“Bloody lot of good that will do,” muttered the flour-covered baker as he turned to leave.
“What’s that?” snapped Sergeant Mayten. “Who said that?”
The Hunter stepped in front of the Praamian Guard. “Sergeant, someone spoke of the Bluejackets and a Lady Chasteyn.”
“From the House of Mercy, just south of The Gardens.” Sergeant Mayten nodded. “And bugger me if I ain’t the one who has to deliver the news that another of her lads has been sent to the Long Keeper.”
The Hunter cocked an eyebrow. “Another?”
The sergeant gave the Hunter an expectant look and inclined his head.
Of course. With a disdainful sniff, the Hunter dropped two silver half-drakes into the man’s hand.
The sergeant nodded and made the coins disappear. “Second one in the last two weeks. Though the last one was bloody bizarre.”
“Bizarre?” The Hunter cocked his head.
“Head all plastered up like a mask, but all smooth, no features.” Sergeant Mayten scowled. “Worse was that odd symbol carved into his chest.”
Another body with the Serenii-looking rune? And a child?
The Hunter’s eyes narrowed. One child poisoned and another killed in some strange ritual. They both had the feel of a demon, but not the smell. The Abiarazi had a very distinctive odor: an ancient rot and decay. The Hunter’s sensitive nostrils didn’t catch even the slightest hint of that scent here. The killer had been human.
“Thank you, Sergeant,” he said with a nod.
“Of course, milord.” The man actually gave a little bow, then turned back to shouting at the crowd to disperse.
The Hunter cast one last glance down at the corpse. The boy was a year or two younger than Hailen, the child he’d met in the Beggar Temple in Malandria. Over the last four years, he’d come to think of Hailen as his own son. Anger burned hot and bright in his chest as he pictured Hailen lying discarded in the muck.
He’d come to Praamis in search of a demon and found a monster. He could hunt both.
Chapter Three
Even after eleven years as Master Gold, Ilanna still felt strange standing in front of the crowd of apprentices, Journeymen, and House Masters that filled the Menagerie. All eyes fixed on her, voices silent as the Night Guild—her people, every one of them—waited for her to speak.
“Brothers and sisters of the Night Guild, this is unacceptable.” Ilanna lacked the previous Master Gold’s flair for the dramatic; she preferred a more concise, to-the-point style. But her voice rang off the earthen walls and high ceiling of the Menagerie with grim resolve, and it seemed the torches and lanterns dimmed from the force of her anger. “Seven murders in Praamis in the last three weeks. Men, women, even children. What do you have to say for yourselves?”
Ilanna’s eyes fixed first on Errik, Master of House Serpent. “Master Serpent, speak.”
Errik, a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing the green armband of his House, rose from his plush armchair at the front of the crowd. “House Serpent has no record of these deaths being sanctioned, nor knowledge of their execution by any Journeyman or apprentice.”
Ilanna nodded as the man took his seat. She hadn’t needed his answer to know it wasn’t the Serpents—the Guild assassins would never be so careless to leave the bodies for the Praamian Guards to find unless they wanted to send a pointed message. And Errik, her friend since her earliest days in the Night Guild, would never sanction the killing of a child.
Her eyes went to Asald, a towering giant of a man with flaming hair to match the red of his House armband. “Master Bloodbear, have you anything to say?”
Asald drew himself up to his full height and loomed head and shoulders over Ilanna. “House Bloodbear has no knowledge of these deaths.”
At Ilanna’s nod, the huge man sat back in his armchair. Once she would have laid the blame on House Bloodbear without hesitation. During her youth, they had been a collection of thugs, brutes, and bullies. Over her years as Master Gold, a marked change had come to House Bloodbear. The thugs, brutes, and bullies used their strength and brutality to protect not only their fellow Night Guild Journeymen and apprentices, but the people of Praamis from rival gangs, river pirates, and any outside enemies that threatened the safety of the populace. They’d grown as fierce in their protection of Praamians as they’d once been in their extortion and blackmailing.
She stopped in front of Tyman, who wore the black armband of a Scorpion. “Master Scorpion?”
Tyman stood with effort. “House Scorpion is blameless, Guild Master.” His voice resonated with its usual strength, but the last eleven years had worn on his body. His shoulders had a pronounced stoop now, the result of long hours spent hunched over his patients, and his hair had gone silvery white.
“Thank you, Master Scorpion.” The poisoners would not slit throats when they could kill with alchemical mixtures and concoctions that would be invisible.
Ilanna repeated the question to broad-shouldered Eden, the Master of House Fox, and one-eyed Septin, Master of House Grubber, and received the expected denials. Foxes were street-level thieves, cunning in the art of deception and lifting purses, but not prone to violence. They fled rather than fought, hid rather than confront. Grubbers were little more than beggars, street-sweepers, sewage scavengers, and errand runners for the other Houses.
Ilanna came to stand in front of the man who wore the brown armband of House Hawk. “Master Hawk, what have you to say for your House?”
“Nothing.” Bryden barely managed to control his sneer. “You know as well as I that no Hawk would do such a thing.” He didn’t bother to stand; his twisted leg served as an excuse to avoid the effort, but he remained seated out of disrespect to her.
Ilanna’s jaw tightened. The years hadn’t tempered Bryden’s instinctive dislike of her. He’d been the second-in-command to Jagar Khat, the Master of House Hawk during her years as apprentice and Journeyman. After the mess with the Bloody Hand and the massacre of all the Guild Council, he’d ascended to command of House Hawk—for good reason, he was as capable an administrator as her own aide, Darreth. His presence made for irritating and infuriating Council meetings. He stopped just short of contempt in public and private, but his feelings for her were no secret.
Ilanna turned away from Bryden without a nod and stared at the next House Master. “Master Hound, what of your House?”
Shaw, a whip-thin man with tightly-corded muscles and a lean build that hid surprising strength, stood with an easy grace. “My Hounds are innocent of any wrongdoing in this matter.” He met her gaze without hesitation, his long, strong fingers adjusting his white armband.
Ilanna moved on without waiting for him to sit. She stopped before the Master of the eighth House of the Night Guild, a swarthy-skinned Ghandian woman with a golden armband around her broad bicep.
“Master Phoenix, have you anything to say?”
The woman rose with the grace and poise of a warrior and loomed over Ilanna, her strong, muscled shoulders and thick arms adding to the ferocity blazing in her eyes. “It was one of the girls under my House’s protection that fell to these murderers.” Her voice rang out loud in the Menagerie. “House Phoenix will have retribution in blood.”
Ilanna met Ria’s dark brown eyes and saw anger and sorrow written there. Ria looked like an angel of vengeance, her kaffe-colored skin agleam in the flickering torchlight. She felt the loss of the prostitute keenly and her fierce protective streak cried out for her to punish the guilty. That passion was one of the things that had made Ilanna fall in love with Ria in the first place.
Ilanna nodded to Ria and circled back to her original position at the front of the crowd. “The Night Guild will give answer to these crimes. Every House will lend the manpower and resources needed to find those guilty. I will personally deal with the matter myself, and I will not rest until the murderers are punished.” Her eyes roved across the hundreds of cowled and hooded faces and fixed each man, woman, and child with a stern gaze in t
urn. She crossed her arms over her chest and gave the ritual bow. “This cruelty will not go unanswered. We will have the Watcher’s justice!”
“The Watcher’s justice!” Four hundred and eighty-three voices rang out in the Menagerie.
Pride swelled within Ilanna as she stared at her people. Criminals, killers, and thieves: they were the Night Guild, and she was their Master.
* * *
Ilanna dropped into her heavy armchair with a sigh. Her long day of sorting out Guild issues had turned into a long night when she received the King’s summons, and she found herself longing for the warmth of her bed and Ria’s arms.
But bed would have to wait. This business of the murders was bad for the Night Guild. She doubted King Ohilmos would do anything unless the killing continued, but Duke Phonnis would use every one of those deaths as weapons in his argument against the Night Guild.
I’ve got to find whoever’s behind this and deal with it quickly.
She reached for the perspiring metal pitcher on her side table and poured herself a glass of chilled watered wine. As always, she hesitated before bringing the goblet to her lips. Her predecessor had died by poison—the handiwork of Allon, a Hound that had been her former lover and, she’d believed, an ally—so she was cautious of what she drank. Thankfully, her aide had been a Scorpion, and he knew every toxin used in the Night Guild, Praamis, and the south of Einan. Nothing would get past him.
She stifled a groan as the man himself, Journeyman Darreth, entered the room. He never seemed to bring good news.
“Master Gold.” He gave her a little bow, a habit he’d clung to despite her insistence to the contrary. She’d recruited Darreth into her crew during the Lady Auslan heist and kept him on when she became Guild Master. He numbered among the most competent administrators in the Night Guild—in all of Praamis, she’d wager—but had an uncanny habit of disturbing her when she had no desire to be disturbed.
“The House Masters await you outside.” He spoke in a grating, nasal voice that seemed a perfect match for his slim build and long-fingered hands, which, like his eyes, seemed never to stop moving. “Master Hawk, of course, has already complained thrice about being kept waiting for the whole minute and a half since his arrival.”
“Send them in.” Ilanna stood with a sigh and came around to the front of the desk.
“Of course, Guild Master.” Darreth bowed and strode to the door, his movements as precise and controlled as his handwriting.
This isn’t going to be fun.
A moment later, the door swung open and Bryden, Master of House Hawk, limped into the room with a furious expression. “You know full well that the Hawks are innocent of any of this!” he shouted, his face flushed and red. “There is no reason to accuse any of the Journeymen or apprentices—”
“Bryden!” Ilanna’s voice cracked like a whip. “Shut up for just one moment and listen.”
Bryden’s eyes flew wide and he opened his mouth to retort, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.
“Listen,” Errik said. A single word, yet spoken by the Master of House Serpent and the foremost assassin in the Night Guild, it carried weight. All in the Night Guild knew of Errik’s close friendship with Ilanna. Even the youngest apprentice knew that going up against Master Gold meant facing Master Serpent’s blades. Few dared risk that.
Ilanna set down her goblet and met Bryden’s gaze. “I know your Hawks are innocent, Master Hawk. I have spent time with each of them, and have heard extensive reports on them from my son.”
Bryden’s scowl deepened. His dislike for Ilanna hadn’t quite extended to mistreatment of Kodyn, but it had come close more than once. There had been times when only the calming voices of Ria, Errik, and Darreth had prevented Ilanna’s motherly instincts from overriding her good sense.
She turned her gaze to the other House Masters. “I believe you when you say that you have no knowledge of these crimes, but perhaps there are things going in your Houses that you are unaware of. That spectacle in the Menagerie was for the sake of your Journeymen and apprentices. If one of them is responsible, I want them terrified of what the Guild will do to them. Terrified men and women make mistakes, and we will be ready to catch them when they slip up. But no,” she said with a shake of her head, “I do not believe anyone in the Night Guild is guilty of these murders.”
Relief filled Master Grubber’s one good eye, and tension drained from Master Fox’s thick-muscled shoulders.
“Yet, as I said, the Night Guild will not let it stand.” Ilanna’s voice hardened. “I want everyone in every House on the lookout for anything that could lead us to those guilty. They must be caught, for the sake of the Night Guild and all of Praamis.”
“As you say.” The whip-thin Master Hound bowed.
“Go, speak to your people.” Ilanna thrust a finger toward the door. “Instill the Watcher’s fear in them, and once you are certain the killer is not among our ranks, set them to hunt the bastard down!”
Ilanna turned her back on the House Masters in dismissal, and she heard the door open and close a few seconds later. When she returned to her seat, she found Errik and Ria hadn’t moved from their places.
Errik spoke first. “I’ve already set my Serpents loose on the streets.” He gave her a confident nod. “We’ll find whoever’s doing this.”
Ilanna smiled. “Thank you, my friend.”
“Always, Ilanna.” He returned her smile—an expression she rarely saw cross his face these days—nodded to Ria, and left the room.
Silence hung thick in the chamber for a moment. Ria shattered it by driving her fist into the earthen wall.
“Damn the bastard!” Ria snarled. “Chantelle was a good girl, Ilanna. She didn’t deserve to die like that!”
Ilanna hadn’t known the prostitute by name, but Ria did—she knew every working girl, courtesan, and fancy-tickler in Praamis. It was her duty as Master of House Phoenix, one she took seriously.
“I know she didn’t.” She came around the desk and reached for Ria’s hands. The woman’s balled fists slowly relaxed in her grip, and Ria lifted dark, angry eyes to her. “But I swear to you that her death will not go unanswered.”
Ria bared her teeth. “Give me five minutes in a room with the bastard, and he’ll think death a mercy!”
“As soon as we find him.” Ilanna drew in a deep breath. “And no one in the Night Guild is going to rest until we do.”
Ria’s grip, strong from years of wielding her forearm-length assegai spear, tightened on Ilanna’s hand. “Damned right!” She blew out her cheeks. “I’m off to do the rounds of the pleasure houses. Meet me at The Gilded Chateau in two hours? I should have something for you by then. If anyone knows or has heard anything, Aisha and I will get it out of them.”
“I’ll be there,” Ilanna said with a nod.
Ria pulled Ilanna close and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Find them, Master Gold,” she whispered when she broke off. “Find them, and make them pay.”
“I intend to.” Ilanna’s voice was low, hard. She felt that same cold fury that had filled her gut when she’d killed Allon for his betrayal.
Ria had just turned to leave when the door opened and Darreth entered the room. One look at the Journeyman’s ashen expression twisted a dagger of worry in Ilanna’s stomach.
“What is it?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Th-They found another body, Master Gold.” Darreth couldn’t meet her eyes. “It’s one of ours.”
Chapter Four
“House of Mercy, my lord,” called out the coachman as he reined in the horses.
The Hunter opened the coach door and stepped out into the street. The House of Mercy towered three stories above his head, the red brick walls stretching for fifty paces across. Given its location a few streets away from The Gardens, the building alone had to be worth a small fortune.
“I await your pleasure, sir,” the man said, and knuckled his forehead.
The man had been paid well enough to transpor
t “Lord Anglion” from Voramis to Praamis and remain available as long as the “nobleman” needed him. The Hunter had selected the coachman based on his reputation for maintaining secrets—provided the coin was good enough, of course. The carriage had been rented from one of Voramis’ many coachhouses and decorated with the colors of Lord Anglion’s noble house: white and red.
The Hunter tapped his gilded cane on the cobblestones. “I won’t be long, Rayf.”
He strode through the wide-open front door and found himself in a neat tiled corridor with whitewashed walls and a high-vaulted ceiling. Plain wooden furniture—a simple bench in the waiting area, a solid table to greet guests, and cabinets filled with Bluejacket clothing and shoes—adorned the corridor. The shouts, cries, and laughter of children echoed through the roomy halls around him.
A woman wearing a long-sleeved grey dress, blue apron, and white wimple looked up as he entered. “Welcome to the House of Mercy, good sir. How might we be of assistance?”
“I believe it is I who can be of assistance to you this day.” The Hunter gave the woman a magnanimous smile. “I’ve come into a sizeable fortune, but my deceased grandmother insisted that a part of it goes to care for the less fortunate of Praamis. I’ve heard so much about Lady Chasteyn that I knew I had to come down and see her labors for myself. Is she in?”
“She is, my lord.” The woman’s face brightened. “She’ll be in the common room serving lunch now, as she does every day. If you would like to wait—”
“No need.” The Hunter gave a dismissive wave. “After all, I’ve come to see the good works I will be helping to fund, so I will be happy to speak to her in the common room.”
“Of course. Right this way, if you please.”
The Hunter added a dignified swagger to his stride as he followed the woman through the halls. He caught glimpses of rooms with desks—likely some sort of place of learning—bedrooms, even one room filled with clothes to be mended. The sound of children grew louder as they approached the end of the corridor.
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