Red Litten World

by Alexander, K. M.

  There was a tension in her shoulders I recognized only because of our time working together. I also knew that she was watching the two bodyguards out of the corners of her eyes.

  “This is Hannah Clay. My business partner,” I said. She gave Kiver a curt nod.

  Kiver smiled wanly and settled, pulling on his lapels to straighten his coat. A small pin in the left lapel sparkled. A tiny sun with seven bolts emanating from its core. A corporate symbol I recognized: Renna Monochromes.

  “It’s freezing outside. You must be very concerned to come yourself. Especially during Auseil. Aren’t most elevated focused on their midnight holiday parties?”

  “They are,” he said, looking around Cedric’s with a slight frown. “I need help. You seem to know what brings me here.”

  “Hannah has filled me in a bit, told me about your servant. I’m sorry to hear it.”

  “Not as sorry as I was,” he said curtly.

  “Your uncle recommended me, is that correct? He was one of the Methow refugees?”

  He leaned back. “Yes, he was one of them. I am sure you remember him: Mika dal Borhev. He’s an uncle, yes. From my mother’s side. Let me be frank, my side of the family and his are estranged. We don’t speak. We don’t attend joining together. We don’t celebrate holidays. However, he heard the report on the radio and took it upon himself to send me a telegram. Told me a little more about Methow than what I read in the Ledger. He suggested I seek you out.”

  I tried to remain impassive. I didn’t recognize the uncle’s name but there had been a lot of people in that town. I wasn’t sure I wanted to remember, anyway. Only a few months had passed and I still found myself occasionally waking in a cold sweat.

  “Mighty trusting, taking the word of an estranged uncle,” I said.

  “These are bizarre times,” he said with a spreading of his hand.

  “You’re the son of Renna,” I said. “Renna Monochromes, correct?”

  He nodded. Renna Monochromes was the chief producer of the black and white tubescreens that brought us cop serials, variety shows, local news, and the occasional reformatted film. It was an enormous company, operating an immense factory south of the city. Before monochromes the company had been the biggest supplier of radios. Probably half of the radios in the city were Renna products. These days it’s difficult enough to justify lira on a cup of coffee, let alone for entertainment.

  “Indeed. My father inherited the business from his father, also a Renna. He retired about ten years ago.”

  Old money.

  I tried not to mentally calculate his net worth. It had to be in the millions. “I see. So, as I said, Hannah filled me in on your problem—”

  I was interrupted by Essie, who appeared suddenly at our table.

  “Welcome to Cedric’s. Can I get you anything?” she asked Kiver, glancing at me with raised eyebrows and then flashing a bright smile at the maero.

  “Tea, if you have it.”

  “We only have black.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Anything else? Something to eat? Hannah, you need a refill? Road boy?” She looked around the table.

  I had hardly touched my vermouth. We all shook our heads and she disappeared. I kept my focus on Kiver, despite wanting to see if she’d give me another one of those smiles.

  “I told him what your uncle told me,” Hannah said.

  “Estranged uncle,” Kiver corrected.

  “Right, well, Wal knows about the death of the servant. And you weren’t able to get any help from Lovat PD?”

  He nodded and leaned forward, his voice dropping an octave. “Yes, yes. That’s right. Last week one of my housekeepers found the body of Hokioi Taaka—a kresh servant of mine—in one of our closets. It was terrible, heartbreaking. He had worked for my family for years, always a solid and reliable employee.” He swallowed and cleared his throat. “The way he died...” His voice trailed off and he stared at the table for a few moments. I waited. Eventually he shook himself from his memories. “I contacted the police immediately, they sent a coroner, collected the body, snapped a few photos, and that’s it. I haven’t heard from them since. Here...” He pulled out a few pieces of folded paper from his jacket pocket and pushed them across the table to me. “After they took the body I tried copying down the symbols on the walls. It was tough. The closet smelled awful and I just kept imagining Hokioi laying there.

  “I moved my family out immediately. Locked the place up and left. Went to the Shangdi. We couldn’t bear staying there. That whole tower feels oppressive to me, dangerous. I don’t think we could move back to the Commoriom, even if we wanted to.” He looked away and grew silent.

  “Commoriom? Is that your old building?”

  He nodded. I slid the paper in front of me but didn’t unfold it, not yet. I was worried what was waiting for me inside. “Did you contact LPD again?”

  “Yes. Many times. I spoke with a desk sergeant. She said with the action at Grovedare they were short staffed. All the detectives were working double overtime. Said I would have to wait. I called the papers after that. They said they’d list it in the Murders section, but they couldn’t spare a reporter.”

  I nodded. Lovat is a city-state, and one of the most powerful political and economic forces in the Territories. It holds a large swath of land along the coast, stretching from the Victory wall in the north to the Rediviva in the south. It’s protected by ocean on one side and a massive mountain range on the other. It’s a natural fortress. As a result it’s never had a use for a standing army. The constabulary has been protection enough. But in times of unrest, it left Lovat not only unprotected but growing more and more lawless.

  “How long ago did Mr. Taaka die?” I asked.

  “About a week,” Kiver said, then paused, thinking. “Eight days.”

  “Did you clean up the scene?”

  He shook his head. “No. Not at all! I’ve watched the monochromes. I’ve read crime novels. I know how it goes. Never disturb the scene. I copied the markings and then had the doors padlocked. No one in or out. I placed one of my security detail outside the flat.”

  “Good,” I said, trying to ignore the sense of dread growing in my chest.

  I looked at the paper on the table in front of me. The softened corners looked harmless enough but they seemed to hold an edge of menace and I still didn’t want to open it. I thought of the gargoyles I’d seen wandering the city. Dark shadowy figures, messengers for the Firsts. If they were here... Well, I’d eventually be involved.

  I swallowed, and then realized both Hannah and Kiver were staring at me. Come on, Wal. I unfolded the paper.

  For a moment I felt a separation. A rift. Like one part of me was being tugged somewhere else. I was sitting in Cedric’s, yet there also seemed to be an endless wasteland that stretched across the horizon. Around me were the ruins of a city. Strange leering yellow faces peered out from behind crumbled walls, watching me. A broken sun burned above me in the colorless sky. It was shattered like a broken looking glass, jagged black lines split its glowing face. It cast my shadow out in strange, unnatural angles. In the distance the ragged remains of a once great city smoldered, its towers shattered, the levels flattened, and in the distance, beyond the ruins, something terrible moved. A huge presence on the horizon. I felt both the hot, stinging sensation of dust blowing across my skin, and the hard booth pressing into my backside. As soon as I had that realization, it all disappeared. I was back in the booth. Back under the yellow lights.

  My breath rolled out and I realized I had been holding it. I blinked.

  I felt Hannah’s hand on my own. Looking at her I caught a flash of concern in her eyes. I gave her a small smile and an even smaller nod.

  “You all right, Mister Bell?” asked Kiver. I could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

  I nodded, trying to slow my breathing. That hellish nightmare.

  “I’m fine... I’ll be fine,” I stammered, my heart pounding in my chest. I took a drink of vermouth and
noticed my hands were trembling as I lifted the glass. I glanced at Hannah, and saw fear etched on her features. I smiled at her, and turned to the paper before me.

  Jagged letterforms ran along the paper in wavery lines. They stared up at me as if alive. Hannah had been right; it was Aklo, the language of the Firsts. I had seen it enough over the last year and a half to recognize it. I couldn’t read it, but I knew a few people who could. If history was any guide, whoever killed that poor kresh was doing it for some deeper reason. Aklo wasn’t a language to be trifled with. Each letter, each word, held power. The connections seemed clear. Gargoyles roaming the streets, Aklo-stained murders. Something was up in the city and it always led to the same thing: death.

  I couldn’t do this. Let someone else stand up and oppose these creatures. It seemed like yesterday that I had faced Curwen, but all these signs pointed to another First. Another threat. The thought made me sick. I was just now getting my feet under me. I wanted to scream.

  The vision though, the city...

  “You seen anyone strange around your place?” Hannah asked, breaking the silence. She shifted, and placed her wooden hand on the table. Seeing it again, I couldn’t help but think how lucky she was.

  “No, no one strange. But my house is quite busy. We have people coming and going all the time, staff, business associates. I reviewed the doorman’s logbook. No one stood out, it was just friends of the family, business associates, employees...”

  “You sure you can trust your employees?” Hannah said.

  “I have everyone vetted. My children play in my house. I don’t want anyone I can’t trust around my children. Obviously, now there are doubts. This is why I need an outsider. I want to trust my security but what if they’ve been compromised?” He looked directly at me. “You come recommended.”

  I tilted my head. “Wait, you had me vetted?”

  He smiled. “I do thorough research on all my employees. Especially contractors.”

  The thought of someone rooting around in my past didn’t sit right with me. I looked down at my hands as anger, worry, a strange unsettling nervousness all moved through me. It made sense he’d look into me. He wasn’t sure who to trust. Would I have acted any differently?

  “So can you help me? I’ll pay. I have money.” I looked up and met his eyes.

  “Hmm...” I said. The words “how much” were on the tip of my tongue but I bit them back.

  “Please, Mister Bell.” The word seemed awkward in his mouth. I wondered if he’d ever used it before. “I don’t like the idea of someone accessing my home and killing someone not far from where my children sleep. I haven’t rested well for eight days. I toss and turn. If we can’t figure out who did this... I’m not sure what I’ll do.”

  He breathed out and stared at his hands.

  I looked across the table at him. When he had entered, he had seemed so confident and in control. Now I saw the lines of worry around his lips, the creases near the corners of his eyes. I saw the haggard exhaustion in his face. But I needed time. This was too soon.

  “This writing,” I explained, clearing my throat to hide my nerves. “It’s Aklo, a long dead language. I’ve run into it before. It’s usually favored by fringe faiths or found in antique books from the pre-Aligning. It’s usually associated with nasty business.”

  I left out the Firsts and the hooded gargoyles. Aklo was complicated enough to explain.

  “That’s why I need help!” Kiver said, frustrated.

  “I’m not an investigator and I’m no bloodhound. Best I can do is confirm that someone with access to your home is messing with something dark. Beyond that I can’t help you.” My words were choppy and forced. As I spoke them a feeling of guilt came upon on me. I took a deep breath but it clung to me like an angry carbuncle and refused to let go. There was something very wrong about that kresh’s death, and it was probably putting Kiver and his family in danger. An old thought echoed from somewhere in my mind: You’re the Guardian. This is why you’re here. Over, and over, and over and... No. I didn’t want this. I couldn’t do this. I wouldn’t allow myself to be dragged back into this a third time.

  I was tired. I needed peace. I looked at Kiver, my eyes meeting his. “I can point you in the direction of a good—”

  He didn’t let me finish. He leaned forward and slapped both of his hands down with a loud bang. Hannah started and I looked around, slightly embarrassed.

  “You have to help me! I’ll pay!”

  My nostrils flared. Lira would be nice right now, but no. I couldn’t get involved. Stay strong, Wal. “Look, I appreciate the offer, but I can’t. Wait for Lovat PD. Keep your security on alert.”

  “What would it take? I have the means. Set your price!”

  I wavered. That was tempting. My finances as of late were bleak. The recent failures and deaths associated with Bell Caravans had placed us severely in the red. Anything I could raise would go much further towards keeping Shaler Ranch off our backs and keeping me fed—well, as long as Lovat’s food supply held out. But... Aklo, the potential of a First. The fear rose once again, like a bubble from the deep sea. I swallowed hard. Money wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t.

  My emotions must have flashed across my face because Kiver leaned toward me, pressing his offer. He looked at Hannah and then back to me. “I’ll pay you both, hundreds a day if I have to.”

  Hundreds a day.

  I shuddered and hoped he didn’t see it. I could use it. But... I looked down at the Aklo with its twisted swirls, strange diamond shapes, its jutting forms. It danced on the paper, swirling into a writhing mass. My eyes blurred. Tentacles. Flames. My hands went to the glass of vermouth. My heart hammered. My neck felt prickly with sweat. The memory of the vision returned. The wasteland. The ruined city. The... thing that moved... beyond. That vast endless creature. Impossible in size.

  I took a swig of vermouth. I was already operating on a knife’s edge. The swirling chaos I had faced in the mining tower above Methow still terrified me. I still saw that eye. Could still hear that laughter shattering the sky.

  Once had been lucky, twice had been impossible, three times... ? Could I tempt death a third time? Eventually luck runs out.

  “No,” I said, not looking at Hannah. I could feel her eyes on me. “I can’t help you.”

  Kiver leaned back, exhaling a long slow breath. He looked deflated. He arched his back and studied me from across his tea for a long moment, chin buried in his chest. I frowned, sipping the last of my vermouth. Watching as the red liquid pooled thinly around the remaining cubes as I sat the glass down.

  “Let me make one last offer,” said Kiver. “Just come up once. I’ll pay you for your time. You can look in the closet, see the scene, and then decide.”

  I tightened my mouth, considering my words.

  “Please. Consider it. My wife is throwing a small party tomorrow evening. A distraction from this...” he paused. Frowned. “...occurrence. There will be food. Drink. You’re welcome to attend. Both of you. Here.” He reached into a pocket and withdrew two small cards. He slid one to Hannah and one to me. “Here’s my card. It’ll get you past security. Just consider one visit.”

  I looked at the pale blue card with Strutten letters pressed neatly into its surface and finally plucked it from his hand. I wasn’t going to call on him. Let the professionals handle it.

  Kiver said goodbye, rose and, leaving the diner, let in another gust of cold wind and a flutter of small Zann scrolls.

  We watched him go, his two bodyguards following closely behind. He had left the Aklo reproductions on the table. The edges of the paper were bent, the creases cutting a few forms in half. I didn’t want to touch it again. It was more than the nightmarish vision. I felt that if I touched them again I’d become wrapped up in this whole mystery.

  When I looked up, I found myself under Hannah’s green glare.

  “You idiot,” she said. She threw a balled up napkin at my face and it bounced off my nose.

  “Agh!” I
said.

  “He offered to pay you hundreds a day for a little help. Hundreds. That’s more than we’d make on the Big Ninety in a week!”

  “Yeah, I was sitting here the whole time, Hannah. I heard him.”

  “You turned him down.”

  I nodded. “Yup.”

  “Why? Work for him for a few days and Bell Caravans would be back in the black! You could hire a full crew, get new gear. We could get off the Big Ninety even, move onto the King’s Highway down to Ohlone. Maybe even bid against Merck.”

  It had tempted me as well. She had to know that. But promises weren’t cash in hand, and where Aklo went trouble followed.

  “It sounds fantastic,” I said. “But it wouldn’t be. There’s a fair chance this will end up the way Methow did, or at the feet of another madman like Black. I can’t do it Hannah, not right now. I need time.” I stared at her, trying to will her to understand.

  “Maybe the Guardian doesn’t get time,” she snapped.

  I let out a long slow breath.

  Hannah frowned, then gave me a pitying look. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have... maybe you can—”

  I raised my hand, cutting her off. “I made up my mind.”

  She nodded. “Fine, but consider this my formal complaint.”

  “Duly noted,” I said, catching her glaring from the corner of my eye.

  The thought of that vision surfaced again, the flat expanse, the emptiness, and Lovat smoking on the horizon. I felt my heart flutter.

  I flipped Kiver’s card around in my fingers. “Renna Monochromes” was written on the back in plain modern letters. The symbol from his lapel sat above it: the sun with seven bolts.

  On the back was Kiver’s name, a telephone number. The old address had been crossed out and replaced by a handwritten new one: Level Eight, Shangdi Tower, Floor Sixty-Two. There wasn’t a flat number, which meant it was all of floor sixty-two. Ritzy.

  Lovat is all levels. Nine to be specific. They’re all built roughly level, but years of construction has made this a city of holes. No roof or floor is truly complete. There are spaces in central Lovat where you can see down through the city and other locations where it cramps in like large corridors. Many of the biggest buildings start low, their structure passing upwards through the floors until they pass even Level Nine, serving as both building and superstructure as they reach for the sky. Others rest on the backs of structures below. A haphazard jungle of steel, brick, cement, and iron.