I waited until the sounds of the household had finally faded to nothing, then let myself out of the pantry again. I had been expressly forbidden from doing this in case I scared the non-existent ghosts, but screw it. There was only so much I was willing to put up with today. I spent a while poking around the jars and boxes in the pantry and the covered dishes on the kitchen shelves, piling food on a plate, then settled down to think while I ate.
Today had not been a great success, to say the least. I had almost been killed by a booby trap, arrested, and framed for murder, as well as seen my best friend jailed for burglary, lost my only lead, and had the shit kicked out of me by another mage.
Let’s just say that it wasn’t going on one of my flyers.
It might be true that this was more about murdering the Master Servant than getting me and Benny arrested or killed. But whoever was behind it had involved us, and that hadn’t been an accident. They had needed a mage to trigger the booby trap and act as a scapegoat. I was the only mage stupid enough to be available for hire, and the only person I would have done this job for was Benny. We weren’t just unlucky passers-by. We had been chosen carefully by someone who knew about our relationship or who put in the hours to research us. You couldn’t do that without someone remembering. There were connections there, somewhere, if I could only winkle them out before the Ash Guard or the City Watch made it too late. A surge of fury swept through me at the thought. I would not let this bastard finish me and Benny like this.
I grabbed a handful of grapes and shoved them into my mouth, chewing them angrily. I would say one thing for Galena Sunstone: she didn’t scrimp when stocking her kitchen. I bit into a slice of spinach and cheese pie, then followed it with a chunk of spicy round-bread. I washed it down with a better red wine than I had had for years. If I was going to be fired, I might as well get something out of it.
I returned to the pantry, folded my long frame up as best I could, and tried to think of anyone who had been acting suspiciously around me, anyone new asking too many questions. It was futile. Everyone asked questions in my line of work. Clients wanted to know my background to convince themselves I could do the job. Neighbours wanted to know what a mage got up to in his spare time. Depths, sometimes kids even followed me around, hoping I would do something interesting, until I disappointed them.
My mind slipped, sank, and the next thing I knew I was jerking awake. It was dark and still and stuffy, not yet morning, but not far off. Pity! I hadn’t meant to fall asleep. What had woken me?
A sudden fear swept over me. Someone had come for me! I scrambled for my mage’s rod and smashed my elbow on a shelf. I bit back a curse.
No one’s coming. It doesn’t make sense.
Those two murders, the brutality inflicted on their bodies, had left my nerves tighter than a merchant’s purse. I forced my breath to slow.
I felt stiff. I had been lying awkwardly for too long. I tried to straighten and immediately regretted it. My muscles had seized up, and when I moved, every bruise flared like I was being branded.
A scream sounded from the kitchen, high and loud and clear, followed by a crash of dishes. It hit me like a musket ball in the chest, sending a spasm through my cramped limbs and an electric burst of adrenaline into my muscles.
I burst out of the pantry, stumbling into the kitchen, my aches forgotten.
A maid was standing in the middle of the floor, hands clasped to her mouth, surrounded by broken crockery. When she saw me, she almost screamed again, then one shaking hand pointed towards the door.
I opened my eyes to magic, and there it was, the faintest trail of white, wisps evaporating like dawn mist. Ghost-trail. Ectoplasm.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!
I took off in pursuit, limping and scarcely able to keep my footing. I shouldered the door aside, hearing it crack and earning myself another bruise.
The ghost-trail was thicker here, only just starting to break apart. It led across this hallway to a door on the other side. I followed again, more carefully this time. Ghosts weren’t physically dangerous, but a malign ghost could attack your mind, tear your sanity into shreds if was powerful enough, and wave the rags from the rooftops. I would never live it down if I went out that way.
I lost another second wrestling with the door before realising it was locked and popping it open with a spell.
Stairs led down into a dark cellar, and there I saw them beside a set of free-standing shelves: a young couple dressed in outfits that hadn’t been fashionable for at least two hundred years, hurrying across the cellar, hand-in-hand. They turned to look back and through me.
I grabbed magic. If I was quick enough, I could stabilise them, trap them, and even interrogate them in a limited way. But even as I shaped the spell in my mind, they reached the far corner and began to fade. Desperately, I threw the half-formed magic after them.
I was too late. They were already gone, and all that was left was fading ghost-trail.
I stood in the doorway as the implications hit me. Galena Sunstone’s ghosts were real. They weren’t the self-indulgent fantasy of a bored, rich woman. They weren’t a wish. They were real, and I had told her they weren’t. Now, they had actually appeared, and I had been asleep. I had missed my chance. I had screwed up.
You idiot, Nik.
Voices, shouts sounded from the kitchen. I turned in time to see the Sunstones come hurrying through the door. They were still dressed in their night robes, and without her elaborate make up, Galena Sunstone looked as tired as I felt. For the first time I wondered if there was more to her interest in the ghosts than just impressing her friends. She looked as though she had been too scared to sleep. Now, though, she was almost vibrating. Fear and excitement were battling for control of her expressions.
What was I going to say to her? How was I going to explain this?
“Did you see them?” Galena Sunstone blurted out. “Were they here?”
“Yeah,” I started. “Two of them—”
The Estimable Sunstone cut me off. “And you dealt with them, I take it? As you were paid to?”
There was fear on the Estimable Sunstone’s face, too. Almost terror. I hadn’t expected he would be scared of ghosts. When he had met me at the door, he had seemed angry about the very idea of them.
Anger hides fear. There was something primal about the fear of ghosts, of the last remnants of the dead, and some people could only deal with fear by being angry. I could see his fury building by the moment, shoving his fear down.
I guessed now was not the time to point out they hadn’t actually paid me.
“It’s not as easy as—” I started.
“No.” He had sneered at his wife’s belief in ghosts. Now, he was having to come to terms with being wrong and frightened. I didn’t think he was a man who liked being wrong or frightened. “You had a job. You were supposed to get rid of these ghosts.” No mention of the fact that he hadn’t believed in them any more than I had. “You are a fraud, a parasite.” He advanced on me. “Get out. We’ll find someone competent to do this.”
The injustice of it slapped at me. Yeah, I had made a mess of it. But even if I had been ready to believe that the Sunstones were being haunted, even if I had been on alert every night, this was the first time the ghosts had manifested themselves since I had been here. I couldn’t get rid of them with a quick spell, not if the Sunstones wanted them gone for good. It took planning, preparation, observation. I had to know what was holding them here.
“Now, wait a minute…”
I didn’t have time to say more. The Estimable Sunstone took another step forwards. If he came any closer, he would be in danger of knocking me down the stairs. I braced myself.
“You were told to do your job,” he said, “and you haven’t.”
I couldn’t let it go at that. This was the only job I had, and suddenly, unexpectedly, it was a real job.
“Exorcising ghosts isn’t just a matter of waving your hands. You have to find out what brought them
back, and you have to—”
“I don’t care,” Sunstone enunciated. “You’re fired. Leave.”
Depths! What was I supposed to do? I could hardly force him to employ me, but losing this job was devastating. I needed a success, and I needed the money.
I took a steadying breath. “My pay?”
Sunstone’s face reddened. “For what? What exactly have you done other than sleep and eat our food? Go, Mr. Thorn. Now. Before I call the Watch.”
I stared at him. He wasn’t going to pay me? I had sacrificed four nights for this. I deserved something. Fuck! I couldn’t take him to court. I was broke and he was rich. And if I just took my pay, he would have me arrested.
People wondered why I had a problem with the rich and the powerful.
Cursing, I shouldered my way past him. Four nights in a cramped pantry, and I had nothing to show for it. Benny was right. Never take a job without getting paid up front. But I had been desperate. Look at where desperation leaves you. Now what was I going to do for money?
I stomped through the kitchen, grabbing a still-warm loaf from the table and daring anyone to challenge me, then out onto the plaza. The first sunlight was just starting to limn the eastern mountains with orange and bleach the dark from the sky.
I was in trouble and out of a job. Things could hardly get any worse.
I believed that all the way until I reached my apartment and found the eviction notice nailed to my door.
Chapter Eight
Like I said, mages healed faster than other people. That ability had come in handy more often than I liked to think about over the last few years. Get worked over one day, feel better the next. It was almost worth the years of painful training.
Of course, for healing to happen, we actually had to get some proper sleep, and I had spent the last four nights screwed up in a pantry like an unwanted love poem, struggling to get more than a few minutes of sleep at a time, thanks to Galena Sunstone and her troublesome ghosts. I climbed up to my apartment, pulled the mattress off the broken bed frame, and brushed away as much debris as I could. I fell asleep without even taking off my stupid mage cloak.
I didn’t sleep well, of course, and when I awoke, I could tell by the heat coming through my cracked shutters that it was about mid-day. I still hurt, but I didn’t have time for more sleep.
I checked myself in my washroom mirror. I was a mess. I was dirty, bloody, and streaked with dried sweat. I looked like I’d been beaten up and dumped in a sewer. I probably smelled like it, too.
I needed a job. Fast. If my landlord was threatening to evict me, I would finally have to pay my rent. I wondered how long I had.
I had torn the eviction notice off my door and tossed it into the corner, not bothering to read it, but that wouldn’t make it go away.
I took another glance in the mirror. Even I wouldn’t hire me looking like this, and I wasn’t picky.
I pulled my hood up to shadow my face. That would fool … no one.
Sighing, I removed my cloak and torn shirt, washed the shirt as well as I could in a bowl of water, relieved myself, and dressed again. I still looked terrible.
You’re as ready as you’re going to be, Nik, I told myself. So stop feeling sorry for yourself.
I’m the only one who’s going to, I replied to myself.
Myself wasn’t impressed.
The first thing was to find out how long I had before I lost my apartment. I hurried downstairs, rooted around my office until I found the screwed up eviction notice behind my desk, and un-balled it.
Two days. Two fucking days?
I had a good mind to go around to my landlord and shove my mage’s rod where the sun didn’t shine, and in the summer in Agatos, that was a long way up. I might be late with my rent, but I always paid in the end, and a lot of my neighbours were later.
“Hello, Uncle Nik.”
The voice came from the other side of the desk. I jumped, almost smacking my head, and my heart made a creditable attempt to escape through my throat. Forcing myself to relax, I peered over the top of the desk. Sereh was staring at me with those disturbing blue eyes.
“Bannaur’s balls!” My pulse was pounding like a hawk drum. This kid was going to be the end of me. “Where did you come from?”
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
I glanced around the room. “Really? Where?”
Sereh kept looking up at me with a slight smile. I took an unconscious step back. How could an eleven-year-old girl who didn’t come up to my chest make me so nervous? I was a grown man, damn it, and a mage of Agatos. Armies fled before me. Demons quaked in fear. Small animals gave me a wide berth. Babies cried when I smiled at them.
I cast around for a distraction. Sereh was carrying a neat violin case in one hand. Violins were safe as long as no one insisted on playing them.
“On your way back from your lesson?” I asked.
“No.”
Right. I cleared my throat.
“I went to see Dad.”
“You did?” Prisoners of the City Watch weren’t usually allowed visitors. “I’m surprised they let you in.”
“They didn’t.”
I stared down at the little monster, wondering if she had cut her way through with that knife of hers. I briefly envisaged the Watch headquarters filled with bodies of eviscerated watchmen and women, before realising she had probably just snuck in. If Sereh didn’t want to be noticed, people didn’t notice her. It was impressive. The only place harder to break in to than the City Watch was the Ash Guard fortress.
“When are you getting Dad out?”
I winced. “I’m still following leads.” I was. I was just also trying to find a job and not get evicted from my apartment at the same time.
“We need to hurry up, then,” Sereh said. “Dad’s not happy there.”
“What do you mean ‘we’? You’re not coming with me. It could be dangerous.”
Sereh just tilted her head to one side.
Fine. Well, maybe not as dangerous as her.
Benny would murder me if he knew I had let Sereh come along.
“Just try not to get yourself killed.” Or kill anyone else, I added silently.
Dumonoc’s bar occupied a vaulted cellar on the edge of the Grey City. There was no sign showing where it was, just a set of steps leading down to a door, then three more steps down to the floor level. I pushed the battered door open and waited for my eyes to adjust. A couple of sputtering lamps hung over the bar, and that was it. As far as Dumonoc was concerned, if you wanted light, you could bring it yourself or pay extra. The stale air stank of old beer and wine, cheap lamp oil, and smoke.
Dumonoc looked up as I stepped in.
“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered, loud enough to be heard.
I didn’t take it personally. Dumonoc hated all his customers equally.
“Bring a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses over there,” I said, indicating a table in the corner where a single candle illuminated a man sitting by himself. “And a cup of milk for her.” I nodded at Sereh.
The food here wasn’t particularly good — when Dumonoc bothered to prepare any — and I was certain the wine had only had a passing acquaintance with a grape. But the bar was convenient, cheap, and private enough for me to ask questions without anyone eavesdropping.
“Fetch it your fucking self,” Dumonoc grumbled.
I ignored him and made my way across to the table. I didn’t know the real name of the man sitting there, but everyone called him Squint. Probably because he spent so much time here in the dark that he had damaged his eyesight. Squint was an information broker, which meant that, in theory, he worked for the Wren, but he was on a long enough leash that I didn’t think I was in any danger.
“Who’s she?” Squint nodded at Sereh as we sat opposite him.
“I’m babysitting.”
Sereh flinched. Depths. I’d actually got to her. It was the first time I’d seen anything bother her. My brief surge of satisfaction was
quickly submerged by guilt. It was easy to forget she was a kid. Admittedly, a kid who could take me apart, one tendon at a time, but still a kid.
“I did hear you were doing badly,” Squint said. “At least it’s a job.”
If only. Maybe I should take it up as a career. Magical babysitter to the spoilt and wealthy. Security, entertainment, and inappropriate visits to bars all in one easy-to-afford package.
Dumonoc stamped over and slammed our drinks onto the table.
“Tastes like piss,” he said before returning to the bar.
I would take his word for it. Sereh’s milk looked fresh, though. Sereh had that effect on people. Woe betide anyone who served her sour milk.
“The Wren’s looking for you,” Squint said.
I shrugged. “He knows where I live.”
My bravado didn’t fool anyone. If the Wren came for me, that kicking I’d got last night from the Countess’s acolyte would be like a warm bath.
“I need information.” I grimaced. “And a job.”
“Naw. No jobs. The Wren’s put the word out. No one is to offer you work.”
I stared at him. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
What was I supposed to do if I couldn’t get work? I scarcely had enough to pay for these drinks. The eviction notice suddenly made sense. The Wren had found out I had been in his warehouse. This was his response. No one would want to be associated with me. The Wren’s feelers stretched all the way through the Warrens, the docks, and the Grey City, as well as to parts of the Middle City. If I wanted a job, I would have to go up Horn Hill or to the grander plazas in the north of the city where the Wren’s influence ended. Hi, I could say. Everyone thinks I killed Carnelian Silkstar’s Master Servant. Fancy giving me a job? Maybe I could ask the Estimable Sunstone for a reference.
My options were narrowing fast.
Tomorrow’s problem, I told myself. Squirrel it away and worry about it another time. If I couldn’t find out who had really murdered Master Servant Rush and Uwin Bone, a job would be the least of my concerns.
Shadow of a Dead God: A Mennik Thorn Novel Page 9
