by Scott Taylor
“This is a job that will pay us well,” Kryranen said. “Up in the Gold Jaguar District.” She added unnecessarily, “Where people like the Vash live.”
“You’re supposed to be keeping the notes,” Jelith pointed out. Most inhabitants of Taux assumed Jai-Ruk were too brutish for scholarly pursuits, but Kryranen’s handwriting was better than his. Her hands were large but her fingers were slender and dexterous; his notes looked like the scratchings of a child next to her elegant script.
She leaned forward to look at the book and her grimace suggested she agreed. “I’ll recopy it later.” Exasperated, she said, “You just don’t like working for money. It’s too bad we can’t eat history.”
“You would eat history if you could,” Jelith felt obliged to say. It was true.
She folded her arms and gave him the long-suffering look.
He sighed. “What is this job?”
“They want us to lay a ghost.”
Jelith stared. “Are you out of your mind?”
These prospective employers were not expecting them until later in the day, so Jelith made Kryranen buy him dinner at the Emerald Serpent. He wrapped up in the hooded cloak that he used to protect himself from the too-harsh light of Taux’s sun, and they left the catacombs. They entered the old ball courts through the single entrance, the Black Gate carved with skulls and serpents and other symbols of the former inhabitants of Taux. Jelith would have given much to know the full meaning. There were two remaining sunken courts, the wide stepped stone bleachers around them now covered with makeshift shacks and dwellings, the crowded residences of Taux’s less-prized citizens.
They took the stone ramps up past the ramshackle dwellings. The place was noisy and thick with thieves, mercenaries, and every sort of criminal, but no one bothered them. They blended in well, and the casual inhabitants assumed they were mercenaries. Their work often involved hard labor, moving stone or digging, so they were always covered with dust and sweat. Sometimes newcomers learned they were scholars and challenged them, to find that the appearance of ferocity was not a deception.
They passed the Silk Purse, where the prostitutes were too discrete to shout at passers-by, and turned into the dark entrance of the Emerald Serpent.
There were tables of different heights, designed for all the varying races that now inhabited Taux. Since Jelith was under four feet tall and Kryranen topped six, none was truly comfortable for them. As this was occasionally a matter of hilarity for newcomers to the Emerald Serpent, Jelith stood by their table and surveyed the room while Kryranen found stools of the right heights. There was some sniggering in the back among a group of Opal Gate mercenaries, but the regulars ignored them and no one spoke, so Jelith didn’t have to cock-punch anyone.
When they were seated, Kryranen leaned back against the dingy wall and said, “They think the haunting is caused by a burial secreted somewhere inside the walls of their house.”
“Madness, madness. You are a madwoman.” Taux’s stone was rich with spirits as it was; anyone who would bury a body within a house wall was asking for worse than trouble.
“They need someone to locate the body so it can be removed and set to rest. It will be simple.”
“Simple? You are simple to think we should do this.”
“I thought I was mad.” Kryranen eyed him. “And if you say that again I will break your jaw for you.”
Jelith decided not to say it again. Everyone knew much of Taux was haunted, one way or another. When the foreign newcomers had first moved into the deserted city, the wealthy had tried to turn the empty temples into palaces, but had been forced out by the sheer volume of strange and sometimes deadly supernatural occurrences. Such incidents in the more quiet Gold Jaguar District, which had always been residential, were more rare, but not unheard of. “It could be dangerous. Why don’t they hire a Wizard?”
“They say the ghost has hurt no one so far.” She shrugged one shoulder. “And they’re afraid of Wizards.”
As an answer it was woefully inadequate. And it also had the mark of Kryranen’s vivid imagination. “Did they tell you this or did you make it up yourself to explain their inexplicable behavior?”
“I made it up myself,” she admitted. “But I think it’s true. I think they’re afraid that the Wizard would tell their enemies of their trouble.”
Jelith reluctantly conceded that that made some sense. “But they aren’t afraid we will.”
“Who cares what we say?”
This was true. No one associated with the powerful merchant clans or Red Pillars would be much interested in Jelith or Kryranen’s opinion of them. “How much money?”
She told him, and he almost spat fermented grain water across the table. That would be enough to pay their living expenses until winter, and allow them to spend most of their time on their explorations in the catacombs, not in the hunting and selling of artifacts. “I see,” he muttered.
Kryranen leaned back against the wall, giving him a self-satisfied look. “Am I a madwoman?”
“No. No, you are not.” He spread his hands on the table. It was wood, and dead to his senses. “How did you hear about this? Surely they did not advertise in the market.”
“The major-domo of their trading business approached me outside the Black Gate. He said he had been asking the dealers of art about Kin who would take commissions to search for things, and they directed him to us.” At his expression, she added repressively, “I checked with the dealers, and he spoke the truth. I also spoke to some of the sellers of luxury goods, and they knew the house, and recognized the major-domo.”
Jelith was still dubious, at best. “But when people with wealth hire people like us for mysterious jobs involving the supernatural, it never ends well.”
“I know.” Kryranen leaned forward, intent. “But the spirit may have learned something of old Taux, buried as it is within a wall. We could question it! And think what we could do with this money.”
He sighed. No one would think it from her manner, but Kryranen was as big a fanatic as he was; she just hid it better. “The spirit will probably eat us.”
“I would not say ‘probably,’” Kryranen disagreed, but it didn’t matter. She had heard the assent in his voice.
It was growing dark by the time they reached the Gold Jaguar District, and the warm lights in the windows of the tall stone houses did not far fall enough to light the street. In a way this was good, as their prospective employers did not wish for attention to this errand, and doubtless would not have appreciated it if Jelith and Kryranen became obliged to explain their presence here to the Sturgeon guards.
They had both stopped at their quarters to wash and put on cleaner leathers. There were wealthy Kin families who lived in this quarter, and hopefully, in the dark, they would be taken for a Kin merchant and his Jai-Ruk bodyguard, and no questions would be asked.
At first they passed others, fire-spark Humans, wind-born Aspara, a few earthly Kin, some traveling with personal guards and most carrying lamps, all clearly on their way home or to the entertainments being held in the more brightly-lit houses and the gardens surrounding them. Then the streets grew less busy, passers-by few and far between. There were few lighted windows, no music or voices drifting from walled courtyards or open doors. With less distraction, Jelith became more aware of the stone under his feet and in the walls. It echoed – all of Taux echoed – but there was less distortion from the everyday activities of current residents. He caught the edge of voices that came from no living being, and tasted old blood in the back of his throat.
“Why are ghosts hunted at night, and not in the day?” he asked.
“They aren’t as likely to come out in the day,” Kryranen said. “We want to speak to it before we tell them where the body is, remember? That’s the point of all this. Besides the money.”
“Yes, yes,” Jelith grumbled. He could not quite believe in this ghostly conversation Kryranen had her heart set on. He thought they would find a moldering body, hopefully be
paid, and go home as ignorant as they had started. The spirits of Taux were many, but they were never cooperative.
Kryranen found the house with difficulty, having to retrace their path twice. The near unbroken darkness and silent houses leaning over them wore on Jelith’s nerves. Not sure whether he was more worried about being stopped and questioned by guards, attacked by street robbers, or assaulted by some mythical creature of the night, he said, “I thought you knew where this place was!”
“I was given the direction, but it’s hard to mark the way in the darkness of the abyss,” Kryranen said, annoyed. “Wait, I think this is it.”
It was a stone-walled yard looming out of the dark, a bulky structure rising behind it with odd angles and a few windows visible only as dimly-lit squares, light leaking sporadically out between tightly-closed shutters. At some point, an elaborate iron rail had been added to the top of the already tall stone wall, to further discourage intruders. Kryranen pushed the heavy wooden door of the gate and it squeaked open to admit them.
They crossed an outer courtyard, all tree shadows and the rustle of leaves, the scent of flowers, the trickle of water and the smell of dust on the path. Kryranen led the way through to another arched stone gate, to a smaller stone-floored court lit by two hanging lamps framing the large double doors of the house. In their light, Jelith could see that the house had four levels at least, in the blocky square stone construction that was common in this part of Taux, with bands of carved ornamentation running across the face of it. It was not nearly as large as he had supposed, as the other houses of the Gold Jaguar District. Perhaps because it was so near the edge of the burrow, or perhaps it extended further back than it seemed.
Before Kryranen could approach the doors, one of them began to open. Jelith admitted to a slight flutter of unease, but the door revealed a lamplit entryway and an elderly Human male in a servant’s plain clothes. The man said, “You are the Kin Jelith and the Jai-Ruk Kryranen?”
“That is us,” Kryranen replied. “We are here about the...spiritual problem.”
The servant stepped back. “Please enter and follow me.”
The servant led them through a series of small but high-ceilinged chambers, fitted out as receiving rooms.
Jelith had thought the family must have acquired the house only recently, discovering it was afflicted with a spirit sometime afterward. The furnishings were very rich, as expected, chairs and tables of fine dark woods, inlaid with ivory and mother of pearl, but rooms were small and the walls of smooth unornamented stone, like the walls of many of the common structures in Taux. It was not nearly as fine as what was usually found in the Gold Jaguar. But all the structures in Taux, except for the new ones of wood constructed by recent arrivals inside the Black Gate, were re-purposed and often oddly laid out for whatever use their new inhabitants put them to.
Then they entered a last waiting room with an archway that opened into a large space, unlit and shadowy. Jelith could see heavy square columns, carved with the angular designs, and a very finely polished floor of red granite.
The servant said, “Wait here, please,” and started toward a smaller door in the sidewall that led off into a different part of the house.
Jelith asked, “Wait for what? May we not simply get started?” The house seemed larger than he had thought at first and the sooner they began to search, the better.
The servant turned back. “My Master wishes to speak with you first.”
“Your master?” Kryranen asked, a trace warily. “I thought the arrangement already made. We will locate the source of the disturbance, free it from whichever wall or floor it is buried in, and you will pay us.”
The servant inclined his head. “That was the arrangement, but my Master wishes to deal with you directly.”
Of course he does, Jelith thought. The better to assess whether or not they could keep the house’s secrets.
As the servant moved away, Kryranen surveyed the room. “It doesn’t seem haunted.”
“You mean there are no shrieking demons climbing out of the cracks.” Jelith stepped to the nearest plain wall and put his hand to the stone. Unlike the underground, its echoes were muted, blunted by uncounted years of simple daily life, much like the stone of the streets they had walked to reach this place. He frowned at the much more richly-decorated room visible through the archway. It made a strange contrast to the rest of the house. He took a step toward it.
“Not yet.” Kryranen added, “But I don’t want shrieking demons, I want an original inhabitant, a chatty one eager to speak to...” She spun around, drawing her sword in one smooth motion.
Jelith flinched and reached for his blade, but Kryranen faced a corner of the room, occupied by nothing other than an ivory chair too delicate for anyone to sit on. “What is it?” he asked.
“Something touched me.” She eased a step back. “A cold touch, on the back of my neck.”
“It seems we have not mistaken the house,” Jelith muttered. He leaned against the wall, torn between sending his awareness deeper into the stone and watching Kryranen. There was still no hint of a disturbance in the wall. The corpse, wherever it was concealed, must be hidden behind a different stone, something that did not share echoes with this wall. Or the haunting is caused by something else... “I think—“
He forgot what he thought, for a dozen dark shadow figures melted out of the far wall and charged them.
Jelith drew his sword, blocking a swing aimed at his head. He half-expected his blade to pass through the specter but it connected so solidly it rattled his bones. He ducked a second blow, caught sight of Kryranen surrounded by shadows, her sword moving like a bright flash. He feinted, stabbed, but as his blade entered his shadowy opponent’s chest, the thing surged toward him and seized his throat. The force of it choked off his breath and cracked bones and... it was gone.
Jelith stood in the center of the room, his sword held limply in one hand. Kryranen stood a few paces away, breathing hard, her sword still raised in guard. The air was icy cold, and Jelith’s exhaled breath came out in a steamy cloud.
Their eyes met in mutual consternation. She said, “I apologize for persuading you into this job.”
“I forgive you,” he told her.
She hesitated. “Do you want to leave?”
Jelith considered it, then said, “All the benign powers help me, I do not.”
“Me neither.” Kryranen’s prominent incisors flashed in a brief grin.
They heard the servant’s quiet footsteps, and a moment later he stepped into the doorway. He took in their martial stances with a raised brow.
Kryranen cleared her throat and sheathed her sword. She began, “There was a... We believed there was a...”
With an air of weary resignation, and the first sign that there was a personality behind his façade, he stopped her. “There is no need to explain, believe me. Come this way, please.”
The servant led them through another maze of small reception rooms, then upstairs and through a door to a somewhat larger sitting room with a balcony looking down onto a dark inner court. The room was lit by many lamps, and occupied by five Humans. They were speaking, rather agitatedly, and the room was warm with the restrained power of their Element. They stopped as the servant opened the door.
Jelith saw immediately that three of them could be discounted. They were a young woman and two young men, all dressed richly, with the tattoos fashionable among the later generations of newcomers to Taux. They must be family members but had obviously been relegated to the sulky fringe of the conversation. There were two main players, the first an aged woman sitting in an armchair as if it might have been a throne, her expression that of an emperor dealing with a particularly difficult vassal. The vassal in question was a young man, handsome, pacing impatiently before the balcony. They had a family resemblance in their sharp, stubborn features, their light brown skin and dark straight hair.
The young man looked up at their appearance and ceased his pacing. “You are
the-…“
He stopped, at a loss for the word. Jelith wasn’t sure what to fill it in with, either. None of their occupations seemed appropriate for the occasion. He said, “We are. I am Jelith, and this is Kryranen.”
The young man said, “I am Cerran Vatel.” He nodded toward the older woman. “My mother.” To the others as a body. “My wife, my brothers.” The mother was the only one who acknowledged the introduction, giving them a grim nod of greeting.
Vatel said, “Did my major-domo tell you about the... problem?”
“Something of it,” Kryranen admitted cautiously. “That there is a disturbed spirit, which you believe is buried within a wall.”
Vatel said, “We acquired this house from another merchant family, some five years ago. After a time, it became apparent that there was a spirit here. There had been rumors of some sort of foul activities in the house, that the daughter of a lesser merchant clan had gone missing here.” He folded his arms and turned away. “Everyone believes her corpse was hidden in the walls of the house somewhere, and that the spirit disturbances are caused by it.”
Jelith said, “When did the spirit’s more violent appearances start?”
Vatel tossed him a frown. “Does it matter? Do your work, find the thing and get rid of it.”
Kryranen raised a brow. Jelith said equably, “It does matter. I wonder why anyone would spend much time living in a house with a restless spirit. Everyone knows that in Taux, the consequences could be dangerous.”
Mother Vatel glared at her son. “Tell him.”
Vatel paced away, and forced the words out. “We are a prominent family.” This seemed aimed at the old woman more than anything. “If we don’t take our place among the other merchants of our class, we will be ignored, ridiculed—“…”
“Quiet! I’ll tell him, then.” The old women sat forward. “Do you know where this house is?”
Jelith exchanged a look with Kryranen. It seemed a trick question. She answered, “I know it’s in the west end of the Gold Jaguar District, but we’re not familiar with this area.”
