The Necromancer's Rogue

by Icy Sedgwick

  Monte set off up the path and joined Mr Gondavere at the gate. “How will you find out the name of the Heart?”

  “I don’t think that will be a problem. I sense that was a lie perpetrated by the old witch to throw us off the scent. It hardly surprises me,” said Mr Gondavere.

  They walked through the crooked streets and squares of Canalsditch, now bustling with housewives buying their daily rations, and shift workers either heading home or off to work. A handful of men shouted greetings to Monte, who replied with “Hallo!” or promises to meet up soon.

  “You are popular here.” Mr Gondavere didn’t look at Monte.

  “People know me. You get to know your neighbours. Plus, they prefer me digging the graves because I’m one of the few diggers that doesn’t help himself to anything. But I wouldn’t say I was popular, though.”

  “You would be missed.”

  “I suppose I would.” Monte put an extra span of distance between himself and Mr Gondavere.

  “That is good. It is good that people appreciate what you do for them. We have not known that luxury for some time.”

  “We?”

  “I meant ‘I’. Forgive the slip of the tongue.”

  They walked in silence until they reached Monte’s cottage. Again he bristled as Mr Gondavere insisted on speaking with Myrtle himself, leaving Monte standing outside his own home while he went inside.

  He inspected the flowerbeds, enjoying the scent of the night-blooming blossoms. Myrtle had done a good job, putting plenty of effort into cultivating a beautiful garden. It was a pity she hadn’t felt the need to put the same effort into her marriage. Monte ran his fingers through the drooping tendrils of a Night Fern and frowned. He’d bought her this plant as an anniversary present. He’d tracked down the seeds for the rare Moon Orchids at the Flee Market. The Star-Spangled Roses came from the City Above, smuggled in one year for her birthday. His gaze roved across the fecund beds and he scowled. He’d bought her every single one of these plants, in one form or another.

  Laughter drifted out of the open window, and Monte fought the urge to crush the roses out of spite. Moments later, the front door opened and Mr Gondavere led Myrtle into the garden. She’d put on her best dress, a black crepe mourning gown, and added a black lace shawl she saved for special occasions. She smiled at him but Monte simply grunted in reply.

  “Your darling wife has agreed to accompany us,” said Mr Gondavere.

  “Excellent.” Monte didn’t care what his employer had told his wife. A cold tendril of hatred wrapped itself around his heart, and he realised that he no longer cared what Myrtle thought. He no longer cared about her at all.

  “It’ll be such an adventure, sweetie!” Myrtle slipped her arm through Monte’s, and wrapped her other hand around his bicep. Monte suppressed a shudder. She hadn’t done that since the days of their courting. Hard to believe that was only eight years ago.

  “I’m sure it will. We’d better get going, though. You heard what the old crone said – we’re not the only ones looking for it.”

  “Your diligence is an inspiration to us all, Monte.” Mr Gondavere smiled and made his way out of the garden.

  Monte and Myrtle followed, and they headed back into Canalsditch. Monte tried to ignore the weight of Myrtle’s hand on his arm, but she kept prattling at him about the feast she’d make him when they returned home. Monte had a strange feeling that he couldn’t explain – and it said neither of them would ever return to the cottage.

  23

  Chapter 23

  Vyolet ran for what felt like weeks, and her ears rang with the shouts of the DWS agent. She only stopped running when she reached Middletown, the central district of the Underground City. She passed other Shadowkin who lurked in doorways or pressed against walls to take advantage of the darkness, and their presence helped her relax. With so many of her kind in the district, the DWS agent would be hard pressed to focus on her.

  Still, it wasn’t the agent who worried her as much as the Dreadguards. She didn’t know how they travelled, or if they could follow her scent. Perversely, her best option was to surround herself with humans to lose herself in their stench and travel to Jyx’s address through the busy highways of Middletown.

  Vyolet longed for company. Normally she did everything alone, apart from her occasional meetings with clients who needed her to steal information. Her time spent with Fortis, and then Jyx, and even Eufame, gave her an insight into how it felt to work with others. Perhaps her fear of the Dreadguards fuelled much of her current loneliness and paranoia.

  Middletown was a sprawling mix of narrow alleys lined with tall, crumbling tenements, and wide shopping avenues lined with curiosity shops and small markets of varying themes. The housewives were out in force, shopping in packs and blocking streets. Those in the streets cast plenty of shadows, but Vyolet couldn’t slip between them as easily within the crowds. She didn’t dare walk openly – there were more Shadowkin, true, but that didn’t mean they were accepted here.

  She crouched at the entrance to an alleyway to ponder her next move. Suddenly something warm and furry brushed her hand. She looked down to see a small tabby cat sitting beside her, gazing up at her.

  “Hello,” said Vyolet. She petted the cat’s head and it mewed in reply. She’d never stroked a cat before – normally they couldn’t see her in the shadows, yet this one could.

  “Do I know you?” she asked.

  The cat mewed again and Vyolet swore she heard a ‘Not quite’ in the sound. She looked closer and saw a black velvet collar around the cat’s neck. A small silver charm dangled from it. Vyolet reached down and examined the charm. She recognised the insignia – Jyx wore it on his robes.

  “Are you from the House of the Long Dead?” she asked.

  The cat mewed again, this time intoning its reply with ‘Yes’.

  “Did Eufame send you?”

  The cat cocked its head on one side, as if to say ‘Sort of’.

  “I could certainly use Eufame’s help right about now. I don’t know how to get across Middletown without being seen, and it’s too busy to get through the crowds.”

  The cat looked up, past Vyolet. She followed its gaze and spotted a crude ladder a little way along the alleyway. Rough iron staples studded the wall in a vertical line.

  “Nice idea, cat – if I can’t go through Middletown, then I should go over it. I just don’t know if I can jump across alleyways with this bad ankle.”

  Vyolet stretched her leg out and pointed to her ankle. It was slightly darker than the surrounding skin and a shade more swollen than her healthy ankle. The cat lay down across her lower leg, its stomach vibrating with the cat’s purring.

  “What are you doing?” asked Vyolet.

  The cat’s movements tickled, and she fidgeted under the weight of the tabby. The cat looked at her once or twice, as if telling her to keep still. Vyolet shrugged. If the cat had anything to do with Eufame Delsenza, then she guessed it knew what it was doing.

  After five minutes, Vyolet’s bad ankle was noticeably warmer than the other, and the cat clambered off her leg. Vyolet drew her injury closer to inspect it. The swelling and the darkness had gone.

  “Oh you little genius!” Vyolet bent down and hugged the cat. She stood up and twirled several times on the spot using her previously bad leg. The ankle didn’t hurt in the slightest. Vyolet hurried across to the ladder, marvelling at the lack of pain.

  The staples were wide enough for her to place one foot in the centre, and she tugged on several to ensure they wouldn’t simply come away from the wall when she put her weight on it. Vyolet looked back along the alleyway, but the cat was gone.

  “Onwards and upwards, I suppose.” Vyolet took hold of a staple and hauled herself up. It was slow going, since some of the rungs were missing in places, and she had to reach twice as high, but after a few moments, she found herself standing on the roof of the tenement building. Luckily, they weren’t as tall as the ones in Green Dragon Close, where they soared
several storeys above the alleyways.

  Thick, syrupy darkness surrounded Vyolet, broken only by the dim glow of the streets far below. Vyolet skipped across the roof, enjoying the cool darkness, and she jumped from building to building with ease. The alleys below were narrow enough that she rarely had to leap more than four feet at once, and she ran through the darkness across wider spaces.

  Middletown gave way to Nunnery Gardens, a badly named district of brick buildings and narrow offices. The older inhabitants of the Underground City remembered the old convent that occupied most of the site, surrounded by gardens filled with herbs and night-blooming flowers. Dedicated to the Order of the Black Nuns, the convent fell foul of an obscure piece of City Above legislation and was pulled down. Bookkeepers and scriveners now occupied the offices at street level, with more affluent clerical staff taking the apartments in the tenements above. From what Vyolet had heard, more buildings would be going the way of the convent.

  Vyolet took her time, no longer racing from building to building. She peered down into the streets to get her bearings and took a diagonal route across the district. Chimney pots littered the rooftops, belching thick smoke into the air. She allowed herself to dissolve into shadow to pass through more easily. She passed another Shadowkin among the chimneys, but they ignored each other. She assumed the other also had a valid, yet underhand, reason for being so high.

  She knew she was in Temple Park, the district near the temple, though there had never been a park nearby. Vyolet didn’t know this area very well and decided to find Jyx’s address from street level. She peered down into the wide boulevard that curved through the district. Bow windows protruded into the street, with well-dressed housewives laden with wicker baskets scurrying between shops.

  Vyolet gasped to see two Dreadguards standing in the centre of the street. They jabbed their skeletal fingers at each other, gesticulating along the boulevard in the direction of Nunnery Gardens. One of them waved its arms and took a swipe at its companion. Vyolet couldn’t hear their death rattle communication, but they were embroiled in an argument of some sort. If they were here, then they must be looking for Jyx. The Dreadguards by the docks were no coincidence. Vyolet couldn’t tell if the two below were the same ones she’d seen earlier, but the idea of there now being four Dreadguards in the Underground City didn’t bear considering.

  She found a building two streets over with a staple ladder embedded in its outer wall, and she dropped into the gloom between the buildings. The street sign at the end of the alley read ‘Holst Alley’ and Vyolet smiled. She’d found the right place after all.

  A guard gargoyle perched above the door and fluttered down to hover in front of her face.

  “Who are you?” it rasped.

  “I’m here to see Jyximus Faire.”

  “I don’t know you.” The gargoyle narrowed its eyes and folded its arms.

  “Well, you wouldn’t know me, I’ve never been here before.”

  “Then how do you know how to find this Jyximus Faire here?”

  “Because I was given his address.” Vyolet frowned. She’d heard about guard gargoyles, but she’d never encountered one before. Then again, she rarely used front doors.

  “I can’t let you in if I don’t know you.”

  “Can you let him know I’m here then? He’ll come down to the door and tell you who I am.”

  “And leave the door unguarded? I think not! Go away.”

  The gargoyle flew back up to the iron support of the gas lamp and adopted a typical pose, but its eyes remained locked on Vyolet. She made no move towards the door – the gargoyle wouldn’t let in her either way.

  There was only one thing to try. Shadowkin practised their own form of magick, separate from the spells and sigils so favoured by the humans. Vyolet seldom used it, since her attempts at magick rarely worked, and she preferred to rely on her speed and agility to take her through the shadows. Morphing into smoke was the only magick she used with any regularity. However, there was one spell that she knew, and it was the last possibility that might actually succeed.

  Vyolet positioned herself below the gas lamp. She drew a sigil inside her mouth with her tongue, and visualised its form just behind her teeth. She filled it with as much darkness as she could muster, and raised her hand to her lips, as if to blow a kiss. She blew the sigil out of her mouth, straight into the flame of the gas lamp.

  The flame winked out, suffocated by shadows, and the gargoyle slipped from its perch. Its wings arrested its fall, and it fluttered upwards, calling for help. Vyolet dissolved into the darkness of Holst Alley and aimed for the keyhole of the front door.

  24

  Chapter 24

  Eufame’s choice of accommodation continued to impress Jyx at every turn. His mother answered the door and wrapped him in a bear hug. After near suffocating him, she bustled him into the apartment. A comfortable parlour and three bedrooms lay on one side of the corridor, with a well-stocked kitchen and three more bedrooms on the other side. An indoor privy lay at the end of the passage. His siblings were out, fetching goods from the market, so his mother directed him into the parlour. He sank into an overstuffed armchair beside the fireplace and removed his boots.

  “Are you tired, love?” His mother came into the parlour carrying two mugs of steaming tea.

  “It’s been ages since I’ve slept,” replied Jyx. He remembered the deep sleep in the box bed in Eufame’s quarters, but he hadn’t slept since then. He didn’t even know how much time had elapsed.

  “Do you think you’ve got time for a nap?”

  “I hope so, but don’t you want to know what’s been going on?” Jyx accepted a mug and his mother sat down in her rocking chair.

  “Your mistress sent a couple of those Wolfkin down with a lovely old man to explain things. You’d like him, he’s a bookseller. He’s got a shop not far from here, actually,” she said.

  “Mr Rosemary?”

  “Aye, that’s the one. Anyway, he’d explained your mistress wanted us to have better lodgings since you’d been doing so well for her, and we got moved over here. He said you’d have come yourself but you were ever so busy.”

  “That’s all he said?”

  “Yes. Well he did say we weren’t to tell anyone where we’d gone, but who was there to tell?”

  “No, that’s about right, Mum. She’s let me pop home for a visit, but I’m expecting one of my friends soon. We’ve just got a couple of errands to run for Miss Delsenza before I go back to work.” Jyx hated lying to his mother but if he told her the truth, she’d either panic or forbid him from leaving the apartment again. No, it was better that she assumed all was well. It was both surprising and helpful that she’d managed to miss the tales about Eufame’s imprisonment so far – unless Mr Rosemary knew one or two spells to aid memory loss.

  “I can see she’s been feeding you at least, but you do look a little pale.”

  “I’m just a bit hungry. It took a bit longer to get here than I thought.”

  “I’ll make you a sandwich.” His mother stood up and bustled out of the room. Jyx curled his legs under him and snuggled into the armchair. He sipped at the tea, glad of the extra sugar she’d heaped into it. Jyx didn’t need fabulous riches or untold power – he was happy with his chair, tea, and a roaring fire.

  His mother returned with a ham-and-cheese sandwich, and Jyx marvelled at the freshness of the bread. Normally they came with a side order of mould. They exchanged small talk as he ate, and Jyx answered questions about the Wolfkin. His mother found the silent creatures fascinating, though Jyx couldn’t work out from the description which ones Eufame had sent. He did his best to contradict any prejudice his mother might have felt towards them, but they had been clean, respectful, tidy, and strong enough to move her worldly goods, so she was inclined to think well of them.

  “I know there are some folk who’d look down their noses at them, but they’re a good sort in my book. Pity they get treated so badly. If I were in charge, I’d want good, s
trong, intelligent people on my side, not working their paws to the bone,” said his mother.

  “Well, indeed.” Jyx finished the last of his sandwich. His eyelids drooped.

  “You have yourself a nap while I sort out the kitchen. Your siblings should be back soon. It’d be nice if you got to see them before you leave.”

  His mother took his plate and went back to the kitchen. Jyx moved from the armchair to the battered old chaise longue underneath the window. Using his arm as a pillow, he lay down and allowed sleep to embrace him.

  * * *

  A hand shook his shoulder. Jyx lashed out at his unseen attacker and a small voice squeaked from the shadows. He opened his eyes and peered into the gloom.

  “What did you do that for?” The person admonished him.

  Jyx made out a pair of violet eyes in the darkness. His mother had turned down all of the lamps in the parlour, giving Vyolet a perfect way to sneak inside.

  “I didn’t know it was you, did I? In case you hadn’t noticed, I was asleep.” Jyx sat up and rubbed his eyes. He stretched his back, wincing as the vertebrae popped back into position. He’d forgotten how uncomfortable the chaise longue was.

  “Well you’re awake now. Eufame sent me.”

  “All the way here? By yourself?”

  “Yeah, she thought it would be faster that way. I’ve had a nightmare of a time, though. Look at this.”

  Vyolet held out her arm to show Jyx the hand-shaped burn around her wrist.

  “How did you do that?” Jyx pulled her wrist closer so he could examine the mark.

  “Dreadguards. One of them caught me but I managed to get away.” Vyolet explained about the archives, the guards, the DWS agent, and the guard gargoyle.