Folding the Sky

-33-

"It used to belong to a Mr. Rudi Lorenz," Sorin said, spitting out the name like it scorched his tongue. Out of sympathy, and also because he seemed more or less to be cooperating, Zuri had demanded Aldric let Sorin free of his bindings. The cat shifter lounged against one of the staircases now, ankles crossed. "He made a lot of money renting land and other property—to him, I'm sure I fell somewhere under that list, too—but Mulaim was the one thing he would never sell."

"Then..." Zuri stopped, unable to fight a shudder as she thought about it. She'd seen it the first time she ever touched Sorin: the knife in his hands, a glimpse of himself in a dim hallway mirror, blood arcing harshly across his young face. "The murder that tanked Mulaim's property value. That was..."

All of their eyes fixed on Sorin, but he was unbothered. "I was not a person to anyone in that house: just a toy. Soon enough I would have begun to believe it, too. I had to kill them to save myself. You'd do the same thing if you were in my shoes."

"Murder one guy, maybe. Under the right circumstances," said Jem over her shoulder. She was kneeling over the food stash, sifting through the new additions to their collection of canned cuisine. "Murder an entire family? Now, I'm not sure that's something I would do."

"Are you sure?" Kalindi said. "You seem unhinged enough to me."

"Unhinged?" began Sorin and Jem at once, but Aldric cut them off with a sharp cough.

"The past isn't important right now," he said, though Zuri could see the discomfort woven into his features, as if Sorin were a caged beast that could wrestle itself free at any moment. "What is important is that Mulaim is on high alert thanks to your father—"

Sorin's eyes flashed. "He's not my father."

Aldric blinked. "Vernon. Let's just call him Vernon, then."

Sorin relaxed again, visibly, a certain tension rolling out of his muscles and his gaze flickering towards the floor. He sighed and said, "I know how we can get in."

Zuri thought for a moment she must have misheard him. Living there a decade ago was one thing, but how could he possibly know enough to get them inside now?

Chike asked, "You do?"

Sorin just smirked at him, before the expression settled. "Anyone who buys or inherits Mulaim Chateau doesn't just get the country house. They get all the social traditions that come with it, too."

At that, realization crossed Chike's face. "Wait," he said, his eyebrows drawing in, one finger perched upon his chin. "You don't mean..."

"The River Festival," Sorin said, his eyes closing as he gently nodded his head. "That's exactly what I mean."

Jem stood up, a can of peaches in her hand. She turned towards Chike and Sorin, her face a centimeter away from a scowl. "Okay. Would either of you like to enlighten the rest of us about this revelation you've apparently just had?"

"The River Festival, Muwa Festival, whatever you want to call it," Chike explained, sheepish. "It's an annual summer festival to celebrate the river and everything it provides for us here in Sinje. A lot of the celebration happens here, in the market sector, but the bigwigs always have their own ball up at the chateau."

"Pure fucking elitism. Can't be seen mingling with the common folk," Sorin muttered, practically under his breath. He pushed himself away from the stairs, squaring his balance. "Listen. We can use the ball as cover to get inside and get a look around. I can't guarantee you'll—we'll find what we're looking for, but—"

"It's worth a shot," Zuri said, though the thought intimidated her. The closest she'd ever come to attending a ball was an event her father's factory had held for the Naino Fair, the city-state's yearly technology and manufacturing showcase. Even then, there hadn't been much dancing—it was much more about showing off the new coal-burning machinery the factory owner had developed. No sparkling towers of champagne glasses, no perfectly polished marble floors. Just the smell of smoke and a clunky street band playing a fanfare just outside the doors.