The Calm Before (Reign and Ruin novella) Read Free Page B

frantic.
    “What just
happened doesn’t change anything.”
    “But it must!”
Lucan cried. “The Painter, the Painter is –”
    “Shut up!”
Cirrus said, whirling around again and rearing up in Lucan’s face
so close he could count the pores on his nose. “Shut your
traitorous mouth. You think you deserve to know? You think you were
anything to him?” Cirrus threw his head back, barking with sudden,
jarring laughter. “The connection was mine. The responsibility was
mine. You gave that up the moment you listened to your cock instead
of to your boss.”
    “What do you
think you’re going to do, Cirrus? What right do you have,
either?”
    Cirrus smiled
and swiftly smoothed over his ashen hair. Taking a step back he
pulled out a pocket watch from his waistcoat. Lucan watched it spin
around in a circle, his eyes widening as the meaning sunk in.
    “You cannot
possibly mean –”
    “I am not going
to explain myself to you,” Cirrus murmured. “This is between me and
his niece.”
    “You are a
deluded man,” Lucan said. “And you will fail.”
    The pocket
watch twirled once, twice and a third time through the air. Cirrus
caught it smoothly with his right hand and stroked the glass
surface of the face tenderly, the finely wrought design of a dream
catcher almost imperceptible against the pad of his thumb.
    “I will have
everything I ever wished for,” he said as he slipped the watch back
into his pocket. “And all you will have is sand and sun.”
    Rising up from
his knees from in front of the smoking fire, Cirrus reached into
his pocket to find the small layer of sand that had spread across
the bottom of the silk lining. He felt an ounce of comfort at the
thought of Lucan, trussed and tied high at the top of the pole. He
would need to find a place for his keepsake, a little box or a
locket. And in a week when the body is finally discovered, well . .
. he would need to practice being particularly mournful.
    The thought
made him think. He left the fire and strode back through the front
hallway to the main office. Cindy, who might have been booking
appointments or doing a crossword puzzle, looked up nervously from
her desk and gulped.
    "Yes, Sir?"
    "Cindy, I need
the Caretaker summoned urgently."
    "Mr.
Kleizenberg?" The way in which Cindy said the name made it obvious
that she didn't approve of the person in question. Her lips pursed
in disapproval, but Cirrus heard a few papers rustle and her pen
click. "What shall I tell him is the reason? He's out on duty at
the moment."
    "Yes, I know
that," Cirrus said. "But this is a state emergency. Tell him these
words exactly . . ." He paused a short moment for effect. "Painter
compromised. Report back immediately. Apprehend niece." There was
silence as Cindy scribbled down his note. "Did you get that,
Cindy?"
    "Yes, Sir,
there wasn't much, was there? Is that all?"
    "Yes, Cindy,
that is – " Cirrus blew his breath out in frustration and glared at
her. The color drained from Cindy's face. "That is quite enough,
don't you think?"
    "Yes, Sir. Of
course, Sir. I'll summon him immediately."
    "Thank you,
Cindy,” Cirrus said through gritted teeth. “Accommodating as
ever."
    The door to his
office burst open with a resounding bang as a disheveled and
windswept man stumbled to the floor. Cindy and Cirrus stilled and
watched in surprise as the man crawled back and kick the door
shut.
    He looked a
fright: suit shirt untucked, jacket blown over his head and tie
wrapped around his neck nearly four times. Cirrus could hardly help
the smile that teased the edges of his mouth. Sometimes having a
house that moved was the most ridiculous inconvenience the Painter
could have dreamt up. But at times like this, when Council members
tried to reach the dizzying heights while retaining any sense of
dignity, he absolutely loved it.
    The man stood
up, straightening out of his disarray, and made a beeline for
Cirrus.
    “Cirrus, have
you heard?!”
    Cirrus glanced
sideways at Cindy and placed a