False Dawn: Ageless Mysteries - Book 2

by Vanessa Nelson

  By the time they were ready to question the gang leader, everyone was speaking with calmer voices, although no one was particularly relaxed.

  The room was far more crowded this time. As well as Jirkar, Thea and Niath, the mage solemn and still, Ware, Sutter and Reardon had also filed into the room. The Ageless had simply come with them, without asking permission, and had positioned himself against the wall opposite the gang leader, arms folded over his chest, scowling. Even though he was wearing his human aspect, the air was chilled with Ageless power.

  Jirkar spared a glance for the Ageless, but turned his attention back to Thea.

  He had been freed of the ropes, and was sitting on a bench pressed against the wall.

  The only other furniture was two more benches. One against the wall, not far from Jirkar, and the other set a few paces from Jirkar, in the middle of the floor. Thea took a seat at one end of the central bench, not sure whether she could stand for too long without swaying. She wanted all her available focus for the man in front of her, not fighting to stay upright.

  Niath settled at the other end of the bench. Sutter and Ware stood behind them, close to the wall and Reardon.

  The skin across Thea’s shoulder blades prickled at having people behind her. Particularly Reardon. But there was nothing to be done about it.

  Instead, she focused on the man in front of her. The man with knowledge that she wanted. Everything she wanted to know crowded into her mind. This man and his gang had put the citizens in danger. Not just from what they had been doing, but from the Ageless as well. She wanted answers about everything. The giant in the marketplace. The poisoned bliss. The forged coins. Delilah’s death. The soap. The goddess. The Hand.

  “I have questions,” she told Jirkar.

  “Ask,” he said, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the wall.

  The easy compliance surprised her. Then she remembered the command that Alayla had given him, and her brows lifted.

  “Tell me about the bliss,” she said. She could almost feel Reardon’s impatience behind her. But the death of so many citizens was a concern to her, and the Watch, even if the Ageless wouldn’t care.

  “We had a bit extra. Of the grass,” Jirkar said. “It was going to waste. And it cost a lot. So we decided to use it. A bit of a side profit,” Jason said, teeth appearing in what might have been a smile or a grimace. “Worked nicely, too.”

  “The grass? The same grass that went into the coins?” Thea asked, remembering the grass they had found at the furnace.

  “That’s it. Some fancy stuff that the metal worker insisted we get. Had to be that kind and that kind only,” Jirkar said, lip curling in a sneer.

  Thea closed her eyes for a moment. Jirkar’s greed had cost several people their lives. They had used what was meant to be melted into the coins to include in their own recipe for bliss.

  “Did you know it was poisonous?” she asked, staring at Jirkar, her face tight.

  “No. Of course not. Who wants dead customers?” Jirkar shrugged one shoulder. Thea believed him. They had not known it would kill people. But he didn’t seem to care that much, either.

  “Is there any more of the poisoned bliss?”

  “I don’t know. We sold quite a bit.”

  She had been right. He did not care. And he was being evasive.

  Thea pressed her lips together to stop herself from swearing. His goddess might have ordered his cooperation, but it was clear that Jirkar had his own idea of what that meant. “Is there any unsold bliss?” she asked instead.

  “No.” He shifted slightly on the bench, glancing aside. Avoiding her gaze. “Mistress made us stop when that man died.”

  “Edmund Anderson?” Thea asked.

  “Is that his name? The woodworker.” He had not known or cared about the man, Thea saw. And if his mistress had not stopped them, she suspected that they would still be making the poisoned bliss. Killing more citizens. She wondered why Alayla had stopped the men and opened her mouth to ask, only to be interrupted.

  “This is getting us nowhere,” Reardon said, biting out the words. “What about the coins?”

  Jirkar’s mouth curved up in an unpleasant smile and he looked past Thea to where the Ageless was standing against the wall. It was the same smile Thea had seen from him before. The one that had tempted her to violence.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know? You and that crazed bat you worship.”

  Thea felt her eyes widen, almost unable to believe her ears.

  “What did you say?” Reardon asked, his voice quiet and silky soft. Not the quiet of calm. The false quiet before violence.

  “May I continue my questions?” Thea asked, voice cool, turning her head to glance at the Ageless.

  His face had shifted to his Ageless aspect, sharp angles standing out even in the shadows of the room. He glared at her, power bright in his eyes.

  “Go on, Thea,” Ware said.

  “Thank you, sir,” Thea said, and turned back to Jirkar. The man was still staring at Reardon with that mocking smile on his face. Deliberate provocation against one of the Ageless, who were not known for their patience. Thea’s eyes narrowed. He was trying to avoid answering more questions. Trying to prompt the Ageless to violence. Trying to get out of answering her questions. But she needed his information to protect the city. To stop more death. “Tell me about the coins. Whose idea was it to forge the Archon’s currency?”

  Jirkar’s smile faded as he looked back at her, face hardening to what looked like hatred. He did not want to answer her. Did not want to tell her anything.

  But his mistress had given him a command. And, without knowing everything about Alayla, Thea was fairly confident that her subjects would obey her. Whether she was there to enforce it or not.

  So Thea stayed quiet, letting the question hang in the air. She sensed a shift behind her. Probably Reardon, getting impatient again, and heard another movement. Probably Ware, signalling to the Ageless to wait.

  Questioning a suspect was a hard-won skill. Thea knew she had a lot more to learn. But she did know about the value of silence. Letting a question linger. Letting it prey on the mind of her suspect. Letting him consider the implications.

  And, in Jirkar’s case, letting him consider the weight of his mistress’ command.

  “I can’t tell you that,” he said at length. “I don’t know the name. The metal worker was already setting up the furnace when we got involved.”

  “Why the coins?” Thea asked. It was a question that had been burning in her since she had first learned that the Ageless had found fifty false coins. Too many for the Ageless to ignore.

  One side of Jirkar’s mouth lifted. It might have been an attempt at a smile. It looked more like a smirk. He looked very pleased with himself.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he asked.

  “Yes, I would. So, tell me. Why forge the coins?” Thea asked, forcing herself to patience.

  “We like money,” he answered. But he was not meeting her eyes. That might have been one reason. It wasn’t the only one.

  “And?” Thea prompted.

  He stared back at her, the smirk slowly fading from his face until he was more serious than she had ever seen him. “To make a point. We have no freedom. The Archon’s coins. The Archon’s laws. The Archon’s soldiers. The Archon’s taxes. The black ships. The wars.” His voice was low, shaking with anger that seemed real and heart-felt.

  Thea was sorely tempted to glance over her shoulder and see how Reardon was reacting. She had heard mutterings of discontent from the population. The Ageless might not appear on the streets every day, or even every week, but their presence and their influence were impossible to ignore.

  Not for the first time she wondered if any of the Ageless knew, or cared, how the mostly human population felt about them. And not for the first time, she came to the conclusion that the Ageless would not care. They deemed humans a lesser species, and no threat to them.

  And the human
s knew it, too. Most of them just carried on with their lives. But some, like Jirkar, decided to do something about it.

  “So who recruited you?” she asked, curious.

  “Milo. We’d worked together before. It was his cousin who was doing the work.”

  “Milo.” Thea turned to Sutter. Before she could ask him, he had produced his notebook, with the sketches, and opened it to the appropriate pages. Sutter took a step forward, showing the pages to Jirkar.

  “Yes. That’s Milo,” Jirkar confirmed.

  Sutter showed Thea and Niath the image before returning to his position. One of the two mostly silent members of the gang. And someone Thea would have overlooked more than once.

  “His cousin?”

  “The metal worker. Never knew his name,” Jirkar said, jaw tightening.

  It made sense. What they were involved in was dangerous. Beyond dangerous, if the Ageless found out. It made sense for them to avoid names if at all possible.

  “So. Milo’s cousin was setting up the furnace to make the coins,” Thea said. “Why did they need you?”

  She heard a small shift in weight behind her. Possibly Reardon again. Possibly something he had not thought of.

  But it made no sense. There was a forger in place already. Someone with the skill and knowledge to make fake currency. And Jirkar didn’t know the name of the person who had set the whole thing in motion. Or even the name of the metal worker actually making the coins.

  He was not the mastermind he thought he was. Thea wondered if he fully understood that. Alayla had been clever. Jirkar’s goddess had known how loyal he was. And how little he actually knew. He was a sacrifice.

  “Needed more bodies. To keep an eye on things. At the markets,” Jirkar said, his jaw tight.

  It might have sounded convincing in his head. It did not ring true once spoken aloud, and Thea saw him realise that. He turned his head slightly, not looking at anyone in the room.

  “The markets,” Thea said slowly. “Did you hand out the coins? Perhaps to Piet Riga?”

  The jewellery-seller had handed a forged coin over to Laurelle. The only fake coin in his stall. And he had hidden a whole purse full of coins in his room. He had to have been involved. Somehow. But Thea could not work out how.

  “Piet?” Jirkar’s mouth turned up in a sour smile and for a moment Thea wondered if he was going to deny knowing the jeweller. “He was useful. Did what he was told. Shame the old hag killed him.”

  Thea pressed her lips into a firm line to hold in her first retort. The man was being deliberately provocative. Again. She could sense Reardon’s tension behind her. By some miracle, the Ageless stayed where he was.

  “So how did he fit in. Piet. What was his role?”

  “Kept an eye on the market for us, didn’t he? Got paid for it, too,” Jirkar said. There was anger and what sounded like disgust in his voice. He hadn’t liked Piet. Even though they had been working together. Thea frowned, trying to puzzle that through. She could see the advantage of having Piet Riga on the payroll. He was quite well known, and moved among markets. A good spy for Jirkar and his gang.

  Jirkar’s eyes had slid away from hers, flicking over the people behind her. Not nervous. Not really. Assessing the room.

  “And the markets,” Thea said, drawing his attention back to her and her questions. “Did your mistress tell you to collect money from the stall holders as well?”

  His mouth curved in another of those self-satisfied smiles. “No. That was my idea. Get a few more coins in. Who doesn’t need more coin?”

  “And gave you another chance to put a few of the false coins out here and there,” Thea said. It was a guess, confirmed by the tightening of his face. “We found one furnace and one metal worker. Are there more?”

  “No,” Jirkar said, lips pressed in a straight line. “There was only one man skilled enough for the work.”

  “And where is he now?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered. She believed him.

  “What about another furnace?” she asked, eyes narrowing. It would make sense for a well-resourced group to have more than one production site.

  “No. That was the best site. Quiet and out of the way.”

  “So, are there any more coins?” Thea asked.

  “No. No more metal. The metal worker said he needed a special type. There wasn’t much of it. He used it all.” Jirkar wouldn’t meet her eyes, jaw clenched. Admitting a failing.

  No more coins was a relief, at least. Although the metal worker had managed to create a lot. Thea remembered the bag from Piet Riga’s lodgings, and the coins she had seen at the forge. The ones that had still been on the pony when it was led away. There would still be fake coins out in the city. But no more would be produced, at least.

  “What about your mistress?” Reardon asked. His voice was the same silky-smooth tone as before. He might have kept himself beside the wall, but he was still on the edge of violence.

  “The goddess Alayla,” Jirkar said, his face relaxing into a smile. The sort of smile Thea had seen on the faces of many young men.

  He was besotted with her. Whoever and whatever she was, Alayla had this man completely under her spell.

  “Goddess?” Reardon made a derisive sound. “There’s no such thing.”

  “Alayla was goddess of these lands before the Ageless set foot here. And she will rule again. The winged harpy you serve is mad. Not fit to rule. She grows weak. Alayla will kill her and bathe in her blood. And she will-”

  Jirkar never finished his sentence. His head parted company with his body, expression of surprise imprinted on Thea’s mind as his head rolled across the floor.

  Away from Reardon, who had moved more quickly than Thea would have believed possible, ending Jirkar’s life with a single sword strike.

  Thea was on her feet, stumbling over the end of the bench as she backed away towards the wall, Niath moving with her. Ware made an inarticulate sound of outrage.

  Reardon turned to them, his wings flicking into being around him, filling the space, all humanity stripped away, sword still lifted.

  “You had no right to do that,” Ware said, suppressed fury in his voice.

  “No one insults the Archon and lives,” Reardon answered, voice full of power. He flicked his blade, once, the blood vanishing from it, and sheathed it.

  “We did not get all the answers we needed,” Thea said. Her back was pressed to the wall. Her voice was too high and too fast.

  “I heard enough. The production of coins has been stopped. That is all I need,” Reardon said. He stalked out of the room, the door cracking under the force of his departure.

  ~

  Thea stared at the dead body and the pool of blood and wanted to be sick.

  “The other men,” Ware said abruptly, and stalked out of the room, Sutter in his wake.

  “He did that deliberately,” Niath observed.

  The mage was standing a few paces from Thea, hands tucked behind him, keeping himself still. Trying to appear calm. He was paler than he had been, jaw set. It was hard to tell how he felt about the violence he had just witnessed.

  “Jirkar, I mean,” Niath added, when Thea just stared at him. “He kept insulting the Archon. Pushing Reardon.” Niath was no native of the city, but it seemed he had learned the lesson that all citizens learned. No one insulted the Archon in the hearing of any one of the Ageless and lived.

  “Yes.” The voice didn’t sound like hers, but there was no one else in the room, so it could not have been anyone else.

  There was noise elsewhere in the building. Banging doors. Raised voices. She turned her head, wanting to follow it. To find out what was going on. And almost fell, her feet not obeying her.

  She managed a couple of paces forward, on legs that didn’t want to hold her up, and sank onto the bench, her back to the body. The room was fading in and out of focus.

  “Are you alright, Officer March?” Niath asked.

  He was crouching in front of her, expression of
concern on his face.

  She did not remember him moving.

  That was bad. She did not think he meant her any harm. But if he could get so close to her without her noticing, then so could someone else.

  “Ware asked me to look in.” That sounded like Iason. When had he arrived?

  Thea tried to lift her head to see, and the world spun in nauseating spirals.

  “Is she alright?” Iason again.

  “No. I don’t think so.” Niath.

  A rustle of cloth. Quiet footsteps moving away.

  The familiar scent of citrus. The same scent as the mortuary.

  Cool fingers on her unbandaged wrist and a hand at her forehead.

  She blinked, trying to make sense of the light and shade in front of her.

  “She’ll be fine. The painkiller I gave her is very strong. Did she stand up too quickly?” Iason asked.

  It was definitely Iason. The shapes resolved into his familiar form. He was standing in front of her, speaking to someone else beside her.

  “Yes,” Niath said, voice dry. “The Ageless killed Jirkar. We all moved out of his way.”

  “Very wise,” Iason said, matching Niath’s tone. He looked down at Thea. “Sit there for a little longer, until you feel better. We’ll be in Ware’s office when you’re ready.”

  Of course, Thea wanted to go immediately. She shifted her feet, preparing to stand, and Iason’s hand landed on her shoulder. He had far more strength in him than she would have suspected from his slender form.

  “No. Stay there,” he said, and shook his head. She thought she heard him mutter something about impatient youth, but wasn’t quite sure. “Wait with her, will you? If she tries to move too soon, she’s likely to faint.”

  “I will,” Niath agreed.

  The room was silent again. Niath had moved to stand near the wall, hands behind him, a slight frown on his face as he looked down at the severed head.

  Thea sank forward, resting her undamaged elbow on her knee, forehead in her palm. The nausea and dizziness were fading, making her aware of a hollow feeling in her middle.