The Singer
Page 72
“We’re looking for my cousin.” Leo, who had been silent during the whole exchange, stepped out of the shadow. Lang turned toward his voice. “You know him. Everyone knows Maxim.”
Lang blinked in surprise, then said, “If you hadn’t said cousin, I would have thought twin. Yes, I know Max.”
“He called us. Told us to come to Oslo. We are searching for someone. A woman.”
Lang’s eyes narrowed. “What would a woman be doing in a scribe house?”
Far from allaying suspicion, the three Oslo scribes became even more hostile.
“We don’t know,” Leo said. “Max told us to come here, so we did.”
Rhys said, “Lang, our house in Istanbul was attacked. Our watcher left with an Irina who had taken shelter with us.”
Lang’s eyes narrowed. “There was an Irina in your house? In Turkey?”
“An Irina who Volund’s Grigori were targeting. It’s a complicated story, but we have been looking for them. Max called and told us to come here. I don’t know why, but—”
A flurry of Norwegian broke out between the three scribes. Malachi could follow only parts of it, but one word stood out.
“Sarihöfn,” Malachi said. “What does Sarihöfn mean?”
The argument stopped, and Lang’s eyes swung toward him. “Who was the watcher who took the woman?”
Rhys said, “Who is the watcher of Istanbul? The same scribe for the last two hundred years, Lang! Damien, of course.”
“Sarihöfn… Sari’s haven? Is that what you’re talking about?” Malachi asked, slowly stepping toward Lang. “Do you know where she is?”
“I don’t know what business you have with Sari, but—”
“For heaven’s sake, Lang!” Rhys broke in. “You know Damien. Think! You know I’ve been serving under him. I am looking for my watcher, and I don’t understand why the hell you’re being so…”
It was a little sound that stopped him. Such a little sound, Malachi thought, to stop six grown men from almost coming to blows. A delicate sound, drifting from the warmth of the open door.
A child’s laughter.
A girl child’s laughter.
Lang barked out, “Close the door!”
But before he did, Rhys and Leo had both stepped forward.
“Who are you guarding, Lang?” Rhys asked. “What is going on here?”
“Can I trust you?” he asked Rhys.
“I can’t believe you’re even asking that.”
“Yes,” Malachi said. “You can trust us. All of us. We’re looking for Damien. I need to find him.”
“Why? I don’t even know your name, scribe.”
Malachi took a deep breath and fought the roar of anger that burned in his chest. “My name is Malachi of Sakarya. I am a bound scribe of Istanbul. And I am looking for Damien, because he is guarding my mate.”
“Your mate?”
Rhys said, “They met in Istanbul. Were mated there. Volund’s Grigori overran the city, and Damien took Malachi’s woman to Sari to keep her safe. But we need to find her. We need to find them both. That is the only reason we are here.”
Leo said, “Though I’d like to know who exactly you’re guarding behind those doors, Lang. That was no scribe’s laughter.”
“It is none of your concern.”
Rhys asked, “What do you know of Sarihöfn?”
“What is Sarihöfn?” Lang asked with a blank look on his face.
Malachi forced himself not to assault the scribe. “Why do you refuse to help us? What are you afraid of?”
The dark scribe who guarded the door stepped forward, putting a hand on Lang’s shoulder before he could lunge at Malachi. He was just as tall as Lang, but with an even broader build. “My name is Jeremiah,” he said, his accent marking him as American. “You must forgive our caution, but we do have reason. Lang—all of us—received a shock a few days ago when my mate returned from Sari’s haven, saying it had been compromised. We don’t know more than that.”
“Sari’s home has been compromised?” Leo asked. “When? How?”
“The Irina are here?” Malachi asked, his heart racing.
“Only a few,” Jeremiah held up a hand. “My mate, along with a widowed Irina and her child. They are only passing through the city.”
“We don’t know the details,” Lang said. “We’ve known Sari’s haven was somewhere in the Nordfjord region for centuries. Jeremiah and one other scribe had mates who sheltered there while they worked in the city.”
“You’ve been there?” Rhys asked Jeremiah.
“No. Chelsea and I met in other locations when we could. Away from the city and the haven. It was the safest way for her and the others.”
Lang said, “None of us—not even me—knew the location. The younger scribes didn’t even know it existed.”
“Vienna had no idea?” Leo asked cautiously.
“No,” Jeremiah said. “The havens are secret for a reason. They are the last places the Irina feel safe.”
“Vienna didn’t need to know,” Lang said. “The council would have the remaining Irina forced back into retreats and breeding like livestock. I would guard Sari’s location with my life, were it necessary. Any of the havens.”
“We have no quarrel with you,” Leo said. “I only ask because we are avoiding the council’s attention, as well.”
Lang blinked in surprise, then said, “If you hadn’t said cousin, I would have thought twin. Yes, I know Max.”
“He called us. Told us to come to Oslo. We are searching for someone. A woman.”
Lang’s eyes narrowed. “What would a woman be doing in a scribe house?”
Far from allaying suspicion, the three Oslo scribes became even more hostile.
“We don’t know,” Leo said. “Max told us to come here, so we did.”
Rhys said, “Lang, our house in Istanbul was attacked. Our watcher left with an Irina who had taken shelter with us.”
Lang’s eyes narrowed. “There was an Irina in your house? In Turkey?”
“An Irina who Volund’s Grigori were targeting. It’s a complicated story, but we have been looking for them. Max called and told us to come here. I don’t know why, but—”
A flurry of Norwegian broke out between the three scribes. Malachi could follow only parts of it, but one word stood out.
“Sarihöfn,” Malachi said. “What does Sarihöfn mean?”
The argument stopped, and Lang’s eyes swung toward him. “Who was the watcher who took the woman?”
Rhys said, “Who is the watcher of Istanbul? The same scribe for the last two hundred years, Lang! Damien, of course.”
“Sarihöfn… Sari’s haven? Is that what you’re talking about?” Malachi asked, slowly stepping toward Lang. “Do you know where she is?”
“I don’t know what business you have with Sari, but—”
“For heaven’s sake, Lang!” Rhys broke in. “You know Damien. Think! You know I’ve been serving under him. I am looking for my watcher, and I don’t understand why the hell you’re being so…”
It was a little sound that stopped him. Such a little sound, Malachi thought, to stop six grown men from almost coming to blows. A delicate sound, drifting from the warmth of the open door.
A child’s laughter.
A girl child’s laughter.
Lang barked out, “Close the door!”
But before he did, Rhys and Leo had both stepped forward.
“Who are you guarding, Lang?” Rhys asked. “What is going on here?”
“Can I trust you?” he asked Rhys.
“I can’t believe you’re even asking that.”
“Yes,” Malachi said. “You can trust us. All of us. We’re looking for Damien. I need to find him.”
“Why? I don’t even know your name, scribe.”
Malachi took a deep breath and fought the roar of anger that burned in his chest. “My name is Malachi of Sakarya. I am a bound scribe of Istanbul. And I am looking for Damien, because he is guarding my mate.”
“Your mate?”
Rhys said, “They met in Istanbul. Were mated there. Volund’s Grigori overran the city, and Damien took Malachi’s woman to Sari to keep her safe. But we need to find her. We need to find them both. That is the only reason we are here.”
Leo said, “Though I’d like to know who exactly you’re guarding behind those doors, Lang. That was no scribe’s laughter.”
“It is none of your concern.”
Rhys asked, “What do you know of Sarihöfn?”
“What is Sarihöfn?” Lang asked with a blank look on his face.
Malachi forced himself not to assault the scribe. “Why do you refuse to help us? What are you afraid of?”
The dark scribe who guarded the door stepped forward, putting a hand on Lang’s shoulder before he could lunge at Malachi. He was just as tall as Lang, but with an even broader build. “My name is Jeremiah,” he said, his accent marking him as American. “You must forgive our caution, but we do have reason. Lang—all of us—received a shock a few days ago when my mate returned from Sari’s haven, saying it had been compromised. We don’t know more than that.”
“Sari’s home has been compromised?” Leo asked. “When? How?”
“The Irina are here?” Malachi asked, his heart racing.
“Only a few,” Jeremiah held up a hand. “My mate, along with a widowed Irina and her child. They are only passing through the city.”
“We don’t know the details,” Lang said. “We’ve known Sari’s haven was somewhere in the Nordfjord region for centuries. Jeremiah and one other scribe had mates who sheltered there while they worked in the city.”
“You’ve been there?” Rhys asked Jeremiah.
“No. Chelsea and I met in other locations when we could. Away from the city and the haven. It was the safest way for her and the others.”
Lang said, “None of us—not even me—knew the location. The younger scribes didn’t even know it existed.”
“Vienna had no idea?” Leo asked cautiously.
“No,” Jeremiah said. “The havens are secret for a reason. They are the last places the Irina feel safe.”
“Vienna didn’t need to know,” Lang said. “The council would have the remaining Irina forced back into retreats and breeding like livestock. I would guard Sari’s location with my life, were it necessary. Any of the havens.”
“We have no quarrel with you,” Leo said. “I only ask because we are avoiding the council’s attention, as well.”
