Page 87 of Reap & Sow

“Let’s go.”

Eda held the mantle about her throat as they crossed into the city. The Blades were out in force. There were three different barracks across Blackbridge—all of them must have been barren today, judging by the sheer number of patrols on the streets. After having two prisoners stolen out from under them, she doubted Fell Keep would be left so thinly guarded.

Her palms grew damp with every flash of red and silver, every clank of heavy boots. It was slow going on foot, but Kit wasn’t foolish enough to adopt his horse form. By now the towering black stallion would be a dead giveaway. He stayed close to her heels as a cat, which he seemed to like best.

Despite the sour tang of fear on the air, work still needed doing. Servants and washerwomen, cooks and dyers and laborers. A little boy stood on a street corner begging, proffering a worn bonnet for pennies. All commonfolk, braving the hostile streets while the nobles kept to themselves indoors.

Hungry bellies didn’t stop aching just because monsters prowled the shadows.

Perhaps this was why Eda felt snappish and ornery by the time they reached the High Governor’s house. She was ushered through the stately gates a great deal quicker than before. When she was shown to Abelard Wolfram’s study, Eda merely scowled as the door swung shut behind her. The room was as richly furnished and handsome as she remembered, all woven rugs and polished candelabras. The windows were pointedly closed.

Wolfram’s eyes widened at the sight of her–once they managed to focus. She hadn’t bothered to remove the mantle. Her plait was riotous from the ride. Let him see a witch if that will help him take me seriously.

“Do you mean to do nothing while Florian Fane’s monsters prowl your streets, High Governor?”

Wolfram’s lip curled. “Have a care, young lady. I risk much by even allowing you across the threshold.”

“Do you mean to give me up?”

“That depends entirely on Kit’rath. Does he still mean to threaten my children?”

Kit huffed. “I hardly need to. Come, Abelard. You can’t tell me you don’t want this little fiend problem dealt with. You care for Blackbridge. Florian Fane is an affront to your morality and a threat to your position both.”

Wolfram didn’t deny it. He smoothed the front of his claret-and-gold doublet—a color that only seemed to wash him out, Eda thought—and stood. He circled his desk. “What of your motivations, Kit’rath? Why do you chase the bishop’s downfall?” He looked at Eda. “Why does she?”

“The nature of our agreement has nothing to do with you. Trust that I would not be here unless I had to.”

Kit’s expression was so flat, his sardonic drawl so contemptuous, it was hard not to believe him. I would not be here unless I had to. True, yet Eda recalled the steadiness in his voice and the warmth of his eyes when he’d pledged to remain by her side—because she had asked him to.

Ben’s words echoed louder. Demons don’t do anything unless it benefits themselves.

Wolfram raised a hand. “Fine. Your machinations don’t concern me.”

“The bishop does.”

“Yes. That is why I’ve made inquiries.”

Wolfram had learned that there were those within the Faithhood who questioned Fane’s so-called divine power. More still that held his little ritual of protection in contempt. But the bishop was a favorite of the Patriarch himself, witnessed warding off fiends multiple times in public. A trick it might be, but it was a damn good one. Who would publicly accuse him of wrongdoing without hard evidence? Nothing less would stop Blackbridge from flocking to him now.

“Bishop Florian is clever,” Wolfram mused. “He’s worked quickly to gain the people’s favor, and public opinion is precisely where real power lies. The man would make a sound politician.”

Kit snorted.

“I’ve spoken with Martine Tenelle. She rather unsubtly tried to ascertain my mind on the matter. We both agree that Fane is suspect, but Tenelle will not act against a cleric of the Faith without evidence.” He glanced between them. “If you are here to offer it…I am listening.” Abelard Wolfram might have been a conniving man of questionable morals, but he was quick-witted. If he hadn’t been born a lowly tradesman’s son, perhaps he’d never have needed Kit’s help to gain his position.

“The mirror,” Eda said. “The Gateway that once belonged to me and my brothers. Fane won’t have let the Blades destroy it. He needs it to access Mr. Night.”

“Mr. Night?”

She flushed. “That is…the name of the demon he bargains with. The real power behind the fiends.”

Wolfram stared at her, calculating. Eda waited for him to ask how she knew this, but he merely raised his chin. “Why not lure and kill this demon, then? Seems a far more direct method of ending the madness altogether.”

Kit stiffened. “That is not a fight you will win.”

“Surely, with Tenelle and the entire might of the Blades—”

“You will not win.”