know in this city. No one wants to be judged based on their looks. Don't insult him by acting like he's a rabid animal."

She looked at me sharply but nodded and settled more comfortably on the stool.

Ralph smiled broadly and wiped the bar in front of us with a rag. "How's it going?" he asked.

"Good." Addressing Ziola, I said, "This is Ralph. He owns The Stony Mug. His wife is a sculptor, musician, and great in a fight."

"She is that," Ralph said with a laugh.

"Ralph, this is Ziola, my…" What did I call her? My apprentice? Neither one of us had agreed to a formal arrangement. Partner? That implied some sort of mutual willingness to cooperate. "…my colleague," I ended lamely.

Ralph cut a glance at me, and I could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. I knew he was wondering if Ziola was the director's pet I had spoken of the other night. I narrowed my eyes and willed him to shut up.

Fortunately, he just shook his head, grinning at her. "I'm sorry. Working with this guy has to be a challenge." Then he picked up a mug and turned to draw an ale.

"Just small beer, Ralph," I said. "And stew." With luck, the stew would absorb some of the liquor sloshing around in my gut and put a curb on my tongue.

He spun and his eyebrows approached his hairline. "Sure you're alright?"

"I was drinking whiskey earlier and I need to get some things done tonight."

He grunted noncommittally and addressed Ziola. "What can I get you?"

She hesitated for long enough that it occurred to me she might not have the coin for tavern meals. I didn't know how many jobs Lorget was sending her way, but she probably didn't have any outside work to subsidize them. Money might well be tight, and I doubted she was the type to resort to picking pockets or stealing from market stalls. All things I had done in my hungry childhood and wouldn't wish on anyone.

"This one's on me," I said casually. "I highly recommend Ralph's stew."

"I can't—" Ziola started.

"Don't let pride make you stupid. That's my first lesson for you."

Ralph watched our exchange with interest before calling into the kitchen for food. A server brought out two heaping bowls and half of a crusty loaf, placing them in front of us. Steam rose from the bowls and my nose twitched at the savory aroma of well-seasoned meat and fresh yeasty bread.

"Thanks, Talya, love," I said and gave her a wink. "You're as lovely as ever. If you cooked as good as Ralph, I'd marry you right now."

She slapped me playfully on the arm and rolled her eyes. "Then it's a good thing I can't so much as boil water."

I rubbed my chin thoughtfully and leered at her. "Ralph could teach you, you know."

"Ha!" She walked away laughing and headed toward the other customers.

I stuck a spoon in my bowl and glanced at Ziola. She was pointedly ignoring the conversation and focusing on her food. I took a few mouthfuls and smacked my lips appreciatively. I was allergic to personal commitments, but damn, it might almost be worth marrying if it could mean eating like this at home every day.

Wiping my mouth, I turned to Ralph. "Have you heard any rumors about an ancient magical artifact turning up in Sageport?"

Ralph leaned on the edge of the bar and stared into space for several moments. Then he said, "You know I don't get many dock workers in here, but a few nights back there were some. Deep in their cups, mind you. They were muttering about a ‘gift from the sea,' or some such, aboard the Crimson Wave, a merchant ship that came in last week. Also said something about the selkies in the harbor getting riled up over something."

Ralph moved down the bar to fill some drink orders. When he returned, he said, "They were plastered and not making much sense, so I've no idea if that's related to your artifact. But it's the only odd thing I've heard recently." He shrugged apologetically and went back to work.

Ziola finished up her last bite of bread and said, "Do you think it means anything?"

"The gods only know," I replied. "But the harbor is as good a place as any to check out."