Four Dead Queens(15)

I glanced around the auction house; the floor was a mess of food wrappers and globs of tobacco spittle. Stray dogs were sniffing out anything edible and pissing and shitting wherever they pleased. Without any wares on display and Mackiel’s smoke and mirrors, the auction house’s true form was exposed. And though it stank of unwashed bodies, dog shit and rot, it was home.

“I’m sorry.” I meant it this time. “What’s on the comm chips?” Coming from the House of Concord, the one place where Eonists, Torians, Ludists and Archians did business together, the memory had to be of high importance. Perhaps it had come from the palace itself?

“It’s not my job to know, and it doesn’t matter,” he said. “I just need them back.”

“Okay.” I looked around for the other dippers, but they’d all left to follow the auction winners back to their homes for the payment exchange. I was the only one left behind. “Okay,” I repeated. “Wait here and I’ll go get it for you.”

“No, I’ll come with you.” He pressed a button on the side of his comm line. “I’ll have it soon,” he said to the person on the other end. While Eonists don’t get angry, the receiver’s muffled voice sounded pretty irate. The messenger’s eyes flashed to mine. “Yes, I’ll deliver it tomorrow, first thing.” The messenger pressed the button again, and the other voice went quiet.

That wasn’t going to work. I wasn’t really going to steal it back for him; I needed to get away and find Mackiel. He’d know what to do. “I told you, that’s not a good idea. You stay here, and I’ll get your comm case back.” I gave him my sweetest Torian smile. “Promise.”

“I don’t believe you,” he said.

I didn’t blame him. “If Mackiel sees you with me, he’ll know what’s going on.” I gestured to his clothing. “You may have the crowd fooled, but you won’t fool him.”

He stared at me for a moment before saying, “Be quick.”

I was getting tired of people telling me that.



* * *



—

MACKIEL’S OFFICE WAS empty, but I knew he wouldn’t be far.

Stolen wares were locked in a vault hidden behind a Ludist landscape—a maze of canals and bridges—a painting his father had stolen back when he was a fledgling dipper. We all knew what lay behind it, although we would never have dared open it.

I sat down in Mackiel’s chair to await his return. The harbor looked different from here. Beautiful, even. If you ignored the smell, you could imagine overlooking a vast constellation, the boats’ lanterns on the black sea like stars in the night sky. And Mackiel was king of this nocturnal kingdom. Until the Torian queen tore this place down.

“What are you doing?” a voice asked from behind me. I spun in the chair, a hand to my chest.

The messenger stood in the doorway.

“I told you to stay put!” I gasped for air. I wasn’t used to being snuck up on.

“Did you get the comm case?”

“I got tired. Needed to rest first.” I placed my feet up on the desk.

He stepped toward me, the destabilizer raised. “Stop wasting my time.”

That was exactly what I was going to do until Mackiel and his henchmen returned. Instead, I accidentally glanced at the painting.

He noticed my mistake and approached the wall. He ran his fingers along the brushstrokes before removing the landscape.

“Oh, well,” I said, looking at the bare brick wall behind the artwork. “I guess I really don’t know where it is.” I tried not to sound too smug.

“It’s an Eonist safe,” he said. He pressed his hand to the wall. For a moment, the bricks shimmered, as if something reflective lay behind them.

When had Mackiel upgraded to an Eonist safe? And why? It had to have something to do with the comm case and the chips inside. What memory did they hold that required this kind of security?

“Open it,” the messenger said with a jerk of his head.

I pressed my hand to the wall and it shimmered again. “Does this look like something I can open?”

He let out an exasperated breath. “Open the vault, and I won’t hurt you.”

I held up my hands. “I’m not lying to you. I can’t open this.”

“You’re a thief,” he said, disgust dripping from his words.

“The best,” I added with a grin.

“Then open it.” He moved forward, the destabilizer pointed toward my head.

I took a step back. “Let’s not be too hasty here. This is Eonist tech.” I’d heard about Jetée businesses acquiring Eonist security to ward off other Torians. “I don’t even know how it works.”

“The vault is keyed to the thoughts of its owner. It opens only when the owner wants it to be opened,” he explained.

“Mackiel will never open it for you.” Where was Mackiel?

He continued, ignoring me. “The vault is built from microorganisms, like the technology embedded into the material of our dermasuits. At the core, they’re sentient.”

“This is all very interesting”—I waved my hand at the wall—“but none of this is going to help. I’m a thief, as you said, not a therapist. I can’t help unscramble, or scramble, a mind—whatever the case may be.”