Dark the Dreamer's Shadow (The Paderborn Chronicles Book 2)

by Jennifer Bresnick

  It was eerily silent. A few dockhands hurried to their tasks in a tight group, neither speaking nor looking around at the newcomers, let alone hurling their typical flurry of jokes and insults amongst themselves or towards strangers they didn’t fancy. Megrithe was used to being the subject of jeers or catcalls from such people, and while she didn’t typically like it, the absence of any jocularity at all from the harbor folk was jarring and unsettling, only adding to the sense of oppression that had been building in her mind.

  “Something is very wrong,” she said quietly to Leofric, who nodded, his hand resting near the hilt of his sword the whole time.

  “Why don’t I meet you two somewhere a bit later?” Nikko said. “The Spearman, perhaps?”

  “Good idea,” said Leofric. “Just be careful.”

  “Where is he going?” Megrithe asked when Nikko took a sudden detour down a different street without even saying goodbye.

  “I’ve got my friends and he’s got his,” Leofric told her. “I don’t know what has happened, but I do know it’s almost never a good idea to be in mixed company when something goes wrong on Niheba. We’ll join up again tonight.”

  “I’d like to see if I can find some of my own contacts,” she said. “There are agents of the Guild all over the island. I just don’t have names.”

  “I have one. But you may not wish to come with me when I see him.”

  “Why?”

  Leofric actually looked embarrassed, which Megrithe hadn’t really thought possible. “It’s my uncle. He can be a bit…impolite.”

  “Andrus?”

  “Yes.”

  “Andrus Gunhilde is here? I thought he was in some Paderborn gutter –” she started, clamping her mouth shut before she could finish the whole thought.

  “Can’t say he hasn’t been, on occasion,” Leofric replied with a shrug. “But he straightened up a bit after he got married again. A good woman will do that for some fellows. He never could quite leave the Guild behind, so he found a place where the Guild doesn’t quite exist. It’s turned out well for him – and, I hope, for us.”

  “He knew my father. If you don’t mind, I’d like to see him. He was never unkind to me.”

  “If you wish.”

  Leofric led her into the center of the city, where the coiled, watchful atmosphere seemed only to deepen. Anyone who had to be out in the streets was keeping to themselves, hoods up or goods clutched tightly to chests, children held close and their questions constantly hushed. It didn’t seem to matter whether they were human or neneckt. No one wanted to mingle, not even with their own kind, as if a single word or greeting would set off a wildfire.

  Megrithe was expecting Leofric to take her into some unsavory corner of the town, where Andrus would be holed up in a dark den cluttered with empty bottles of liquor, but they ended up ringing the bell of a perfectly respectable little house, covered in whitewashed clapboard and sandwiched between two taller blocks of flats that looked like older brothers muscling their way onto the street.

  “Well, look who it is,” Andrus said, surprised but pleased when he answered the door. “What are you doing here, Leofric? I haven’t seen you for an age.”

  “I’m just here for some business, Uncle,” Leofric said, shaking his hand. “I believe you’re acquainted with Miss Prinsthorpe?”

  “Is that our little Meg?” Andrus cried. “I don’t believe it.”

  “It’s nice to see you again, Mister Gunhilde,” she said while he shook her hand, too, before leaning in to give her a peck on the cheek.

  “All grown up and making a hell of a name for yourself, from what I’ve heard. How’s your mother?”

  “Passed on, I’m afraid,” Megrithe said, laughing nervously as she tried to recover herself. Andrus was a big man, tall and broad, and while he seemed perfectly sober and the gesture was a chaste as could be, she hadn’t expected the close proximity. “Just last year.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it. Very sorry, indeed. She was a fine woman. Come inside and have a cup. Of tea,” he added. “I don’t touch a drop of anything stronger anymore. The lady wouldn’t stand for it, and I ain’t about to blame her. Leofric, I don’t know if you’ve even met my missus.”

  “Not in person, no.”

  “Hilda, put on the kettle,” Andrus called, ushering them into the parlor. “We’ve got guests.”

  “Hilda Gunhilde?” Megrithe whispered, trying to stop another laugh as Leofric stepped aside to let her get to the settee.

  “Gunhilda Gunhilde, actually,” he whispered back with a smile. “Poor soul. At least he knows she must really love him.”

  After a series of familiar tea-related noises from the kitchen, Hilda emerged to greet the company. She was a youngish woman, with pretty chestnut hair and an engaging smile, who had absolutely no compunction about laughing at her own married name as she introduced herself.

  “It’s terrible, isn’t it?” she said, punching her husband playfully on the arm as he beamed at her. “I will blame him forever. But I’m so glad to finally meet you, Leofric. Andrus hardly talks of anyone else.”

  “I hope that’s not true,” his nephew replied. “You must be terribly bored of me already.”

  “Nonsense. Will you be on the island long? Do you need a place to stay? We have a guest room. Or two, in a pinch,” she added, looking questioningly at Megrithe.

  “We’ll be staying at an inn, thank you,” Leofric told her. “I was actually hoping to talk a little politics, Uncle, if it’s possible.”

  “A dangerous topic, these days,” Andrus said. “Will you see if there are any cakes, love?” he asked Hilda, who nodded as if she was well aware of her cue before she retreated back to the other room. “What do you know already?”

  “Just that there’s a dark mood about,” Leofric replied. “We only just arrived.”

  “Tiaraku has put his foot in it good this time,” Andrus said. “Or at least I think he has. There have been more than a few rumors flying about.”

  “Rumors about what?” Megrithe asked.

  “One of my contacts was killed a few days ago, and so was her friend on the neneckt side. I don’t rightly know what she was into – she didn’t come to me with it – but it can’t have been something good. Some people are saying that it was a counterfeiting deal gone south, with someone named Faidal at the helm, but I don’t think so. I think it –”

  “Faidal?” Megrithe broke in. “Where is he? Do you know?”

  “Now, Meg. Don’t you go interrupting your elders,” Andrus said sternly, in the tone he had used with her when she was just a girl and too eager for her own good. “I ain’t finished.”

  “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” she said automatically, silencing herself before she could even wonder why she still instantly obeyed. It was too late now, however. He was talking again.

  “I don’t think it was this Faidal at all, in any case. I think it was a right bastard I know called Habur. Tiaraku’s favorite thug. It’s got his signature all over it, and that’s what most people who know any damn thing about it agree with.”

  “But Faidal – where does he come into it?” Megrithe asked when Andrus took a drink from his teacup. “It’s important.”

  “I don’t rightly know. I’ve never heard of him, and I don’t think Agnise had, either. She wasn’t responsible for anything too grand. She usually monitored some of the petty contraband headed to Paderborn in sailors’ pockets. It was easy from her position.”

  “Who was the neneckt who was killed?” Leofric asked.

  “Fellow called Genedi. He was a friend to the Guild, when the gold was right.”

  Leofric fell silent for a moment. “I think our job just got a lot more complicated,” he said to Megrithe eventually.

  “What job is that?” his uncle asked.

  “I know Faidal,” she told him. “I’ve been looking for him – that’s why we’re here. I need to know everything about Agnise and what she was investigating. Any connection she might have with Tiaraku’
s palace, and anything you’ve ever heard about Faidal. Everything.”

  “I can take you to her tavern,” Andrus said, “but I’ll have no flashing about of cards or titles. Everything we do here is unofficial. Do you understand?”

  “That won’t be a problem,” Megrithe replied, ducking her head a bit. She didn’t particularly want him to find out that all her business related to the Guild would be unofficial from now on. It would be a bit like telling her father she had turned her back on the livelihood that connected them through his life and after his death, and she wasn’t prepared for that.

  Leofric made no mention of the change in circumstances either, for which she was profoundly grateful. Instead, he took her arm protectively as they left the Gunhilde house and Andrus led them towards the waterfront again.

  Agnise’s tavern was one of those nameless, ancient establishments that sailors always seemed find with the help of some undeclared sixth sense. There were plenty of similar places in Paderborn that made ideal waypoints for smugglers and those with other illegal dealings on their minds, and Megrithe was used to the level of caution required when entering a hall of such low repute. There were few people in the common room, and most of them looked well into their cups already, but she took her time to mark out the one or two patrons who appeared most like to stir up trouble all the same.

  “Kitty, can I see you for a moment?” Andrus asked the barmaid, who was wedged in a corner behind a stack of wooden pallets that obviously didn’t belong there.

  The girl nodded and slipped from her station, heading straight to the back room that passed for an office and storehouse. Andrus beckoned them to follow.

  “Oh, dear,” Megrithe said when Kitty opened the door to the empty room, a powerful stench hitting her like a thrown brick.

  “I’m sorry, miss,” the girl said. “There isn’t no windows back here to clear the air. I did the best I could with vinegar and soda, but…”

  “It’s all right, I understand,” Megrithe replied when Kitty trailed off with a hitch to her voice. So much blood soaking into the worn, unvarnished wood of the floorboards and the plaster walls would be absolutely impossible to clean without sanding everything down. “There was just one death here?” she asked Andrus, who nodded.

  “As I said, it’s Habur’s style. He likes to make sure his message is clear.”

  “Kitty, did you see anyone?” she asked the barmaid, but the girl just shook her head.

  “No, miss. I found her in the morning when I came to open up.”

  “Has a neneckt called Faidal ever come here?”

  “Don’t know, miss. Never heard of him before they all started saying he did it. Wouldn’t know him from looks, but then again, I don’t know none of them when they can change so quick.”

  “Of course. Do you know anyone who might, though? A regular, maybe. Someone who talked with Agnise often, even if it seemed like nothing important.”

  Kitty paused and looked down. “Don’t know, miss.”

  “You can tell her, sweetheart,” Andrus prompted gently. “This is a good friend of mine, and haven’t I always done right by you?”

  “Yes, sir. I just – well, there’s my young man, but – that is, he isn’t mine, exactly,” she stammered, her cheeks going almost as red as the rusty stains splashed on the walls. “But he comes round often and always has a kind word. A proper gentleman. Always a nice word for me,” she repeated, and Megrithe tried not to roll her eyes. She knew the look on the maid’s face all too well. “Agnise took a shine to him, too.”

  “What’s his name?” Megrithe asked.

  “Jairus,” the girl replied. “Jairus Lanque. But he hasn’t come round in a few days. He was real upset about it all.”

  “I’m sure he was,” Andrus said soothingly, patting the girl on the shoulder as she started to well up. “We all are.”

  “I know, sir. I’m sorry. We just don’t know what we’re going to do now. Raliph has been doing the books and such, but he don’t have no right to the title, and I’ll be out my job if Mister Basset closes down the place. I got my little ones to feed, sir. I don’t know what we’ll do.”

  “I’ll sort it out with Basset,” Andrus told her. “And if he ain’t willing to listen, I’ll find you another good position. Why don’t you tell me a little more about this Jairus fellow in the meantime? Isn’t he the one who won the tourney last year?”

  Despite the fact that everyone seemed to know his name, Jairus turned out to be a difficult person to find. His most obvious distinguishing characteristic was first on everyone’s lips, but that was all anyone was willing to say for certain.

  Megrithe was told to ask the rice merchants – the rice merchants said he was very polite and always paid in full, but not even a few minutes of hard thought could help them recall if he ever spoke about what he was doing with all that grain or where his cart went once it left the loading yard.

  They sent her to their friends who sold wheat, and the wheat sellers told her that the butchers probably knew more. The butchers shook their heads and told her that no one would risk speaking out of turn about Mister Lanque, whose impressive qualities – or perhaps his deep pockets – seemed to inspire such loyalty across such a large swathe of Niheba’s human community.

  There were rumors that he belonged to the Divided, of course, but those rumors followed every blind, penniless beggar that held out a withered hand on the edge of a curb. Leofric told her it was mostly meaningless: a reflexive habit that helped settle the minds of well-to-do passers-by who convinced themselves that the street folk were nothing more than devils in disguise and didn’t deserve their patronage.

  Jairus didn’t sound anything like a beggar, and he didn’t seem much like a devil from the way he inspired respect among the subjects of her interrogations. But there was no telling anything for certain unless Megrithe found him – and there was no finding him by the time the sun was slipping golden sheets between the edges of buildings and deep into the clear, ornamental pools.

  “I’d like to go catch up with Nikko, if it’s all right with you,” Leofric said eventually, glancing up at the sunset. Andrus had gone back to his home an hour ago, and even Megrithe was beginning to realize that there was nothing more that could be done before nightfall.

  “Yes, I agree,” she sighed. “Another day wasted.”

  “I don’t think it was wasted,” Leofric said. “We have more information than we started with. Tomorrow we can approach it from the other side. Genedi’s associates may be easier to find.”

  “I do hope so.”

  The Spearman was a sprawling public house that catered to the types of merchants and minor diplomats who demanded good food and passable liquor, but were content with little else from their rented rooms and service for hire. It was comfortable enough, but it was not a place where anything but coin was met with interest, which was perfectly suited to their current needs.

  Nikko was waiting for them in the taproom with a tall, thin glass of clear spirits by his elbow as he browsed one of the monthly harbor papers that collected in musty stacks on the end tables. He flashed his bright smile when he saw Leofric, and Megrithe heard her companion breathe an audible sigh of relief.

  “I thought you might find yourself in trouble,” he said when they had joined the neneckt, who raised his eyebrows in amusement at his partner’s worry.

  “Trouble found me, instead,” Nikko said, his eyes darting to the bar, picking out a young man whose back was turned towards them. “That fellow seems to think you’re looking for him.”

  “That must be our Jairus,” Leofric said when the stranger turned around. It was obvious even from across the room that there was something very different about him, but it wasn’t until he came a little closer, one hand holding his drink, the other barely trailing out a bit to the front, that the firelight reflected the strange scarring inside his eyes.

  “May I presume you are Mister Gunhilde, sir?” Jairus said with a perfectly polite bow, no hostility evi
dent in the action. He appeared unarmed. “And Miss Prinsthorpe, of course.”

  “Inspector Prinsthorpe,” Leofric cut in, shooting Megrithe a look. She supposed it didn’t hurt to establish herself as someone who would be missed if something happened to her.

  “Yes, indeed. My apologies. How do you do, Inspector?”

  “How do you do,” she replied carefully.

  “Quite well, now that we have caught up with each other,” Jairus said with a smile. “I was told you were interested in speaking with me. I think I can probably guess the topic.”

  “You knew Agnise,” Megrithe said, trying not to let her tone reveal that she was finding the stranger somewhat more appealing than she had expected. He was younger than she thought he might be, and taller, too. It always made her sound more interested than she should be when her lesser senses took over.

  “I did, gods rest her soul. She was a good friend, but I’m afraid I have no information about her death to share with you. It took me by surprise as well.”

  “I’m not sure much takes you by surprise, Mister Lanque,” Leofric said, cautiously sitting down near Nikko.

  Jairus smiled again. “No, sir. Not much,” he said, finding a seat of his own and placing his mug on the table next to it without hesitation. Megrithe wondered if maybe he did have some sight, after all. She immediately lowered her eyes – if he could see that she had been staring at him, she would be mortified.

  “I have actually been asked to keep an eye out, so to speak, for Miss Prinsthorpe,” he said, inclining his head towards her. “We have a mutual acquaintance who is interested in her welfare.”

  “Arran?” Megrithe asked, the name little more than a squeak of surprise and hope before it turned into a hiss of condemnation at her own stupidity. She had just freely volunteered information he might not have known. A foolish, amateur mistake.

  “No, Inspector. I have heard something about him, but I have not have the pleasure of a meeting. Our acquaintance has, however. He would like to discuss the matter with you at your earliest convenience.”