The Nameless Assassins

Revelations

Although it hurt that Sigmund had vanished without a word, I had to admit that given how I'd left him, it was fairly done. At any rate, I knew where he lived and could seek him out at will, and so I floated back to the Old Rail Yard in a happy haze. Tail wagging ferociously, Sleipnir trotted out from under the railcar to greet me, and as I knelt to ruffle the bristles around his neck, I realized that I'd completely forgotten to ask how my other dog was doing. After all, Starlight had always been more mine than my brother's, and almost certainly missed me in a much more straightforward manner.

I should probably have inquired after our parents too.

Instead, like the paragon of filial piety I was, what I had queried Sigmund about was the Tartan Posse. From earliest childhood, we'd known that the House would require us to marry for espionage purposes. When my brother surfaced among the Doskvolian nobility, a not-so-tiny part of me feared that he was searching for a wife.

"So – you've been popular with the young ladies of Brightstone. Anyone caught your eye yet?" I'd asked slyly, toying with the buttons on his crisp, white shirt as he lay next to me.

"Them?" Absolutely appalled, Sigmund had jerked away. "They're so shallow! Signy, give me credit for some taste!"

As euphoric as if he'd given me another hit of Black Lotus, I'd pulled him back down beside me, and neither of us had spoken again for quite some time after that.

Now, giving Sleipnir one final pat, I drew my cloak tight and crept into my compartment. There, I hastened to change before my crewmates could notice and comment on my dress. While the skirt wasn't as ruffly as Faith's – as Sigmund had pointed out, he did have some modicum of good taste – it was just as short, and the neckline was considerably lower. Faith would have opinions. I didn't want to hear them.

Back in my usual getup of Akorosian blouse and trousers, I sauntered into the common room and sank into a chair, the same chair I'd collapsed into last night with my brother's blade at my throat. Seated at the table, Faith and Ash were animatedly debating whether the cult of That Which Hungers would be willing and able to pay for some score or other. Ash nodded absently at me while protesting, "He really, really hates the Church, but there isn't a central repository or anything. They have been hunting and suppressing us since time immemorial, so unfortunately, none of us have the wealth...."

"They paid for us to assassinate – " Faith shrugged, as if she couldn't be expected to remember the names of all our targets – "that minor functionary. Surely they'd pay more for a high-ranking member."

Their casual unconcern for where I'd spent the night amused me, especially given Sigmund's anxiety over the whole thing.

Entwined in each other's arms, we'd been on the verge of sleep when he jolted upright, dislodging my head from a comfortable position on his chest. "Did you leave a note for your crew?"

It had taken me a moment to process what he meant. "No." I'd tugged at him futilely.

"They won't come looking for you?"

"No." They'd probably assume that I was spending the night with Bazso, although Sigmund didn't need to know that.

"Mmmm. Okay." Obviously dubious about the sort of people I was associating with, he'd grudgingly accepted my assessment and lain back down.

Back in the present, one of these dubious associates who didn't even bother to track my whereabouts was saying to the other, "I can ask Mother, but – wait. A high-ranking member? Is this part of our plan?"