Zana dropped the children off at the reception, and asked the young volunteer where to find Halda.
"She's in one of the workhouses," the girl replied, fending off Evon's balloon that he kept bumping into her face. "One of the artists suggested a new design, and they're trying it out."
Zana turned to Mezzal. "What a stroke of good luck, don't you think? To have the artist present at the negotiations! I'm sure they are as eager to see their art represented in the big city as you are!" If her luck persisted, the starving artist would take Mezzal's side against Halda, prolonging the haggle over the prize long enough for Zana to find...
... something. At least enough to give Rogan a reason to seal the office and turn it upside down and inside out.
Mezzal grumbled something under his breath and left.
Evon jumped up and down, tearing at the girl's sleeve. "Palia look, I got a horse!" Palia indulgently bent down to have a look at the toy, momentarily distracted.
With a last look at the children, Zana softly closed the door and hurried down the corridor to Halda's office.
Inside, she had to lean against the door for a moment. Her heart was racing, making the blood rush in her ears, making her dizzy and slightly nauseous. If Halda caught her rifling through her desk again, she would accept no explanations this time.
Do you still believe her to be innocent? Then you wouldn't be here. And if you're right, and she did kill poor Felga, then she has no right to be indignant, and you have no reason to feel guilty.
No, but maybe Halda would do more than just feel indignant.
Well, she'd better get to work if she wanted to be out of this room again before Mezzal lost his patience with Halda - again -, and panting against the wall would only waste precious time. Zana bit her lip to stop the prickling sensation in it, and determinedly crossed the room to find that cursed book.
It was in the second drawer, underneath a fake bottom. Zana absently thought that recognizing that fake bottom so quickly said worrisome things about how she had changed over the past few months, but she didn't have the time to examine that thought more closely.
She focused on the numbers in that small, leather-bound book instead, glad that Halda's script was as sharp and orderly as Galen's, though much smaller. It looked vaguely familiar, though she couldn't remember where she had seen it before. In any case, it made it easier to find the receipts for Halda's catering service - the one that only existed on paper. They were fatefully listed for every year of the race...
Zana frowned. She didn't know much about book-keeping, but weren't those books kept on a yearly basis, a new book for each year?
She began to pay attention to the other entries in the book; they, too, went back for ten years - payments to Tall Timber for a loan that the charity had taken on.
I can't imagine that Felga would ever have accepted money from Olman, not even to save the charity, or-
She looked up to the photographs on the wall, where the workhouses were shown in various stages of construction.
I wonder what Halda told her about where that money came from - a mysterious, anonymous donor?
And would Felga have believed it? Perhaps, if you wanted that shelter so very much, if it was your life's dream...
But maybe Felga had started digging, too, when she had stumbled over that faked catering service. Or maybe she had believed that Halda was really sending their humans to Olman for money, and they had fought over it...
Zana lowered her gaze to the book once more; something was niggling at the back of her mind, something that she had noticed without realizing what it was...
It took her long moments of staring at the pages, while the pressure in her mind was mounting and mounting until she wanted to hurl the book against the wall with a frustrated scream. When she finally saw it, it was so blatant that she almost laughed with incredulity.
The numbers for the payment that Halda "received" for her imaginary services from Olman were exactly the same as the rates that she paid back to him for that loan-plus-interest. Money was flowing through Halda's charity from Olman, back to Olman, without any of it going into the charity at all.
Olman was laundering money through Halda's and Felga's charity, with Halda's knowledge and consent.
Correction - with Halda's active cooperation.
The fact that Halda was keeping meticulous notes on these transactions told Zana that the little Chimp didn't trust Olman as far as she could throw him; why else would she collect evidence against him, except for holding it over his head in case... in case...
There was no chance that Felga would have allowed this to happen. Halda had been acting behind her back, and Zana didn't want to imagine Felga's reaction when she had found out. It must have involved lots of shouting, and then...
... she still couldn't imagine Halda succeeding with killing Felga. Felga had been taller, heavier - it must've come as a complete surprise, from behind, a malicious attack while she had turned her back to her best friend...
"What are you doing there? Don't tell me you were looking at my photographs again!"
Zana looked up, jerked out of her musings. Halda was standing in the door, just like she had been a few hours earlier, fixing her with the same hard, disapproving glare as before. As if Zana were the one who had done something wrong.
Zana slowly rose from her chair, closing the book with a snap.
"What you begged me to do, when we met over Felga's corpse, Halda - I found her murderer."
They agreed to split up on their way to the inn, Galen heading to town to buy ammunition "for hunting," and Virdon going ahead to alert Zana. With the way his leg was acting up again, Virdon supposed Galen would catch up with him before he was even there.
When he finally reached the inn, Zana had already left, presumably to watch Burke run. Virdon stood under the door, trying to catch his breath, and silently cursed his leg for slowing him down, Galen for getting them into this mess, and Hasslein for stranding them on this world in the first place.
Well. He'd send Galen to find his fiancée. The ape would at least be out of the way, then, while he...
Virdon limped to the table and slumped into a chair. How in hell was he supposed to get Pete out of this trap? Did he really think he could storm the gates, guns blazing... well, one gun blazing...
... and he wouldn't be storming the gates, more limping towards them. Virdon curled a fist on his hip, hating that scar, that injured nerve, with a passion he hadn't thought he'd be capable of. Curse his bad luck that day! Curse that day!
This wasn't helpful. He couldn't waste time with raging at things he couldn't change, not now. Think! This is just a problem to solve, just a, a condition I have to take into account...
He rose and stepped to the window, purposely putting weight on his bad leg, daring it to falter. It didn't, but each step was wobbly and painful. He wouldn't be able to just will it into functioning, no matter how urgently he needed it to be reliable again.
When he looked out of the window, Galen was already hurrying up the street; the ape would be barging into their rooms in a moment, fully expecting him to have a plan ready. Virdon turned away, new anger stiffening his shoulders. Galen's indiscriminate fury had found a random victim, but Galen didn't seem to be concerned about Burke, only about how it affected his own standing with Zana. Good thing she wasn't here - he could send Galen away to go find her, and after that, to pack up their things, load up their wagon, hitch up the horses-
The horses. Virdon stilled, one hand grabbing the backrest of a chair, as it hit him that they didn't necessarily need both horses to pull the wagon. Granted, they used both of them most of the time, to ease the horses' load, but for the short distance to the town's outskirts, Tala would be able to do the job, while Apache would lend him four good legs.
Virdon closed his eyes and shook his head. Great plan. Too bad I didn't think of bringing my Stetson with me.
His bout of amusement vanished when he heard the door open. Galen came in huffing and puffing, and threw a box on the table with a thud. "Here's your ammunition - it should be enough to take out a whole garrison."
"Assuming they don't return fire," Virdon said friendly, but he reached for the box to inspect its contents. "I couldn't find Zana," he continued, turning away to get the gun, "she's probably gone to the races, to watch Pete."
Galen muttered a curse under his breath, which Virdon ignored. He sat down to load Betsy, demonstratively focusing on his task. "I thought it best if you went looking for her and packed up our things," he said casually. "You're quicker on your feet than I am, and time is running out for all of us here."
"Yes, you're, you're right," Galen said absently. When Virdon looked up, the ape was still standing in the same spot as before, looking utterly lost.
It occurred to Virdon that he had no idea how old Galen was, or what the human equivalent to that age would be. Both apes had held jobs when they had met, so he had always assumed them to be of roughly the same age as Burke, at least.
Maybe it wasn't a matter of age, though - maybe it was one of experience.
Or of character.
"The races have probably already begun," he said, lowering his gaze to the weapon again. "I won't have a chance to get Pete off Olman's ground, I have to intercept them once they're leaving the stadium. I'm taking Apache with me - I need every advantage I can get."
"You want to sit on a horse? In town?"
If anything, Galen sounded more shocked than outraged, but Virdon wasn't in the mood to placate simian sensibilities right now. He closed the magazine with a snap, and looked up.
"That's right, I'll be sitting on that horse's back, without asking an ape for permission. And then I'll take my friend from these apes' hands, and I won't ask permission for that, either." He carefully laid the gun on the table; it made a muted thud on the wooden tabletop, an ominous sound in the sudden silence that filled the room.
For a long moment, human and ape stared at each other.
"You better find Zana, Galen," Virdon said softly. "Because once I've got Pete, I'm not going to wait around for you."
Galen turned and left without a word, and Virdon leaned back in his chair, raking both hands through his hair with a sigh. Despite his last words to Galen, he would have no choice but to wait for the apes - they had all their supplies, and even more importantly, all their paperwork.
Virdon involuntarily ground his teeth at that last thought.
They only had to make it across the passes. Once they were north of the mountains, Urko's hench-apes couldn't reach them anymore. They'd have time to regroup, to hatch a new plan. Do some reconnaissance about the area to the west of them. Maybe it was just impenetrable for apes. Maybe there would be other cities there, and this time they'd go in prepared, and with enough time...
He'd deal with this crisis. And then they'd cross the pass. And then he'd decide where to go from there.
Virdon grabbed the gun, and the spare ammo, and headed for the stables.