Chapter 11: The Scribe's Secret
The air in the safehouse was thick with the scent of fear and old wood. They had fled The Guttering Candle like ghosts, leaving a blind lord and two unconscious guards in their wake. The Spymaster's network had provided this place a dusty, forgotten bookbinder's shop sealed up after its owner died.
Elara paced the small room, the serpent ring still on her finger. She couldn't bring herself to take it off; the cold weight of it was a reminder of the line she had crossed. She had felt the echo of Korvus's violence and had wielded it as her own.
Kaelen stood by the grimy window, peering through a slit in the boards at the quiet street below. "Serek's men will be swarming the district by now. They'll be looking for a veiled woman and a guardsman. We need to find Alaric before they do."
"And if he's already been taken?" Elara asked, her voice tight.
"Then Vorlan's entire network is at risk," Kaelen said bluntly, turning to face her. The dim light carved harsh lines into his face. "That list isn't just names. It's a blueprint for a coup. If it falls into the wrong hands, the bloodshed will make tonight look like a petty squabble."
He walked to the table where a rough map of the city was laid out. "Serek's personal scribe. He wouldn't keep him in the main manor. Too risky. He'd have a private study, somewhere he thinks is secure." His finger traced a line to the Garden District, not far from the baron's estate. "Here. A row of private cottages for his retainers. Alaric will be in one of them."
"We can't just walk in," Elara said. "It will be guarded."
"We don't walk in," Kaelen said, a plan solidifying in his eyes. "We get him to walk out." He looked at Elara. "You're not going to be Korvus this time. You're going to be Lady Lenore."
Elara stared at him. "The mistress? The one whose hand I forged for the Valerius letter?"
"The very same. Serek is blinded and panicking. His household will be in chaos. A distraught letter from his lover, begging his most trusted scribe to come to her aid at once… he'll come. For her, he'd defy the Spymaster himself."
It was brilliant. And terrifying. It relied entirely on her skill.
There was no time to return to the tower. They had to work with what they had. Kaelen procured paper and ink from the bookbinder's abandoned stock inferior quality, but it would have to do. Elara sat at the dusty desk, clutching the serpent ring to channel the faint, romantic echo of Lady Lenore she'd absorbed from her earlier forgery.
She wrote. A frantic, flowing script, blotted with imagined tears. 'My dearest Alaric, I am in a terrible state. Lucian [Serek] is hurt, the house is in an uproar, and I fear I am being watched. I dare not trust anyone but you, as you have always been his most loyal. Come to the old gazebo in the Rose Park at once. I beg you. Bring the private papers he entrusted to you for my safekeeping. Do not fail me. - L'
She sealed it with a generic lump of wax, impressing it with the signet from her own small finger a meaningless crest, but it looked official.
Kaelen took the letter. "I'll find a street urchin to deliver it. A silver bit will ensure it arrives without questions." He paused at the door. "Be ready."
The wait was agony. Every sound from the street made her jump. She practiced with the ring, trying to summon a veil of anonymity, but her focus was shattered by anxiety. She was playing with lives now, not just documents.
Finally, Kaelen returned. "It's done. The boy delivered it. We need to move."
The gazebo in Rose Park was a secluded, crumbling structure, overgrown with vines. They hid in the shadows of a nearby hedge, the scent of damp earth and roses filling the air. The minutes stretched.
Then, a figure appeared, hurrying down the path, a leather satchel clutched tightly to his chest. He was a small, nervous man, his eyes wide with fear Alaric.
He entered the gazebo, looking around frantically for Lady Lenore.
Kaelen moved like a shadow. He was behind Alaric before the scribe could even gasp, one hand covering his mouth, the other arm locking him in place.
"The list, Alaric," Kaelen whispered into his ear. "Give it to me quietly, and you walk away. Fight me, and you share Serek's fate."
The man trembled, tears of terror welling in his eyes. He nodded frantically, shoving the satchel at Kaelen.
Kaelen took it and released him. Alaric didn't wait. He turned and fled back into the night, vanishing among the roses.
Elara stepped out of the shadows. Kaelen opened the satchel. Inside was a single sheet of parchment. He unrolled it. A list of seven names, each one a powerful lord or lady. At the bottom, a title was written: The Covenant of the Unbound. It was a conspiracy to overthrow the Spymaster.
"We have it," Elara breathed, a wave of relief washing over her.
But as Kaelen stared at the list, his face grew pale. His knuckles were white where he gripped the parchment.
"What is it?" Elara asked.
He looked at her, his eyes filled with a horror she had never seen in him before. He pointed to the third name on the list.
It was a name she had seen him write with respectful precision. The name of the man who had taken him in from the streets, given him a purpose, a life.
The name was Vorlan.
The Spymaster's name was on his own list of enemies.