Shadow of a Dead God: A Mennik Thorn Novel

by Patrick Samphire

  He looked offended, then he shrugged. “Sorry, mate. The Wren doesn’t share that kind of information. That man has so many Cepra-damned secrets he should be drowning in them.”

  “Anyone else who might know? Squint wasn’t sharing.”

  “He wouldn’t know something like that. Nah. You’d have to ask the man himself.”

  Not a chance. I was keeping as far away from the Wren as possible until I had cleared our names.

  “Have you told the Ash Guard?” Benny said.

  “You’re telling me to go the authorities? You?”

  He kept his gaze steady on me.

  “Fine. Not yet, no. I don’t have any proof. You sure you haven’t heard anything?”

  “Mate. Leave it to the professionals. It’s not your problem.”

  “It is if I end up in an Ash Guard cell for the rest of my life.”

  He snorted. “You’re fine. If they had anything on you, you wouldn’t be walking around free getting the shit kicked out of you. And they’re not going get anything, because we didn’t do it.”

  “You have a touching faith in the justice system for someone who’s managed to wriggle out of crimes so often. Anyway, in case you’ve forgotten, someone’s been working like buggery to frame us.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not that, is it?”

  I stared at him in bemusement. “What do you mean, ‘It’s not that’? It’s about as that as it gets.” Benny was my oldest friend. I had been hoping he might be concerned about my future.

  “Nah. You’re just on one of your crusades because there are high mages involved. Nik Thorn, champion of the common man, standing up against the evil high mages. I’ll tell you what. The common man couldn’t give a tit. Except this common man who, in case you had forgotten, they’ve got bang to rights for burglary.” He held up his hands. “See these? They’ll fucking chop them off. One, two, gone. You might not use your hands for anything other than a quick wank in the morning, but I rely on mine. You can’t pick a lock with your toes.”

  “I haven’t forgotten. But if I find out who’s behind this, I can get you out. I know I can. I can prove we were framed.”

  “Yeah?” Benny threw himself back in his chair. “And when’s that going to happen? Today? By nightfall?”

  I stared at him. “No…”

  “No! Which means it’s no fucking good. My trial starts at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”

  “Tomorrow?” That made no sense. The bureaucracy in Agatos never moved that fast. Everything took weeks, sometimes months.

  Except when a high mage is involved. Silkstar must have pushed this through. The fucker. How dare he? How dare he abuse his power like that? He had no right. Except that, in this city, he did have the power, and that gave him almost any right he chose. The question was, was he doing this out of revenge or because we were his fall guys, and the sooner he was rid of us the better? It all depended on whether Silkstar was behind the murders, and on that matter, I still couldn’t be sure.

  Benny watched the realisation dawn on my face.

  “Yeah,” he said. “So none of that stuff about who owes the Wren what favours or what Silkstar might have done is going to do me a bloody bit of good. I’m out of time, mate.”

  “I’m sorry,” I managed. My mind played back all the time I had wasted. Could I have been more focused? Had I missed something? “I didn’t know.”

  “Yeah, well.” Benny sounded mollified. “We need to come up with a story. Something that’s going to convince the magistrates. You’re my only witness.”

  I dropped my voice. “You were actually trying to steal the ledger.”

  “Nah. We were carrying a message from the Countess, remember? That’s what you told the Master Servant, and that’s what we’re sticking with, because that’s what she’ll have told Silkstar. We can’t change that now. We were looking for Silkstar when everything went to shit.” His jaw tightened. “If I tell them that, they’ll never believe me, but they’ll believe you. The magistrates aren’t going to know you’re not one of the Countess’s acolytes anymore. You’re a mage.”

  As plans went, I had to be honest, it was crap.

  “And what if they ask her?” I objected. “She’s hardly going to back us up, is she? Depths, she’d happily see you in a cell. She’s not exactly a fan of yours.”

  Benny shook his head. “What, you think the high and mighty Countess is going to drag herself down to the lower court for a burglary case? Anyway, she doesn’t have to know. We don’t say any of this until we’re in court. Then, they have to decide if it’s worth sending some poor sod to demand the Countess gets right down there and gives evidence. There’s no magistrate in the city brave enough for that.”

  He had a point. No one fucked around a high mage, particularly the one who effectively controlled the Senate — no one except the Ash Guard, anyway, and this wasn’t an Ash Guard case.

  “It’s a gamble.”

  Benny shrugged. “It’s not like I’ve got a lot of options.” He leaned forwards across the table to meet my eyes like he used to when we were kids and he had been dead serious about something. “I’m relying on you, mate. I’ll owe you.”

  I answered him equally seriously. “Of course.” I would make them believe me. You don’t let friends down.

  Benny sat back with a grin. “So. What’s going on with you?”

  I let out the tension that had been building in my chest.

  “Well. I lost my ghost-hunting job.”

  Benny grunted.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He gave me a look. “Have you ever kept a client for more than three days?”

  That wasn’t fair. “Most of my work isn’t that kind—”

  “You’re too honest, mate. That’s your problem. No one wants that. You need to lie more often. People don’t want to hear the truth. Tell them the lie they want to hear.”

  I glared at him. I wasn’t in the mood to take business advice from the man locked up in a cell. “Is that what you do to me? Tell me the lies I want to hear?” I knew Benny lied as easily as he breathed, but the idea that he would lie to me offended me.

  “Nah. We’ve known each other too long. We’re pretty much brothers. You can’t get rid of your brother, anyway, no matter how much you might want to. Just ask your sister. She’s been trying to pretend she doesn’t know you for years, but if you walk into her home and ask for help, she will help you.” He looked at me critically again. “And you do need help.”

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t think he expected me to. I had left the path he was suggesting years ago, and I had no intention of finding my way back to it.

  “Yeah, well. Take care, mate, even if not for yourself then for me. I need you in that court.”

  “I said I’d be there,” I said, more sharply than I’d meant. I was still stinging from his comments. Benny never believed in pulling his punches.

  I wasn’t the kind of accomplished liar that Benny was. I could front up to unreasonable clients or make excuses for my failures. I could lie to get out of trouble or out of things I didn’t want to do. I could even blurt out the kind of single, simple, direct lie I had told Imela Rush in Thousand Walls. But none of that was the same as standing there in a court and convincingly telling the type of lies on which my friend’s health — even life — depended.

  Don’t let it overwhelm you. I couldn’t allow anxiety to undermine my performance.

  I left Benny in the cell and headed out of the Watch into the heat of the afternoon.

  I had never been great under this kind of pressure. Now I had to be.

  I did have a connection to the Countess. I could invoke it if I had to, or invoke Mica and ask her to back me up. Mica would lie for me — I hoped — and no one would question her; she mattered in Agatos. But once I had played on those connections, they would become real again. I could not go back to that. I didn’t have it in me. My time as a trainee mage under the Countess had left me a wreck. If there was no other wa
y, maybe. But I thought it would be the end of me.

  I would have to convince the magistrates myself. I would have to be the mage I had never wanted to be. I would have to bring the black cloak, the entitlement, and the arrogance, as though nothing an ordinary citizen thought or wanted mattered, and hope it didn’t choke me.

  The longer I dwelled on it, the harder it would become. I needed a distraction. I needed alcohol. Maybe a bottle of Dumonoc’s undrinkable wine would dull my nerves. Maybe I would be better with a hangover.

  Head ducked down to avoid the glare of the sun, I trudged back towards the Grey City and the cool, dimness of Dumonoc’s bar.

  Which was when a large man stepped out of a doorway and punched me straight in the face.

  Chapter Eleven

  I felt my nose explode and tasted blood in the back of my mouth. The next thing I knew, I was on my arse on the cobbles, my head spinning and my stomach dry heaving. For a moment, I couldn’t do anything. The suddenness and the violence stunned me. I stared, blankly, lost. Then I reached for my magic.

  I was too late. The man had come around behind me and placed a knife to my throat.

  How had that happened? I was a mage. I was supposed to be … what? I was bleeding, that was what I was. Shivers scurried over me.

  Maybe if I had been a high mage, or even a powerful mage like the woman who had attacked me yesterday, I could have frozen my attacker in place or blown him to bloody fragments before he could react. Instead, I imitated a statue. I couldn’t even speak. The knife against my skin was like a noose cutting off my air, even though it was scarcely touching.

  Shock. You’re in shock.

  “The Wren,” the man whispered in my ear, “wants to talk to you.”

  Then the knife disappeared, and the man was gone.

  I sat there, I didn’t know how long. I could hear my pulse in my ears and nothing else.

  Get up, Nik. The voice in my head sounded like my mother. You’re pathetic. Get up.

  I spat blood on the cobbles. Slowly, I came to my senses, my breath slowing. I tested my nose, and immediately regretted it as pain swamped me again.

  Bannaur’s bleeding balls! I thumped the cobbles with the side of my fist. I didn’t need this. I did not need this. Why did everyone who wanted to pass on a message feel the need to knock me senseless first? I was a nice guy. I would listen. Turn up at my office, I would see you. I was hardly overwhelmed with clients. You wouldn’t even need an appointment. This communication via thug was a new Agatos tradition I wasn’t on board with.

  Shaking, I managed to get to my feet.

  A small crowd had gathered down the street to watch. I could see the appeal of watching one of Agatos’s mages be put in their place. I would have appreciated it more if it hadn’t been me.

  The Wren. The fucking Wren. As if I didn’t have enough to deal with. I hadn’t even done anything to him. I had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. I could ignore him and risk it escalating, or obey his summons and put myself at his mercy. The Wren wasn’t renowned for his mercy.

  I would have to go and see him. Anything else was just fooling myself. I wasn’t untouchable. The Wren might not risk magic against me with the Ash Guard sniffing around, but he had just made it clear that magic wasn’t his only option. Going now would be a mistake, though. I had to get more information. I would go tomorrow after Benny’s trial. And if the Wren didn’t like that, well, next time I’d be on the lookout. I wasn’t in the mood for another beating. I might be a crap mage, but I wasn’t helpless.

  I pulled my mage hood up and headed in the opposite direction.

  Ironically, the thump I’d received on my nose seemed to have given a boost to my sense of smell. I wasn’t one of those unfortunate people whose hay fever made Missos unbearable, but I always had a slight pressure in my sinuses. That was gone.

  I should get punched more often.

  The smells of cooking, of spices frying in oil and herbs bubbling away in pots, drifted as clear and sharp as winter from every window I passed, setting my stomach rumbling like a rock fall. I had to admit it: when I had gone to the Ash Guard fortress, I had half hoped Captain Gale would let me in and feed me again. The last time I had eaten had been at dawn when I’d lifted a loaf from Galena Sunstone’s kitchen on the way out. I was starving. I doubted I had enough money left for more than another meal or two, and I didn’t see where I’d be getting any more anytime soon. I gritted my teeth and continued my slow plod towards Dumonoc’s bar.

  Dumonoc was as pleased to see me as ever.

  “What the Depths do you want?” he demanded. “Don’t you have anything better to do with your life?”

  “Nice to see you, too,” I said, as I crossed to the counter.

  “You’d better not drip blood on my bar.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it. I don’t suppose you’ve got any ice?”

  “Fuck off.”

  I settled for a damp cloth — Dumonoc wasn’t happy about that, either — and retreated to a corner with a cup of something that might once have waved at wine across the room. At least drinking it would put me off the idea of eating.

  I had been sipping slowly for an hour and was on my second disgusting cupful when Captain Gale finally showed up. She had shed her Ash Guard uniform and was now dressed in loose, light trousers, sandals, and an embroidered shirt, but she still wore a short sword and flintlock pistol strapped to her waist. Her hair was loose from her ponytail and fell to just below her shoulders. The Ash that had smeared her skin had been scrubbed off, but I could still feel its enervating effect as she approached.

  Carrying it, not wearing it. What did that mean?

  “You still look like shit,” she said, pulling out a chair.

  She didn’t. She looked great. Without her mask of Ash, she looked younger than I’d guessed, maybe the same age as me. Her scar looked fresher and more raw without the Ash to mask it, but it suited her. It was like a warning that she wouldn’t put up with any of my shit. I had a weakness for women who wouldn’t put up with my shit. She had the kind of build you only got from training hours every day. I felt parts of me stirring that hadn’t stirred for too long.

  “Well?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Done staring?”

  I blushed and straightened, attempting to brush down my shirt. It was a futile attempt.

  It wasn’t like I hadn’t had relationships. I had been popular when I had still worked for the Countess, and even after leaving, a freelance mage was apparently interesting enough to some women — and men — that they could overlook my poverty. But it had been a while, and Captain Gale wasn’t looking impressed. Her nose wrinkled. I couldn’t say I blamed her. I could smell myself, and it wasn’t pretty.

  “Just so you don’t get any stupid ideas,” she said, tapping a small pouch tied to her belt, “I’m carrying enough Ash to deaden magic within twenty feet.”

  “I noticed,” I said. It was about as good a threat as you could make to a mage. Without our magic, we were like sharks without teeth. We could rush around looking threatening, but there wasn’t much we could actually do. We didn’t tend to go in for hand-to-hand combat. Anyway, I wasn’t here to fight or threaten her.

  “Here.” She dropped what looked like a folded white cloth on the table.

  I frowned. “What’s this?”

  “A clean shirt.” I think my look must have said, Huh?, because she continued, “I have a feeling I’m going to be seeing rather a lot of you over this investigation, and to be frank, you stink. Put it on.”

  I looked around. “Um… Here?”

  “Unless you want to do it in the middle of the plaza?”

  “Right.”

  Awkwardly, I pulled off my mage’s cloak and then removed my torn, blood-stained, dirty shirt. There was something about the way she watched me — a slight smirk that could be either amusement or contempt — that made me feel like a nine-year-old boy forced to undress in front of his mother.

  Let’s just put it this
way: all the parts that had been stirring before had retreated again.

  My skin was darker than most in Agatos — a legacy of my unknown father — but even so, and even in the dim light of Dumonoc’s bar, I could see the large purple and black bruises covering half my torso. They hurt just to look at.

  Captain Gale eyed them. “Have you thought about a new career? One that gets you beaten up less often. A human punch bag, perhaps?”

  I quickly pulled the new shirt on. It fit well, and I had to admit, I felt cleaner and more comfortable than I had for days. It was better quality than anything I could afford.

  “There,” she said. “Now you almost look like someone I could bring home to my mother.”

  I blinked. “You have a mother?”

  “What? Did you think the Ash Guard hatched from eggs?”

  “No… I just… You know, no families, no weaknesses.”

  I was not making a good impression here.

  Captain Gale sighed. “You’re right. We do give up our families and friends and take new names when we join the guard. We cut away our ties and our loyalties, and we never have any contact with our former lives, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t have a family. I even had a few boyfriends before … this.”

  Her face hardened again, as though Ash had been smeared across it, obscuring the emotions, burying the person beneath it. Whatever memories the conversation had stirred up were enough to make her retreat. “You didn’t ask to meet me to talk about my mother,” she said. “What did you want?”

  Just when I had thought I was getting somewhere with her, when she was softening up, relaxing. It would have made everything easier. I made another attempt.

  “How did it go?”

  This time she was the one who looked confused.

  “Your urgent appointment.”

  “Ah. That.” A shadow seemed to settle across her face. “Someone was trying to summon a god in their back room.”