Page 67 of Horn of Winter

“Indeed, I would not.”

I walked around and pressed my fingers against the wood. The desk’s song was faint, but nevertheless told me where its wood fibers had been twined into the drawer’s. I carefully unthreaded them, then tugged the drawer open.

It was empty.

“Well, that’s damnably disappointing,” I said. “Why would she lock a drawer with nothing in it?”

“The devious part of my soul believes all is not as it seems.” He lightly tapped the drawer’s base, then shifted and compared the inside depth to the outside. “The base is false.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “An old but good trick, especially in the age of everything electronic.” He reached in, felt around, then made a small sound of satisfaction. There was a soft click, and a heartbeat later, he was sliding the base free.

Underneath it were a number of leatherbound accounting books, one that said Contacts, and another that said Record of Contracts.

“Jackpot,” I said.

“Presuming they do hold what we are actually seeking.” He handed me the Record of Contracts. “You search that; I’ll go through the account records.”

I moved around to the front of the desk and sat down on the chair there, placing the iPad on the desk before opening the book. The book had been divided into months and didn’t appear to hold any actual contracts; instead, a name and three numbers. Presuming my aunt filed things in a similar manner to my mom, one was the year, and the second a month, and the last was a date. I quickly shuffled through the pages until I hit May last year. Alys might have said the commission had come in only three or four months ago, but it was doubtful that was when the initial approach had been made. There would have been at leasta few weeks—if not months—of research beforehand to ensure it was both viable and profitable.

“According to these accounts,” Mathi commented, “they were making good money relic hunting—though the most profitable part of their business appears to have been selling off found relics to the highest bidder.”

“Yeah, it was something that pissed Lugh off no end, especially when Vincentia beat him to one.”

Mathi looked up. “Did that happen often? Surely not.”

I smiled. “Only a couple of times, but once would have been more than enough for Lugh.”

There was nothing that mentioned the horn in either May or June, though they did get a couple of good commissions for nongodly artifacts.

“There’s a record here for a partial deposit on service to be rendered,” Mathi said. “July eighth, which, if we’re presuming she went to Alysaftershe’d found the horn, fits in with the timeframe.”

I flipped through the book and found it. Like the other records, there was no name listed, just the numbers and an addendum that said, “private collection.”

I rose, walked over to the filing cabinets, and scanned the drawers until I found the right one. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. “Mathi, I don’t suppose you have your lock-picking thingies on you, do you?”

“I never leave home without them.” He rose and moved around the desk.

I stepped back, watching as he removed a small leather pouch from his wallet and then removed a thin metal pick. After a few minutes of intense concentration, there was a click and the cabinet drawer opened.

“What are we looking for?”

“Record number 8-3-C.”

He flicked through the files, found the folder, then placed it on top of the cabinet and opened it. “Okay, according to this, they were commissioned to find the two parts of Borrhás’s Horn by one Reginald Cowley, a collector of Viking artifacts. Lives in Alderley Edge.”

Which just happened to be one of the most affluent and expensive areas in Cheshire. I pointed at the bottom line. “Says here they found one half of it five weeks later and the full commission was paid.” Which, when it came to missing artifacts, was a pretty damn quick turnaround. “Wonder why he paid in full if he didn’t get both halves?”

“Maybe they all believed half of the horn was all that remained.”

Hardly, given my aunt obviously had both. “You know, if we ever do retrieve the whole hoard, it might pay for the council to keep a closer eye on things. Or, at the very least, order the Ljósálfar to do more regular audits.”

“The council hasn’t that power, and the Ljósálfar are unlikely to agree.”

“Why not—they are the keepers after all, and surely it is part of the job to do that sort of thing.”

“Auditsaredone, but you have to remember, we have a rep for somewhat shady business dealings and the love of a good profit. And, as has been proven by the hoard’s theft, not even the bibliothecary, who are possibly the most dedicated law-abiding members of the Ljósálfar society, are immune to a worthwhile bribe.”

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