Loose Threads

Cedric Hawricks spent the next day being disappointingly respectable.

He left the central barracks shortly after sunrise in full Imperial uniform, spoke to three officers outside the gates, inspected a line of recruits and crossed half the capital without once ducking into a suspicious alley or exchanging coded messages beneath a bridge.

He was making this unnecessarily difficult.

Isabelle and I followed from far enough away that even Cedric should not have noticed us, unless he had developed the ability to see through walls during the thirteen years we had been apart.

I had not ruled it out yet.

“He’s meeting someone,” Isabelle murmured.

We stood beneath the awning of a shuttered tailor’s shop while Cedric paused outside a government records building across the street.

A man in a grey coat came down the steps.

They passed shoulder to shoulder, but neither looked at the other.

The man’s right hand disappeared briefly behind the fall of Cedric’s cloak.

When it returned, it was empty.

“Who is he?” I asked.

Isabelle’s gaze stayed on the man as he continued down the street.

“Crown Property Office. I’ve seen him at court functions.”

“Is he important?”

“Important enough that he can move land records without asking a clerk. Estates that revert to the Crown pass through his office too.”

Cedric continued walking.

We let him gain distance before following.

“That’s one,” I said.

“You sound pleased.”

“I enjoy progress.”

“You enjoy being right.”

“That too.”

The second contact appeared two hours later near the Imperial household stores.

A woman carrying a ledger stopped beside Cedric’s carriage while the driver adjusted one of the traces. She spoke to him for less than half a minute, handed nothing over and left through a side gate without looking back.

Isabelle recognised her as someone attached to the office responsible for household allocations and transfers.

Neither contact meant anything by itself.

That was the problem with competent conspiracies. Most of their pieces looked boring until someone arranged them correctly.

The third contact did not.

By late afternoon, Cedric reached a small square north of the palace district. We had moved to the upper floor of an empty counting house, watching through a window with half the glass missing.

A familiar man entered the square carrying a document case.

Isabelle went completely still.

I noticed before I recognised him.

“That’s one of your people.”

“Yes.”

The answer lost all of its humour.

The man worked inside the resistance’s information chain. Not close enough to Alexander to know everything and not important enough to attract attention, which made him useful, but it also made him dangerous.

For more than a week, Gideon’s people had suspected someone was leaking information about the redirected cargo reports, but nothing had been proven until now.

The man sat on a bench.

Cedric never approached him. Instead, one of the Captain’s aides crossed the square several minutes later and placed a folded newspaper beside the man before continuing towards the palace.

The resistance clerk waited, counted to thirty, then picked it up before leaving by a different street.

Isabelle’s fingers tightened against the window frame.

“We snatch him now.”

“No.”

Her head turned sharply.

“But he’s feeding Cedric information.”

“I know.”

“Then why—”

“Because Cedric doesn’t know that we know.”

She stopped, and I looked back towards the square.

“If he disappears tonight, Cedric learns that the leak is exposed. Instead, we should leave him exactly where he is and then decide what he gets to disclose.”

“False information.”

“Eventually. First we need to find out what he has already told them.”

She exhaled slowly.

“I hate that you’re right.”

“You’re handling it better than I expected.”

She shook her head, but smiled anyway.

We returned to the guild before dark. Gideon listened without interrupting while Isabelle explained what we had seen. By the time she finished, the untouched tea beside his hand had gone cold enough to qualify as a separate problem.

“He stays,” Gideon said.

Isabelle nodded reluctantly.

“I need to tell my father.”

“And Rafael,” Gideon added. “If the man has access to anything from inside the palace, they need to know before he has another chance to pass anything on.”

She stood immediately, and I looked towards her.

“You’re going alone?”

The question came out before I could decide whether I meant it as concern or logistics.

Isabelle noticed.

“I’ve crossed the capital by myself before, Leon.”

“I’m aware.”

“Good.”

She pulled her cloak around her shoulders, her high ponytail disappearing beneath the hood except for a crimson strand near her cheek.

“I’ll be back when I can.”

Then she was gone.

Gideon waited until the door closed before speaking.

“I have a job for you.”

I looked at him.

“That was suspiciously well timed.”

“It’s almost as though I had it planned.”

He opened a drawer and removed a sealed packet.

“Wrenford. Small trade town outside the capital. Two hours by carriage.”

“What am I escorting?”

“Officially? Procurement papers and guild funds for a merchant contact.”

“And unofficially?”

“Procurement papers and resistance funds for several merchant contacts.”

Gideon pushed the packet towards me.

“The forests north of Wrenford supply timber and charcoal to half of the surrounding villages. The mining settlements west of it move ore and worked iron through the same market. We need both, and the capital shortages are getting worse, which is only making it harder.”

“How much money?”

“Enough that I would prefer not to say it aloud.”

“That much?”

I looked at the seal.

“And you’re sending it tonight.”

“The resistance cannot stop every other operation because we found a rat. In fact, stopping them would tell him more than continuing.”

It was annoyingly reasonable.

“Who knows?”

“The driver, you and me.”

Gideon’s eyes dropped towards the packet for a moment before returning to mine.

“Marek and Tessa think it’s a sensitive guild shipment with a large payment attached.”

I looked up.

“They’re already assigned?”

“They were before today.”

“And I’m the addition.”

Gideon’s faded blue eyes met mine.

“Yes.”

There were several arguments available.

One involved secrecy. Another involved bringing people I cared about into something connected to the resistance. A third involved the fact that Gideon had clearly arranged this so I would not spend the night chasing Cedric alone while Isabelle was gone.

Three days ago, I would have chosen one and continued until everyone else became tired.

I picked up the packet.

“When do we leave?”

Gideon blinked once, then his mouth moved at one corner.

“Half an hour.”

“Don’t look so pleased.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t need to.”

Downstairs, Marek was fastening a sword belt while Tessa checked the contents of a travel bag.

“Apparently we’re leaving tonight,” Marek claimed.

“So I’ve heard.”

“You joining us?” Tessa asked.

I adjusted the strap across my shoulder.

“Yes.”

“Well, that was easier than expected.”

“I can change my mind.”

“No. Too late.”

She tossed me the carriage key, and I caught it.

Going with them felt simpler than finding a reason not to.