The Raike Box Set

by Jackson Lear

  “It’s a thing everywhere,” glared Zara.

  “Good. But that’s if he’s smart. Even though looks can be deceiving he doesn’t strike me as the most careful of thinkers so I’m betting he won’t go to the city watch. He won’t even go to the military police. He’ll go straight to Gustali and warn him that they have a problem on their hands. The longer he paces around that apartment, the more involved in the Artavian trouble he is.”

  “That doesn’t prove anything.”

  “True. He could just be an angry individual. But if he spends a long time talking to Gustali then he’s definitely complicit in something. If it’s a simple message delivery then he’s relatively clean of guilt.”

  Zara glared at me, gritting her teeth and crinkling her whole face together. “Is this what a closer does?”

  “Like I said, one of my many talents is that I can really piss people off.”

  “To what advantage?”

  “Well, most of my life before this was ‘pay us what you owe or I’ll burn your house down.’”

  “You’re not up against merchants anymore.”

  “I know, and I have endured my fair share of company wars and skirmishes so it’s not all terrified individuals being threatened, sometimes it was trying to intimidate assholes just like me. One thing I’ve noticed is that you’d be surprised how often supremely angry people fuck things up for themselves.”

  Right then every house god in the city rewarded me for my patience. Not even Zara could believe it. “Bloody hell.”

  Sergeant Muro stormed out of his building, onto the street, and thumped his way towards us. He had taken the time to dress himself in his military uniform, complete with a sword by his side and a dagger at his waist.

  “He’s coming this way,” said Zara.

  We headed deeper into the alley, then into a doorway, shielding ourselves completely from the road. Muro stormed by.

  “He’ll see us if we follow him,” said Zara.

  No problem. There was a kid in the street. Ten years old. I offered him a penny to follow Muro. He wanted five. I offered two. We settled on three. Three pennies to stay close to Muro at all times. If the kid lost sight of him he’d get a slap across the back of his head. If the guy the kid was following realized that he was being followed then the kid would get a slap across the face. Or worse.

  “No wonder you’re broke,” said Zara.

  “You can reimburse me later,” I said, as we followed the kid. It was just as well we stayed back since Muro glanced over his shoulder every hundred yards to see if we were after him. W were, but we were also just around the corner and beyond his sight.

  On we went, hurrying to catch up then slowing to remain in the shadows. Muro led us through one street after another, snaking our way towards the river. I did my best at keeping a look out for any signal coming from our target, an alert to anyone he knew that people were following him. The problem was there were plenty of faces in the windows. Most were bored old men and women, but they were among the ideal watchmen. That’s what they did most days anyway: watch people strolling by. They might as well be put to good use and alert someone that two no-good ruffian types were following a ten year old boy.

  A burst of rage cried out from ahead. I threw myself against the side of the building. A kid shrieked in surprise. Zara darted forward. I did the same, only to grab onto Zara’s arm and pull her back.

  “He’s attacked the kid!”

  “He’ll be fine,” I said as I held Zara at bay.

  Sure enough, the kid sprinted past us, crying and covering his face with one hand. No blood.

  I eased back. “See? He’s fine.”

  Zara glared at me. “That is not fine.”

  I peered back onto the narrow street. Muro was ahead, glancing this way and that, flexing his fingers and massaging his fist. An old man came out from a nearby building and started shouting at Muro. It was your typical, “I saw what you did! Yes, you! You punched that boy in the face. Have you no dignity? You’re a disgrace to that uniform.”

  “I hope you’re happy,” muttered Zara.

  Muro walked on, not saying a word to the old man or to the folks in the windows who were starting to close in on the ruckus on the street, like they were all chirping birds going after a surprise feast that had landed by their feet.

  We followed Muro. I didn’t get involved with the crowd of old-timers, lest someone was able to identify me later on and figure out that Muro was justified in punching a kid in the face.

  We found our mark up ahead, stuck looking over several directions at an intersection. Whatever rage coursed through him was starting to fade and common sense was beginning to take over. I hoped it wouldn’t, but I guess the house gods didn’t like what happened to that kid and were punishing me as a result.

  He spun towards us. Squinted back down the way he had come, trying to pick out the shapes against the shadowy walls. Decision made. He took a sharp left, then another, and was heading roughly back home, bypassing the old man and the feasting crowd of gossips.

  “He’s had a change of plan,” said Zara.

  “How close are we to the governor’s mansion from here?”

  “I don’t know. Two or three streets away?”

  We were still pinned in by close-knit apartment buildings but I felt like we were about to enter the wealthy quarter if we kept on going. But our prey was now on the move, heading in a different direction. My instincts were telling me that Muro had intended to go straight to Gustali, right up until he discovered the kid following him. Where before he kept searching over his shoulder, being careful, now he didn’t look around a single time. He simply walked forward, resolutely.

  “He’s trying to lead us into a trap,” said Zara.

  “I know.”

  “And this is your mess. What do you plan on doing about it?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “I think you should follow him.”

  Zara glared back at me. “While you …?”

  “Have a look around his apartment.”

  “For what? A jug of vomit? He’s no assassin.”

  “I know. He lacks a good deal of grace.”

  “And he spent the night at camp.”

  “So he says.”

  “So the guards say, so the members of his unit say, and so I say.”

  “I’m looking for a letter.”

  “You? The man who can’t read is looking for a letter?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fuck you. I’ll look for a letter while you follow Muro.”

  “But if I follow him I might be tempted to ask him a few more questions, only this time I won’t have your presence to ease my mood.”

  She glared at me again.

  “Or we could both have a look around his apartment.”

  Zara muttered something in her native language, in what I could only assume was praise for my character. She dug a crumpled and weathered sheet of paper from one pocket and handed it over.

  A letter. One that I couldn’t read.

  Zara snatched it out of my hand. “There. You’ve seen it. It exists. There’s no need to break into Muro’s apartment anymore.”

  “Ballsy. You broke in, robbed him, then waited outside his place instead of making a getaway. What does it say?”

  “It says you should leave this to the professionals and get out of Torne as fast as you can. And before you say you can’t, you can. One foot in front of the other. Miss Kasera is safer without you here.”

  “But her husband isn’t. And you’re not exactly defending them right now.”

  “Because I’m here babysitting you.”

  “Then how about you do your job and I’ll do mine.”

  “You don’t have a job. No one’s hired you. No one’s paid you. You know what that makes you? A beggar.”

  I shrugged and strolled away. “No problem. Muro’s just step one. I can handle step two on my own. Gustali lives this way, right?”

  I began counting, curious to see
how long it would take Zara to catch up to me. As soon as I got to twenty I took a detour through an alley, removed my silk hook, climbed up one building, crossed the roof, climbed down the other side, made my way towards another main road.

  I took a detour through a couple of alleys, asked a few lowlifes begging on the street for help to find a rough-and-tumble pit-fight kind of tavern, anywhere that was within two miles of the governor’s mansion. Found a few decent options. Asked inside while the day was still young for them. Tried a few bullshit stories to see what would work and what wouldn’t.

  I eventually found the Glass House, clad in wood and stinking of sweat and sawdust. Painted slogans and heroisms across each wall. Not a single window in the whole building. Perfect. The place seemed to be run by an ex-gladiator, his thick eyebrows and devil-like eyes decorating one wall for all to see.

  I scooped up a random tooth lying on the floor. Bloodied on one end. Its owner nowhere in sight.

  “What can I do for you, love?”

  The bar wench had a smoky-eyed yet somewhat curious expression that stretched across her features. Tattoos across her skin, everywhere except for her face. A ring on each finger, piercings that ran up both ears, a husky voice, and a slight limp.

  I held up a half-mark, toying with her. “I’m looking for someone. Short guy. Slim. Always alert, always armed, usually has a different lady on his arm when he comes by. And despite his size, he’s the one guy you don’t ever fuck with.”

  She eyed the coin. “You’re looking to cause some trouble in a place like this?”

  “Not at all. I need his help.

  She held her hand out.

  I kept a hold of the coin.

  She snapped her hand open and close a couple of times. “I’m not gonna give you a freebie on this one.”

  “Do you know him?”

  “Of him.”

  “I want to know a few things; who he was with the last time he was here, how to find them, and how I can find him.”

  “That’s going to cost you a half-mark per question.”

  I handed over the first of three coins.

  “Professionally, the last person with him goes by the name Liana.”

  I dug into my pouch and handed over another coin.

  “Three or four streets over you’ll find the Narrows. Ask around for Reesa. She’s likely to know how to find Liana.”

  I handed over the last coin.

  “He comes by once a month or so. Stays to watch the fights. Other than that I don’t think he has much of a routine.” She pocketed the coins and flicked her eyes back to me. “Just so I have something to tell him when he comes looking for someone matching your description, where can he find you?”

  “That’s going to cost you a half-mark.”

  She curled into a smile. “Then let me offer you some free advice: don’t cause trouble with him. He’s more protected than you are.”

  I headed into the Narrows looking for Reesa. The sun was on its way down. Before long the revelry would pick up again and both Reesa and Liana were likely to be too occupied that evening to be of any help.

  After taking a few too many wrong turns I found Reesa behind a door that bore an awful resemblance to Temana’s. She held a pipe in one hand and was in the middle of hacking a cough when I entered.

  “You okay?”

  She continued coughing, holding one hand up as a gesture of ‘I’m fine,’ despite starting to turn pink. She dropped her pipe onto the counter, threw her head down so I couldn’t see, coughed, breathed, rose slowly, wiped some of her running makeup away, and fixed herself back onto her stool as though nothing had ever been the matter.

  “Welcome.”

  “Thank you. I’m looking for Liana.”

  She leaned back to a curtained doorway and bellowed. “LIANA!” She looked my way again, sizing me up. “You’ll have to leave your weapons with me.”

  “Will do.”

  Liana appeared and quite a surprise she was. Taller than me and undeniably foreign with a heavy dose of color across her skin, itself flecked and sparkling with some kind of dust which teased the light. Her head was completely shaved and a white line ran vertically across each eye, coming all the way down to her cheek. All of a sudden she was full of smiles, holding one hand out to receive. “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure.”

  “Raike.”

  “Liana.”

  Reesa waved her hand between us. “This gentleman requested you specifically.”

  “Well, do come in.”

  “Weapons!”

  “Questions,” I said, standing my ground.

  Liana turned, puzzled.

  Reesa slumped on her stool. “Great. It’s one of you. We have no interest in giving out names or details about any of our clients. Now, are you interested in fucking Liana or not? Because that’ll cost you.”

  I kept my attention on Liana. “Short guy. Slim. Was recently your date at the Glass House. How can I find him?”

  She stared back at me, bewildered. “You know who he is, right?”

  “Tell me.”

  She glanced towards Reesa for a moment as though she needed her permission.

  Reesa shook her head in confusion. “Don’t look at me for any answers. I don’t know who he is. And if you’re not going to pay Liana for her time then you have no business here. Get out before I call the Academy onto you.”

  I kept my attention on Liana. “How can I find him?”

  “I don’t know. He came in off the street, looked me up and down and asked if I liked bare-knuckle fighting.”

  “Where did he take you?”

  “First to the Glass House, then to an inn.”

  “Which inn?”

  “I don’t know. We went in through the back. He had a key.”

  “Did he give you his name?”

  “Probably, but it wasn’t his real one. People knew him by a lot of different names at the Glass House.”

  “So how do you know who he is?”

  “Because one of his friends told me.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Enough!” shouted Reesa. “Get out. Get out get out get out!”

  Liana peered back at me, murmured: “It’s worth it.”

  I dug out a half-mark. Laid it on the counter with one finger holding it down. “What did this friend say?”

  “That he’s one of the most decorated heroes the empire has ever had.”

  “War hero?”

  She shook her head. “I asked. He said he was a spy master from Ispar and now works for the governor.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Whatever spy masters do. His whole chest was covered in tattoos. Most looked like they were there to cover up scars.”

  “Tattoos of what?”

  “Lycyx, dragons, stars, bears, scripture – or maybe scripture – I don’t know. It sounded like it when he read it out.”

  “Did you hear any mention of Anglaterra or anything happening in the north?”

  “Nothing like that, no.” She pushed my finger out of the way. Claimed the coin. Pocketed it.

  I looked to Reesa.

  “What?”

  “If he was a regular then you might’ve spoken with him.”

  “I did. What of it?”

  I dug out another half-mark.

  She snapped it out of my fingers with impressively fast reflexes. “He hadn’t been here for three months so I asked if he had been away on work. He said he had been on a pilgrimage, which certainly explained why he was thinner than usual, having just walked all the way from gods-know-where. He also looked very pale.”

  “Food sickness pale?”

  “No, like a winter’s tan. So I commented on it, since most people come back looking a little darker after traveling. He said something about the moon and the stars being in the right place for it to be some significant anniversary of Lycyx’s ascent.”

  “When was this?”

  “I’d say he got back two months ago.”

&
nbsp; “After being away for three months?”

  “Yeah. Wasn’t all that chatty with me either. So, now you’ve had your fun. Get out.”

  Chapter Twenty

  I returned to my room. The piece of hay dropped from the door frame, its friend right where I left it, but the bitten-off piece was pointing towards the door frame. Someone had been inside and was careful enough to reset everything exactly as they thought it had been left.

  I found the innkeeper downstairs, told him, “I’m supposed to be meeting a couple of friends from the army but I got waylaid this afternoon. Do you know if anyone stopped by?”

  He was either a brilliant liar – in which case he wouldn’t have been just an innkeeper – or he sincerely had no idea what I was talking about.

  “From the army,” I repeated. “Either serious looking guys, like they haven’t laughed in a long time, or a woman about yay big with long dark hair, also doesn’t look like she has laughed in a long time. They may have been out of uniform.”

  “Nah, no one’s come in asking for you,” he said.

  “No problem. I did find something in my room this morning. A small ring hiding in the mound of hay. It might’ve belonged to the last people who were in my room. Any idea who’s it could be?”

  The innkeeper blew out a long breath with his eyebrows raised, his vision losing focus as he searched his scattered memory. Just as he shook his head I tried again.

  “It looks like a man’s ring.”

  “Uh …”

  “With a sword carved into it, like he had some training or liked to carry one.”

  Nothing but an endless shake of his head. “Nah, the last people in that room … hmm … a couple of merchant folks, a couple of actors … you’re the first in some time who wanted it all to yourself.”

  “No matter,” I said, dismissing the issue as though it was far from important. “If one of my friends does come looking for me, can you let them know that it’ll be best to wait until I get back? I’m still trying to find my way around Torne and I’ve gotten turned around a few times already.”