Silk and Steel
Ahoi! I’m posting today because I have no idea what tomorrow will bring but if all goes well I’ll try and post tomorrow too to speed things along. The book is pretty much finished as a first draft now I’m just reading back through and ‘doing the grouting’ if you know what I mean – filling in the bits that don’t run smoothly together and jigging things about XD
Sorry it took so long to get through the riots, we’re out the other side now with Ros as she returns to the antiques shop…
If Ros was surprised to find the shop bolted and shuttered mid-morning when she returned, she was even more suspicious when she saw the state her partner had got himself into – although of course she did nothing to show it.
He was drunk, leaning against the study door frame with an empty bottle of tzujka in one hand and not a glass in sight.
He looked at her, puzzled for a moment as if she were some apparition that made no sense in the grand scheme of things… but then his eyes focused and suddenly widened and he lurched towards her. “He’s here!” he whispered, clutching at her arms, letting the bottle fall as he sank to his knees, “he’s here, Pan, The Man In The Moon came down like a crow, the children are singing about it, people have seen him, he’s here! Twardowski is here, in Ryzym! He’s looking for me, what am I going to do?”
Ros thought quickly. Either Mendicci’s mind was coming undone or, just maybe, he was right and the ancient magician he once betrayed had caught up with him at last. Either way it mattered little, she could not afford to lose him at this point, she needed him just a little longer, just until all her plans had come together. Another week or less, and then Pan or the mad house can have him she thought, but not yet, not just yet.
“Listen to me, Mendicci,” she said; her voice the solid comfort of firm ground after sliding long through sand. “It matters not, understand me love? It matters not. Not at all. Remember who you are, love, who you were before you met me and Ziga, who you were even before you met Twardowski. Tadejs Blinda…”
“Don’t speak it here!” Spyro begged, glancing round wide-eyed and frantic as if the crow man would flutter in through the window at any moment.
“Why should we not?” Ros soothed, “Tadejs Blinda; such a name of strength could never be an omen of defeat, love. The man who stood up for his own gain, the man who stood up to those who called themselves ‘master’ over him, the man who stirred the flames of revolution and wooed the world into thinking he was a hero… you did it once, under that name, you have almost done it again now, it is who you are – a leader, a rebel, a survivor, a hero… you are not a man who runs away from the fight, love, you are the man who picks the battleground and lures his enemies to sweet death upon it.”
She fixed him with her deep, dark eyes and could hardly describe the relief when she saw the light of shrewd calculation return to his own.
“You’re right.” he said quickly, and then laughed, “what am I doing? Ha! I am falling to pieces over what? Folk fables and nursery rhymes?”
He got up and wiped his hands across his face. “Twardowski is here, I know it, but you’re right. I will call him out somehow, I will engineer the manner of our meeting and then,” he turned and pointed a finger at her, “I will make an end of him once and for all. No more sleepless nights, Ros, no more Man In The Moon for us!”
He caught her up in his arms and swung her round, clutching her uncomfortably close around the waist so that she longed to pull away and arch her neck from the stench of his stale, fumy breath.
“The Groves for us! The high life when the last papers are signed and sealed and the Duke is brought down and Beufont takes his place…”
“And we take over his shipping company…” she finished, forcing herself to laugh along with him. She’d found him so attractive, once upon a time; dangerously attractive, before she knew him well…
“Yes indeed! Have you yet thought who will take over here for us?”
“I have a few people in mind.”
“So do I. Perhaps we should go upstairs and discuss the matter?”
“Perhaps you are forgetting I have business with Betithna Beufort this morning and your little stunt at the docks has put me behind?”
He relaxed his hold on her, moving his hands to rest lightly on her hips. “With Betithna?”
“She has a lot of sway with the comapny as I told you, afterall it was her father’s originally.”
“Yes, I’d not forgotten.” He looked thoughtful, as if something wasn’t quite adding up…
“You need to have a bath and sober up, love.” Ros said in an overtly maternal manner which invited no protest. “It is Blondell’s party tomorrow night and we have a horrendous amount of loose ends to tie up before then.”
He groaned and rubbed the back of his neck, “Mm, don’t remind me, who’d have thought a life of delictum would involve so much damned paper work?”
She laughed and massaged his shoulders for him, “I have explained it to you too many times to count – the paperwork is what protects us; it is the legitimate trail of legally traded items which obscures the actual goods we are purveying.”
“Smoke and glamour, I know, I know. I’m still going to moan about it though.”
“Well you’ll have to moan alone to the bathroom walls, love, I must get changed and take a cab to The Groves at once.”
He smiled and nodded and watched her head up the stairs then brought his hands together in a decisive clap. Right then Twardowski, how am I going to deal with you?