Page 72 of Foul Days

“I’m not happy about it,” he said, which didn’t answer her question.

“What is it about Karaivanov’s gang?” she pressed.

“Nothing. I’m just doing my job.”

Yeah, right. No one was that pure-hearted. There was something about this particular case that was personal to Asen. Something which was perhaps related to the magic Vila had sniffed on him. After all, Karaivanov was most famous for smuggling magic objects across the Wall.

Asen isn’t as clueless as he looks, Kosara reminded herself. She was starting to fall for his friendly copper act again. She couldn’t allow herself to let her guard down.

As long as their goals matched, she’d keep him around. He could be useful. But the moment his quest—whatever it was—got in the way of her getting her shadow back, she wouldn’t hesitate. She’d drop him like a bad habit.

“In any case,” Asen continued, “that Zmey of yours can’t be any scarier than my boss.”

That Zmey of yours. Kosara knew he was only joking, but all he did was remind her of Sevar. You’re still hung up on that Zmey of yours.…

Kosara turned around and took the coffee off the fire a second before it had boiled over. She placed a cup in front of Asen and poured one for herself.

Coffee grounds had gathered at the bottom of the pot. Kosara deliberately avoided looking at them, too afraid their portentous shapes would show her something she didn’t want to see of her future.

“With any luck, you won’t even get to see just how scary the Zmey is,” she said. “His palace is large. He’ll be too busy entertaining his guests to even notice us. We’ll sneak in, get my shadow and your murderer, and sneak back out. Easy-peasy.”

Asen didn’t seem convinced. He gave her a sideways smile. “So, are we going to the graveyard?”

Kosara ran her fingers through her hair, to cover up the fact they were trembling. “Not right now. It’s almost time for the upirs to begin waking up. We’ll have to wait until the morning. Then, we’ll get Blackbeard to give us a lift across the sea in exchange for his compass.”

“You’ll give him the compass back? Vila won’t like that.”

“Oh, she’ll hate it. But we don’t have a choice unless you’re hiding a ship in a pocket somewhere.”

“And, of course, we need to figure out how to sneak inside the palace.”

Kosara shook her head. She didn’t need to figure it out: she already knew how to sneak in. There were only three days every year when the doors to the palace opened. “We’ll go to the Zmey’s feast. He throws one every year for all his monsters.”

“We don’t exactly look like the Zmey’s monsters.”

“I was thinking we can pretend to be household spirits.”

Asen considered this for a moment. “What kind?”

“I’ll be the spirit of the fireplace,” Kosara said. She’d thought about it before, about where she’d settle, if she had to stay in this world after she died. “I like smoke, warmth, and the smell of fire.”

“What about me?”

“I don’t know. Is there a place that makes you happy? Somewhere you feel at home?”

Asen took a careful sip of his coffee, made a face, and added another sugar cube to it. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“Of course, we’ll also need to get an invitation.”

“Are you suggesting we steal one?”

“I’m suggesting we ask one of the monsters nicely for theirs.”

Asen looked at her as if he couldn’t decide whether she was joking.

She wasn’t. She’d spent some time considering it, trying to remember all the gossip she’d heard about the Zmey’s court. The varkolaks couldn’t stand the upirs. The upirs hated the karakonjuls. The yudas didn’t like anyone, and no one liked the rusalkas.

The samodivas used to live in the Zmey’s palace, but they’d had a big falling out with him years ago, and they’d moved out.

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