The Redemption of Desmeres

by Joseph R. Lallo

  “Far better than I would like and not nearly as well as he would like. We had chat this morning that ended before he was ready.”

  A man sloshed up to them, standing a head and shoulders taller than Genara and easily thrice her weight. He was exactly the sort of person she would have made a point of avoiding in her discussions with the townsfolk, but unfortunately he’d cornered her while she was asking the stablemaid.

  “You wandered off there, and we’d just got started,” said Farfin.

  “We were actually quite through, sir,” Genara said walking rather stiffly beside the blind man. “And now I’m having a word with this gentleman. If you don’t mind.”

  “But I seen the man you were looking for.”

  She stopped and turned. “Have you?”

  He stepped toward her, angling her toward the wall, but she stepped to place the street behind her instead.

  “Sure, sure. The black-haired man was—”

  “White-haired, sir. I’m afraid you had the wrong man,” she said, reaching up to her hair, which was held tightly in a bun but a pair of pins.

  “Right, right. Just follow me. He’s back at the stables.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked, toying with one of the sticks that bound her hair into its bun. “I spent a fair amount of time in that part of town. It seems like if you’d remembered him, so would one of the others nearby.”

  “They don’t keep their eyes open like me, just come this way and—”

  He reached out to place a hand on her arm, but she smoothly stepped aside and dropped her arm in an arc that was either exceptionally precise or astoundingly fortunate. The pin slashed along Farfin’s sleeve, falling just shy of drawing blood.

  “Oh, heavens. My apologies, sir. So clumsy of me. I am a menace with these things,” she said, holding up the pin.

  “You nearly skewered me!” Farfin growled, taking another step toward her.

  “I know,” she said, false apology in her voice. “And I’ve got two of them.”

  She slipped the other one free, allowing her long hair to tumble free.

  “How fortunate you were wearing such thick clothing. One can only imagine what sort of embarrassing scars you’d have to explain otherwise.”

  Farfin glared angrily at her as the barely masked threat filtered through a somewhat lackluster intellect. He sneered a bit and stalked away, muttering under his breath about his damaged jacket. Genara watched him go and didn’t begin fix her hair until he was out of sight.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” she said, turning back to the blind man. “You were saying?”

  “That sounded like it could have gone poorly,” he said.

  “It could always go poorly, sir. With the big, stupid ones I can usually boil it down to a two in three chance to get them to back off.”

  “And in the third?”

  “I show him I’m not bluffing. Now about these men who sound like the one I’m after?”

  “There are a few at the market.”

  “I’ve spoken to them. The man I’m after is a few levels more sure of himself.”

  “Difficult to believe. Did your man have a dog with him?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then I am afraid I can’t help you. Though you might check the boarding house on the south side regardless. Most of the men have given false names. It seems to me the sort of person who doesn’t want to be found is the sort of person someone might be looking for.”

  “Where precisely might I find this boarding house?”

  “Two doors short of the south gate on the west side of the street.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Do not thank me. And do not tell them who sent you. My continued employment is at least partially based on my willingness to keep secrets.”

  “That, sir, we have in common.” She leaned forward and gave him a kiss.

  “If I’d known you had lips such as yours, I would have been more immediately forthcoming.”

  “All the same. It is nice receiving help from someone not motivated by such things. Have a lovely evening.”

  “One moment, dear,” he said, pausing. “What is that scent?”

  “The one I am wearing? I’m surprised you noticed at all. I don’t think I even applied another dose after my bath…”

  She fished inside her bodice and revealed a handkerchief.

  “A man called Klye, a co-worker of mine, gives me a bottle of fragrance once a year. He calls it Mermaid Tears. I can’t imagine that’s what it truly is. I dose a handkerchief with it before long trips.” She dabbed herself behind each ear before tucking it away again.

  “It brings me back to a time I thought I’d forgotten. Thank you, miss. I hope you find what you seek.”

  Genara nodded in thanks and offered her hand for a shake. After a moment she shook her head in embarrassment at the futility of both gestures to a blind man. Instead she reached out and lightly clutched his shoulder.

  “You are very kind, sir. Have a fine day.”

  “You as well. And watch yourself, miss. The south side of the town is… You can expect to be calling more than a few bluffs.”

  She sighed. “Yes. That is where they usually put the boarding houses. Thank you again.”

  The blind man entered one of the buildings after feeling the number beside it. Genara turned and stepped back into the street to seek the boarding house he had mentioned. That was precisely the sort of place she had arrived in town expecting to find. Desmeres did not seem like the sort who would settle down in so busy a place. Certainly not while being sought by the Elite. And an inn could become terribly expensive night after night, not to mention the number of people coming in or out who might recognize him. A boarding house simply made more sense. The only thing that had kept her from seeking out the boarding house first was the fact that no one in town seemed to know it was there. Such was the trouble of large towns with heavy commerce. Half of the people she’d spoken to were at best frequent visitors to the town, and the locals seldom had much cause to leave their little corner of the place. As she paced through the streets toward the south end, it became swiftly clear to her just why people in the north and central parts of the city wouldn’t have much of a working knowledge of the south. It was not the sort of place a wise person would linger unless in search of shady dealings.

  One of the two main roads around which the town had grown curved subtly east, and it may as well have traced a ‘do not cross’ line across a third of the city. The moment she moved beyond the bend, things became incrementally shabbier. The activity on anything but the road itself moved from the streets and walks to the alleys and courtyards. The sun was still fairly high in the sky, but that only served to underscore the fact that this was a stretch of town composed almost entirely of dark corners and shadowy side streets. Genara could feel the gaze of a dozen beady eyes glaring out from every dark recess. It brought back unpleasant memories of the mercifully brief time when this was the sort of place she had to ply her trade.

  “A pair of hair pins may not be sufficient for this neighborhood…”

  As anxious as the overall atmosphere made her, she refused to let an ounce of it show in her face or her posture. Vulnerability began at a glance, so she wore her casual but determined expression as a suit of armor. It was impenetrable by no means, but so long as she kept moving it was enough to make all but the most dedicated potential predators disregard her in favor of easier prey. All the same, she was pleased she’d not brought along much in the way of money. Her clothing was expensive enough on its own for the locals to suspect she might be a fine target for robbery. Even the pair of her father’s copper earrings she wore had likely been a mistake. The jingle of coins would make for a prize enticing enough to overlook her invulnerable demeanor.

  What she assumed must be the boarding house she was after came into view. It was nearly as much of a hive of activity as the market district. Seven carriages and wagons of a wide range of qualities had clustered about the place. Some
were unloading goods, others packing them up. This had attracted the usual onlookers who were eager for anything new to watch rather than focusing on the drudgery of their lives, and they had attracted the sort of malingerers hoping to lift a few poorly guarded coin purses.

  “The payments must be due,” Genara said. “Heaven forbid I could come at a time that would have made this easy.”

  She approached slowly, endeavoring to radiate a sense of belonging, as though she was merely responding to an appointment. Selecting people with care, she tapped shoulders and exchanged smiles, asking after the white-haired man with the confident swagger and the expensive accessories. Many had seen him, but few in the last few weeks. That stood to reason. He’d as much as confessed the recent end of a long campaign of robbing from the palace. That was surely the sort of activity which would keep a man from his bed for days at a time, and Krestok was several days from Verril, even a short jaunt to the palace would consume a week or more. The crowd at least meant there were plenty of people to talk to, and if she attracted the attention of the wrong sort of person she could weave through the press of people and thus make her escape. Two long hours of questioning had made it abundantly clear that Desmeres had called this place home as recently as the beginning of that month, but none had seen him since. The trail was cold.

  After a few more minutes the carriages peeled off one by one and the street began to clear. Defeated, Genara decided to head back to the inn for a meal. It was at that moment that a dark form in the corner of her eye came scurrying toward her. She’d seen just a glimpse, and her mind assured her that while it could easily be anything from a large rat to a small wolf, it was nothing she wanted rushing toward her. She recoiled and backed against the wall, hoping it would rush past, but it skidded and sloshed, changing direction with a tumble and roll, then waddled up to her.

  It was a hound, a puppy, and as soon as it was near enough it poked its nose under the hem of her long skirt to snuffle at her ankles. She pushed it away with her toe, but it merely romped back up to her and stood on its hind legs, leaving muddy paw prints on her dress and sniffing eagerly at her fingers until she pulled them away.

  “Ugh. Get off. Get away from me, you filthy animal.”

  A man leaned from the seat of a cart just on the other side of the gate.

  “Dowser!” he called, jumping from the cart.

  He rushed up, closing the distance between cart and puppy with remarkable ease. When he arrived, he snatched the curious pup by the scruff of its neck and pulled it from the slush.

  “I am terribly sorry ma’am. He’s been slow to learn proper manners.”

  The man was dressed in a worn gray robe, as were half of the other people on the street. It hid his face save for a scruffy chin and crisp smile. He unfurled a burlap sack and swaddled the beast in it.

  “I hope he didn’t soil your clothes too terribly,” he said.

  “Oh,” she said, irritably, brushing the soggy stain with the cuff of her sleeve. “I suppose it isn’t the worst my skirt has picked up today, but kindly keep control of your mutt in the future.”

  “He’s a scent-hound. And that is quite a scent you are wearing. I suspect it might have sent me running in your direction as well, if not for my own comparatively superior training.”

  “I suppose I’ve just recently freshened…” she began, smirking lightly at what had been the cleverest bit of flirting she’d received since her arrival, but something in his voice made her stop.

  She reached out and tugged back his hood, revealing a slightly unkempt but unmistakable face. Their eyes met, each with the spark of recognition. She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a hand to silence her.

  “Miss, if the next word from your mouth was to be my name, I would prefer you kept it to yourself until there was no one about to overhear it.”

  “Of course.”

  “Considering when last we met, I can’t imagine your presence here is a coincidence.”

  He maneuvered the bundled up dog into a large inner pocket of his cloak, causing it to shift aside until he secured its tie.

  “It isn’t. I need to have a word with you.”

  “There are a great many people who would like to have a word with me. And I’ve given them all far better reasons, I’m sure.”

  “But I’m the one that found you.”

  “Indeed you did. And that is something that warrants discussion. Unfortunately, I’ve left my cart unsupervised, which is exceptionally unwise in this part of town.”

  “I’ll join you then.”

  “I didn’t offer.”

  “And I didn’t call your name. I could revoke that courtesy if you’d like.”

  “I do so love a woman willing to shift to threat so quickly. Fine. This way.”

  “My things are back at the inn.”

  “Just how long do you imagine you’ll be joining me?” he asked.

  “I’m only telling you so that you don’t drag me too far away.”

  They sloshed through the increasingly churned-up mud and snow as they left the cobbled streets and ventured out onto the packed earth and gravel beyond the gate. His vehicle, which had fortunately not been stolen or raided during his brief absence, was not as plush or pleasant as the one that had brought Genara to town. Its rear was devoted to cargo, little more than a wagon with a few layers of thick canvas strapped over it to keep the elements from his things. Two horses of sturdy northern stock were strapped to the front. The only other room was a simple bench seat, wide enough for the driver and, if they knew each other well enough, perhaps two passengers.

  “After you, madam,” he said, helping her to the seat.

  She climbed up and slid over. When he took a seat as well, he snapped the reins and they set off toward the southeast.

  “We shall travel far enough to not raise any eyebrows at the peculiarity of turning around so soon after leaving town, and I shall drop you back off at the inn.”

  “That’s fine. But don’t try anything foolish. I’ve had enough ungentlemanly conduct in this town to last me for quite some time.”

  “I can imagine. If I’d known you were planning to follow me here, I would have suggested you change your mind. Now, let me see… You would be Genara, correct? The fine young woman at Clennock’s Den.”

  “Yes. And you would be Desmeres, the fool who fouled up my life the instant you walked through the door.”

  “If it is any consolation to you, yours is by no means the only life I’ve fouled up in my days.”

  “I’ll believe it.”

  “As we each have questions, do you wish to begin, or shall I?”

  “You first. I’ve spent so much time looking for you I haven’t taken the time to gather my thoughts on what I would say if I found you.”

  “Oddly enough, that is precisely what I wanted to talk to you about. You haven’t spent much time looking for me. If I recall correctly, and my memory of that night is admittedly a bit murky, we last spoke just days ago. There are those who have spent weeks and years looking for me with less success than you.”

  “Yeah, well, they probably didn’t get any gifts from you,” she said, twiddling her fingers in front of him.

  “A gift? Ah, yes. The ring.”

  Dowser, illustrating a steady improvement in his coordination, managed to squirm until his nose poked free from the cloak and sniff in Genara’s direction.

  “Dowser, behave yourself,” he said, half stroking and half restraining the hound. “You’ve got to learn that just because a woman smells nice doesn’t mean she’s inviting you to have a sniff.”

  “That’s a lesson half of the men I know could stand to learn.”

  “It took me a fair number of years to master it, I assure you. Now, how precisely did the ring lead you to me? You haven’t used any manner of homing charm, have you? I thought I’d taken steps against those.”

  “Nothing like that. I wouldn’t know how. I just put together what I knew about you and what I could find in the
Den’s library.” She held her ring in front of him again. “It’s a distinctive design. I figured you must have seen it somewhere. It was too familiar to me.”

  “That’s the façade design from the banquet hall…” he said.

  “Exactly…”

  “I must have been far more deeply inebriated than I’d realized. Engraving so distinctive a pattern into that ring and letting you keep it was a very questionable decision on my part.”

  “Fortunate for me that you’d gotten so drunk then. And for you, too.”

  “Oh? Aside from a second opportunity to spend some time with you, what do I gain from this visit?”

  “We’ll get to that, but first, I’ve got some questions for you.”

  “Questions fascinating enough to send you out into the cold to be accosted by rude puppies?” he said, Dowser now free enough to scramble onto her lap.

  “Ugh,” she said in disgust, pushing him aside. “I detest dogs.”

  “Oh, Genara…” he said, shaking his head. “Anyone who lacks a soft spot in her heart for the noblest of creatures is just shy of trustworthy, in my estimation.”

  “Noblest of creatures…” she said. “They are mindless animals who slobber on everything, track mud everywhere, infest each other with fleas, and can’t control their gluttonous craving for food.”

  “Ah, but few things are more faithful or obedient.”

  “Obedience. It says a thing or two about you and yours that obedience is so high on your list of virtues. Now stop changing the subject. When you were so drunk you were foolishly giving away clues to your whereabouts, you mentioned the good works of you and your partner.”

  “The works, good and bad, were my partner’s doing. I was merely the facilitator.”

  “Fine, fine. But did you ever do any work in the Daggergale mountains. Say, forty-three years ago.”

  “Daggergale. We’ve certainly purchased a mine or two in the region. The timing sounds about right.”

  “Then one of those books of yours has my father’s name in it.”

  “Really now…”

  “I owe my life to you.”

  “And you’ve come for an apology?” he said, freeing a hand to wrangle Dowser, who was making attempting to climb atop Genara again.