Shadow of a Dead God: A Mennik Thorn Novel

by Patrick Samphire

  “And?”

  “And now they’re not.”

  “That’s suitably ominous.”

  She flashed a smile — a hint of a victory, anyway — but it was clear she didn’t intend to share any more details. After a moment, I said, “I did some digging into Master Servant Rush. Turns out she owed a favour to the Wren, and he had called it in. He wanted her to do something or get something from Silkstar. A Master Servant would know all his secrets. They’re supposed to be incorruptible.”

  She eyed me, head on one side. “What did the Wren want her to do?”

  “I don’t know. But if Silkstar found out she was going to betray him, he would be furious. He could easily set up a murder like that in his own palace and frame me along the way. No one would suspect him. Who would be stupid enough to murder someone in their own home and tip off the Ash Guard in advance?” I squinted. “And you were tipped off, weren’t you?”

  She didn’t confirm it, and she didn’t look convinced. Damn it. If only I had some actual evidence.

  “We talked to dozens of witnesses,” she said. “Carnelian Silkstar was out in the courtyard at the moment of the murder.”

  Could a high mage cast a spell like the one that had killed Imela Rush from a distance? No one really knew the capabilities of a high mage, and understandably, they weren’t forthcoming. Or maybe Silkstar hadn’t been out in the courtyard at all. Maybe he had somehow tricked the minds of several hundred people, including a bunch of mages. Whoever had visited Imela Rush’s parents had used a spell to confuse their minds. This would be magic of a whole different order, but that didn’t mean Silkstar couldn’t do it.

  “That doesn’t prove anything,” I said.

  “Maybe not. But have you considered that everything you told me points just as much to the Wren as to the Silkstar?”

  “The Wren? Why would he want to kill Imela Rush? She owed him, and as far as I can tell, she hadn’t delivered yet. Why would he waste such a big investment?” I didn’t buy it. I didn’t want to buy it. I didn’t need more uncertainty and more possibilities. I needed the murderer.

  “Think about it,” Captain Gale prompted. “The Wren insists that Imela Rush repays her debt to him by betraying Silkstar. She refuses — she’s a Master Servant; loyalty is everything, and the training she would have gone through is intense. It’s years of reinforcement. Maybe she did intend to pay the Wren back when her parents made the deal, but after all those years of training and loyalty? She says no. The Wren doesn’t have any choice. He has to protect his reputation. He takes her out. Only he can’t do it directly, because that will put him into conflict with Silkstar. When two high mages go head-to-head, that’s where we step in. So he sets you up to take the fall.”

  It hadn’t occurred to me. If the Wren had been behind it… But, no.

  “If the Wren wanted her dead, why not just a knife in a dark alley? It would send the same message, with none of the risks. Pity, he could flay her and pin her to the wall, and as long as he didn’t use magic, you wouldn’t get involved.” It came out as more of an accusation than I had intended.

  She shrugged. “We all have our roles. The Ash Guard can’t overstep its bounds. The Ash gives us too much power, and not enough at the same time.”

  “You really think it was the Wren?” I said.

  “No. I’m just pointing out the flaw in your logic. The Ash Guard still think you did it.”

  The Ash Guard. Interesting wording. Not ‘I’ or ‘we’. The Ash Guard.

  She looked at me expectantly.

  “What?”

  “Is that all you’ve got? That’s why you wanted to meet me?”

  I wet my lips. “No. I need your help. There’s something in this, I know there is. But people aren’t going to talk to me. I can’t go questioning Silkstar. You can, though. You can ask anyone anything. You’re Ash Guard.”

  She sat back, eyeing me.

  “The people who are going to have answers — people like Silkstar and the Wren — they’ll never tell me anything.” My voice cracked on the last word. Shit. Don’t let her know how desperate you are.

  “You’re right,” she said after a moment. “I can ask anyone anything. The Wren. The Countess. Silkstar. They can’t stop me. But I can’t force them to tell me the truth. People tend to say as little as possible to the Ash Guard — well, smart people; not you, obviously — and when they do answer, they lie more often than not, even when they’re innocent.”

  I slumped back in my chair. It made sense. I just wished it didn’t. There wasn’t a mage in the city who wasn’t scared of the Ash Guard. When you were a big, bad mage with the power of a rotting god, everyone got out of your way. Take away that power and replace it with a highly-trained Ash Guard killer, and mages suddenly weren’t so tough. When people were scared, they made stupid decisions.

  “I’m not going to ignore any evidence that comes my way,” Captain Gale said. “But right now you don’t have any evidence, just theories and guesses, and the only viable suspect is you.”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t do it.”

  She sighed. “I will tell you this if you promise not to read too much into it. Silkstar has just taken over the wool trade in Agatos. Somehow, he managed to buy up all the contracts. It’s the talk of the merchant community, and it gives him control over a section of the docks and warehouses that used to pay allegiance to the Wren. The Wren could see that as a move against him. The Ash Guard won’t allow it to erupt into magical conflict, and they both know that. So maybe the Wren found another way to get Silkstar back, through Imela Rush.” I must have looked excited, because Captain Gale raised a hand to stop me. “The high mages are constantly making moves against each other’s interests. It’s a game for them. It’s not a motive for murder.”

  Maybe not, but Captain Gale wouldn’t have mentioned it if she didn’t want me to poke it and see what came swarming out. At least that was what I was going to tell myself.

  “Let’s be clear,” Captain Gale said. “I have no intention of diverting my investigation over any of this. There are people in the Ash Guard who think I should be bringing you in right now.” She leaned back in her chair. “Find some proof of your suspicions, or find yourself in an Ash Guard cell.”

  I watched her get up and make her way out of the bar. Even Dumonoc didn’t send her on her way with his customary insults. It was that mixture of intimidation and erotic charge that she gave off, I reflected.

  You’re pathetic, Nik. Here I was, framed, in danger of my life, about to be booted out of my home, without a job, and I was getting all hot over one of the most unreachable women in Agatos.

  Captain Meroi Gale hadn’t done me any favours, either. I had gone looking for information on Silkstar. Now I didn’t even know whether Silkstar was my prime suspect anymore.

  I felt the frustration tightening in me like a rope in a storm. Any more and it might snap. I grabbed my cup and tossed back the last of the wine.

  When I had finished choking, regained my breath, and wiped the tears from my eyes, I was finally able to think.

  I might have more suspects, but I also had another lead: the wool contracts. Leads were what I desperately needed. I would follow this one and see where it took me. I didn’t have any other choice.

  If I got killed over some wool contracts, I was going to be mightily pissed off.

  Chapter Twelve

  Agatos was a great trading city — maybe the great trading city of its age. The goods of dozens of nations flowed through its streets and markets. Deals were struck that could destroy or enrich whole cities. If you had enough money and you knew where to go, you could buy almost anything.

  For most of what the citizens of Agatos needed or wanted, there were three main markets, as well as the hundreds of shops, stalls, and smaller markets.

  Mile End Market, in the heart of the Upper City, specialised in fine fabrics and clothing. It was the kind of place that people went to as much to be seen as to buy things. Many of the sta
lls had evolved into semi-permanent shops where you could sit in chairs being fanned while inspecting clothes worth more than I was. Let’s be honest. You’d be more likely to find me beating myself around my head with my own leg than shopping in Mile End Market.

  Further down, near where Agate Way finally slipped off the low end of Horn Hill and rejoined the rest of the city, was Cheap Gate Market, the city’s main food market. Agatos sat firmly across the main north-south trade route, where ships from half the world met the caravans travelling down from the north. No matter how exotic, if you wanted it, Cheap Gate Market had it, if you could afford it. Which I couldn’t.

  Then, finally, on the edge of the Grey City was the market known as the Penitent’s Ear. It was noisy, chaotic, and cheap enough to be used by the assorted peasants, workers, and lowlifes who actually kept Agatos running.

  But the real business of the city, the commerce that made men like Carnelian Silkstar rich — the contracts, the deals, the fix-ups, and the kind of criminal activity that would never introduce its perpetrators to the inside of a cell — didn’t take place in any of those markets. It took place in Nuil’s Coffee House. The coffee house was a three storey building that took up most of one side of Peridot Plaza. Its body consisted of a single grand room filled with rich wooden furniture, screens, and randomly placed plants. Balconies ran around the edge of the two remaining stories, and opening off the back of the balconies were the private rooms in which the actual business of the city took place.

  Someone in there would have the information I needed about the wool contracts. So it was just a shame that I would never be allowed in Nuil’s, new shirt or no new shirt. Nuil’s had standards, and I had discovered several years ago that those standards didn’t encompass me. I loitered around the rear, while the sky shaded from lilac to purple, until the back door opened and Elosyn Brook came out to shoo me away.

  Elosyn worked as a chef in the kitchen and was unfortunate enough to know me. I had once broken a curse that had made her wife, Holera, cry tears of blood whenever she smelled garlic or onions. It hadn’t been hard to break, and they had paid me for it, but Elosyn still had enough residual gratitude not to throw stones at me when I came around.

  “What do you want, Nik?” she said, wiping her hands on her apron. Smells of baking rolled out of the door with her. Elosyn looked harried, hot, and not in the mood for crap. “You know I can’t give you leftovers until later.”

  I could have been offended, but it wouldn’t be the first time I had come for handouts. I wasn’t proud of it.

  “It’s not that. I need your help.”

  Elosyn glanced over her shoulder at the open door. “This isn’t a good time.”

  I had figured that out the moment she had come through the door. I hadn’t seen her so stressed and nervous since her wife’s curse. It couldn’t be that again, though. She would have come to me right away.

  “I can wait.” I knew I was being unfair. You don’t have time for fair.

  “Shit, Nik. Things are kind of tense right now.”

  “I just need some information. I don’t need you to sneak me in or anything.” I was pushing too hard. I didn’t know how much credit I had left with her. She still looked uneasy.

  I sighed and closed my hand about my few remaining coins. Elosyn might be grateful to me, but information cost money, and Elosyn would have to pay the coffee house staff if she wanted them to talk. I wasn’t going to get away with offering favours here.

  “I can pay,” I said. I opened my hand to show her the coins.

  She stared at them. “Are you trying to be funny? That wouldn’t buy you a coffee.”

  I kept my gaze on her and tried not to let her see how guilty I felt.

  “Ah, shit,” she muttered, snatching the coins. “You’re going to owe me. I’m going to send you an invoice. What do you want to know?”

  Relief overwhelmed the guilt, at least for a moment. I had been sure she was going to refuse me.

  “I’m trying to find out about Carnelian Silkstar and his new wool trade contracts. How did he get them? Who lost out? Anyone he upset?”

  Elosyn was already shaking her head. “Narth’s tits, Nik. You really know how to pick the worst cases, don’t you?”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “This is about Master Servant Rush, isn’t it? I heard you were involved in her death.”

  I swore under my breath. If the rumour had reached Nuil’s, everyone would have heard it. I had been hoping it would have stayed in the Warrens and with Silkstar and the Ash Guard. This was going to make things more difficult.

  “I wasn’t involved. I was just nearby.”

  “She was a regular here, you know. Silkstar trusted her to carry out his business. Anyone who did deals with her is looking over their shoulder. People are nervous, Nik. If Silkstar’s Master Servant can be killed, people are asking if anyone is safe. It’s making it hard to get information. The coffee house staff are being kept out of meetings.”

  I dug my nails into my palms. I needed this. “But you can do it, right? You can find out what I need?”

  She watched me for a few seconds, and I tried not to let my desperation show. Then she rubbed a flour-whitened hand across her headscarf.

  “Maybe. It’s not going to be easy, and it’s not going to be fast. No one wants to talk. I can’t ask straight out. Now.” She turned back to the kitchens. “I really do have to get some pastries out of the oven.” Before I could say anything, she added, “And, no, you can’t have one. Piss off before I regret this whole thing.”

  I stood there for several minutes, staring at the door and running through every curse I knew.

  It’s not going to be fast.

  Shit!

  I needed it to be fast. Benny needed it to be fast. We couldn’t just wait around for Elosyn to find something, if there was anything to find. But what else could I do? That had been my only lead. I couldn’t go back to the Ash Guard until I had something new.

  Maybe I should just go up to Silkstar and demand he told me who he had cheated, bribed, and extorted to get those wool contracts.

  And when he turned me inside out, Depths, at least I wouldn’t have to worry about any of this anymore.

  My stomach rumbled at the smells drifting from the kitchens, and suddenly I was furious at the Estimable Larimar Sunstone for firing me and not even paying me what he owed. I needed that job, and he had taken it from me. I had just given Elosyn the last of my money.

  It wasn’t right. It just wasn’t, not with every other way I had been screwed these last few days.

  I wasn’t putting up with it. I fucking was not. I could have done the job. I could have rid them of their ghosts for good. And he had sacked me. The bastard.

  Ghosts weren’t easy to get rid of. Half the cults and religions in Agatos claimed to be able to exorcise dead spirits. They were full of shit. They blew coloured smoke, rang a few bells, scattered around some perfectly good herbs, and claimed a large donation for their temple. Most of the time, there was never a ghost in the first place, and, in any case, the living gods were not so easily pushed into sharing their power, not for something like that.

  The other half of the cults and religions were even worse, worshipping ghosts or seeing them as some wishy-washy extrusion of their gods. I had never bought that idea. If I were a god and I wanted people to notice me, I wouldn’t send some nebulous wisp to float around and give people the willies. I would come down with boots of stone and demand obeisance.

  No one said I didn’t have issues.

  Ghosts weren’t dangerous in a tear-your-skull-open-and-suck-your-eyeballs-out kind of way, but they were persistent, and they could get into your head. A ghost that was pissed off enough could soak a house in so much crawling, slithering ectoplasmic shit that it could turn you into a shattered wreck. Galena Sunstone’s ghosts didn’t seem like that kind of spirit, but even your average haunt could send unsettling fingers into your mind, and if it had died horribly — wh
ich most of them had — you wouldn’t want to experience that too often.

  The temples might not be much use, but I knew how to exorcise ghosts, and I had done it before. The best way was to find whatever anchor the ghosts were attached to — sometimes their bodies, sometimes an item that they had valued in life, sometimes the place of their death, or sometimes just something their spirit clung onto as it left their body — and destroy it.

  If I couldn’t find the anchor or it was something I couldn’t destroy, I could feed the ghosts enough carefully focused and structured magic that I disrupted their essence. It could take decades, even centuries, for the ghosts to re-form, which was good enough for most people. I wondered, idly, how a ghost would react to Ash, but I didn’t think the good captain would be parting with any for my experiments.

  There were other items that could weaken or trap a ghost: silver, arevena flowers, and charcoal being the most common. It had been a long time since I’d had any spare silver, but I had a bottle of arevena flowers put by — fresh would have been better — and charcoal dust was easy enough.

  I would gather my supplies and head up to the Sunstone house. The Estimable Sunstone could pay me what he owed or he could give me my job back. Or I would show him what a pissed off mage could do, and damn the consequences.

  It was full dark by the time I reached the Sunstone house. Morgue-lamps glowed around Heliodore Plaza, and the shadows of cypress trees swayed gently in the middle of the plaza, like seaweed in the slow, rolling waves near the sea wall. The heat of the day still squatted malignantly over the city, but we were high enough here that the sea breeze made it bearable.

  I slowed as I approached the house. My fury had cooled on the walk up here. This wasn’t what I should be doing when Benny was going on trial in the morning. I should be scouring the city for clues, chasing down leads, and calling in favours.

  What clues? What leads? What favours, you pathetic excuse for a mage?

  I had none. This — this job — was all I had, or what I should have had, until Sunstone had kicked me off like a shit-covered shoe. He owed me.