As you can see in some of the other scenes we’ve posted, the original plan for The Liar’s Knot included addressing the schism in the Stadnem Anduske — not fully resolving it, but at least moving to the point where Andrejek had gathered some percentage of them back to his side. This scene was originally written to set up the second version of the schism’s end, so it went away when its payoff did.

* * *

Froghole, Lower Bank: Canilun 12

Following one of Vargo’s fists through Froghole, under a sky growling with thunder, Grey thought, I should ask Ren to teach me how to disguise myself.

The glares were blatant, and a few people even spat in his direction. Under Mettore Indestor, the Vigil had been brutal and corrupt, but also inefficient. Under Ghiscolo Acrenix, the inefficiency was gone, and the brutality had been concentrated in the stingers. It didn’t matter that the Ordo Apis was separate from the Vigil; common people didn’t care about that distinction. And Grey, being one of the Vigil’s only Vraszenian officers, was all too recognizable.

When he wore the hood, he didn’t need to worry about disguising his face.

That thought was simultaneously tempting and disquieting. Ryvček had warned him that if he didn’t maintain a separation between himself and the Rook, he risked losing himself to the role. Twice in the recent past he’d called on the Rook to protect him . . . and Grey could feel that boundary fraying.

He focused his purpose here in Froghole. This was Anduske business, Vraszenian business. Nothing to do with the Rook.

Except that the Rook had helped rescue the Anduske. And Vraszenian business hadn’t been separate from the corruption in Nadežra since Kaius Sifigno brought his army across the sea. How could Grey keep his own life divided, when one conflict bled into another?

He wasn’t surprised that the pawnshop the fist led him to wasn’t the building where he’d delivered the Dockwall escapees into Vargo’s keeping. An ass he might be, but Vargo understood security. The only reason he’d sent the fist to bring Grey was because Andrejek had apparently requested it.

The interior of the pawnshop was dim and filthy, but when shelves along the back wall pulled away to reveal an opening, Grey found that Vargo kept his hideaways in style. Although the room beyond was scarcely larger than the interior of a Vraszenian caravan, the stacked bunks had clean bedding, a lightstone lit the space, and someone had even provided a chair for Andrejek.

Who rose and touched his heart, greeting him in Vraszenian. “Serrado. It is good seeing you well.”

“And you.” A bit of a polite fiction; Andrejek still leaned on a cane as he gestured for Grey to have a seat on the lowest bunk. Idusza vacated it for him and crouched against the wall instead. Ljunan, the least well-known of the three, had apparently gone out.

He did look much better, though. Anything short of death would have been an improvement on his state after Veiled Waters and again during the rescue from the Dockwall, but apart from the cane, he seemed entirely healthy. Vargo must have supplied him with expensive medicine, with numinatria to supplement the imbuing.

Andrejek eased himself back onto the chair and studied Grey. “When during Veiled Waters we met, I said we would speak again. But there has been little chance.”

Because Andrejek was half-dead, then hiding, then imprisoned, then half-dead and hiding again. “What would you ask me?”

Taking out a pipe, Andrejek packed it with a mix aromatic with maple and vetiver. “Much has already been answered by your sister and your niece. The type of man you are, the blood you come from. But that raises only more questions.”

Grey shook his head when Andrejek offered him a dip. “What sort of questions?”

“I thought your blood diluted by Liganti piss, but you were born not in this place. I am more Nadežran than you. And for our overlords you have no love.” Andrejek chewed on the pipe stem without lighting up. “So why serve them? Why cut your braids and your name short?”

The effect of the Praeteri numinat had stopped when Cercel broke it, but the pain lingered. That was how such things worked, building on what was already there. Grey laced his fingers together and said, “Two questions, with two different answers. For the latter, not all bonds are benevolent. Some constrict to the point of killing. When one is trapped, better to cut free than to die. For the former…” He sighed and scrubbed at his hair, long enough now that he’d soon be required to cut it again. He didn’t know if this time he would. “I have only ever wished to serve our people. I thought, if in the Vigil there were more who understood our ways — more who sought to protect — the sword that cuts us might become a shield instead.”

Idusza made a soft noise Grey couldn’t interpret. Andrejek glanced at her, then down at his pipe. It must be an old favorite; he’d chewed a hole through the reed stem. “I see only one question answered two ways. But raccoons will not release something they’ve caught, even to escape a trap.”

Grey leveled a flat look at the Anoškin-born Andrejek. “And ghost owls are the pets of Čel Tmekra and fly at death’s heels. You would not risk your hiding here only to ask me about myself. What war comes for Nadežra now?”

“None — I hope.” Andrejek tapped the pipe against his opposite wrist, a small tic betraying nerves. “With Vargo we have made a plan. The Stretsko know not that he helps me; they believe he sold me out to the stingers. Now that I am recovered, to them he will go and propose an alliance. Truce with his rival knots, in exchange for his support to the Anduske. And to seal this alliance . . .”

Idusza spat a whole series of curses.

Andrejek’s rueful shrug was profoundly Vraszenian. “He will give them me.”

Grey’s first reflex was to curse like Idusza — but Andrejek hadn’t led the Anduske since before his twentieth birthday by being an idiot. “From this you gain . . .”

“All the Anduske in one place. We gather rarely; it isn’t safe. But to watch the execution of the supposed knot-traitor, Branek will bring them all together.”

It was a hell of a gamble. Instead of saying so, Grey asked, “What need you from me?” There must be something; Andrejek wouldn’t have sent for him only to have their long-delayed conversation.”

“Answers to two questions,” Andrejek said. “The first is, can we trust in Vargo’s plan?”

A month ago, Grey would have said no, and possibly decorated it with some of Idusza’s profanity. That was before he watched Vargo break into the Dockwall to rescue the people arrested alongside him. And before Ren decided to trust the man.

“I think you can. Your second question?”

“Whether you can arrange for the Vigil that night to look elsewhere.”

Grey blew out a slow breath. It was nothing he hadn’t done before for his own benefit — or rather, for the Rook’s. He’d always resisted doing it for anyone else, though, as it smacked too much of the rampant corruption under Indestor’s rule.

Now a different kind of corruption ruled, and he found himself not caring whether it broke his Vigil oath in pieces.

That only went so far, though. “The Vigil, yes. But your real danger . . . from the stingers that will come.” He rubbed the tight spot between his brows, thinking. “It may be I can distract them as well. Assuming you have no plan for them already.”

“Half of one,” Idusza said. Her tone added, Which is not nearly enough.

Andrejek touched his heart. “We would be grateful for all aid you can give. I will send you details once Vargo confirms the meeting.”

Grey stood, wary of cracking his head against the beams of the second bunk. Idusza rose as well and offered him her flask by way of thanks. From the aroma that wafted out when he uncorked it, she liked her zrel strong.

“One more favor, if you are willing,” she said as he lifted it. “Can you look for a szorsa named Arenza Lenskaya?”

At least the strength of the zrel justified his coughing, even if it would make them think he couldn’t hold his drink. “Why?”

Idusza exchanged a glance with Andrejek. “Once, we invited her to tie in with us. She refused. But if for us she will pray to Ažerais and Ir Entrelke Nedje . . . I would be grateful.”

“She’s a friend of Alinka’s,” Grey said, suppressing a smile. “I know her well. And yes, I think she will help.”