Point of Hopes

Mijan took a deep breath, swallowing her tears. “No. No need. I’ll be fine. Just–find her, Rathe. They said, she’d won a place. It was so much what she wanted, they seemed all right, how could I think… ?” Her voice trailed off, and she shook herself hard. “I’ll be all right,” she said again, as much to convince herself as anyone, and looked back at Rathe. “And if she’s with the embroiderers all this time, I will cut your heart out.”

“If she is,” Rathe answered, “I’ll hand you the knife myself.”

He turned away without waiting for an answer, knowing she didn’t believe it any more than he did. b’Estorr fell into step beside him, stretching his long legs to keep up.

“What now?”

“The embroiderer’s hall,” Rathe answered. “Just in case. But I don’t think she’ll be there.”

There was only a single master in evidence this early in the day, and she greeted them with a certain puzzlement. Rathe explained what they wanted, and even though he’d expected it, felt his heart sink as she shook her head.

“No, we haven’t taken in any new lottery‑prentices. We do redraw if someone drops out, but that hasn’t happened in years–” She broke off as the two men turned away, Rathe calling his thanks over his shoulder.

“Back to Point of Hopes,” he said, and b’Estorr touched his arm.

“The river’s faster from here,” he said. “University privilege.”

They found a boatman more quickly than Rathe would have thought possible, but even so, he fidgeted unhappily until the boat drew up at the Rivermarket landing. Monteia was pacing the length of the main room as they burst through the door, but she stopped at once, seeing Rathe’s face.

“Inside,” she ordered, and jerked her head toward the workroom. Rathe started to follow, but b’Estorr caught his sleeve, handed him the orrery. Rathe took it, careful not to disturb the settings, and preceded the chief point into little room.

“Bad?” she asked, and shut the door behind them.

Rathe nodded. “They’ve taken her. They offered her a place in the embroiderers, the one thing she wanted badly enough to take chances for, and they’ve got her. And, Astree’s Web, it’s my fault. She would never have done this if I hadn’t asked her–”He broke off then, knowing how pointless this was, but Monteia shook her head anyway.

“You don’t know that, Nico. It’s the time of year to have your stars read, and Asheri always was–is–a saving creature. Tell me what happened.”

Rathe took a deep breath, and set the orrery on the worktable. Quickly, he ran through what Mijan had told him, finished with b’Estorr’s analysis. “She’s important to the process, he says, so they shouldn’t hurt her. But, gods, we have to find her.”

Monteia nodded, her expression remote. “I’ll send to Fairs again, tell him what’s happened today–I already told him to arrest any astrologers he found, and why, but I haven’t heard anything yet. This should make him move a little faster, though.” She shook her head. “It’s times like these I wish Astreiant still had walls. I’ll send people to ask at the gates and the i

They hadn’t found any of the other children this way, there was little likelihood Asheri would be any different. Rathe swallowed his anger, said, “There has to be something else we can do.”

Monteia looked at him. “If you think of something, Nico, let me know.”

“I’m sorry.” Rathe shook his head. “She’s a good kid–and it’s my doing, Chief. This one’s my responsibility.”

Eslingen took the river way from Customs Point to Point of Hopes, the early sun warm on his back through the heavy fabric of his second‑best coat. The weight of it, and the stains on the dark green linen, a

“Is Rathe around?” Eslingen said, before the woman could say something unfortunate, and she gri

“He’s withthe chief point now–Eslingen, isn’t it? You can wait if you want, but it’s a busy morning.”

“Already?” Eslingen murmured, but turned away from the table before she had to answer. A fair‑haired man in a dark red coat, shirt open at the throat, was sitting on the bench that stretched along one short wall, reading through a sheaf of broadsheets. Not the sort of person I’d’ve expected to see here, Eslingen thought, not a merchant but not a knife, either, and only then saw the anvil and star of the Starsmith pi

The man looked up, his face unsmiling but not unwelcoming, and nodded. “Looking for Nico?”

Eslingen nodded. “A friend of his, are you?”

“I do some work for him from time to time.”

Eslingen looked again at the badge on the man’s cuff. “An astrologer?”

The man shook his head. “A necromancer, actually,” he said, and offered his hand. “Istre b’Estorr. I’m at the university.”

For a wild moment, Eslingen wondered how Rathe could have found out about the bodies already, and have had the foresight to call in a necromancer for something that wasn’t even in his jurisdiction. He had never liked the idea of necromancers, no soldier did–no matter what the scholars said, he thought, some of those deaths had to be untimely. b’Estorr tipped his head to one side, and Eslingen shook himself, took the hand that was held out to him. “My name’s Eslingen, Philip Eslingen. Late of Coindarel’s Dragons.”

“Oh. And currently Hanselin Caiazzo’s knife,” b’Estorr said.

Eslingen looked at him warily, wondering how in all hells he could have known that, wondering, too, what ghosts he might be carrying that the other could feel. b’Estorr smiled faintly, as though he’d guessed the thought.

“Nico mentioned you once, said he owed you a good turn. I’m glad to meet you. It’s made a lot of people much easier to know that Caiazzo has a capable knife to back him again.”

“So I heard,” Eslingen said. “Are you working for Rathe now?”

b’Estorr nodded, the smile vanishing. “I’m afraid so–”

He broke off as the door to the workroom opened, and Rathe burst out again. “Monteia’s sending to Fairs, we’ll see if Claes can’t find one of these damn astrologers, make him tell us what’s going on–” He broke off, seeing Eslingen. “Philip. Sorry, what are you doing here?”

Eslingen looked back at him. “I need to talk to you–Caiazzo sent me–but if this is a bad time–what’s happened?”

Rathe took an unsteady breath. “Asheri, one of our ru

“Gods,” Eslingen said.

“So unless it’s really important,” Rathe went on, “you’ll have to wait.”

Eslingen hesitated. “It is important,” he said at last, “but I think I can wait, at least until you’ve gotten this settled.”

Rathe gave him a fleeting smile of thanks, looked at b’Estorr. “Is there any way we can narrow down the location of the mine? Something in the kids’ stars, anything?”

Eslingen froze, his eyes widening. A mine and the missing children in the same breath, and a crazy magist in Mailhac… He took a deep breath. “What’s this about a mine?” Rathe turned on him, eyes angry, and Eslingen held up a hand. “What I was sent to say, it may be more important that I thought. What mine, Rathe?”

“The children who’ve been taken, they all have the right stars to work the process that turns gold into aurichalcum,” the pointsman answered, impatiently. “It’s the only thing we’ve found that binds them together, but now we have to figure out where that gold mine could be.”