Tabitha arrived home an hour later, from her trip to see Desmond Miles. After opening the front door, she entered to find a tall man wearing a well-worn hat sitting on a chair. He was leaning back, his feet on her desk, reading a paper.
Tabitha's home was twenty-seven stories up. The latch on the inside of her door didn't have a key, and only opened with a small application of the Craft to heat a spring, in a precise spot that she had never shared with anyone. Her windows had steel shutters that she had locked before she left, and the door she had entered through was the only door she had.
"How the burning hell?" Tabitha asked, torn between irritation and amusement. And a little curiosity.
"I bribed your building's caretaker. There's always a secondary latch for emergencies, and he has the key. Lovely man, I hope you don't hold it against him. He wasn't cheap," Mathias said, without getting off the chair he was sitting in.
He did, however, take his feet off the desk.
"How expensive?" Tabitha asked.
"Half a pound of coffee. We're lucky the City isn't for sale, else he'd own all of it by now," Mathias replied.
"You have access to coffee?" Tabitha asked.
"Some. Did you want a cup?" Mathias asked.
"I dislike you considerably less, now," Tabitha said, stepping inside. As casually as she could, she shut and latched the door again, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves.
And tried to calm the part of herself that wanted to kill him.
"I didn't know you could read," Tabitha said, trying to get Mathias to talk about what he was reading.
He ignored the insult and gestured to the stack of apprentice papers. "This is more paper than some Bureaus use in a day, and about as entertaining to read. Has anyone ever been failed for wasting ink? Because there's one that's almost thirty pages long, about changing the standards for the Coat to make it slightly more stringent. It takes him twenty pages to say that a lack of mental focus correlates with a lack of willpower."
Tabitha chuckled, despite herself. "You say mostly?"
"This one you left in front is a solid piece of work. It's about the Gloam. It's a bold choice for a topic, with interesting conclusions. I didn't know the Guild considers the Gloam a Craft." Mathias admitted, setting the paper down.
In that single motion, Tabitha noticed Mathias's calm, level gaze was examining her studiously, as he sat up straighter on her chair and let his hands casually meet together.
Except that his hands were resting on throwing knives under his sleeves, and that casual shift in his posture left him ready to spring in either direction.
"I've stepped in something," Mathias said.
If she was reluctant to kill that paper's author, she despised even considering having to silence this formidable shadow. As much as she might personally despise Oversight, the Burning Night Incident in the Foundry had educated her concerning the critical, terrifying necessity of his Bureau.
It also impressed her with how rare the man in front of her was; dangerous even among killers, but restrained and reluctant to kill, even sympathetic to the people he needed to monitor. He was a proven servant of the City.
Unlike the author of the paper in his hands, Mathias' history of service offered another recourse for him.
"I belong to one of Parliament's advisory councils," Tabitha admitted. "The Council Privy to Hushed Whispers."
"Sounds ominous," Mathias said, smiling. "I've never heard of it."
"Of course you haven't. We're a secret council that keeps dangerous secrets secret. You can't just look us up on a public registry," Tabitha said, trying to signal to Mathias that he could relax a little.
"You do sarcasm better than comedy," Mathias noted, and his hands slid away from his sleeves.
"Of course I do. But the paper you read, which I'll admit to being the most interesting thing I've read in years, contains open speculation about a subject that can never see the light of day," Tabitha explained.
"The Gloam being a Craft?" Mathias asked.
"No," Tabitha admitted. "Believe it or not, no one's ever considered that possibility before."
"Strange." Mathias reflected. "Is it the possibility of a second Bore? After all, the Crafters created the Spire. If someone begins believing that the Crafters also created the source of the Gloam, it could tear the City apart. The Quenched Redeemers alone would probably demand the death of every Crafter in the City."
Tabitha sat down at the opposite side of her desk, and buried her face in her hand. "I haven't even had time to digest all of that. It may end up being added to the secrets we have to keep. I only read that paper a couple of hours ago. But the problematic secret that this Raeth kid inferred is right at the end."
Impressively, Mathias didn't even need to pick up the paper again. "The Crafters really did have research about making a Bore?"
"Yes. That secret isn't just a secret. It's the secret the Privy council was created to keep. One of a very small number of facts that could intolerably damage the City. And remember, the Sixth is inevitable. We can't even afford to fix the mess we've made of the Undercity, let alone endure the crippling riots and mass demoralization that leaking this knowledge would entail."
"Further, we could endanger the Crafters. And we have yet to survive an invasion without needing you." Mathias added. "I take it you didn't find him when you went to the apprentice hall. I'm not even going to ask if you're strong enough to incinerate a body. I've seen you in action."
"It's why you're assigned to me, I gather," Tabitha replied. "I asked around, and thankfully, it sounds like Gerald kept the contents of his paper to himself. But he left the Apprentice Hall and didn't tell anyone why. Apprentices are allowed to visit their families after their papers."
"Found out where he lives?" Mathias asked.
"Near a hospice, at Northward station. The boy's father teaches inspection details for the Bureau of Civil Development. I did have a chat with an acquaintance of his, Desmond Adams. He's a trainee Coroner for the Undertakers. He's the one who taught Gerald to write with the Craft, in case you were wondering." Tabitha said. She smiled when Mathias looked harder at the page and ran his fingers along it.
"It's not forbidden, but I'd be concerned about anyone that much skill," Mathias said, carefully.
"Desmond was failed for being weak, not restrained," Tabitha said. "He also only crafts in the Undertakers' Ice Box. You don't need to worry about him."
"I'm not. Desmond's such a low priority he's his own category, unless he knows something about this paper. My concern is this missing apprentice, of unknown strength and not inconsiderable skill, holding what you've described as a City shattering secret. Also..."
Mathis leaned forward a little, and asked, "are you prepared to kill this boy, when we find him?"
"You're not at all concerned about your fate?" Tabitha asked, quietly.
"My fate is beyond your right to judge. I have proven my willingness to put the City first, through blood, burns, and lost friends."
"My duties to the Council Privy include killing people to keep them quiet. I'm prepared to turn the boy into hot ash. As for your fate, I have only one other recourse for someone who stumbles on a secret that needs to stay secret."
"And what is that?" Mathias asked.
"I'm nominating you to the Council Privy, as soon as I can. I'll need a second, but I'm fairly confident Agrias will do it."
"That explains why Agrias was so polite to you," Mathias reflected. "She normally has a mouth like an Undercity thug."
Tabitha had a hard time believing that woman was capable of small talk.
"In the meantime, do you have a lead on Gerald's whereabouts? The longer we go without finding him, the more likely he tells someone about his paper." Mathias said. "I expect you haven't visited his family yet."
"No. I was stopping here for a bite to eat before I left. You said something about coffee?"
"I did," Mathias said, and he fished out a small paper bag from one of his pockets. "Would you boil a small pot?"
Tabitha stood up and strode to her small kitchen, where she retrieved a small pot and set her hand underneath it.
As the water began to boil, Mathias set one of his gloves on the table and gestured for Tabitha to set her pot on it.
"I figured a consolation gift was in order. I have been assigned to you as your final evaluator," Mathias explained, as he carefully set the paper bag into the pot.
It was a gentle relief to be able to tell him the truth. "I know. Agrias told me the Council Privy played off your Chief's irritation over the nannies to assign you to me. They're trying to get one more apprentice out of me before I need to be snuffed out."
"I see," Mathias said. "Who were your apprentices? The Bureau doesn't recommend very many Crafters to teach. You must have produced quite a crop of graduates."
"Only three," Tabitha admitted.
Mathias nodded. "They must have been quite the trio. Would I know their names?"
"Coraline Estoban," Tabitha said.
Mathias whistled, and to her surprise, smiled. "Hundred Salamander Estoban. I let new evaluators watch her do that trick just to remind them that there's a difference in power between a Crafter and a reject. Who else?"
Tabitha smiled despite herself. Coraline had been a privilege to teach. Very few Crafters had a similar degree of skill in the Craft, and of those that did, none of them had her strength. As Mathias poured two cups from her small tea pot, she reflected on her first apprentice's audacity, especially since she smuggled her blank paper out of the exam hall and gave it to Tabitha directly.
"Theo Ratterson," Tabita said, as she took the closest cup.
"Ah," Mathias said, without inflection, but the tilt in his hat made the faint lines of his eyes seem particularly menacing. "Research's golden boy."
"My last was Brenda Thael."
"Lionel Adams seems to think she's the City's strongest Crafter, by a significant margin. Says he's never seen a will like hers, and he's been alive since the Fourth."
"You see why they're hoping for one more from me," Tabitha explained.
"And you'd like it to be this Raeth kid."
"I'll admit, part of me would," Tabitha admitted. "Have you seen this?
She slid over some of the notes to her own project. She watched him glance over the pages a few times before saying, "sorry. What am I looking at?"
"My attempts at designing a ship that can fly. The boy's right about the Gloam, and the other wound. He has to be. Somewhere out there, there's another Bore, and it's the source of the Gloam. If I can figure out some way to make these designs work..."
"I see. Something to look for, and a way to get there," Mathias stared and whistled sharply. "The old wolf would love this."
"Mathias, this might be the first time anyone has ever sat down and thought of the Gloam as conquerable." Tabitha reflected as Mathias began to pour each of them a cup of coffee.
"I should be grateful for the privilege?" Mathias asked ruefully, as Tabitha watched him take a cup. He took the damn thing with a single hand, his other resting in a quiet mockery of relaxation.
"You should. But I'm willing to concede that we may need to kill him."
"May?" Mathias asked. "He's a known danger to the City, according to your Council Privy. Blackmail and bribery are no guarantees for silence. The kid needs to die and disappear, in that order."
Tabitha acknowledged the necessity of it. Death was simple, ensured silence, and if handled carefully, wouldn't leave problems down the road. As much as she might like to let the boy carry on with what he'd discovered, however much she felt he deserved the opportunity, the needs of the City had killed better people for pettier reasons.
"I only say 'perhaps' because I'm hoping for a better option. Even if it is wishful thinking," Tabitha said as she set her empty cup down.
"As you said, he has a City shattering secret. And you've mentioned only two recourses for someone who stumbles on a dangerous secret. Does he qualify for this Council Privy of yours?" Mathias asked.
"No. Our requirements are knowing a dangerous secret, and proof of a candidate's willingness to put the welfare of the City above their own." Tabitha admitted, as she poured herself a second cup. "Burning hell, that's marvellous. Almost no one in the City knows how to brew the stuff. It's too scarce for anyone to practice. How do you have so much?"
"I have connections," Mathias said, lamely. Tabitha grinned.
"You're too irreverent to cultivate the kind of connections a steady supply of coffee would require." Tabitha insisted. "Also, I think you'd stab someone who tried to bribe you, just out of spite."
"I wouldn't stab them," Mathias protested. He took another sip and added, "too much paperwork."
Tabitha grinned, and leaned forward. "You know this is the kind of behaviour smutty romance novels are made from, right? A shadow sneaks into his Crafter's home, bribing his way in so that he can have a private word where he can say the things he will never allow himself to say in public."
Mathias stared at her for a moment, just a moment, where his calm reserve failed and whatever lay behind his mask slipped through. It was just a moment, easily missed, but Tabitha caught it as if he had held up a sign.
She had angered him.
"I've said it before; you have a terrible sense of humour," Mathias said. "Nathaniel was sleeping with his evaluator."
Tabitha hissed in irritation. "Burn me. Please be kidding."
"I wish I was. I interrogated her myself after her suicide attempt, a few days ago. It calls into question every report she submitted before that night and may explain how easily Theo was able to teach him Combat Crafting," Mathias explained.
"What will happen to her?" Tabitha asked.
"Very little. Oversight doesn't have its own law in the City, and running from a raging Crafter isn't illegal. Her failure only means her termination."
"That isn't likely to curb her suicidal tendencies," Tabitha noted.
"The final casualty report for the Burning Night Incident was sent to me a few days ago. We lost two hundred and sixty-one people. Two hundred and nine civilians, mostly research's people. Thirty-one evaluators, including two that died of their burns the next day. Seven rejects, three of them unnecessary. I've had the shadows involved disciplined. The touring Colonel and his dozen aides. And Olman."
Mathias looked hard at her, and said "so no, Crafter a'Loria. I will not sleep with you."
The hard flint expression on his face vanished, and he grinned at her beneath his stupid hat.
Tabitha sputtered, hissed in confusion, and managed to blurt out "I was not asking for it, you flame-baked, glorified hit-man with delusions of grandeur!"
"I know," Mathias said, chuckling to himself. "Thought it might help if you saw what a joke looked like."
"Ash-eating prick." Tabitha muttered, but she was laughing as she said it.
"If you're done your coffee, we should go. I'd rather not have to forge another messenger request just to make up for your dawdling." Mathias said, as he stood up and seemed to slide towards the door