“I want to learn to fight with swords.”
Longinus glared at her again. “To train you in the art of killing,” he repeated, “but that doesn’t mean you can break into my house, open my cabinets, and walk about as you please. Have you no shame? No manners?”
“Shame and manners are in short supply where I come from. Look, I’m sorry for breaking in, alright? I wanted to make sure you didn’t have no trap waiting for me.”
“I gave you my word,” replied Longinus stiffly, offended that she might doubt the strength of his promise. “A gentleman’s word is his bond.”
“Yeah, well I ain’t met much in the way of gentlemen so far, so I don’t know much about their word. And anyway, waiting around outside ain’t the safest for me right now,” she said, gesturing at her face.
Longinus felt a brief pang of guilt, but he checked himself. It wasn’t his job to look after the urchins of Damsport after all, nor was it his problem if the girl got into scrapes. And she was irritating enough that she no doubt deserved whatever she got. Still, Longinus was a gentleman as well as an assassin, and it didn’t sit well with him to see a girl beaten up like that.
He cleared his throat.
“Well, in any case you’re to give me your picks.”
“No.”
“Yes. Give me your picks or I’ll develop a case of amnesia.”
“Alright, then I’ll get real verbal about your fear of blood.”
At the mention of his secret, Longinus looked away, unable to hold her gaze.
“Fine,” he said, too ashamed to look back at her. “Keep the picks, but the first lesson of the day will be the baths.”
“Unless that’s a sword fighting move, I ain’t got no interest.”
His outrage at her refusal to get clean was soothing. Easier. He focused on that, rousing himself to his full height, the better to look down at her.
“Young lady —”
“I ain’t a lady.”
“Evidently. Forgive me, I don’t know what I was thinking. As I was saying, young…er… What is your name?”
“Rory.”
“Fine. Rory. Yes, that will do.”
“It ain’t like you’re choosing it for me, that’s my name.”
“Yes, yes,” snapped Longinus. “Now, although you know me as the Viper, I would prefer you to call me Longinus.”
“Long genius? Really?”
“Lon-ginus. Although some have indeed referred to my intellect as genius-like,” he said with a modest smile. “My skill with poisons and alchemy is second to none. Of course, it is vastly underappreciated, since I operate in the shadows. For example, see this?” He picked up a bottle full of a bright orange liquid, with a large stopper that was securely tied to its neck. “This is an olfactory poison. Not to be confused with a nasal poison. Olfactory poisons simply need to be smelled to be effective. Nasal poisons are best applied with the use of a syringe.”
Rory snorted. “When would anyone allow you to stick a syringe up their nose?”
“If the target is asleep, and on their back, obviously. An assassin, young…er, Rory, must be prepared for any eventuality. The skill of an assassin isn’t just in the killing, it is in the variety and complexity of the methods used. Auricular poisons, for example, are applied to the ear using a funnel. Also useful for sleeping targets, but if they are on their side.”
“Look, I ain’t here to learn about poisons. I want to learn about swords.”
“Yes, yes, all in good time.” Longinus picked up a pretty blue bottle, displaying it proudly. “Deafly Silence is one of my most delicate poisons.”
Rory failed to complete the tableau he had in mind by providing the awestruck pupil to his wise and noble teacher.
“That’s a stupid name,” she said. “Look, can we start? I am blackmailing you, so you got to do what I say, right? And I say we start with the rapier.”
Longinus returned the bottle to the shelf.
“You don’t have to keep reminding me,” he said. “How long is this, ah, arrangement, supposed to last?”
“The blackmail? As long as it takes for me to learn how to fight with a rapier. The sooner you start, the sooner it’s gonna finish.”
A very good point.
“Fine, then let’s get started,” he said aloud.
He retrieved a blunt training rapier and a pair of gloves. He was about to give her the gloves when he remembered the smear on the cabinet. It gave him an idea.
“You’re sure I can’t persuade you to take a bath first?”
“Positive.”
“You’ll have to train without gloves on, then,” he informed her with a smirk. “I can’t have you ruining them.”
“Makes no difference to me,” she replied with a shrug.
Longinus’ face fell.
“What? It doesn’t bother you to train without gloves?”
“Course not. I ain’t never worn gloves and you can’t miss what you never had.”
“Poverty is not an excuse to be bandied about at every turn. Now, take this.”
He handed her the training rapier. She slashed the blade through the air a couple of times, grinning at him idiotically. Longinus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“The gods help me, this is going to take forever.”
Chapter 14
By the afternoon, Rory was exhausted. Longinus had had her lifting weights, stretching, sprinting back and forth in the weapons room for hours. He now had her standing with her arm outstretched, holding the rapier.
“Alright,” he said as her arm spasmed from the effort of keeping it up. “I think it’s time for a break. To the baths.”
“I told you, I don’t want a bath. When’s the real training gonna begin?”
“This is real training, Rory.”
“Standing around holding out my rapier like a lemon? When am I ever gonna need that?”
“You’ll need stamina. You’ll need strength. And you are sorely lacking in both. Why, at your age I would have lasted twice as long.”
Rory ground her teeth and lifted her arm once more. She’d be damned if she’d let Longinus mock her. Her arm spasmed so badly she dropped the rapier. Longinus put down his glass of port.
“We’re going to the baths now,” he said.
“I don’t need no bath.”
“You do. There are rats in the city with more grooming than you. Speaking of which, you don’t have any hidden in your hair, do you?” Longinus let out a short laugh.
“Anyone told you it’s poor form to laugh at your own jokes?” said Rory.
He ignored her and went to the bench, where he scribbled something down, still smiling. Rory followed, trailing the rapier behind her.
“Really, you’re writing that down?”
“Mind your business,” snapped Longinus.
“That’s better. I’m not sure I like it when you make jokes.”
* * *
Much to Rory’s consternation, Longinus took her to the baths in Spirepass, between Seven and Eight. They were dangerously close to Cruikshank’s warehouse, but for all her pleading and arguing, Longinus wouldn’t hear of going anywhere else.
“But why?” she said. “Baths are just water and soap. Water is the same everywhere, and so is soap.”
“My dear, you are so naive. Soap and water is the least important part of a bath, and the Spirepass baths are the only ones worthy of the name.”
Rory looked up at him, confused. What else was there to a bath? She followed Longinus inside, glancing uneasily about her. If Cruikshank came to the baths, this could be a disaster. She had a pretty good idea of how things would go if Cruikshank and Longinus met. She’d make some comment about his generosity in giving Rory the rapier, and the truth would come out. The rapier would get returned, and Rory would be in for a world of trouble.
Inside the baths, it was surprisingly cool. Rory looked up and gasped. The domed ceiling was so high, and covered in mosaic of so deep a blue, that it almost looked like the sky
on a sunny day. Gilded grapevines ran down the pillars that circled the dome, and in the middle was a huge but shallow pool with a fountain that gurgled water. The light from the vapour lamps played with the water, casting dancing shapes on the walls and ceiling.
“Is that the bath?” asked Rory, looking at the pool dubiously. She had no intention of washing in there for everyone to see.
“Are you going to this effort for me?” called a vaguely familiar voice behind her. “You really shouldn’t have. I’m touched.”
Rory turned and was dismayed to find Rafe regarding her with a mocking expression.
“Who is this?” asked Longinus.
“Nobody,” answered Rory through gritted teeth.
“Just one of her property contacts. Rafe, at your service.” He bowed with excessive formality. When he came back up, his gaze flickered to her black eye, to Longinus, back to her. “Seems I’m not the only one you managed to rub up the wrong way. Everything —”
“Mind your own business,” said Rory hotly.
Rafe lifted an amused eyebrow. “Is that so? Well then, I won’t keep you, Mistress Magnate. A bath will do you wonders anyway. That way next time you try and attack me, your stink won’t give you away.” He winked, and headed for a door across the room.
“What did that mean?” asked Longinus.
“Nothing.” To her annoyance, Rory could feel her face turning red.
It had never mattered how she smelled when she and Jake worked together. In fact, it had probably helped with the whole helpless-urchin act. Now she was almost looking forward to getting clean.
Almost.
“Ah,” said Longinus, “there we are.”
A beautiful woman clad in a simple white tunic and wide, flowing trousers padded towards them. As she drew near, she bowed and murmured a welcome.
“A full clean for the girl, please,” said Longinus, producing a few coins. “It’s her first time in the baths, so have one of your matrons guide her.”
The woman gave a knowing smile, and pulled out a tiny set of portable scales from her pocket. She weighed the coins, then clapped her hands smartly twice. Another door opened, and a woman with thick ruddy forearms and legs like tree trunks appeared.
“I’ll see you here when you are done,” said Longinus, paying for his own bath.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” said Rory, as the matron dragged her none too gently towards another door.
“Come on now,” said the matron. “Or I’ll carry you.”
Rory tried to resist, but the matron manhandled her as easily as she would have a small child.
“Longinus?” she called. “I changed my mind. I ain’t taking no bath, and I’m in charge, remember?”
He ignored her, already heading towards the door that Rafe had disappeared through.
“Longinus?”
* * *
Taking a bath turned out to be far more complicated than Rory had imagined. The matron stripped her of her clothing, wrapped her in a large white towel, and dragged her from one bath to the other.
There were warm baths, scalding hot baths, icy plunge pools, scented baths, baths full of fish to eat dead skin, baths full of leaches to clean the blood, baths of mud, of clay, of seaweed, and many more. Rory was dunked, scrubbed, and scoured to within an inch of her life.
The matron went as far as to clean inside her ears and between her toes, making her squeal and squirm. Rory had no idea why she bothered since nobody would be looking that closely, but any attempt to explain this was ignored. The only part of her that remained impervious to all the washing was her hair. It resisted all combing attempts, much to Rory’s delight, and the best the matron could do was rub each segment with soap.
Once she had finished with Rory’s hair, the matron told her to stay put, leaving her alone in the hot and steamy marble room. No sooner had the door swung shut behind her than Rory pushed it open once more, feeling the blessedly cool air of the corridor. She could see the matron to the right, and she slipped out the door to the left, hurrying down the hallway, hugging her towel to her. She had no desire to find out what other delights the matron had planned — there was only so much cleaning a girl could put up with, after all.
When she reached stairs that led further underground, Rory hesitated. She was about to turn back when she heard the matron’s voice.
“Have you seen a girl go by? Scrawny kid with hair like rope.”
The reply was indistinct, but the echo of the matron’s tread made it clear she was headed this way. Rory ran down the stairs.
They led to a chamber with a huge pool that mirrored the entrance room above. A quick glance confirmed that this was a dead-end — no doors, no more corridors. To her left was a small alcove, only about chest height, in which was a large decorative urn. Rory crouched down and crawled to the space behind it.
No sooner had she gathered her knees to her than the matron’s solid legs appeared in her line of sight. The matron walked past the alcove, looking around the chamber, hands on hips. She muttered something under her breath, then, at last, turned and climbed back up the stairs.
Rory waited a little while longer, just to be safe, then came out from her hiding place. Now that she could take in her surroundings, she saw that the chamber was really quite beautiful. The mosaic on the domed ceiling traced geometric patterns in red, orange, and gold. One of the chamber walls was a rock face, and water trickled down from a wide opening at the top, where the wall should have met the ceiling. At the base of the rock was a deep pool that was linked to the main bath by a narrow channel. The water flowed lazily down the channel, mixing along the way with almond milk that poured out from two marble cornucopias.
Women lounged about the bath in various states of undress, laughing and talking confidentially, their voices tinkling against the marble pillars. Rory couldn’t help but stare at them.
They were gorgeous.
Their bodies were soft and full of curves, their smooth skin like unctuous caramel. Rory felt acutely aware of her elbows and knees, of her ribs so obvious under her skin, of her tiny breasts. She felt sure the women were looking at her, maybe even laughing at her. She hugged her towel tighter and sat as far away from them as she could, right by the rock, letting her feet dangle in the water.
She watched the water cascading down the rock, and noticed that it flowed irregularly, as if something was blocking its progress. Rory peered into the gap from which it flowed. She could just make out something darker within the shadows. It was moving, slowly dragged forward by the flowing water.
As she watched, the blockage reached the edge, hovered for a moment as though undecided, and crashed down into the pool below. The women screamed, and Rory sucked in a breath. Floating face up in the pool was a bloated, waxy corpse. Rory stared at it, and then stared at it again, recognition setting in. It was the man who had given her the jar of paste the previous night.
His eyes were cloudy and a milky, pale blue. Dark veins stood out on his face and neck. Nowhere was this more pronounced than on his forehead, where they spread out like a spider’s web from a single word: Viper.
Chapter 15
“And you’re sure it said ‘Viper’?” asked Longinus for the umpteenth time, visibly agitated.
They were walking rapidly away from the baths, which now crawled with guards. Rory had quickly clambered up the wet rock face after having found the body, but all she had found in the space above it was darkness, rock, and a tiny gap through which the water flowed. Whoever had killed the man must have deposited the body up there by coming in through the baths. There was no way the body would have fit through that gap.
“Yeah, I’m positive. I can read, you know.”
“Well, your hair suggests otherwise, so forgive me for being sceptical.”
“My hair?”
“Yes, the sure sign of a thinking man is in the neatness of his chin and the grooming of his hair. With the state you’re in, I’m surprised you can even string a sentence togeth
er.”
“Oh, really? Well, you just remember that I’m the one blackmailing you, so if I’m an idiot, what does that make you, eh?”
The vein on Longinus’ forehead looked dangerously close to bursting. He walked stiffly ahead, then stopped abruptly again.
“And you’re sure the eyes were pale blue all over? Maybe the lighting made them seem that way, or —”
“Yeah, definitely. They were all cloudy and pale blue, like…like blue milk. And it definitely wasn’t you who killed him?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, do you really think I’d be so crude as to leave a body in water to grow…” he finished the statement with a hand gesture, obviously not comfortable elaborating on what water could do to a corpse.
Rory hadn’t quite decided how she felt about finding her benefactor dead, but knowing that Longinus wasn’t the one who had killed him was definitely a relief. It would have made things far too complicated otherwise.
Longinus sped off again, muttering to himself, so that Rory had to trot behind to keep up with him. She hadn’t yet revealed that she had met the dead man, and she decided to keep that to herself until she had a better idea of what was going on.
“Do you think someone is trying to impersonate the Viper?” she asked.
“Obviously. Unless you read the message on the forehead wrong. I can’t believe I’m relying on someone like you to confirm such an important piece of information.”
“Sod off, I can read perfectly well. Why would someone want to impersonate you, though — or the Viper?”
“What a stupid question. It was inevitable that someone would try. Men want to be the Viper, women want to be with the Viper. It can be a terrible burden to be so admired, you know. Fame and adulation can be a double-edged —”
Rory snorted.
“What was that?” Longinus glared at her.
“What?”
“That noise.”
“I just had something in my nose.”
“Then blow your nose and be quiet when I talk.”
Rory blew her nose in her fingers and wiped them on her tunic, watching with glee the shock and disgust on Longinus’ face.
The Viper and the Urchin: A Novel of Steampunk Adventure (Bloodless Assassin Mysteries Book 1) Page 8
