Plotting
"We are letting control slip away. That is intolerable. It stops here and now."
The room was cold and damp, lit by small candles placed among the bones and dust of the dead, and the light was barely sufficient. The speaker's expression was shadowed and unreadable, but Locardi could well imagine it. The girl was nervous too. He could hear it in her breathing, could almost smell it on her.
He suppressed a shudder. "The fault lies with others. It merely falls on us to clean up their messes, M'Lord."
"Excuses and honorifics. Equally useless. Aye, but I'll have use for you. You... Wench... Tell me of the three who witnessed the attack on Lord Slade."
The girl took a second to find her voice. "One a fool of a girl who serves the royals. The second a pet of the First Sister, a former cutpurse converted to the light of faith."
"A fanatic, then. Useless. The third?"
"A servant of Kassof, handmaid to the spirit-touched witch who holds the string the Kassof nobles dance on."
"If any of them know anything useful, she will be the one. Girl, can you get Locardi into the palace?"
"Yes... Of course. But I could deal with her myself..."
Locardi braced for the rage that he expected would greet any questioning of the Renewer's orders.
Instead, the reply was gentle, almost tender. "I'm certain you could, child. I know I need but say the word. But I have other plans for you and you'll need to bide in your place. Locardi will handle this. You just see to it he gets inside."
Locardi sensed the gaze of the Renewer shift to him in the shadows.
"Bring her here. Find out what she knows."
"And then?"
"I will consult the spirits. Now go. Be back with your prize before the dawn."