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

If Cercel let the wagons through to the bridge, the crowd would follow. And then either the unrest would spill onto the Island or the Vigil would break bones stopping it.

“Serrado.” She was smart enough not to use his title, but her fingers dug into his wrist. “Help me. We might be able to do something before this gets worse.”

Something that didn’t involve betraying his own people—or joining them in burning the Lower Bank down.

“Fine. But we need to get clear of this.” Grey started pushing his way through the crowd, jerking his chin for her to follow in his wake. Behind him, the roaring grew louder.

Crookleg Alley, the Shambles: Cyprilun 34

Vargo had no intention of letting the city burn today. Especially not the parts of it he owned.

So far, there were only flash points waiting to explode—Horizon Plaza, the Seven Knots labyrinth, parts of Kingfisher—but only a fool waited for the fuse to be lit.

Possibly a literal fuse, depending on the Anduske’s plans for that saltpeter.

“Ranislav, put the Roundabout Boys on our businesses, and any place that’s under our protection. Keep them safe. I don’t want a single report of looters causing trouble.” He barely waited for Ranislav’s nod before moving onward. “Varuni, pull together as many patrols of fists as you can.”

She was already strapping on weighted gloves, her chain whip coiled at her hip. “We work the mobs?”

“Break them up,” Vargo clarified. “Bigger they get, more likely they’ll turn stupid.” His speech was beginning to slip, and he dragged it back with an effort. “Fighting them will only make them angrier. Look for ways to divide them instead.”

Varuni looked heartily displeased with the order, but she nodded. He could almost hear what she didn’t say: I guess you’ll be safe enough if you stay here.

After she stalked off, Vargo glanced out the window. The morning sun hadn’t burned away the river mist, nor would it. The uncanny fog of Veiled Waters had settled over the city, so thick that the far side of the street was little more than a ghostly impression of doors and stoops, windows and eaves. Doubt we’ll get much of a masquerade this year, he thought cynically. People wearing masks now would be doing it to hide their faces from the Vigil.

“You need me for something? Or should I just stand behind you and glower?” Sedge asked. If his wrist hadn’t been broken in the Depths, it would have been him instead of Varuni leading the fists, and he chafed at standing idle.

“Congratulations, Sedge. You’ve just volunteered to lead the fire crews.”

Sedge groaned and followed Vargo’s glance out the window. Fire crew usually meant scanning the roofline for smoke. In this weather… “Fuck me, Vargo. How d’you expect me to—”

“Street by street. I don’t care. Figure it out. You can—”

::It’s started.::

Vargo stilled, ignoring the curious look Sedge was giving him. Where? he asked Alsius.

::Sunset Bridge. Rumor’s spreading that House Novrus feasted on dreamweavers last night, and someone threw a rock. Now the Vigil are breaking heads. It’s just the plaza, but there’s no way this won’t get worse.::

“Right. Sedge, focus on Horizon Plaza. Things just broke there.”

“How did you—”

::Vargo, there’s more.::

Sedge snapped his teeth closed on his question when Vargo held a hand up to silence him. The saltpeter?

::No. Numinata. Scattered all through Westbridge and Seven Knots—a lot of earthwise Tuat, Sessat, and Noctat.::

Sunwise numina twisted against their purpose by earthwise spirals—turning them into curses. Obstruction, breakdown of communication and structures… Somebody wanted this to get bad.

“Vargo?” Sedge shifted, glancing around the room uncomfortably.

“Nothing. Go.”

Vargo waited for him to leave. Then he said, “Nikory, keep things running here. I’ll be back.” To Alsius, he said, I’ll get my gear. Where should I start?

When he stepped out of the townhouse, though, he found Sedge leaning in the doorway across the narrow alley. “Yeah, I heard you,” Sedge said. “Sent Canlin to cover fire duty. His eyes are better than mine—and besides, I let you go off alone, Varuni will nail my balls to the Point. Her people have invested too much in you to let you get knifed in a riot.”

He wasn’t wrong, and Vargo didn’t want to waste time arguing. “We’re for Thorn Mews in Seven Knots. You know it?”

Sedge shrugged and pushed off the wall. “No, but I’ll follow you.”

Seven Knots, Lower Bank: Cyprilun 34

I wish I could be two people at once.

That thought dogged Ren as she followed Captain Serrado through Seven Knots. She’d had to be Renata in approaching him; even if he would have believed Arenza’s accusation, nobody else in the Vigil would. But now he was taking her among the Vraszenians, where a Seterin alta’s word would hold no more water than a leaky sieve.

She hadn’t realized what he was doing until they detoured by an ostretta, the Gawping Carp, where Serrado threw a panel coat over his fawn-colored Vigil breeches and a shawl over Renata’s surcoat. That was when Ren knew she’d miscalculated, and badly.

He was taking her to see Idusza Polojny.

Ren had planned to find Idusza herself, as Arenza, after she warned Serrado. She had to assume this chaos was part of the Anduske’s plan for the saltpeter, and therefore intervening with them would be key to stopping Indestor.

Unfortunately, Serrado also knew about Idusza. And she’d sent him that note about the saltpeter. He wasn’t nearly stupid enough to miss the obvious conclusion.

I should have begged out of it. Now it was too late: She was in Seven Knots, with a Vraszenian shawl blurring the line between her two personas, and if she took the time to leave and come back, she might find the place in flames.

Half the people in Seven Knots were closing their doors and shutters, even nailing boards across windows to protect the glass. The other half were congregating on corners and bridges, armed with cobbles and sticks, knives and the tools of their trades. Serrado navigated the district like