Liar's Moon by Elizabeth C. Bunce

Author:Elizabeth C. Bunce
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc
Published: 2011-09-28T04:00:00+00:00

A few hours later, I presented myself at the Charicaux gates. Last time the guard — or Karst, rather — had summarily dismissed me, but now a stone-faced retainer ushered me through as soon as I gave my name. He led me into the house like an errant child tardily returned from some high adventure, finally depositing me in an interior courtyard with a curt warning that I was to wait there until Lord Ragn became available. He gave no indication of when that would be, however, and after a few minutes of pacing between a fountain and an iron bench, I grew restless. Since this was probably my only opportunity to get a glimpse at what those guards were keeping so well protected, I decided to make the most of it.

I could hear voices from the second story above me, and saw a series of closed doors in the courtyard level below. Swiftly I passed from door to door, testing them. I ignored the unlocked ones — kitchens, workrooms, a covered walkway to the stables — and set my attention (and my lock picks) to the ones that wouldn’t open to a visitor’s casual curiosity. The first two were useless, a music room and a cluttered storeroom that held spare furniture and bolts of cloth. The third, however, granted me access to a broad chamber of bookcases, desk, and a chest of many tiny drawers and doors. An office. Perfect. I slipped inside, leaving the door open a sliver so I could hear my guard return with Lord Ragn.

It was dark and hot in the office, the tall windows closed behind heavy damask drapes, like the room was hunkered down and hiding from something. I went straight for the desk; a closed ledger sat atop a blotter, with a neat row of pens and inkwells. Very tidy. Very Decath. The desk drawer held a stack of correspondence and an accounts book from a banking house. The book was smallish, and though it would have fit very nicely in the bodice of my kirtle, I resisted. Lord Ragn would miss it straightaway, and Durrel would hardly welcome it. Nobs and their honor.

Instead I contented myself with leafing through the entries, and I was surprised to see the withdrawals outnumbered the deposits. By a lot. The records went back a little more than a year, and the sums in Lord Ragn’s accounts seemed to be dwindling rapidly. There was one large influx of cash at the end of the winter, around the time of Durrel’s marriage to Talth, but after that, the decline continued. I wondered if Durrel knew his father was losing money. But how? Bad investments? Gambling? Women? None of the usual reasons for nobs to go broke seemed to fit what I knew of Lord Ragn. I tucked the account book back into place and combed through the letters, my fingers stalling when they came to a fold of green parchment in the drawer. Loath to pick it up, I flipped it onto the desk with a letter knife, and spread it open.

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