“I DON’T LIKE THIS,” Mikael said.
Pamini cast a sidewise glance in his direction. She’d just returned from directing a carriage’s driver to a spot where his horses could wait on the long drive. “You think I do?”
They waited in the pungent alleyway behind the stables of Faralis’ fine house. On the northern side of the town, it was large enough to have a huge garden attached, but there was little space, as Pamini had said, to exercise horses. No pathways, and the cobbled courtyard at the bottom of the garden—currently clogged with visitors’ carriages—was barely large enough to walk horses, much less let them run. Pamini hadn’t been happy with their treatment, one of the reasons she was willing to help. The main reason, though, was that Cerradine had agreed to this subterfuge with Gasanen.
Mikael wasn’t actually part of the plan. He was merely supposed to meet with Gasanen the next day to get the promised name of Jusid’s killer. But if this was going to happen at his bidding, he wanted to be here.
The stone house on the hill, a building of one story that rambled into great size, was brightly lit, every lantern in the garden glowing. From where he stood, half-hidden down by a stable wall, Mikael could see visitors walking up the last distance to the house, heavy coats and jackets obscuring Larossan garb. It was a festive gathering, not a holy day for the true god, so the colors were bright. Some of the guests carried pennants, freshly blessed no doubt, as gifts for their host. Mikael hadn’t laid eyes on the man yet.
For his part, Mikael wore clothing Anna had provided, a plain tan tunic and brown trousers, plus a heavy brown jacket, all of which smelled of someone else’s accumulated sweat. His pale hair would still give him away, so he’d wrapped a dark scarf around his head. A group of men waited behind them, twelve in all, most Larossans who looked as if they’d worked with horses their entire lives. The horses would be taken to a paddock on an absent neighbor’s land, making it look as if they’d escaped the fire by fleeing over the property line.
“Let’s get this done,” Pamini whispered.
Since she was familiar with the stables, Mikael let her make the calls. She led the men into the stables, and they opened the side doors as quietly as possible. Then the first of the men entered one of the stalls, clipped a lead onto the horse’s halter, and led the horse away at a jog, out into the dark alley and beyond Mikael’s vision. Another man climbed bareback onto his horse and led a second horse out with them. They followed the first out through the alleyway and were gone, and then another pair, until one white-socked horse was left.
A large Larossan man stepped forward to claim that one—the bodyguard Mikael had seen in the tavern. He took that horse’s lead and strode away with him, into the alleyway.
Pamini made the gesture of striking a match, then pointed with her chin after that man. Mikael waved to her, drew his scarf back up to hide his hair, and chased after the man as he turned and led the horse off in the opposite direction from the others.
Keeping to the shadows, Mikael pursued the man along the darkened street. Behind them, a fire erupted, a light in the darkness as his man led the horse onward.
It seemed a long time, but eventually, they reached a walled estate. Hiding behind the edge of one of the stone wall posts, Mikael watched as the bodyguard waited for a man on duty to open the gate for him.
They made their way through the gate and it was locked behind them. Mikael puffed out a frustrated breath.
Pamini had suggested following this one horse, in her opinion the most valuable of the creatures stabled at Faralis’ home. She’d been right, then. This one was the special one, the one that had required the attention of Gasanen’s own bodyguard.
So this isn’t just about getting a man into Faralis’ private study. Mikael wedged himself between a tree and a wall where he could see the gate into the darkness. Gasanen had suggested a distraction, but at some point in their discussion, that had changed into a fire in the sables. Mikael wasn’t quite sure when but was sure it had been Gasanen’s suggestion. And he’d gone along, making himself and Pamini complicit in what might have been no more than horse theft.
Mikael stayed at the post until his feet began to hurt. Pacing would have helped, but he would reveal himself, so he just lifted one cold foot at a time and shook it out. The cold was beginning to bother his nose and fingers, too.
He was rewarded for his patience when a carriage approached the same entryway to the estate in question.
The vehicle paused as the gate opened, so Mikael ran to the side and rapped on the door.
The driver half-turned on the box and pointed a pistol at him. “Get back.”
“I just want to talk to him,” Mikael called up, hands wide. “It’s business.”
A guard from inside the gateway hustled over—another big man like the bodyguard. He grabbed Mikael’s borrowed coat by the neck and shoved him against a fence post.
“Let him go,” Gasanen said from the now-open carriage door. “You want to talk to me, Mr. Lee, come on up.”
The clearly unhappy guard went and held the carriage door open as Mikael climbed up, then shoved the door shut as soon as Mikael settled. It was a fine coach, smelling faintly of some incense he couldn’t quite place, the squabs clean and new. Better than a lot of the royal coaches.
For his part, Gasanen appeared to have come from an event that required more festive garb than Mikael had seen on him before. His long dark-blue jacket was brightly embroidered with a floral pattern in oranges and golds about the cuffs and the front placket. His gold trousers and embroidered slippers matched. The clothing that Sera wore every day likely cost several times as much as Gasanen’s, but his had not come cheaply.
“I assume your man figured out that I was after the horse?” Gasanen said, as if there could be no other explanation for Mikael’s presence here.
“He did,” Mikael said. “That seemed the most logical explanation for setting the stables on fire. There are dozens of other ways to distract from someone sneaking about the police commissioner’s house.” He gestured toward Gasanen’s fine attire. “Or was it you who attended?”
“Fire is a universal cataclysm most people will flee,” Gasanen said, not answering the latter question. “And the ruined stables will present a short-term explanation when the horse isn’t found.”
Mikael looked at the older man. “Did you actually retrieve any evidence?”
Gasanen laughed shortly. “Not what you’re after. I’ll be acquiring that later.”
Mikael controlled his annoyance, then recalled Gasanen couldn’t sense it. “We helped you steal a horse.”
Gasanen shook his head wearily, as if exhausted by explaining things to children. “You helped me steal a bargaining chip, Mr. Lee. This horse, and the deed of ownership I retrieved from Faralis’ office, are what I’m trading for that information.”
“With whom?” He was pressing his luck with this man, but it was worth a try.
“I’m sure whomever you have following me will inform you of that later. Is that all, Mr. Lee?”
Mikael was sure he wouldn’t get any answer from Gasanen that the man wasn’t already prepared to give. “I’m sure we’ll talk again.”
“That is the point of this, is it not?” Gasanen asked, dark eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine amusement. He opened the door, an unsubtle clue for Mikael to step down.
Mikael complied. He wasn’t going to win any points with the man by antagonizing him.
Gasanen called up for the driver to move on, then sat back as the guard shut the door. The carriage rolled on into the estate. The scowling guard closed the gate behind the carriage, giving Mikael a censorious look as he did so.
Mikael made a careful note of the address, although he had no doubt Anna already knew exactly where this man lived.