Lillyanne Plume's Arc

Chapter 6 of 22

The train dropped Lillyanne in Charloton at midmorning. The town sat against a black harbor. Ice crusted the pilings and the ropes. Boats knocked against the docks like slow drums. She had a name, a face to look for, and no idea where in the town to start. She had four days before the game. Wandering would eat them. She picked the busiest street and worked it door to door. She asked at the fish counter, at the ferry office, at a bait shop that smelled like blood and salt. She used the color, the way the postwoman told her to. Have you seen a man they call the Scarlet. Tall, hair almost white. Silver eyes. Most people looked at her and moved on. A dockhand spat and walked away. A woman at a chowder window shook her head too fast. Lillyanne started to feel the name itself as the problem. By afternoon her feet hurt and the sky had gone iron. She stopped at the end of a pier to think. She had one more hour before she'd have to buy a room and lose a day. She turned back toward the taverns. Halfway up the street, through a fogged bar window, she caught a flash of white. Hair, slicked back, one strand loose over the brow. She crossed the street. The bar was warm and low. A fire cracked in a stone hearth. He sat at the far end with a whiskey and a deck of cards, shuffling one-handed. Red jacket. White shirt open at the collar. When he looked up, his eyes hit her like cold water. "You've been asking for me," Scott said. He smiled. The smile was perfect and a little too easy. "Sit. Let me buy you something warm. You look half frozen and twice as stubborn." She sat. He poured. He asked her name and made a joke about it and let his knee brush hers under the bar. He was charming in a practiced way, like a man reading from a page he had read many times. Something under the charm did not match. His hands were steady but his eyes tracked everything, the door, her purse, her throat. His gaze stopped on her bag. The corner of the envelope showed, black and white, the red wax just visible. His smile did not fall. It simply left. "Out," he said. He did not raise his voice. "All of you. Now." The bartender set down a glass and walked to the back. Two men at a table stood without looking at each other and left their drinks. A woman by the fire pulled her coat on and went. In under a minute the room was empty except for the two of them and the sound of the fire. He turned to her. The silver eyes had gone dark. "Show me," he said. "Slowly." Lillyanne had found him. She was not sure anymore that finding him counted as winning.