“You’re right, Rand. Gerred’ll likely not give us a choice about the issue—if we stick around in Forge,” said James. “But none of us has ties to the city. What’s stopping us from leaving altogether?”
Bacchus gave James a sidelong glance, comprehension dawning on his face. Rand looked impressed as well. As his companions chewed over his words, James’s gaze wandered back to the dancing girl. She’d put bells on her ankles and wrists now and shook them in time to the music. Light from the hearth, the table lamps, and the candle chandeliers played off her movements and gave her skin a reddish hue. A few times, he thought she looked in his direction.
“Not a bad idea,” Rand finally said. “I’ve always wanted to see Parna.”
“Set up there?” asked Bacchus.
“Or just travel for a while,” said James.
“We in’t got the coin,” said Rand, his scowl creeping back. “We’d need supplies, horses, better traveling clothes than we’ve got if we want to survive the winter.”
He was right. The forest roads were not friendly to travelers, and Parna would present its own set of obstacles once they got there.
Bacchus drained his flagon and slammed it down on the table, his signal that he was done talking for the night. “Too much worrying and too little ale. We can decide tomorrow.”
The music had stopped. James glanced around and saw that the dancing girl stood near the back of the dining room. Again, she’d changed out of her costume and into her homespun dress.
“Fine. We think about it,” he said, pushing back from the table.
Bacchus grinned when he saw where James was looking. “Don’t be up too late,” he said as James walked away.
The girl straightened as James approached. She looked him calmly in the eye, though she fidgeted with her fingers as if grasping and ungrasping an invisible ball.
“You were right,” he said.
Relief flickered across her face. Her expression was guarded, and she stood in such a way as to emphasize the empty space between them. James didn’t see even a hint of the coquettishness he’d seen from her onstage. “You caught someone then?” she asked.
He moved closer and lowered his voice. “How did you come to be so good at overhearing Guild secrets?”
He’d half expected her to put more distance between them, but she stood her ground. “I’m quiet. Men don’t notice me.”
“I doubt that.”
He had the satisfaction of seeing a flush rise in her cheeks. “Perhaps,” she said. “But they forget I have ears.” When he didn’t reply, she spoke again. “What now?”
“I owe you my thanks. I’ll hear you out.”
She glanced around the room, and her gaze settled on a group of men close enough to overhear them.
“Mayhap we can take a walk?” he asked, catching her meaning.
They headed to the door. She looked surprised when he held it open for her. James gave her a sardonic smile and waved her out. The air was brisk, just chilly enough to bring a cloak to mind.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Thalia.”
They walked down a ways, past the busier streets until no one was in sight. The roads were narrow and the night was dark. The upper floors of houses on each side jutted out overhead to block the moonlight. Nevertheless, Thalia followed him without hesitation, as if they were old friends instead of a maid and an assassin.
“You’re brave. Or very trusting,” he told her.
“Just determined.” Her shoulders were hunched as she walked, her jaw set.
“And what are you determined for?”
The sound from the crowds they’d left faded away completely, and the streets were quiet. They slowed to a stop at the mouth of a narrow alleyway. Thalia clutched her elbows and faced him, angling her head up to look him in the eye.
“There’s a man. I want him dead.”
She’d said as much earlier. “Who?” he asked.
“A wallhugger.”
James laughed. The girl was either stupid or suicidal. “Not just enough to hire an assassin, is it? You want to kill a nobleman.”
She didn’t react to his derision. “Will you do it?”
He shook his head. “Too dangerous.”
“They’re men like anyone else.”
“Men with money and power, and scores of Red Shields at their beck and call. Folk who value their lives don’t meddle in wallhugger affairs. I owe you for your help, but this is too much.”
As he turned away, she called after him. “Wait!” For the first time, a hint of desperation crept into her voice. “If you won’t kill him for me, at least help me.”
So the girl wasn’t quite as cool and calm as she’d appeared. “How?” he asked.
Thalia swallowed. She was trying to compose herself again, with only partial success. “Show me how to kill him myself.”