Chapter 79: Chapter 79: The Prickly Rose

Chapter 79: The Prickly Rose

Quentin stared at the note, not sure of what to make of it. Since the attack, life came at them fast and it was all they could do to keep up and keep moving. Slowing or stopping meant stumbling, and there was too much at stake to let that happen. This letter gave him pause as he debated whether it was real, whether it was serious, and whether or not he’d go along with it. Now with just an hour to spare, the time for a decision was coming.

“It’s probably fine,” Razia said, looking over his shoulder. They’d both read the note several times, and argued about it just as many. “I don’t think Cicero would go to all of this trouble just to screw us over on the first opportunity. This is a test.”

“Easy for you to say,” Quentin grumbled, letting the note drop to his bed. “You’re not the one risking your neck for the shadiest instructions I’ve ever seen. I still can’t believe Isa agreed to this.”

He still hadn’t talked to her or spent any amount of time with her alone over the past couple of days, but that was about to change. When she saw the amount being offered, she agreed and disregarded his apprehensions. “You going to keep me safe or not, Mr. Q?” she’d said to him with a huff before disappearing to get ready.

“But she did. You’re the only one who doesn’t want to do this. If you say no, the answer’s no,” said Razia slowly in her I’m-not-manipulating-you-I-promise-BUT voice, “but maybe let’s walk through why it’s a no. Shall we start with the obvious?”

Quentin shook his head, pulling at his hair. “You mean the part where we’re instructed to get off the streets on the river and get onto a boat? Yeah, I’d say I’m a little worried about that. Last time I had to go down to the river, things didn’t turn out so well.” He groaned and let his hands drop to his sides. “You really think it’s a test?”

Razia took his hands. “I know it is. He wants to see if you’ll go along with it or back off at the first opportunity. He’s testing your trust and obedience. If he wanted you dead or hurt, he wouldn’t need to go through all of this effort. Not when he seems fixated on you at the moment.”

That part still puzzled Quentin. She’d been completely forthcoming about their conversation while Quentin got pummeled in the ring, and the revelation that Cicero was interested in him specifically rang his bell harder than the fighter had. The most interesting thing about him was a job he no longer had. And maybe the whole savant thing. What was left?

“A test,” he said, sighing. “Okay. Fine. We’ll go to the river and get on a boat and hopefully not be delivered to Piro’s doorstep.”

“If you die I promise I’ll miss you,” said Razia, bringing his hand up to her mouth to kiss. “A lot.”

“Thanks,” he said, shaking his head. “I guess I better get ready then. If nothing else, this will give me and Isa a chance to talk. Or maybe that’s a bad idea if she has to work right after. Gods, nothing is easy is it?”

Razia released him with a laugh. “Of course not. If it was easy, would it be worth doing? We’ll be fine here. Jonas and someone else will be here to watch us, right? I’ll play the role of host and you keep the two of you safe. When we meet up later we’ll laugh about it.”

He was a beaten man. “Probably,” he admitted. “But I don’t have to like it.” He left her laughing in delight as he rummaged through his closet for upscale clothes. The note had only been specific about one thing, and that one thing was nearly as terrifying as the vague instructions: their client tonight was highborn and would expect nothing less than perfection. He chose a black and red toga, something that looked fantastic on him but would probably attract attention were it not for the cloak he wore around it.

Minutes before they were due to leave, Quentin went over to the Garden to collect Isa. After patiently accepting some compliments (“Ooh, those colors are great on you!”) from some of the girls and gentle ribbing (“Who you impressing tonight? Can I come?”, he knocked on Isa’s door and entered when he heard his name.

Isa stood in the center of the room, breathing in deeply and slowly. She looked about as nervous as he felt. More than that, she looked ready. Her dark bronze skin practically glowed, and her silky black hair cascaded down her shoulders with a bounce he didn’t normally see. What little makeup she wore made amber eyes and burgundy lips pop. She wore layered silk and was the very picture of Ramali beauty.

“Wow,” said Quentin, entirely forgetting the unresolved issue between them. “You look incredible. You always outdo yourself.”

The corners of Isa’s lips twitched, but no more than that. “If someone is paying five aquilos for my time, they’re getting me at my best.”

That was the deciding factor. That meant one for Quentin, one for Cicero, and the other three went to Isa. It was as much money as she made in a good week, and Quentin couldn’t blame her for hopping on it. But he was definitely surprised at her willingness.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked.

She scoffed. “Of course I am. Are you good to keep me safe? You’re dressed way above your station. You don’t look much like a killer for once.”

“Thank you. If anything happens, I’ll lay down my life to buy you time to escape.” Quentin opened the door and motioned for her to go. It was hard to take any barb from her seriously, now that he knew her better. Isa passed him with a haughty huff that made him snicker.

“Oh wow,” Lucy said, gaping at Isa.

“Close your mouth sweetie, you look like one of our clients,” said Isa, smiling.

“Next time I want to go!” Samantha said.

“I’m sure it won’t be too long until you’re requested,” Quentin said. He looked over the assembled girls and guys there, crowding around the atrium. “Cicero’s watching the streets and Jonas and the boys are watching the house. You should be safe, but if anything happens let me know and I’ll break something or someone.”

“Sounds good Bossman,” Jenna shrugged from the couch.

The two of them went out the front door, heading south down the avenue that missed the busier parts of the city. It wasn’t going to be an especially long walk, but Quentin wondered if maybe they should think about investing in a carriage and a beetle to take them around. The night was young and there were plenty of people out and about, most of them better off than the majority of the city. It was as safe there as it ever got in Orchrisus.

Isa surprised him by looping her arm around Quentin’s as they strolled down the street at a relaxed pace. They had plenty of time to make their appointment, and there was no rushing Isa without ruining her look. “I’m surprised you’re touching me,” Quentin said, keeping his eyes on the road. “Won’t the other Ramali disown you if they see you?”

“They disowned me years ago when I came to the city and changed,” she said, calm but with a quiet edge beneath her words. A lazy sort of contempt. “If you’re cursed to them, so am I. Although I’m maybe not so cursed as you are. My hands are clean, at least.”

There it was. Her tone didn’t change or betray any emotion. It was her usual mask of sneering boredom. Quentin sighed and looked around. People were looking at them as they passed but no one was going to be close enough to pay attention to one conversation among hundreds. Not if they were careful. “Got something you want to say to me, Isa?” Quentin asked.

“How do you live with yourself after what you’ve done?” She kept her eyes forward and words vague. She understood the current game.

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“I don’t have much choice,” said Quentin. “It’s either live with myself or kill myself, and I’m not ready to be a shade just yet.”

“Do you think you’ll enjoy being a shade?” Isa said in a silky voice. “You seem good at hurting people. Spending eternity tormenting the wicked seems like a perfect fit.”

“I don’t think so. Believe it or not, I don’t enjoy causing pain.” He paused. “Not usually, at least. Razia’s showing me when it’s more agreeable.”

Isa broke first, snorting in a very unladylike way. Quentin joined her, chuckling until they had to stop in the middle of the street and hold each other up. After that, it was like a spell was broken. Ignoring the weird looks they were getting they continued on past a small public garden where kids were running around under a manmade canopy for shade.

“So that’s finally happening, is it? Maybe now you won’t moon over her so much. Pun very much intended.”

“I think you’re the only one who would probably believe we haven’t been together until recently,” Quentin admitted. “Samantha and the rest seemed to buy it well enough. Why not you?”

The dusk-girl looked up at him with an arched brow. “You were too uptight. You had the look of a man who very badly needed to get laid if you were going to relax at all. In spite of everything going on, you seem more relaxed, so I must assume you’re getting some.”

A bit of color reached his cheeks. It didn’t burn the way it had in the past. Isa was right. It was different now. He was different now. All he had to do was ignore the little voice telling him to be miserable and everything got a little bit better, even with all the bullshit going on. “Sharp eyes. I always appreciate that about you.”

“Sharp enough to know there was something dark in you,” she returned without missing a beat.

His patience buckled. “Do you actually care about my past or are you just using it as a way to keep control? You used to work in the Silk Lounge. You’ve probably mingled and consorted with killers before. What makes me so bad compared to them?” He forced a smile on his face as they passed an old couple who gaped at his appearance. They were almost to the river now.

“You mean other than scale? None of them pretended to be anything other than what they are.”

“And I have?” Quentin looked down at her. “When?”

She didn’t answer him. They walked in silence until the avenue ended and they had to take a side street to North River Row. She waited until there was no one else around before asking, in a voice too small and constrained to be her own, “What really happened with Maria?”

A familiar stab of pain in his chest. It was easier now. She’d been dead longer than they knew each other, but even now he could picture the way she fussed and fretted over the other girls, and how she’d make sure Quentin got enough to eat while he was out with them. Swallowing a lump, he said, “I thought I was able to stop it from happening, but I couldn’t. A bad man promised me I wouldn’t have to kill her.

“When the time came and it was just me and her left, I expected him to try something. Maybe talk up how I was going to brutalize her and take my time with her. Amicus is a bastard that way. Instead, he had a new killer come in. He shot her with a bolter right in front of me. I’m sorry, Isa. There was nothing I could do about it.”

“Nothing? And this man, is he still alive?” she demanded.

Quentin winced. “He is. I tried to confront him and he shot me too. I spent most of that week moping into a bottle, but the first couple of days were also spent licking my wounds. If I could go back and take the shots for her, I would.”

Isa scoffed. “There you go, pretending again.”

“What makes you so sure I’m pretending?” Quentin asked sharply. “Do you really think me capable of deception? What in our time together makes that seem likely?”

They stopped in their tracks. Isa stared him in the eyes, a familiar look of her building up a tirade or accusations froze before it could be unleashed. “No,” she finally said, looking away. “I don’t, and that’s what bothers me. Everyone lies. Especially in this city. And that’s what bugs me about you, Quentin. You don’t make sense to me.”

“For what it’s worth, that goes both ways,” Quentin said, motioning with his head for them to continue on. “You’re hot and you’re cold and I never know which Isa I’m going to get. One day you’re busting my ass about every failure I’ve ever done and the next you’re talking with me like nothing is wrong, complimenting me even. What do you want from me, Isa?”

“...I don’t know,” she said with a sigh. “I want for things to make sense.”

“And things only make sense when everything is wrong and everyone’s against you, huh?” Maybe Razia was better with people, but Quentin wasn’t completely blind. He’d had plenty of time to observe them all, and Isa in particular had probably given him more to think about out of any of them except for Razia. “It’s easier when everyone and everything is a disappointment. Is there anything that meets your impossible standards?”

Quentin didn’t know what he expected out of Isa, but an immediate answer was not it. “Yes,” she said. “Samantha and Lucy meet my standards. As does my room. I’m quite happy about that. You do. Half the time.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed it, with the way that you act.”

Just as the note instructed, there was a stairway leading down from the side of the bridge down to the river’s shore. Down there were people with fishing lines in the river, and the occasional dock, some with little captains, shouting their offers to take people across instead of walking the mile long bridge. More eyes were on them now. Regardless of whether she’d like it or not, Quentin pulled Isa close and gave the others a wide berth as he continued on down the line. The sound of the river rushing past them was a pleasant white noise.

“I want to be better,” Isa said, startling him. He almost asked her to clarify when she continued, “I don’t know how.”

“You could start by trusting me,” he said. “Like I have to trust you now. There’s a lot you could do to hurt me if you wanted to. My old friend,” Quentin winced at the thought of the old conversation with Demetrius, “would’ve advised me to silence you anyway I could.”

“If you did it would just prove me right,” said Isa, sneering at a nearby sailor making kissy lips at her.

“Would that satisfy you? Would being proven right finally make you happy as you go off to meet the Darkstar?” There was no heat to his voice, only honest curiosity.

Isa sighed, pulling away from Quentin as they reached the last dock before the shore ended, melding the water and the wall of earth. There was a boat there, and a man in a cloak waiting patiently. “I’m not going to tell anyone,” she said. “Not yet, at least. Maybe I will, if you disappoint me bad enough. For now, I am trusting you. I’m here, aren’t I? Despite knowing what I know about you.” Her lips twitched into an almost smile. “Even if you are a cold hearted killer.”

So many people had called him that, accused him of that, it was impossible not to feel the sting. It wasn’t quite the same though. She said it so often it felt like she didn’t mean it. Just something to keep him at arm’s length. He smiled. “Good.” Turning to the cloaked man still waiting on the two of them he said, “Only the gardener loves the prickly rose.”

The boatman answered immediately, “Her adept hands can pluck it safely. Mr Q. I presume?”

It was now or never. “Yeah, that’s us,” said Quentin as he braced himself to go with a strange man on a boat to an unknown destination.

The boatman motioned for them to come aboard. It was a decent sized rowboat, the kind meant to take passengers across the river and no more than that. Carefully stepping into the boat first, he took Isa by the hand and helped her to her seat. The boatman untied the boat and hopped in, manning the oars. With a few strong strokes they pushed away from the shore and out into the river that cut Orchrisus in half.

By unspoken agreement, their conversation was over, or at least over for now. Quentin didn’t think Isa would betray him, even if he did disappoint her. In some way she reminded him of a toothless Dunewalla, snapping at anything that got close to hide how helpless it was. If he got close she’d gnash her teeth and throw barb after barb at him, but in the end they were on the same side. They both wanted the Moonlit Garden to succeed and for them all to prosper. Maybe that was enough.

The city melted away until the shore was a distant sight. It was only a few minutes in before the boatman put the oars down. “This should be close enough,” he muttered. Out from his cloak he produced a small, dark red orb. The orb glowed a dull, low red.

The boat stopped in place, water crashing against it, but they remained where they were. Then they turned, moving unnaturally in the water until they were pointed at an odd angle. For the first time that night Isa looked truly uneasy. Quentin agreed. With a violent lurch the boat sped forward, heading towards the center of the river.

“Never get tired of seeing people freak out,” the boatman laughed. “You’d do well to tell no one where you are headed, or how you got there. They have ways of finding out, and they will not be happy with you. Watch your mouth and remember where you are and who you’re dealing with.”

“Why?” Isa demanded. “Where are we going?”

But Quentin already figured it out at this point. Only once in his life had he gotten a talk like that, and if they weren’t going to the south side of town, that left only one possible place to go.

“The palace,” he said. “Our appointment is with someone in the palace.”