On the Matter of the Red Hand

by JM Guillen

  Still, I pressed downward.

  I didn’t have the map of the Deepcity memorized or even held clearly in mind. The things I had most prominently noted was that the way forward was the largest tunnel in my vicinity and that there were dozens of branches. In all honesty, I could only count on going forward for a time. The Spider could have slipped off in any direction at all.

  However, that one lone shaft of light kept this entire vicinity lit well enough, dim though it was. When the point came that I was tempted to use my lucia, that might be a different choice.

  “Thom?” Scoundrel’s tone was questioning as we descended the stairs. “What are we doing?” seemed to be the apparent question.

  “Just a little further, sweet girl.” She was back on my shoulder, freeloading a ride down the stairwell. I’ll admit, I was going slow, but the grated metal was more than a touch slick.

  “No. Thom!” Insistently, the raven pulled at one my stray hairs, as if my brown locks were the reins on her glorious Rossüm-bred mount. Then, she leapt off my shoulder, flittering down to the bottom of the stairwell.

  Where there was a corpse.

  I took the last few stairs in a bound, hoping that perhaps it wasn’t a corpse at all. If the Warren’s Spider had in fact come this way, then perhaps—

  No. The man’s throat was cleanly slit.

  “Thom?” Scoundrel looked up at me questioningly. I ignored her, crouching next to the man’s corpse.

  He had been left here. It was obvious to anyone who gave the idea a moment’s thought. The young man’s body was laid out at the foot of the stairs, neat and nice as someone asleep. One arm was splayed over his head, apparently pointing down one of the dark passages ahead.

  “No.” I looked closer, trying to decide if I was fooling myself. The more I looked, the more I realized the truth. A chill settled across my back.

  This man had been killed as a message to me. Not only was I on the correct path, but my quarry knew I was coming. Not only did my quarry know, but I was being encouraged forward.

  “That’s an unpleasant thought.” I sighed, leaning closer to get a look at the body. There just wasn’t enough light. “Well enough, if I’m already outted.” I frowned, reaching into my satchel for one of the bottles of lucia.

  Without taking my eyes off the dead young man, I pulled the stopper, which removed the thin piece of metal that hung in the clear bottle, keeping its ingredients separate. Discarding the separator, I pushed the cork back into its neck, shaking the bottle gently.

  The liquid within burst into a yellow glow as the reagents reacted with one another.

  The man had been fairly young and truly Teredi-born with brownish hair and a slight spice-color to his skin. He had come into the deep city prepared, I could see, with thick hobb-nail boots and a belt which carried various small tools. He had two scabbards, suitable for shortblades, but I saw neither of the weapons laying anywhere about.

  “Good morning.” I espied something on his wrist and leaned forward. Sure enough, there was a small dark tattoo there, something which looked like a shadowed dagger.

  Or, a poet might say, a Twilight Blade.

  “Well, there’s one less Blade at my back.” I muttered the words softly, trying to decide if I recognized the young man. I had seen several of his guildmen the night before, but it had been quite dark—

  He was holding something in his hand.

  I leaned forward, retrieving the small piece of paper from the dead man. On it, in clear, precise strokes, were four stark words.

  Judicar, she lies ahead.

  My hand trembled as I read the note, just a touch.

  This had easily been the most frustrating assignment I had been on in years, with constant dead ends and an absolutely awful quotient of fists to my face. It was difficult to admit, but some small portion of my heart had just about surrendered the idea that I was going to ever find Rebeka Ortiz.

  “She lies ahead.” I read the words softly to myself, letting all the implications wash over me as I did. I stood, looking into the passage ahead. It was about twice as tall as I was, with a rounded top and a trickle of water running through it. Occasionally, some small grating or vent from the city above allowed in a touch of light, but very little.

  “As if secrecy matters.” I didn’t know whether to smile on that point or not. The Warren’s Spider—if that truly was who moved ahead of me—obviously knew I was here, and was toying me along. On the other hand, there were Twilight Blades down here as well, and she seemed more than capable of clearing the way.

  “Is that what you’re doing?” I whispered the words into the mist-filled shadows. It didn’t seem like a far throw. After all, we were both sent by Santiago. I had already made the argument that we were on the same side.

  But were we? If we were, why didn’t the Spider just claim Rebeka herself then?

  “Any answers, rookie?” I smiled at Scoundrel, who was toying with the dead man’s silver earring. “You need to hold your weight around here, you know.”

  “No.” She mimicked, looking up at me.

  I sighed.

  “Fine, then.” I stood, straightening my hat. “If we’re not alone down here, then I suppose there’s no need for secrecy.” I drew my stave, holding it loosely in one hand, with the small glowing bottle in the other. “Come on, sweet girl.”

  “Sweet. Sweet, sweet.” Scoundrel hopped after me, only stopping occasionally to explore some bit of trash or shiny gewgaw that had washed beneath the city streets. We stepped forward, only the echoes of dripping water and the light of alchemy to guide us.

  Somewhere, in the shadows ahead was a murderer. Even more chilling, that killer might have taken a man’s life for the sheer purpose of sending me a message.

  The worst thought of all was that, just perhaps, we were on the same side.

  3

  The passage seemed to stretch into unending shadows before us. I was certain that, in fact, we had only walked a few city blocks, but it seemed like so much more.

  Part of it was my own nerves, I was certain. Every footfall was magnified as it echoed, and the lucia shone like the sun. I tried to hold the small bottle beneath my greatcloak, only letting out a little light at a time, but I wasn’t certain how well I was doing.

  Scoundrel wasn’t much help.

  “Good girl. Home. Cheese.” She cawed every few feet her voice croaking as it echoed. I had tried to silence her, but it had proven to be a lost cause.

  Every few feet along the causeway, there were other branches and alleys of tunnels. Sometimes, they seemed only a little larger than the pipes that ran through them, but some of them were large enough for two men to walk abreast. More than one was entirely full of steam, which billowed out in great clouds.

  Soon, it was difficult to see four strides before me.

  Eventually, one of the side-branches was capped with an iron door, bearing four locks. Each of them had been broken at some point, and each one repaired. On the door was a small brass plate:

  Binder’s Court Pumping Station

  I traced my fingers along the letters, contemplating. If nothing else, it was a good indicator of where I was. Binder’s Court was once a place of fountains and waterworks in the Warrens but had long stood dry.

  I had traveled farther dawnward than I had guessed.

  “We’re almost to the Remnants, sweet girl,” I mused thoughtfully. The moment I had the thought, another idea burst upon me, one I should have already had.

  “Oh. Oh, Thom.” I let out a sigh. “You birdbrain.” I glanced down at Scoundrel, who only looked up at me with dark eyes.

  Apparently, she wasn’t going to chime in.

  So much had happened in the past few days that sometimes it was hard for me to pin it all together. However, thinking of the Remnants brought a conversation back to mind, a conversation between a certain Fox and his fellows.

  The Fox had come along a similar road while he was looking for Rebeka—if his story was to be believed.


  “But the Spider didn’t believe you, not then.” I looked into the shadows ahead, biting my lip. “Did she change her mind? Why?”

  The entire subject of Jakob the Fox was a slippery one. Even Bryana had said he did not seem himself, as if he were drunk or on some tonic. But if he had wanted his little foursome dead, he probably had plenty of chances.

  So then, he was loyal to Santiago. After all, why tell them about this place at all if he was working with the Blades? But then…

  If he wasn’t working with the Blades, why had he and Gould been at the Coilwerks?

  “Neither of you were quite… right though, were you?” I mused thoughtfully. Killian had seemed downright haunted, looking as if he were about to rise from his own grave. I furrowed my brow, the thought circle beginning to make my head hurt.

  That was when I heard the fighting.

  It was one echoed shout that caught me first, the voice of a man. After a moment, I heard the harsh clank of metal against metal and then another cry.

  “Thom?” Scoundrel was intent upon the sound.

  “I heard it, little rook.” I opened my satchel, placing the lucia inside, and then hiding the satchel beneath my greatcoat. In a moment, we were shrouded in the darkness.

  “Ashe!” The voice echoed through the passage, warbling oddly. “She’s—”

  I ran forward through the steam-filled darkness, stopping just as I came to a small stairwell down. It looked as if it went down about the height of a man and then the main passage continued forward.

  The firelight, however, was coming from a passage to the left.

  There were shadows stretching from the passage, swift, darting things that spoke of a skirmish. There was more yelling, a second male voice, and then a third.

  But I had eyes for none of this. No, what I noted was the man standing in the passage, slipping up onto the fight, a brassbow aimed toward the fire.

  Then, a man cried out in pain. I heard him fall. My friend in the alleyway began to crank the brassbow, intent upon the action.

  I made my choice in half a nonce. No matter what was happening, this wasn’t the action of the Deepcity Watch; they would have identified themselves. Therefore, whatever skulkery was happening was something I could feel free to stop.

  “I must ask you to desist.” I kept my voice deep, letting it echo as I strode through steam and darkness. “Right there. Hold it.”

  Obviously the man was the last human in the wide world to not understand the vernacular. That was the only explanation that made sense, as he turned the brassbow toward me.

  Fortunately, I was ready.

  Strike. One hand forward, with my fingers in position. Dim though it was, Scoundrel could still see me well enough to know exactly what I was after.

  I heard the brassbow’s iron cord twang as she darted through the darkness. The quarrel struck my greatcoak, stunningly hard, down toward the bottom. It tore through the thick fabric, before clattering across the stone floor.

  The man began to scream.

  “Ashe!” It wasn’t the same man that had cried out before. “There’s another! Judicar!”

  “Probably only the one judicar.” I strode forward, my stave out. “Good thing is, one is all it takes.”

  Scoundrel was on the man’s face, doing her grisly work. The man flailed, screaming.

  “Yield! I yield!” The panic in his voice was high and wild.

  “Scoundrel.” I spoke softly, as if chiding a youngster. “To me, pretty.”

  “Pretty, pretty.” She hopped away from the man, who lay on the ground.

  “Now, I told you to desist.” I took a few steps closer, keeping my eye on the man. “But you had to go and not desist.” I sighed heavily. “Persist? That might be right. Anyway, I hate it when people do that.”

  “Judicar, I—” The man tried to sit, holding one hand over his readily bleeding face. As he did, the orange light, flickering from the passageway to my right, dimmed. When I looked, the light was being blocked by a distinctly slender and effeminate form.

  “Why, Judicar.” The Warren’s Spider’s soft voice was practically a purr. “Were you trying to save my life from a skulking dirkman?”

  “Succeeding.” I cleared my throat. “I mean, if I had been trying—”

  “Yes.” Her head turned a bit, looking toward the downed man. “Were you planning on finishing your task or were you going to allow him to alert his fellows?”

  ‘Finishing’ had quite the final tone within it, coming from her.

  “I wasn’t planning on killing him, if that’s what you’re asking.” I kept my tone as even as possible. “The man yielded to my good right hand here. Unless he again proves violent—”

  “He won’t.” The man spoke up, somewhat panicked. “All he wants is to prove his need for a dociere.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not in the cards.” The Warren’s Spider’s tone was absolute. “Thom, the Twilight Blades are actively—”

  “I know about their involvement.” I cut her off, slightly terse. Not only did it annoy me that she felt she could dictate terms to me, but she was treating me as if I was a child.

  Again.

  “Then you know he can’t leave. He knows we’re here. One word to his guildmen, and we will be facing far more than we can handle.” I could hear the smirk in her voice. “Well, you will be, at any rate.”

  “You’re not slaughtering a man who has surrendered.” My tone was old, unyielding iron. “I’m fairly certain you can keep him from alerting anyone until, say tomorrow. I’ve tasted your solution in that regard.”

  “Except,” she sighed, clenching her fist, “someone saw fit to allow their bloody bird to shred half the man’s face.” There was more than a little heat to her words. “If we used my solution, he would bleed out in that time.”

  “He doesn’t want to bleed out.” The man’s voice was laced with panic. “He’d much rather keep mum about the judicar and the madwoman.”

  “He walks away.” I held my ground.

  “In custody, perhaps.” Her voice had that silken edge to it that was so hard to define. “Put him in manacles and take him to the stocks. Leave your current task to someone who is better suited for such things.”

  The insult was soft but present.

  “No.” I opened my greatcloak, letting the muted light of the lucia shine from my satchel. “Let me tell you how it will be.”

  “Oh?” The amusement in her voice was grating. “Do go on.”

  “The simple way here is that we let—” I paused turning to the man. “What is your name, guildman?”

  “Kyle.” I could hear the pain in his voice. “Kyle Nehlman.”

  “The simple way is that we let Kyle go. We have some faith that he’s willing to keep mum.”

  “And when he breaks that faith?” She took a step closer, her movement closer to gliding than walking. “Which he will.”

  “Then we know who he is. I can levy all manner of legal force against him in that case and make him sorry he was ever born.”

  “He already is, if that makes a difference.” Kyle groaned.

  “Well, it’s a pretty plan, but it assumes you survive.” Her voice was musing. “I have no guarantees.”

  “I suppose, in the quite unlikely case that I do not survive, then Kyle will have your sweet hand to deal with in the aftermath of his vile betrayal.”

  “Hmm.” I could hear the frown in her voice. “Messy. There’s a lot more ‘ifs’ in that version of things than there are if I simply kill him here.”

  “The Esperans say that ‘if’ is the world’s longest word.” I paused. “The case is, however, you don’t know all the outcomes of doing things your way.”

  “Fine.” She sighed. “Enlighten me, Judicar. I just slaughtered this man’s fellows like hogs. Tell me what will happen if I do the same to him.”

  “Yes.” Kyle’s voice was small. “This also pertains to my interests.”

  I took a breath, forcibly trying to relax. I
had been waiting for this moment, of course, ever since the Warren’s Spider last left me face down in an alleyway.

  I couldn’t beat her in a fight, I was certain of that. I had already seen how fast she was. I had spent good, long hours coming up with my response for the next time I saw her.

  Now I would see if it was time well spent.

  4

  “The difference between those other men and honest Kyle here is that he is mine.” I subtly emphasized the word, not even knowing if such a concept mattered to the assassin. “He has attacked and offended a judicar, and as such his disposition is mine to decide.”

  “Go on.” She sounded intrigued.

  “Now, should you decide to remove that right from me, I will try and stop you.”

  “You will try?” I could hear the grin in her voice, teasing back to the jape about ‘trying’ to save her life from a skulking dirkman.

  “I do not know if I will succeed… but, if I fail, you will have to kill me. Our mutual benefactor will be displeased.”

  “Come now.” She sounded a touch bored. “I know better than that, and so do you. I didn’t have to kill you previously, after all.” She paused. “And I don’t know if he would be displeased.”

  “That was before.” My tone was filled with certainty. “I’ve had some time to study up, you see. I’ve taken some alchemical tinctures, like a good, growing judicar should. Therefore, the situation has changed.”

  For a long moment, there was silence between us, punctuated by the dripping of water and the hissing of steam. It was a heavy, stark silence. I waited, wanting her to break it first.

  “I see.” Her voice was tight. “So it is your belief that my previous solution will not prove fruitful this time.”

  “It is more than a belief; it is fact.” I nodded, not knowing if she could see me or not. “Now, there are further ‘ifs’ that you must consider.”

  “Go on.” Her voice was tight.