The Mask of Mirrors by M. Carrick; (different e readers txt) 📕

the role she’d played in the Night of Hells, and the only way to warn Donaia—short of blaming it all on a szorsa named Arenza Lenskaya again.

Donaia’s fingers were digging divots into the edge of her couch. “Gianco always said his sister took our luck with her, but… could this patterner have cursed us?” Her gaze shot to Tanaquis. “Is that even possible?”

Tanaquis’s gaze reminded Renata of an owl’s—astute and detached. “Anything in the cosmos is possible. One only needs to know the right numen, and the right power to call on.” She shook herself and picked up her journal, flipping to a new page. “Vraszenians believe that children conceived on the night of their Great Dream have a special connection to pattern. You were conceived three years too early for that, but the wellspring is said to be present in the realm of mind at all times. Given all that’s happened recently with aža and ash, it’s possible a connection is there. Have you ever—”

“How do we find out if this is true?” Donaia broke in. “How do we remove the curse, before it takes anyone else?” She turned to Renata, eyes wide. “Did these cards of yours give any indication?”

Renata shook her head. “I can try again, but… this is well beyond me.” And that was entirely true.

“That shouldn’t be necessary,” Tanaquis said briskly. “We need to verify your claim first—not that I question your words, Alta Renata, but pattern is notoriously unreliable at best. I’ll have to calculate some charts, too. Donaia, I’ll need dates—not just birth, but registration, death, any other event of significance—for the entire Traementis line going back to the Veiled Waters when Alta Renata was conceived.”

She closed her journal with a decisive snap, then took Donaia’s and Renata’s hands in hers. “I’ve never lifted a curse, but I can hardly pass this challenge up. If it’s possible to save you, I will.”

The Shambles and the Aerie: Cyprilun 28

“I swear on Ninat,” Kaineto complained to Ecchino, “if this bite festers, I’m going to go down to the cells and knock every tooth out of that girl’s mouth. Fucking river rat’s tongue was so foul, I’m sure it’s got diseases.”

Grey was used to tuning out his lieutenant’s complaints. He did what he could to curb the actual abuses, but when it came to teaching Kaineto basic human decency, the man was a lost cause. As Grey passed on his way to his office, though, Ecchino pitched his voice to a mocking falsetto and said, “I’m Arkady Bones, boss of the biggest knot in the Shambles!”

Grey spun, grabbing Kaineto’s arm, cutting off their laughter. His lieutenant’s hand bore a few scabbed-over marks where teeth had done more than just bruise. “You arrested Arkady Bones?”

“Caught her defacing the steps of the Charterhouse this morning. She was chalking a picture of His Mercy, naked, being stoned by the crowd.” Kaineto pulled his arm free with an insolent shrug. “We ought to put a stop to that sort of thing, right, sir?”

They should—if only because Mettore had exerted his considerable power to make sure that part of his own personal nightmare didn’t become widely known. But children weren’t supposed to be kept in those cells.

Two bells later he had Arkady out, spitting mad and glaring retribution at every hawk they passed on the way to the main doors. When she spotted Kaineto, she tensed to launch herself at him, but Grey tightened his grip on her shoulder. “Try not to get arrested again before we get outside,” he hissed.

“That one’s a pisspot shitglob,” Arkady hissed back, loudly enough that a cluster of guild carpenters preparing to hang the new front doors gave her startled looks.

Commander Cercel came up behind the two of them. “Problem, Serrado?”

“That one said if I cursed like a Dockwall thug, then he’d lock me up with them,” Arkady said, baring her teeth at Kaineto, before Grey could explain the situation. “Fucker was trying to get me raped.”

“Is that so.” Cercel’s tone cooled to iced-over steel. “Thank you for bringing that to my attention. Captain Serrado will deal with it.”

As if Grey could. Lud Kaineto came from an influential delta family and threw his weight around like he was noble instead of mere gentry. Cercel had put him under Grey’s command in a bid to prevent him from abusing his Vigil authority—but in the end, Grey was a Vraszenian. If he disciplined Kaineto the way the man deserved, he’d be lucky if the only thing he lost was his hexagram pin.

“But that doesn’t answer my question,” Cercel said. “Where are you taking her, Captain?”

“Back to Seven Knots. She’s with the Kiraly delegation.”

Cercel hesitated. Had she noticed the complete lack of braids in Arkady’s filthy hair? He quickly added, “I thought a bit of leniency was in order, given their losses. And the cooperation they’ve given us so far.” Hard-won cooperation. They usually stayed in the city until Veiled Waters was over, but more than half the clans had been in favor of leaving immediately.

“Yeah,” Arkady said. “I was Grandpa’s favorite. Was right broken up when he kicked it. But hey, at least I got to spend two days in the hole where he died— What?!” she snarled at Grey when his grip tightened again.

“Don’t. Help.”

Coughing, Cercel stepped aside. “Tell her people to keep her out of trouble.”

Grey nodded and steered Arkady through the doorway. Almost free, he thought—too soon. Mettore Indestor was stomping up the steps toward them, the vanguard of a wedge of secretaries and lackeys.

Djek. Shoving Arkady behind him, Grey did his best to melt into the shadows of the door the carpenters were hanging.

And it might have worked, Indestor passing them without so much as a glance, if Arkady’s belligerence hadn’t outstripped her sense. “Huh. He en’t nearly as funny looking with clothes on.”

For an instant Grey thought she was about to die, and him with her. But Indestor must not have heard the words over the