Farewell to the Liar

by D. K. Fields

  Cora checked the lane in either direction. There was no one in sight, but how long would that last? She didn’t want to be talking to any constables about a dead man and her own bloodied hands. She knelt on the other side of the body. Ruth reached under the dead man’s neck, as gently as if he were a child she didn’t want to wake, to lift his head from the ground. With the cloth free of the weight of the head, Cora could properly push the hood clear of his face.

  The face of the Seeder storyteller.

  Jerome. That was what Ruth had said he was called, back when they’d encountered him at the Water Gardens, just after the Rustan story had finished.

  Ruth sat back on her haunches and stared at the dead storyteller. ‘He must have decided that his own story wasn’t meant to end with the Seeder tale. He had more to do before joining the Audience.’

  ‘At Morton’s bidding,’ Cora said. She couldn’t help thinking of Nicholas Ento, seeing him for the first time dead in the alley, blood all down his chest, just like this man. But Ento’s blood had dried by the time he’d been reported to the police, and his lips had been sewn shut with bootlaces. Morton’s hand was all over the dead of this election.

  Cora pushed the folds of the storyteller’s cloak aside and began searching his clothes.

  ‘What are you looking for?’ Ruth said.

  ‘He knew where to find us. No matter all the ways we’ve tried to outrun him, confuse him, how we’ve changed our plans – he was always ready. I need to know how.’

  Jerome’s trousers had more pockets than a Wayward cloak. Ruth went to help Cora search him, but Cora stopped her.

  ‘We need to keep as much blood off ourselves as we can. Two Caskers in the lanes of Perlanse are conspicuous enough.’

  Ruth fell back and let Cora work. It seemed to take an age. The sun was fierce on the back of her head and her cheek was throbbing. She could feel the blood there stiffening in the sun, but there was no time to do anything about it now. Finally, her fingers closed around a scrap of paper. She drew it out, and even before she’d opened it, she knew who’d given it to Jerome: the paper was a torn corner of a pennysheet.

  ‘Well?’ Ruth said, looking over her shoulder.

  Cora took a deep breath, then let herself confirm it. On the scrap of pennysheet, written in the grubby mess that could only be charcoal – of a kind she’d seen Marcus using in the storeroom – were notes about their trip overland. The point they’d leave the barge, and where they’d pick it up again.

  ‘I didn’t know she could write,’ Cora said, tucking the note into her pocket.

  ‘Barely, given the spelling.’

  They stood in silence for a moment. Flies had begun to settle on Jerome. Ruth touched Cora’s arm, gently, kindly, which was so much more than Cora deserved that she thought she might be sick, right there in the lane. Instead, she stirred herself to action. There’d be time for blame later.

  ‘We need to get him out of the lane,’ Cora said, ‘and quickly. If he’s found before we’re back on the barge, we’ll have trouble.’

  ‘And how do you suggest we do that?’

  Cora looked up and down the lane again. Just the gravel and the walls, the spire of the Seat of the Dandy. And the trees on the other side of the wall.

  ‘If we can lift him, we’ll tip him over and hope the trees will hide him for long enough that we can reach your Wayward herd. Are you up to it?’

  ‘We’re both cut, and we’ll both lift,’ Ruth said firmly.

  ‘Then let’s move.’

  Cora wrapped the cloak around the body as best she could, to save from getting any more blood on their own clothes. Then with Cora at the head, the heavier end, and Ruth at the feet, they raised the body of the Seeder storyteller above their own heads. There was a moment when Cora’s arms started to tremble and she could see Ruth was pale and sweating, a moment that she thought they’d never do it, but then they both seemed to find strength in the same instance. With a shared grunt they pushed Jerome onto the flat top of the wall. It was Ruth who gave him the final shove over to the other side.

  ‘Let’s hope no one comes by any time soon,’ Cora said, once they’d both got their breath back. ‘In this heat, Jerome’ll stink before too long.’

  ‘Time for us to get moving then, but I’d better clean you up first.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your face, Cora. You’re covered in blood. Given that cut in your cheek, I’d say most of it’s yours. Though the force you hit him with the stone…’

  With deftness that spoke of many injuries in her life crossing the Union, Ruth took a water bottle and a cloth from the knapsack and cleaned Cora’s face. Her cheek stung worse than the moment Jerome had cut her, but Ruth told her it didn’t look too deep.

  ‘When we get back to the barge, Nullan can stitch it. You’ll have an impressive scar.’

  ‘Not sure who I’m meant to be impressing,’ Cora said.

  ‘Any of your old constables?’

  And Cora thought of Jenkins. How much better would it have been to have the constable on this trip rather than Marcus? Marcus who was in Morton’s pay. She picked up the knapsack, and they carried on up the lane.

  *

  They didn’t speak for a while, and that was fine by Cora. She rolled a smoke. Her hands were steady, which surprised her, given that she’d just killed a man.

  ‘When we were in the Lowlands, going down to the Tear,’ Ruth said, ‘and those two people traffickers attacked us, you wouldn’t kill them.’

  ‘I wouldn’t let you kill them, Ruth. There’s a difference.’

  ‘Fine. But the end result would have been the same. You insisted we keep them alive, tie them up and leave them to be found by their friends.’

  Cora handed Ruth the shared smoke.

  ‘And yet I just watched you kill a man by braining him with a rock. What’s changed?’

  Cora licked her lips, looked up at the sky, and thought how to answer.

  ‘Nothing. Everything. I was in the police when that pair attacked us in the Lowlands. I was meant to hunt down murderers, not do the killing myself.’

  ‘And now you’re just like the rest of us: subject to the power of the Commission, the Assembly.’

  ‘I was still subject to them when I had my badge, Ruth.’ She took back the smoke and drew deeply.

  ‘If you’ve done it once,’ Ruth said, ‘you can do it again.’

  ‘Speaking from experience?’

  ‘The girl. Marcus. She’s betrayed me. Put everything we’ve worked for at risk.’

  Cora stopped. ‘You can’t be serious, Ruth. You want me to kill Marcus?’

  ‘I’m completely serious,’ Ruth said, and from her cold, calm tone, Cora knew that she was. And she also knew, in that instant, that the person standing before her in a lane in West Perlanse wasn’t the person she had grown up with. Ruth was right – Cora had changed, but she hadn’t changed as much as her sister.

  ‘If you won’t do it,’ Ruth said, ‘I will. Make your choice. You’ve got until we reach the barge to decide.’

  Twenty-Four

  As the barge reached the meeting point – a ruined cottage that had all but slid into the river – Cora could see Serus, standing with Luine at the wheel. He had spotted where she and Ruth had been waiting, half-hidden by the remains of the cottage chimney breast. That he’d been looking out for them was clear, but there was no smile on his face. In fact, he looked grim. Cora hadn’t thought she could feel any worse than she already did, given what she’d learnt about Marcus, but seeing Serus did just that. How could she have ever thought it was him feeding Jerome information?

  With her usual laconic efficiency, Captain Luine sailed the barge close enough to the bank that Cora and Ruth could step aboard without the barge having to completely stop and tie up. Ruth marched past Cora without a word, going inside. Nullan glanced at Cora, frowning, then went after Ruth. The truth would be out in no time, and Cora still didn’t know what she was going to do.

  Serus
was still looking glum, but on seeing the cut Jerome had given her, that turned to concern.

  ‘Cora – what happened to your face?’

  ‘It’s not as bad as it looks. The one we thought was Tannir, the one following us. Turns out, it wasn’t him. It was someone else. The Seeder storyteller. He found us and took a swipe at me.’

  ‘Stitcher hear me!’

  ‘But he’s… gone now. We don’t have to worry about him anymore.’

  The guarded look returned to Serus’s face. ‘Well, that’s some good news at least,’ he said, ‘isn’t it?’

  ‘It is, but…’ She was trying to see past him, catch sight of Marcus before Ruth did. A yell from inside the barge told her she was too late.

  ‘I have to sort something out. Something important. I’ll explain later, I promise.’

  With a nod to the captain and Harker, both of whom were at the wheel and looking confused, Cora went inside, following Marcus’s shouts to the saloon. There she found Ruth struggling to get a rope round the girl’s wrists. From the dazed look on Nullan’s face, Ruth had just told her about the pennysheet girl’s betrayal. To Nullan’s credit, she looked as disappointed as Cora felt. But Nullan wouldn’t hesitate to carry out Ruth’s bidding, however unpleasant it was. Cora had to find a way to stall.

  ‘You said you’d let me decide,’ Cora shouted over the noise.

  On hearing her voice, Marcus looked over to the doorway, and the relief on the girl’s face was clear.

  ‘Detective! What happened to your face? No – that don’t matter. You got to get this sister of yours off me now. She’s lost her wits! Tying me up!’ Marcus made to bite Ruth but her sister dodged it, managing to tighten the knots that now bound Marcus.

  ‘And have you decided, Cora?’ Ruth said.

  ‘Let me talk to her, find out why.’

  Ruth shoved Marcus back against the bench, to a loud oi from the girl.

  ‘And you think that’ll make a difference?’ Ruth said, her voice rising. ‘My son, my only child, died for this election, and this wretch thinks she can make that sacrifice be for nothing?’

  ‘She’s only a child herself,’ Nullan said, putting her hand on Ruth’s shoulder, but Ruth shook her off. She was crying now, tears coursing down her cheeks, but that wouldn’t soften her. From the silence now emanating from the bench, Marcus had finally grasped the seriousness of the situation.

  ‘That girl knows what she’s about,’ Ruth said, her gaze on Cora. ‘You’ve got half an hour. After that, she goes in the river. I’ll fill her pockets with stones myself.’

  Ruth stormed out, with Nullan close behind. Cora grabbed the Casker storyteller by her inky wrist. ‘If there’s any way you can get me more time—’

  Nullan shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Cora, but there’s no reasoning with her when she’s like this. I’ve seen it before. When this is done, come and find me. I’ll stitch your face.’

  Cora shoved the door closed, then kicked it. Her boot left a mark but the wood held. It might be old, but it was tough. Just like the captain who had charge of this old floating tea chest. Another person Cora had wrongly suspected when the truth had been right there in front of her.

  Marcus was trussed up on the bench, trying to undo the knots Ruth had tied.

  ‘You going to help me here, Detective?’

  ‘Not sure I am. You’ve not been helping me much on this trip.’

  ‘I dunno what you’re talking about.’ Marcus gave up on the knots and leaned back on the bench. Her gaze was on the ceiling.

  ‘I think you do.’ From her pocket, Cora took the note she’d found on Jerome, then tossed it onto the table. ‘You’ve been giving the Seeder storyteller our plans.’

  ‘Is that who he is?’ Marcus said. ‘She didn’t tell me nothing about him. Just to get word to him about what you was going to do.’

  ‘And by “she” you mean Chambers Morton.’

  ‘You think a Chambers would talk to me? You’ve really lost it since you left the police, Detective.’

  Cora ignored the jibe. ‘So, if it wasn’t Morton that put you up to this, who was it?’

  ‘It was the grumpy one at Bernswick station. The one you never liked talking to. Stayed on the top floor mostly.’

  ‘You can’t mean Chief Inspector Sillian?’

  ‘I dunno her name but her hair is all strange and flat.’

  With her bound hands, Marcus did her best to flatten her hair into a vicious parting, just as Sillian wore it. Of course she’d do Morton’s dirty work, save Morton the embarrassment of having to talk to a grubby pennysheet seller.

  ‘When I was leaving the Water Gardens after the Rustan story,’ Marcus said, ‘that one with the hair, she got them purple tunics to catch hold of me and take me to her. Then she told me what she wanted me to do, what she’d pay me. I got half the money then, and I’ll get the rest once we get back to Fenest.’

  ‘I knew you didn’t have time to follow me and Ruth from the Water Gardens to the barge,’ Cora said, ‘and that you couldn’t have found out what we were planning just by keeping on our trail that day. And as for the story about thieving those clothes from the laundry…’

  ‘I do do that, you know,’ Marcus said. ‘Sometimes.’ She pulled at the collar of her fine new jacket, much as she was able with her hands tied. ‘But I’ve never found nothing like this.’

  ‘It was Sillian who gave you the clothes.’

  Marcus nodded.

  ‘And Sillian who told you about the trip upriver.’ Cora covered her face with her hands. ‘You lied to me, Marcus. I asked you, outright, if someone was paying you.’

  ‘Yeah, I did lie. But I ain’t been all bad.’ Marcus hopped off the bench and came to stand before Cora, her bound hands held out in a gesture of pity. ‘The one with the flat hair, she didn’t know where you was leaving from, what dock it was. She didn’t know the time neither. It was true what I told you when you found me in the storeroom – I worked it out from what the other ’sheet sellers were saying, like you do.’

  ‘What do you mean, “like I do”?’

  ‘A detective! I was being a detective.’

  Cora groaned. Audience help her. Marcus’s small, eternally grubby face peered up at her.

  ‘I found out the barge you was getting,’ Marcus said, ‘and what time you was leaving, and I didn’t tell her, the one with the hair. If I had, she’d have got one of her people to go straight to the dock and get your sister.’

  ‘If you do manage to survive this in one piece, Marcus, you might not be a bad bet for a detective.’

  ‘I don’t think you know much about betting, Detective. Beulah says—’

  ‘Never mind about my chequer debts.’

  There was a noise in the corridor. Cora went back to the door. There was no lock, so she leaned against it again.

  ‘All right, so you didn’t betray us to Sillian before we left Fenest, but you’ve been doing it ever since. This note to the storyteller. It’s not the only one, is it? You’ve been sending him messages the entire time, using those new slingshot skills.’

  The girl grinned.

  ‘And I didn’t even know you could write,’ Cora said. ‘Reading, yes. You can’t be a pennysheet seller without being able to read the words you’re selling. But to write a note like this—’

  ‘You’re the one who said I had to go to school.’ Marcus shrugged. ‘Ain’t my fault you don’t know what I can do.’

  ‘You’re right. It is my fault. I underestimated you, and even worse, I trusted you. After all I’ve done for you.’

  ‘Sillian paid me more than you do. Lot more. That’s all.’

  ‘So that’s what this is about – money?’

  ‘Isn’t everything?’

  There was no resignation in Marcus’s voice, and no guile either. Just a simple statement of fact. This was truth as the girl saw it, and who could blame her for that, the life she’d had? Cora knew she should have done more for the girl. That she was partly to blame for Ma
rcus being an easy target for Morton’s schemes.

  ‘I gave you a head start, didn’t I?’ Marcus said. ‘And I only fired a few notes to the man sent to catch your sister.’

  ‘You’re claiming you did enough to get paid but not enough to actually betray me?’

  ‘Got it in one, Detective.’

  ‘Well, you won’t be sending any more notes to anyone,’ Cora said.

  ‘Because your sister’s going to throw me in the river?’ There was the barest hint of fear in Marcus’s voice, and Cora was pleased to hear it, because if Marcus believed the threat then she might fall into Cora’s plan to save her, and quietly for once.

  ‘Not just that,’ Cora said. ‘He’s dead. The Seeder storyteller. I… He’s dead.’

  Marcus grinned. ‘That’s good. I didn’t like them poison darts. Harker said I couldn’t sit with him on the roof because it was too dangerous. But now it’s your sister who’s the dangerous one.’

  ‘Ruth’s not dangerous, she’s just… sad, and angry. And there’s something she has to do that’s really, really important. I don’t suppose Sillian told you why we were making the trip upriver, or why the Seeder storyteller was following us?’

  ‘She only told me what I had to do. And I done it!’

  ‘I wouldn’t get too excited, Marcus. You’re not going to be able to collect the rest of your pay.’

  ‘You could untie me, let me climb out the window and swim to the bank.’

  ‘Can you swim?’

  ‘It can’t be that hard. Or help me get to the captain’s wheel. Luine will sail close to another barge if I ask her, I know she will. I’ll jump across, and you can tell that sister of yours you had no idea.’

  The girl’s voice was babbling, but it was no use. The barge was slowing. From the look on Marcus’s face, the girl could feel it too. Before Cora could say anything more, there was a thump on the door to the saloon – a thump so forceful, she felt it in her spine.

  ‘Time’s up, Cora.’ It was Ruth.

  Marcus scurried to the corner of the saloon. There wasn’t much room to hide, but she did her best to crouch in the shadows. Cora took a deep breath and opened the door.