Page 60 of Reap & Sow

Eda cleared her throat. “That is…very courtly of you to say. Never been told I’m worth a thousand arseholes before.” It was supposed to be teasing. She feared she only sounded like a winded frog.

Nevertheless, the spell was broken. Kit blinked and released her. Took half a step back. There was nothing courtly about the way he’d just been crowding her, and he must have known it. He had the grace to look flustered. “Yes, well. Don’t get used to it.”

Eda smiled without knowing why. That only seemed to disturb him more.

“Moral compasses aside, I’m still not sure I agree with you on the merits of human taste. Especially not here. Most people consider Blackbridge a bit of a shithole, unless you live in Cannington or Bellmoor Heath.”

“Don’t act as though you wouldn’t occupy the handsomest parts of the city if you could, darling. You won’t get any apologies out of me for enjoying my wealth.”

“The High Governor’s wealth, you mean.”

“Semantics. Anyhow, there are pleasures to be found in all corners of Blackbridge if you only know where to look. It’s everywhere—art, music, literature. Wonders without end right beneath your nose.” Something nearly boyish crossed his face, a genuine excitement she had no idea he was capable of.

“Surely Alderport has more to offer.”

“I visited the capital often when I was young. That’s where the Ansellis mirror would spit me out for a time: some grand warehouse owned by a smuggling ring. Lovely chaps. One of them taught me to play cards, though I think he was frightened I’d kill him if he didn’t.” He smirked at her astonished expression. “The mirror moved about often before your father got ahold of it. I saw much of Weslic cities. But Blackbridge was my favorite. Something about the architecture and general air of debauchery…”

“So you chose to settle here.” Eda’s head reeled. “You don’t have any arts back home?”

“Infernus is not my home. And no, not as such. If sculptures are not carved to honor the might of a duke or penmanship not learned to convey orders, it’s of little value. Music, for example, has barely changed over the centuries. There are too few who bother to study it. A luxury reserved for entertaining nobles.”

“No puppet shows and jugglers, then.”

His laugh was bark-like. She couldn’t help but thrill to cause it. “Reenactments of great battles are the closest I’ve ever seen.”

“So they’re good? The theater shows here?”

“You’ve never been?”

“We couldn’t afford to waste coin on that sort of thing.”

Kit shook his head in despair. “The enrichment of one’s very soul is not a waste of anything. I’m actually offended by your lack of artistic inclination.”

She stifled a laugh. He sounded just like Lawrie. “You believe in souls?”

“A turn of phrase, you little heathen. But that settles it. Come on.”

Eda hurried after him. “Where are we going?”

“To further your cultural education. Would be cruel not to, given that you’ll be a penniless outlaw soon enough.”

“That’s not funny.”

Judging by his cackle, it was.

They ventured southeastward into Pitchford. It wasn’t until they passed various showhouses, guildhalls, and tradesfolk that Eda realized they were in the Commons: a high street known as the lower city’s answer to refinement. All manner of entertainment could be found here, if not quite so polished as those found north of the Waterway. There were mismatched stalls tended by craftsmen and artisans, musicians playing for coin, and children gathered around a wooden booth where painted marionettes danced on strings.

Most conspicuous were the crowing peddlers pushing vials of so-called colloidal silver. More than Eda had ever seen. They’d be fined, should the Blades get wind of it, but that had never stopped them before. She supposed the recent attackers were proving excellent for business.

Crowgate was only half a mile west. Home. Was the shop boarded up, watched by the Blades day and night, a source of local gossip? An empty shell, gutted of its many treasures so painstakingly gathered over the years?

The shop had been her mother’s dream. Now what would become of it?

“There are far too many people here,” Eda hissed, trying to keep up with Kit’s long strides.

“All the better to get wonderfully lost.”

“We have the layout plans. We should be planning how to get Ben and Lawrie out. Wolfram said they’ve only a week or so until…” She could not say it.