Skate soured at that even as she realized it made sense. How many people, wizards included, had a pet or partner that was an eyeball with bat wings and spider legs? Belamy himself claimed not to know what to properly call Rattle; it was probably utterly unique. Its presence would be a lightning rod for trouble if it were seen.
This complication only made Skate more uncomfortable with Rattle’s proposed presence as she worked—in addition to her unspoken but no less pressing major concern: with Rattle around, she was unlikely to be able to continue communicating with the Ink. However, she also didn’t know of another way to distinguish which books the old man had and which ones he didn’t.
“I’ll have to make sure I’m not seen, then, and keep Rattle hidden,” she said. The old man appeared satisfied with the answer. “Where should I start looking for these books? Anyone you know who definitely has books you don’t have?”
“Oh yes. Oh yes!” Belamy said, brightening as if struck with a sudden idea. “There are several people who have let slip to me that they have rare tomes I haven’t been able to find yet. Laribel Ossertine, nearby in the Old Town, is one. Bakurin Gemhide is another. He lives near the docks, though I’m not as confident in him as I am with her. He may have been lying to make himself seem more impressive than he really is; I know he does that from time to time. I’ve seen Laribel’s collection, though, and she isn’t lying. Another of interest would be Jack Gherun, who lives near the Baron’s Palace.”
Skate ran these options through her internal filter, catching the relevant information. Jack Gherun, whoever he was, would be a poor choice, given his living situation near the seat of official governance of the city. Guards would be everywhere.
Then there was Gemhide, who both wasn’t a sure thing and lived near the docks. The Boss’s map had a lot of red pins around there. Could she be sure that Gemhide’s house was not on the list of “protected” properties? The last thing she needed was to have to navigate with Haman the delicacies of a possible breach of the Ink against their own contract with a client, especially with a bizarre creature stuck behind her back hearing every word. The Old Town mark was probably safest.
“I’ll try Laribel. She’s closest, right?”
“That’s right. Rattle can guide you there from within the backpack. And be sure she doesn’t know I’m connected to this—that she doesn’t even spot you. As my nearest acquaintance, she may have seen you sneak around the neighborhood. Whatever the situation, she is not to be harmed, and you are not to be seen. Understood?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Skate said, hoisting the backpack on her shoulders. “I’m gonna go case the place. I’ve got a few hours until night, and I want to know what I’ll be getting into before I do the job.”
“Oh, why wait? I have it on very good authority that Laribel will be away from her home, where she lives alone, well into the evening. You should make your way there as quickly as possible. Besides, you don’t want to be caught out in the cold tonight, do you?” He had taken on a cheerful disposition, one with a forced nonchalance that was not endearing at all; he came across as more worried than gregarious.
“What authority?” Skate asked, as she heard Rattle do its rhythmic clicking and felt its bouncing in the backpack.
Before Belamy could answer, there was a heavy knock at the door. He looked from the door back to her. All pretension of good humor had vanished. He looked positively stricken.
“Hide! In the kitchen!” he hissed, waving her away. “When I get everybody upstairs, slip out the front. Remember: you must not be seen!”
Confused, Skate hid, sliding into the kitchen and leaving the door cracked, both to hear what was going on and to avoid making extra noise by opening the door when she left. She couldn’t see far into the main room, but she could hear Belamy make his way to the door. She heard the heavy door swing open on its hinges, and Belamy broke out in a hearty laugh. “Come in, friends, come in!”
These unknown guests shuffled in from the cold and knocked the snow and ice from their shoes in the entryway. Skate looked down at her own ratty footwear; she had not done the same. A bolt of panic shot through her. Clods of snow and ice almost certainly served as tracks on her way into the kitchen. These guests might get curious if they noticed the incriminating puddles.
“Afternoon, Barrison. Glad you’ve got a fire going, for once,” a gruff male voice said. Judging from where she heard the voice coming from, the man speaking had moved closer to the fire. She heard him clap and rub his hands together.
As he warmed himself, a second voice, this one obviously feminine, added, “Yes, it’s much better in here than the last time I paid you a visit.” From the sound of it, she was still near the door. “Your downstairs looks like it’s actually been lived in, rather than covered up in sheets and dust by servants while the master’s away.” She had a condescending lilt to her words, and Skate could hear the sneer in them.
“Laribel and Bakurin, you’ve always been such great wits,” Belamy said with much more ease than he had managed before, sounding genuinely sardonic rather than slightly manic. Skate’s mouth dropped open at the names. It seemed that the old man’s “good authority” had been very trustworthy after all! The list he had given her had not been randomly chosen; they were to be his guests for the evening.
A third voice, this one male, soft, and thin, said something that sent another shock of panic coursing through her: “What are those puddles, Barrison?” Gherun (she assumed) sounded closer than Ossertine had; he must have moved to the fire with Gemhide.
“Oh, I went out earlier. I must have forgotten to clean up on my way to the kitchen.” Belamy laughed, then muttered words. Skate could hear him getting closer with each bout of repeated muttering.
“What was this new discovery you wanted to show us?” Ossertine asked, coming from the general direction of the fireplace; all three were apparently warming themselves now. Skate let go of a breath that she had been holding since Gherun had noticed the puddles. They seemed to have accepted Belamy’s explanation.
“Oh, it’s quite interesting, I think you’ll agree,” Belamy said. He sounded like he was just on the other side of the door now. “Did you all bring the copies of the book?” After getting three general affirmations, he went on, “Excellent! I believe I’ve found an odd variation in my copy, and I wanted to compare notes. If Kewpier was as clever as I believe she was, this is no calligrapher’s error, but an indication that there is particular attention to be paid to the text. It may even be some sort of clue toward some code she wove into the account, only to be deciphered once enough copies had been found. In fact…”
His voice had been moving away and becoming more indistinct as he talked. Skate heard footsteps on stone and knew that he had successfully moved the party upstairs to ponder his esoteric discovery. She risked a peek into the main room and found it empty.
Before she stepped back out, Skate quietly knocked the remaining slush on her feet onto the kitchen floor. She slipped through the door and saw that her floor puddles from before were gone; Belamy must have been “cleaning up after himself” with all that muttering.