Page 37 of A Whisper in the Walls

“Well, I didn’t cook this. But I do cook. You’re just never around. Harlow was here. Trust me, you’ll prefer his recipe to mine.”

“Harlow again… is he turning into a permanent guest?”

“Regular is not the same as permanent, dear. I live my life a day at a time. Let’s eat.”

The two of them quietly went about the business of filling their plates. Besides the fried fish, there were buttered rolls and spiced cucumbers. Ren felt famished, stretched as thin as she was by everything that was happening. She could barely restrain herself from eating as she crossed the room to sit at their knee-high table. Her mother settled in beside her and let out a pleasant sigh.

“You’re right,” Ren said, mouth full of food. “This is better than your recipe.”

“The fisherman knows fish,” her mother said. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“That’s what he is? A fisherman?”

Her mother shrugged. “He has a number of occupations.”

“How vague. But he’s good to you?”

“Of course. I don’t have patience for anything less at my age.” Her mother looked her up and down. “I’m getting you more fish. You’re nothing but bones.”

Ren could only smile as her mother went to grab another plate. It was nice to have someone fuss over her needs like this. Her mother returned with the rest of the scraps. Ren reached across to pick at them, her own plate already clean.

“So… how is Nan?”

Their chosen pseudonym. Ren had thought it too old-fashioned, but her mother had insisted that the older names were always cycling back through. “Nan is settling in,” her mother answered. “I saw her at the market the other day, buying rice. Our contact at the playhouse said she’s doing fine. A good worker.”

“Our contact? You mean Harlow?”

“Of course. Who do you think secured Nan’s apartment? And who do you think pulled the strings to get her hired by the seamstresses in the first place? That’s all Harlow’s work. You told me you didn’t want anything traced back to you. How else was I supposed to get it done?”

Ren only nodded. “No, you’re right. I wasn’t criticizing. I just want the circle to stay tight. No one else should know about her. The last thing we want is for someone to recognize that she’s one of the missing Tin’Vori children.”

“Who would? She left when she was a girl. She was how old? Seven? And it’s clear life hasn’t been kind to her since then. I doubt that even their dearest servants would know who she was. Besides, the rumor is that the Broods butchered most of them. Trust me, Nan’s secret is safe.”

Ren rolled that around in her mind. It all came down to trust. She might not know Harlow, but if her mother said they were squared away—they were squared away. The rest of the plan relied on Nevelyn’s abilities. Could she navigate the politics of the seamstress room? Their plan required her to advance quite a bit past her current station. They’d given her mechanisms for making contact if it was not proceeding quickly enough, but so far, Ren had heard nothing.

“It’s interesting,” she said. “Harlow helping us so much. Why would he do that?”

“Because I asked him.”

It took a lot of effort to not roll her eyes. “Come now, Mother. You’re obviously a delight, but what’s the real reason? He’s sticking out his neck by involving himself. If the plan works… there could be some serious consequences. The other houses might retaliate. He’s risking a lot.”

Her mother nodded. “We aren’t the only ones who hate the Broods, Ren. There were other men and women on that bridge when it fell. People in the Lower Quarter don’t forget. They might not be able to do anything about it, but they don’t forget. All I had to do was hint at what you were planning and Harlow agreed to it. He knows what we all know: if one of the great houses can really fall, there’s hope that the rest of us can rise.”

“Fair enough. I just—”

“—don’t trust him. That’s good. We taught you to question everything and everyone.”

They most certainly had. Agnes and Roland Monroe had not raised a fool. The silence between them stretched, until her mother went on.

“But Harlow is one of us, Ren. He’s Lower Quarter through and through. He was born in their shadow just like you were. If we can’t trust each other, we’ll never beat them.”

Ren had no answer to that. She was about to bring up her work and the offer she’d just received from Landwin Brood. At the last second, though, she bit her tongue instead. She was afraid that her mother might like the idea too much. What if she pushed Ren to accept that offer of a normal life? Ren didn’t want another fight. Instead, she reached for more fish. The two of them made small talk about the docks and pretended like nothing else existed outside these walls—like this was their normal day-to-day. When the evening had run its course, Ren cleaned off the plates with her mother at the washbasin. Her voice was quiet.

“I need to leave Kathor. An opportunity has presented itself.”

“Going to Nostra?”

Her mother was too clever by half. Ren nodded.

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