Mourningbird

by Brock Deskins

  “Bertram Velarius, may I introduce my niece Felicity Aylmer?” Conner said.

  Bertram took Kiera’s hand by the fingers and bent to touch them to his lips. Kiera jerked her hand away as if he were about to drop a scorpion onto it.

  Conner chuckled. “Now you see why her parents sent her here to learn the finer points of social graces.”

  “I suppose growing up in the badlands does not prepare one for the social niceties of genteel company,” Bertram responded with a soft laugh of his own.

  Kiera scowled behind her mask but spoke in a light, lofty tone. “No, but being surrounded by rammox has made it possible for me to endure the odor of your presence without becoming sick, so I guess it evens out. Did you fall into the sewer, or is this simply a product of poor hygiene?”

  “Felicity!” Conner chastised her.

  Bertram held up a hand to forestall further rebuke. “She’s right. I had a rough night and was too distracted to take the time to make myself presentable for company.”

  “Really? Just the one night?”

  “Felicity!” Conner snapped again.

  “It’s all right, Conner. I deserve it. I think I’ve gotten as far as I can with my quandary for now. I best go and get cleaned up, or they might just move my office to the courtyard. My uncle is holding a gala on Forgeday two weeks hence. I can send some invitations if you like. It would be a sort of trial by fire for Felicity’s education.”

  “We would be honored to attend,” Conner said.

  “Wonderful. I’ll send a courier over with the details. It will be refreshing to have honest friends to alleviate the pretentious sycophants such events draw, even if some of them are a bit rough around the edges.”

  Kiera said, “And I’ll open the windows. It will be refreshing to have some air alleviate the lingering stench you’ve left behind.”

  Bertram laughed as Cleary showed him to the door. Conner looked less amused.

  “What are you doing?”

  “What? He was a jerk,” Kiera replied.

  “He is the duke’s heir.”

  “And?”

  “And someone tried to kill him last night, and someone else intervened.”

  “And?”

  Conner’s face reddened and his voice became strained as he tried to hold his temper in check. “It sounds like someone wants him to succeed Rastus, and they may not be willing to wait.”

  The mask hid Kiera’s smirk, but her tone was unmistakable. “And?”

  “And the last time a duke died under unusual circumstances—” Conner held a trembling finger before Kiera’s face, his visage apoplectic. He forced himself to regain a semblance of calm and flashed the irritating girl a tight smile. “I think it’s time to begin your training.”

  “I haven’t even eaten breakfast.”

  “I’m sure you’re used to it. Besides, you might not want to have a full stomach slowing you down.”

  “Fine, but I’m not wearing this stupid getup.”

  “Oh, by all means, go change into whatever makes you most comfortable. You’re going to need all the help you can get. Mr. Cleary, have Felicity meet Surri and I in the exercise room once she’s changed,” he called out.

  Cleary emerged from the foyer and ushered Kiera up the stairs.

  “Should I bring my weapons?” Kiera asked.

  “Bring whatever you think is going to help.”

  She scowled, not liking the knowing smiles both men wore. Kiera slammed the bedroom door behind her as she changed, wrinkling her nose at the smell of her own clothes as she put them on. If these men thought they were going to embarrass her with whatever little training regimen they had planned, she was going to take great pleasure in disabusing them of the notion.

  Tossing the mask onto the bed, Kiera emerged in her work clothes, prepared to defeat whatever test they were going to give her. Cleary led her to another set of stairs that descended below the first floor. The expansive room must have been a ballroom at one time before sand buried the original building and the new structure was built atop it, but someone had removed the two floors above it so that the ceiling soared overhead some twenty-five or thirty feet.

  Various pieces of exercise equipment and apparatuses adorned much of the room and occupied most of the space along the walls, leaving the center largely open. Posts of various heights and thickness stuck out of the floor at one end, the tallest coming within ten feet of the high ceiling.

  “So what do you want me to do?” Kiera asked as she looked around the room.

  “I need to gauge your fighting ability,” Conner replied. “Once I know what you can do, we can hone your strengths and improve your weaknesses.”

  “Whatever.” Kiera nodded her head at a device that looked similar to the mechanical practice dummies Russel had made her, except they did not appear to have been cobbled together with spare parts. “You want me to have a go with that thing?”

  “No, you will spar with Surri.”

  Kiera wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Seriously? I don’t think busting up one of your whores is going to give you an accurate measure of my fighting skill.”

  “Surri is not a whore, and I’m confident she can provide enough of a challenge to satisfy my assessment.”

  Kiera looked the Thuumian up and down. “She’s unarmed. Does that mean you want me to fight without my weapons?”

  “You may use whatever you are most comfortable with.”

  Kiera shrugged and faced the woman. “If your income suffers, blame it on your boss.”

  She launched a halfhearted swipe with her baton. Kiera had no interest in actually hurting her, but she was surprised when the woman’s hand snaked up, grabbed her wrist, and twisted it painfully around. Surri used her hold to turn Kiera away and push her toward the center of the room. Kiera lashed out with her other baton with much more force. Surri’s arm came up and blocked the blow. The Thuum woman’s leg snapped up and delivered a devastating kick to Kiera’s chest.

  The blow sent Kiera stumbling back, and she slid on her backside several feet before coming to a stop. “Kicking bitch!” she screamed as she sprang to her feet and charged.

  Her batons were a blur as they wove a fierce and complex pattern through the air, but Surri’s hands were more than a match, and she ducked or deflected every swing.

  Kiera dropped to the floor and swept her leg around in an arc. Surri hopped over it, lifting her feet from the floor no higher than necessary to avoid the leg sweep. The Thuumian imitated the move with greater skill and speed. Kiera fell as the woman’s leg knocked her feet out from under her.

  Surri leapt out of her crouch and sprang at the prone girl. Kiera crossed her batons in front of her and brought her leg up, Catching Surri and sending her flying over her head. Kiera rolled off her back and onto her feet, wary now that she knew she faced a formidable fighter and not some prostitute.

  She dashed toward Surri and flung one of her batons at the woman’s face. Surri raised an arm and ducked. Kiera charged in behind the projectile, jumped into the air, and wrapped her legs around Surri’s neck and chest. Surri grabbed Kiera’s weapon arm as the baton descended toward her head, and clutched one of her ankles. The Thuum dashed Kiera against the wall and then onto the floor.

  Kiera felt her breath blasted from her lungs, but she forced herself to fight through the minor annoyance of not being able to breathe. She managed to land a punch to the side of Surri’s head hard enough to make the woman’s ear start ringing.

  A gust of wind surrounded the pair like a tiny tornado, and Kiera felt herself lifted from the floor only to come smashing down once more. Surri left Kiera moaning softly and crossed to where Conner and Cleary stood, both wearing grins as they enjoyed the show.

  “What do you think?” Conner asked in a hushed tone.

  Surri rubbed her ringing ear that burned as if on fire. “She shows enormous potential for someone self-taught.”

  “Can you train her?”

  “A great deal I think, if she i
s not too stubborn and willful to learn.”

  Cleary chuckled. “I’m not sure beating up a potential employee is the best recruiting tactic to use.”

  “I told her I would test her. Besides, the girl is in dire need of some humility.”

  “Hey! We aren’t done yet!”

  Surri turned around, and all eyes locked on Kiera as she stood on wavering legs, pointing an odd gun. The grapnel streaked out and struck Surri between the breasts with enough force to elicit a painful grunt and stagger her. Kiera ran around one of the posts jutting up from the floor at full speed, the grappling cord twining around it as if it were a pulley.

  Already off balance, Surri had no choice but to stumble toward Kiera as the girl continued to heave on the cord. The pair met near the center of the room. Kiera dropped to the floor and slid on her thigh, bringing her baton around to land a painful strike to Surri’s right shin.

  Surri let out a yelp and tumbled to the floor. Kiera jumped to her feet and charged, hoping to reach the woman before she could get back up. It was wishful thinking. Surri spun around and knelt on one knee. She caught Kiera’s chopping blow in her hand before it split her head open, and slammed a fist into her stomach.

  She stood up, still holding Kiera’s wrist, turned her about, and unleashed another cyclone that hurled her into the wall. Surri sauntered over to her foe. Kiera swiped at her ankle with her baton as she lay dazed. Surri stepped on her wrist and crushed it against the floor as she plucked the grappling gun from her hand.

  “Are we done now?” she asked.

  “Muh,” was the only response Kiera could utter.

  Surri tugged at the grapnel still stuck to her chest as she carried the device back to Conner, channeling power into it until it released its hold.

  “Well, our little nightbird is certainly full of surprises,” Conner said. “Where do you think she got—look out!”

  His warning came too late as Kiera’s baton tumbled in a lazy arc across the room and struck Surri in the back of the head. It lacked the force to do any real damage, but it was heavy enough to raise an impressive lump.

  Surri spun about, her hand rubbing the tiny, stinging mountain starting to form. “Rotten little bitch!”

  Kiera responded by flashing her a rueful grin and making a rude gesture from where she sat propped up against the wall.

  Conner grabbed the Thuum woman by the arm. “That’s enough. Why don’t you see about getting some ice for your head? You’ll have plenty of opportunity to repay her.”

  Surri nodded and glared at the petulant girl as she left. Kiera took great delight in the fury that washed over Surri’s face when she stuck her tongue out at her.

  “Are you willing to accept that there is room for improvement?” Conner asked.

  Kiera struggled to her feet, wincing at the new aches shooting and throbbing throughout her body. One eye started to swell, and her left cheek felt as though it was stuffed with cotton. She limped across the room to where the two men stood.

  “Fine. I’ll take your stupid lessons, but you better believe I won’t keep taking a beating just to amuse you.”

  “Surri really plucked your feathers, little nightbird,” Cleary chortled.

  “I kicked your ass, so what does that say about you?”

  “Hey, I was shot and bleeding out!”

  “Whatever.” She grabbed the grapnel gun from Conner’s hands. “That belongs to me.”

  Conner let her take it without resistance. “That is an impressive device. Where did you get it?”

  “A little shop called none of your damn business.”

  “Kiera, what we do requires a great deal of trust and honesty between us. I need you to be forthright with me. I can’t bring you in if I can’t trust you to be honest with me.”

  “Why do you want me so much? Why not have Miss Kicksalot do it? She seems capable.”

  “Surri’s duties lie elsewhere. Besides, I need someone who can blend in no matter the setting, and that would be difficult for a woman like her.”

  “Yeah, because old man whiskey breath here is so subtle,” Kiera chortled.

  Cleary breathed into his cupped palm and shrugged.

  Conner continued. “Kiera, can I trust you?”

  She glared into his eyes for a moment. “Yeah, but other people trust me too, and that trust includes not telling anyone where I got my grapnel gun.”

  “Fair enough. You mentioned breakfast. I’ll have Surri prepare something before I take you shopping. You desperately need new clothes. You will also have to be fitted for a proper mask as well as several…covert ones.”

  Conner limped up the stairs and left Kiera and Cleary alone.

  “What’s the deal with the masks? I stick out like a sore thumb.”

  “And yet there can be anonymity in the obvious. The masks are the key to completely different identities. Few people have the intuition to look beyond them, particularly highborn. Simply by swapping one mask for another, you become a different person. Conner will take you shopping later today for clothes and have you fit for your masks. Many of those clothes will be reversible. Change your mask, turn your coat and trousers inside out, and you can disappear.”

  “I guess. So what’s Conner’s deal?”

  “His deal?”

  “What’s with the limp, and why doesn’t he have a family? If he wanted to arrest criminals, why didn’t he stay on as the chief inquisitor?”

  Cleary let out a long breath and stared over the top of Kiera’s head. “All three of those questions are part of the same story, but it is one that is not mine to tell.”

  “So I should ask him?”

  “If you want, but I would warn you to broach the subject very carefully.”

  “Why?”

  Cleary looked up at the ceiling. “The gunshot to his hip was the least of his injuries that night. I won’t say more, so don’t ask me.”

  Kiera’s mind chewed on Cleary’s words as they ascended the stairs. “Did he get shot in the cock? Is that why he isn’t married?”

  Cleary doubled over in laughter, steadying himself by gripping the handrail so that he did not fall over and tumble down the steps. “No, but maybe you should open with that?” he said as he wiped tears from his eyes.

  Kiera scowled and punched him in the backside. While the blow urged him to continue climbing, it also elicited a fresh round of guffaws.

  CHAPTER 13

  Bertram took a cab to Nibbenar’s embassy, a walled mansion just a stone’s throw from the palace. His fresh uniform and hot bath had refreshed more than his hygiene. He felt positively human again and was able to shrug off his lack of sleep.

  He entered the well-guarded manor without challenge. A footman met him at the primary entrance and escorted him to the residence wing. Bertram waited for the footman to leave before knocking on the door.

  The door opened to reveal a beautiful young woman with flaxen hair, perfectly coifed, and dressed as if prepared to attend the most formal of functions at a moment’s notice. “Bertram! What a wonderful surprise. I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “I’m sorry to drop by unannounced, but we’ve hardly talked since the graduation ball, and I wanted to apologize for being so distracted with work.”

  Lysse opened the door wide. “I understand completely. Come in.”

  Bertram followed the Duchess of Nibbenar’s daughter to the parlor, slipped off his mask, and took a seat on a sedan next to her.

  “How do you like being Velaroth’s new chief inquisitor?” she asked. “I’ve heard you have had quite a bit of excitement already.”

  “Surprisingly so,” he affirmed. “To be honest, that’s part of why I came by today.”

  “Are you all right? Did something happen?”

  “Yes, but that’s not why I’m here. Well, sort of, but not directly.”

  Lysse feigned a look of annoyance. “Spit it out already. Befuddlement doesn’t suit you.”

  Bertram locked eyes with her. “Have you ever considered u
s getting married?”

  Lysse’s eyes flared open and her mouth creased into an excited smile. She threw herself into Bertram’s arms and wrapped him in a tight embrace. “Oh, yes, a thousand times yes!” she exclaimed, choking back sobs of delight.

  Bertram’s heart pounded in his chest and his face flushed with so much heat he thought it might actually burn her. “No…that’s not…”

  Lysse’s sobs turned to laughter as she shoved against his chest and pushed him back. “You should see the look on your face!” she squealed, wiping away the tears that formed in her eyes for real this time. “I think you’ve ruined my makeup, but it was worth it. Why do you ask such a silly question?”

  Bertram’s heart fought to return to a proper pace and his cheeks tingled as the sudden excess blood drained away. “I was just curious if you had ever put much thought in the matter, what it might mean for our two cities.”

  The beautiful young woman shrugged. “All girls think about marriage from the moment they understand the concept, and I’m no exception. I haven’t given it any real thought. We’re both young, too young, to be trying to knit strands of fancy, hope, and desire into something substantial. We’re barely adults, not even twenty years old. There’s plenty of time to think about that sort of nonsense.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. But have you given much thought to the political implications of such a joining?”

  Lysse frowned. “You are in a weird mood today. For the first time since I’ve known you, you are being rather boring.” She sighed. “If you want to talk about political maneuverings, you should speak with my mother. I have no doubt that she has considered the benefits of every match she could make with me from the moment I was born. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has flowcharts pinned up in a secret room somewhere. It’s just how she is.”

  “But not you?”

  “I’m eighteen and rich. I think about what galas to attend and which outfit I can buy to make sure I am the most beautiful girl there. I heard Rastus sent courier ships to the city leaders insisting they return to Velaroth for an urgent meeting. Feel free to interrogate Mother at the party when she comes back, assuming she does. I’m sure she’ll love talking about it.”