by JM Guillen
Surely I could have a little fun. It was almost as if she’d been placed in my path.
She was just what I needed.
“At least one of us should get some rest.” I scratched Scoundrel on the head, but grinned at the honey-haired young woman. “Maybe I should send my clever friend home.”
My new friend, whose name I kept trying to recall, bit her bottom lip. “Maybe you should.” She took my arm.
I looked to Scoundrel. “Go on, smart girl. Go to the Rookery.” I gestured to her, keeping my hand to my side. Sleep. Rookery.
Scoundrel shuffled on my shoulder, eyeing the young woman I had decided to dally with. Her look was suspicious. “Bad. Bad Thom.”
The young lady grinned but hid it behind her hand.
I sighed.
“The rookmaster will have you some corn crackers. Go on.” I made another subtle gesture with my hand, telling her to go.
Scoundrel eyed the young woman once more, but then flew away.
My raven was probably right.
Typically, I had an active nightlife and frequented several different taprooms and alehouses all along the Er’meander. It was rare that there was a revel or city festival that I didn’t at least poke my head in at. However, it was rare that I went out while the serum boiled in my blood. After all, I was on duty. I needed to stay sharp.
I never did things like this.
That night’s story was a good one but better told after a few pints of bitter. It would be even better told to my friend Wil, so that he could be properly envious. To make a long, great story short and dull, I met a young woman whom I may or may not have previously met, and decided, based upon obvious and well-reasoned wisdom, that a night in an alehouse sounded like just what I needed. I drank an amount of sacchrae to put down five stoneworkers and might have lost several hands of daiæf before taking my companion back to my flat.
It is possible I was still out at second bell, Dawning, like a damn fool.
Of course, this was all augmented by the serum in my veins. I couldn’t drink enough to drown out the nigh constant flashes of vision or whispers in my mind. The serum was diligent and wanted nothing more than to guide me along my way until it wore off. So, as I was pounding my fourth tumbler and as I was verbally tussling with a pretty doe that I allegedly might have met before, the serum spoke to me. It sang of an angry king who had lost a smiling woman and of the dangers hidden in the night. If anything, the alcohol made the visions seem more intense, if strangely jumbled. They didn’t seem to make the same sense as they had earlier.
I did not care.
I needed a break, I told myself. Time to think, I told myself.
“I think we should find somewhere a lil’ private.” She gave me a crooked smile and bit the side of her lip.
Good idea, I told myself.
She was more than a little sotted and lay sprawling across my lap. The woman’s hair was like honey and morning sunlight. Her lips were like oechris petals, and she smelled of wind and secrets, but these things were my last concern.
“Oh! Thom!” She grinned wildly, trying to right herself. “I have something, a gift.” She paused. “I almost forgot what with our …” She searched for a word.
“Entanglement?” I gave her a grin, looking at how she was draped across me.
“Yes.” She pointed at me as she looked through the small clutch-purse she carried. “That word. That one.” After a moment, she grinned with delight. “Ha!”
She pulled a small bit of gleam from her purse and held it toward me. It was a tiny pin in the shape of a raven. Small blue stones glittered in its eyes.
“Oh,” I reached for the pin, grinning, but she snatched it back.
“Nope.” Grinning, she leaned toward me, putting the pin on my lapel. “There. It’s perfect.”
It actually was. The small, silver bird looked exactly like one of our ravens, and it glared balefully at any who might cross my path.
And did I have a gift for her? No. I was still struggling with her name. This fact alone made me feel low, but I just couldn’t recall it for neither love nor coin.
It wasn’t that I had ignored her when she told it to me or that I hadn’t paid attention. No, when she found me on my way home, she had simply greeted me like an old friend, taking my arm and telling me that I simply must accompany her to a Lastsummer revel. As a judicar, I knew literally thousands of people on a first name basis, and sometimes a name slipped me. The liquor hadn’t helped, of course.
I had stumbled around the subject all evening.
Across the noisy hall, dozens of citizens were still dancing, singing, and gambling the night away. One of them, a lean guildman who was wearing the colors of the Gilded Rose had had a great streak of luck. I had tried to catch him at cheating but had been distracted by soft lips and sweet whispers.
If we didn’t leave soon, I’d never get any sleep.
“Thom?” Her voice was drawling from drink. “Should we go?” She trailed her hand up the inside of my leg and grinned at me.
“Yes. Definitely.” I looked around for my hat, surprised to find it on the floor.
She giggled at me, groping around for it like a damn fool.
Even as I found it, my head swam.
More than just the Smiling Lady is in danger.
“Come on then.” She stood, unsteadily, pulling me to my feet. I blinked, thinking about Scoundrel. Where—
No. My good girl was at the Rookery. She had been at the Rookery for long bells now. The thought was a touch sobering. Bloody flux, how much had I drunk?
“We need to be gettin’ on while we can still walk.” She smiled, and I was caught by her eyes. They were green as summer grass and seemed to shine. She smelled like the spicy Simnimion wind.
It was easy to get lost in her.
I stumbled forward a touch, and she leaned on me, laughing.
“I’m apparently not walking much further than a foot cab.” I gave her a rueful grin.
We meandered from the revel, leaning on each other as one of the players strummed the first chord of Knackerman at the Gate. The woman nuzzled into my neck as I furiously contemplated my problem.
I knew I knew her name. We had last seen each other at the Highsummer Carvniviis, or so it seemed to me at the time. If I recalled correctly, we had danced on the grass over at Saulis Square, where the players and mummers performed. I could be wrong but—
No. It was her. I just couldn’t remember her name for my life.
“Thom? How about that one?” She was pointing at an ebon-skinned man resting on the far side of the street. He had an enclosed cab, and his yellow standard was raised.
“That’s perfect. I don’t know that I could have walked much further.”
She giggled. “He must have been waiting just for us.”
We weren’t that far from my flat, but I was thrashed. I had a quick back and forth with the Kabian cabman and handed him a full slip before helping my companion into her seat. It was flat robbery, and we both knew it, but the cabman was a man of the world. There were no other cabs along the street, and I was obviously a man who needed to get a beautiful young woman home while we could both stand straight. Furthermore, the sky had started to rumble, and it looked as if it might rain again.
He knew how to haggle, and he held the cards.
“Graz, Justicans.” He gave me a smug smile, nodding as he pocketed the coin. Most Kabians wouldn’t speak the vernacular—they claimed it soured their tongue.
“Yes. Just get me home. Verdant House, ‘Meander way.”
“Etias.” He nodded, but he didn’t need to. I knew the bare minimum of Kabariin, enough to speak to citizens while I patrolled.
As soon as we were in the cab, the woman wrapped her arms around me. She gave me a sharp, predatory smile and then a hungry kiss. It surprised me at first, but when I enthusiastically responded, she pushed away, teasing.
“Why, Mister Judicar.” She fanned at herself with an imaginary hand fan. “If I didn�
��t know better, I would think you were trying to take advantage of a girl in her cups, wouldn’t I?” She grinned.
Was her name Sapphire? No. That was ridiculous. That sounded like the name of some pillow-house doxie in a Riogiin play.
“If I recall correctly, you were in my lap before you had even one of your cups.” I leaned back, as if thinking. “In fact, I seem to remember someone breathily singing in my ear. What was she singing along to? Nary a Maiden, wasn’t it?”
Saffron? No. That name was worse, if anything.
“Thom!” She was having a hard time not grinning, even as she feigned being affronted. Nary a Maiden really wasn’t a tune for polite company, but the players had really roused the crowd with it. It was about a young woman named Tabyth who made a game of toying with men. My slender companion had breathily sung along, sending gooseflesh up my back as she did.
“That was it.” I grinned. “In fact, if I remember correctly, I was on my way home, ready for a night’s sleep, when I was waylaid.”
“Oh, I’ll waylay you.” Giggling, she threw herself at me, and we tussled for a long moment. In the back of my mind, the serpentine whispers of the serum murmured. In the sky above, thunder rumbled, and rain started to pelt the cab. I paid neither one any mind.
I had better things to focus on.
I felt the hard bump that meant we had come to Kasai’s Span. It was an old wooden bridge, crossing the Er’Meander River into my neighborhood. I had been waiting for it, knowing the road well.
She, on the other hand, was a touch off balance for a nonce. Just as we hit it, I pushed her quickly, and we wrestled until she was on her back.
This was how I won our little tussle.
“Not fair!” She was half laughing, half pouting. It didn’t take much to pin her hands, but once I had, it was over.
“Fine.” She play snarled at the air, like she would bite me. “The brave judicar has somehow overpowered a woman after she has had four cups of wine.”
“You had three tumblers of klêm as well.” I gave her a rakish grin. “Don’t worry. I kept track.”
“So you could ravish me?”
“It was my diabolical plan.”
“Oh, Thom.” She gave me a sideways grin. “You didn’t have to get me tipsy. You should know that.”
Then, we were kissing again, and I regretted nothing. Not the late hour, nor my drunkenness, nor the fact that I couldn’t recall her name.
Even through the alcohol, the kiss was sweet and warm and real.
She was wonderful.
The Living Shadows
Striving, Third Bell Dawning
As we stumbled along the walk to my house, she was giggling again. We were trying to keep to the awnings, but there was nothing for it; we were going to get wet.
“Verdant House.” She read the small sign by my gate. “Now I can always find you.”
I rolled my eyes. “If you can actually catch me here, I’ll be shocked. I’m usually either patrolling or out.” I opened the gate.
Verdant House was one of the tidy homes that bordered the winterward side of the Er’meander River. Like the others on my street, it was mostly brownstone, with rich wooden accents on the awnings and eves. It got its name from the small garden out front, which was neat and well- trimmed. The city only paid my rent on the top floor; the bottom was a small flat which doubled as a bakery.
“Quiet, now.” I put a finger across her lips, and she nibbled at me playfully. I gave her a grin and opened the outer door. I tried to step lightly so I wouldn’t wake my neighbors. It didn’t matter, of course. The boards were every bit as old as the house and creaked with every step.
“I have no intention of being quiet.”
She seemed to find this incredibly funny, and couldn’t stop laughing once she had begun. Soon, my grin was giving way to laughter myself, but I was more laughing at how ridiculous this all seemed. For a moment, she thought I was making jest of her, and she snatched the hat off my head.
“You can have it back when you are being nice.” Her low tone let me know what she thought “being nice” would be like.
When we came to the inner door, the one to my flat, I fumbled for a nonce with my keys. It took me a moment to figure out which one it was, especially with a certain young lady’s attentions. When I finally did turn the key, it seemed as if it was still locked.
Odd.
“Wait.” I looked at the key, trying to make certain it was the right one, even as dainty hands found their way beneath my shirt. I tried it again, and this time it unlocked the door.
That meant something. I looked at the key stupidly, even as someone nibbled on my neck.
Huh. I must have been drunker than I thought.
“I’m tired of waiting, Thom.” She was behind me. Her hand traced upward to my chest, lightly tracing my skin with lacquered nails. “Take me inside.”
I turned and kissed her, even as her nails lightly raked my skin. After a moment, I broke the kiss and took her by the wrist. My voice was a low growl.
“Gladly.”
I pulled her into my flat, thankful that my domestic had been in just the day before. My flat was fairly presentable, and the foyer wasn’t full of my muddy clothing from the day before. I turned, thinking to toss my hat and greatcoat on the lounge.
That’s when I saw the men. My head swam.
I step back to avoid the snake, but living shadows capered around me. Looking into them, I feel dizzy, almost drunken.
“Wha—?” I shook my head as if I could dislodge the serum and its insistent whispering.
A man was just outside my study, and a second hovered in the doorway to my drawing room. I could see them, their dark silhouettes outlined in the gaslight shining through my rain-spattered windows. Their lean, shadowy shapes promised injury. These were not men on any good business.
This was why my door had been unlocked.
“Gentlemen. I—”
I didn’t have more than a moment before the large one outside the study rushed me. He drew one arm back for a punch to my gut, and I stepped to the side, reacting more out of instinct more than any training. A hairy arm, easily the size of my thigh, brushed past my hair.
“Thom!” My nameless doe cried out, but I had no attention for her. In the night, her voice was ear-piercing.
“Shut her scut eating mouth!” The man who was swinging at me grunted to his compatriot. Then he swung again.
I threw a punch of my own, but it went too wide by far.
I stepped back, half-stumbling, and fell against my wall. Quickly, I rolled left, dodging the strike as he came in, heavy and lumbering. My drunken mind thought of him as a fabled rhinocyros, and I almost laughed.
That cost me. He stepped far quicker than I had thought, and he almost connected. His fist crashed into the wall, giving birth to a hole in my plaster the size of a dinner plate.
That had almost been my face. How was it that he could hit like that?
He sucked in a breath and shook his hand. The man glared daggers at me. If he hadn’t wanted to see me in pain before, he certainly did now.
In the corner of my eye, I saw the bald man step toward my pretty, young companion. The entire scene played out in strips of shadow and beams of wan light from outside. Rather than running away from him, she stepped forward and lashed out with her bare hands.
“No!” She screamed at him as she struck; her shriek far larger than she was. It was the warning scream of a striking hawk. Thin red strips gouged round his skull from her lacquered nails.
It was the last thing the bald man had expected. I heard him cry out as she followed up with a knee to his stomach.
“Stupid little bint!” He gasped as he stumbled backward. He crashed into his larger friend, unexpectedly interrupting his next attack on me.
Even through my drunkenness, I knew an opening when I saw it. I drew a fist back, and hurled it into the big man’s chiseled jaw.
I felt bone pop beneath my knuckles. I was lucky t
hat was all that popped. My fist felt crushed, as if I’d slammed it into a brick. I was grateful to be drunk enough not to feel the full effect.
“Thom!” The bravest young lady I had seen all night cried out just as the second man turned toward me. In the fraction of time I had, I grinned ruefully. I must have seemed like a better target for the man than the woman who had just clawed his face open.
“Quiet now, cully.” The smaller man had a thick, guttural voice. “This don’t have to be too bleedin’ ugly, does it?”
I sucked down air like a beached fish. “I think it does at this point.” Even through my drunkenness, my sharp tongue wouldn’t sit still.
I swung wildly and missed.
He stepped back, a dark grin on his pointy features. His much larger companion, who had already struck me once, stepped in again. He swung, and this time connected a hard blow to my stomach. Blackness crept in around the edges of my sight.
Drunk or no, I needed to do something, and fast. I could almost hear Scoundrel, in the place behind my mind:
Bad Thom. Bad.
I truly needed my good right hand.
I reeled, playing the pain up a notch. I was acting but not much. My stomach roiled, and my hand throbbed. I toyed with the notion of sicking up, but held off.
It was dim, and none of us could see well. My only shot here would be to lull them if I could, even if just for a nonce.
With my left hand, I tried to loosen my stave from its harness on my belt. It was a stout piece of black ironwood, beveled on one side and polished until it shone. The stave was the judicar’s primary weapon, and we trained extensively with our birds, mastering fighting stances that we called “stanzas.”
Stave fighting would be tight in my flat, but at this point I didn’t have many other options.
“Yer messing with things outside yer ken, cully.” The large man spat on my carpet and brought his hands up. His fists were the approximate size of two ripe sweet melons. “Cry off, and we’ll leave, all nice like,” he grumbled at me.
