Midnight Jewel (The Glittering Court #2)(79)

“Oh, wait until everyone sees,” Mistress Smith said. “The Six’s blessings upon you all.”

Tom basked in her adoration. He hadn’t made many deliveries in person for some time. “It’s our pleasure. Lady Aviel doesn’t sleep at night if she hasn’t given away a bit of my wealth.”

Mistress Smith laughed as she watched Lesser Tom pass the sacks of fruit to a sleepy boy inside. “It’s good for you. And good of you. Wally, go get the present I made for Lady Aviel.”

“What?” I asked, seeing the boy dart away.

“Since you’ve been coming around, we’ve eaten better than ever. We all know who’s nudging Tom. I wanted to give you something in return.”

“It’s not necessary. Not at all.” These people had so little, I couldn’t even imagine taking anything.

“Hush,” she scolded. Wally returned and handed her a bundle of cloth. When she held it up, it unfolded into a black cloak with golden stars stitched all over it. I was so surprised that I didn’t refuse when she handed it over. The material was a sturdy but very basic wool. Mistress Culpepper would have turned her nose up at its plainness, but the gold thread bore the same quality I regularly saw in the Glittering Court. Tom noted it too.

“Fit for an angel. Where’d you get the thread?”

“Sold one of those jars of honey you brought us,” Mistress Smith said. “Bought just enough of a scrap to do up this cloak. I’d thought it’d match your hair.”

“Take it,” Tom told me. “Yours is battered, and you need to dress up your image anyway. Mistress Smith has obviously put a great deal of work into it.”

“I’m honored to wear it,” I told her, removing my old cloak and replacing it with the starry one.

“Not many of your lot help us out. And never so generously.” Mistress Smith proceeded to tick off names on her fingers as she spoke. “Joanna Steel. Howard Gilly. They come around sometimes. But we never see the likes of Joseph Abernathy or John Gray anymore. Or that new one. Saddler.”

“Sandler,” corrected Tom. “And that’s good to know. Keep me apprised of who else does or doesn’t visit.”

Sandler! The name Miller and the North Joyce conspirator had mentioned. Could it be the same man?

I could barely contain myself as we walked away. Trying to sound casual, I remarked, “I’ve never heard of any Sandler.”

“New, as she said.” Tom grew thoughtful. “He gets some leniency for that, but he needs to learn the system. The veterans can get away with hoarding their loot, but newcomers need to establish goodwill.”

“Someone’ll raid him,” Lesser Tom added. “Just to make a point. I heard he keeps his stash over in that ugly old boardinghouse on Water Street. Wouldn’t be too hard to, ah, stop by.” His voice held a hopeful note.

Tom shook his head. “We have better things to do than harass some novice—especially since we may need to hire some extra hands soon. Which reminds me . . . what are you doing the night of the Flower Festival, my lady?”

I was still reeling from the slip about Sandler and took a moment to process the question. “I have some commitments that evening.” That was downplaying it a bit. The Glittering Court would be attending a gala second only to our debut ball.

“Well, this would be late, around the usual time you materialize, actually.”

“What is it?” I asked, suspicious of the buildup.

“A job, of course. But a big one. I’ll need more than my usual team, and I won’t lie to you: There’s very little that’s noble about it. We’re just stealing from a merchant who’ll be in the wrong place at the right time. It’s purely selfish. You may have to get your hands dirty, but I guarantee they’ll be filled with gold afterward.”

“How dirty?”

“Not at all, if I can help it. You know I try to keep that in check.” Seeing my hesitation, he asked, “I assume you still have debts? Make a dent in them.”

The need for money had become much more critical, now that I knew where Lonzo was. Slowly, after much deliberation, I gave a nod of assent.

“Excellent.” Tom lifted my hand and kissed it, and I wondered what I’d just agreed to. “Find me the night before, and we’ll have all the details finalized.”

We parted ways, and I headed down a road that would take me to Silas’s. Before entering the busier areas, I found a quiet spot to adjust my wardrobe. I swapped my starry cloak for the battered one. A red wig stuffed into the cloak’s inner pocket replaced the blonde. I couldn’t move freely as Lady Aviel anymore.

I walked a few streets over to the tailor shop and knocked on Silas’s door. He didn’t look thrilled to see me.

“Aren’t you married yet?”

“Grant said to come here because he’s out with the patrol.”

“I know.” Silas shut the door behind me. “He told me about how you two overheard Miller. I didn’t even know you were still a part of this.”

Ignoring the accusation in his voice, I took off my wig and mask and accepted a plain wooden chair, which seemed luxurious after Grant’s sparse loft.

“You’ve got some kind of letter for me?” Silas asked, arms crossed.

“Er, I actually need to write it here. If that’s okay. But before I do . . . I found out something else that might help you. Did you figure out who Sandler was? Grant didn’t know the name.”