Blood and Tempest

by Jon Skovron

  While Stephan felt a little uncomfortable amid the decadence of the Shade District, one look at Hectory suggested his friend’s reaction was closer to loathing. His eyes darted everywhere, and his hand kept straying to the pommel of his sword, as if he expected to be attacked at any moment by a drug-addled man-whore. “I suppose a place like this is necessary to sate the appetites of the commoners,” he grumbled. “But do they all have to be so … brazen about it?”

  “Think of it from a business perspective,” suggested Stephan. “All of these establishments are competing for customers.” He gestured to a nearby building that proudly sold coral spice. All of the buildings in the Shade District were brightly painted, but that one was a garish purple that Stephan was certain didn’t exist in nature and must be the result of biomancery. “In a place like this, the one who shouts the loudest wins.”

  Hectory grunted and continued his vigilant watch of the hedonism around him. After a few minutes, he said, “Well, why are we here, then?”

  “Because there have been rumors of a female biomancer based in this district,” said Stephan.

  “But I thought we were going after the blasphemer first.”

  “Most likely they’ll be traveling together. And even if they’re not, the grandteacher has pledged to the Council of Biomancery that we would also dispose of Brigga Lin. Since we have a lead on her, we should follow it.”

  “But I still don’t understand why we have to clean up the biomancer mess.”

  “I think this is one of those political motivations that Hurlo was always warning us against,” said Stephan. “Grandteacher Racklock wants the Vinchen to resume their proper place at the palace like the days before Manay the True brought the order down to Galemoor. The biomancer council has promised that they will help us do that if we eliminate Brigga Lin.”

  “Hm,” said Hectory. “I guess it’s worth it, then.”

  Stephan wasn’t actually sure of that. He agreed with the grandteacher that the Vinchen needed to return to the world. But he secretly agreed with old Hurlo that the order should be above politics and all the petty squabbling of the court. He also had some private concerns about how well the grandteacher, with his rough arrogance, would fit into courtly life. Judging by the way he had been treating people around Vance Post, he feared it would not be a peaceful integration.

  “Finally, the police station,” said Hectory, sounding relieved. “An island of sanity in this madness. Perhaps they will have some information about the female biomancer. Or maybe even about the blasphemer.”

  The police station certainly looked like a place of calm order on the outside. It was a large, squat building in a dull gray that put it at odds with the colorful buildings that surrounded it. The few windows that Stephan saw were narrow, making it difficult to see inside. The entire place gave off an air of squinty-eyed sobriety.

  But when they walked through the front doors, Stephan had to suppress a smile as he saw Hectory’s relief turn to horror. There was nothing orderly, or particularly sober, about the inside of the police station.

  It was one large, open room with iron, gaslit chandeliers looming overhead. The majority of the space contained a random scattering of desks and chairs where police officers in white and gold uniforms filed reports or questioned people. Holding cells lined the sides and back of the station, and prisoners yelled constantly, so that the officers had to shout to each other or to those they questioned in order to be heard. The range of people they were questioning varied from well-dressed merchants, to greasy pirates, to whores of every type, to people dressed so strangely that Stephan couldn’t quite determine who or what they were. All in all, the scene was a chaotic roar that was so disorienting, Stephan could only stand and stare at it with a sort of awe. Hectory looked more like he was in pain.

  In the center of the room, there was a desk raised higher than the rest. A hard-faced man with gold epaulets on his white uniform coat wrote in a large notebook, seemingly oblivious to the noise that surrounded him.

  “That’s probably the captain,” shouted Stephan over the din.

  Hectory nodded grimly and marched toward the desk.

  Despite the frenetic, unfocused activity all around, when the two Vinchen in their black leather armor marched through the room, there was a noticeable dip in the volume. People continued on with their business, but eyes glanced repeatedly at them. Stephan wondered if it was some remnant of respect for the Vinchen order of old, or merely curiosity.

  They stopped in front of the captain’s desk, but he didn’t look up. Instead he continued to write in his small, meticulous script.

  Finally, Stephan placed his hand on the desk within the captain’s field of view and politely cleared his throat. The captain looked up at them, his expression at first merely irritated, then shifting to mild curiosity when he took in their armor and manner. He placed his pen on the desk and steepled his hands.

  “And what can I do for you two gentlemen?” he asked, his voice carrying effortlessly over the shouting that surrounded them.

  “I am Stephan of the Vinchen order. This is my warrior brother, Hectory. Our grandteacher commands us to inquire if you have had any reports of a woman posing as a biomancer in the past few months. She would be exceptionally statuesque, and likely dressed in a hooded white gown.”

  “No one in the cells fits that description as far as I know,” said the captain.

  “What about a woman of the Southern Isles dressed all in black leather?” pressed Hectory.

  “I haven’t heard mention of one of those either, but you’re welcome to take a look.” He waved in the general direction of the holding cells that lined the walls.

  “It’s unlikely you would have been able to apprehend either of these women,” said Stephan. “They both possess formidable abilities not unlike those held by biomancers and Vinchen. We were hoping, however, that you might have heard some intelligence about their whereabouts, possibly from other criminals …”

  The captain’s face took a distinctly unfriendly expression. Stephan realized belatedly that the man might have taken offense when he suggested the police weren’t capable of arresting their quarry.

  “So you’re chasing after rumors about biomancers,” the captain said acidly. “Let me tell you boys something. Rumors about biomancers are as common as ghost stories around here, and usually just as fanciful.”

  “Watch your tone,” said Hectory, his hand going to his hilt.

  Stephan put a calming hand on his Vinchen brother’s shoulder, then turned back to the captain, managing a faint smile. “Perhaps we will do as you suggest and question the prisoners ourselves.”

  He turned smartly and headed toward the nearest holding cell.

  “The disrespect …,” muttered Hectory as he followed.

  “The Vinchen have been out of the world for centuries, Hectory,” said Stephan. “We cannot assume they will treat us as they once did. We must show them that we still deserve their respect by acting with honor and decorum at all times.”

  Hectory grunted but said nothing more.

  The two Vinchen went from cell to cell, questioning anyone willing to talk. As the captain had said, most of them had a biomancer tale to tell, and most of those tales were clearly nothing more than legends passed from one person to the next. Stephan treated each respectfully, however, and was generally rewarded with at least an attempt at respect in return. He had to rein in Hectory’s temper a few times, but he could hardly blame his Vinchen brother for becoming frustrated. Especially as they continued down the line and the possibility of gaining any real intelligence became less and less likely.

  Until they got to a man who called himself Clean Kever. The man seemed to be a fairly well-dressed merchant of some sort, with thinning hair and a sour smile.

  “Female biomancer? Yeah, I know her,” said Kever as he gave them an appraising look.

  Stephan and Hectory exchanged a look of cautious hope.

  “What do you know?” asked Stephan
.

  “Tall, great set of tits, really likes to put on the lords. Mostly folks call her ‘the Lady,’ but every once in a while I heard one of her wags call her by the name Brigga Lin, which sounds to me like a very biomancer kind of name.”

  Stephan’s heart quickened, but he took a deep, calming breath and was careful not to show an abundance of interest. This man seemed like a savvy opportunist, and it wouldn’t do to let him know how much they needed his cooperation.

  Unfortunately, Hectory was less restrained.

  “That’s her! Tell us everything you know!”

  Kever sized them up for a moment, then nodded. “Sure, I’ll tell you everything I know. Where she hangs out, who her wags are. Everything. Once you get me out of here.”

  “What?” said Hectory.

  “Brother …” Stephan again put a calming hand on his shoulder, but this time Hectory shrugged it off.

  “You are in no position to make demands!” Hectory shouted through the bars.

  Kever stepped farther back into his cell, well out of their reach. “On the contrary, I think I very much am.” Then he sat down on the little wooden bench, leaned against the back wall, stretched out his legs like he was getting comfortable, and gave them his sour smile again.

  “Fine,” snarled Hectory as he spun on his heel and stalked back to the captain’s desk.

  “Wait … Hectory …” Stephan hurried after him.

  “Give us that prisoner,” Hectory told the captain, then pointed to the still-smirking Kever.

  The captain’s expression was cool. “On whose authority?”

  Hectory’s eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets. “As a brother of the Vinchen order, of course!”

  “I am unfamiliar with that rank in the imperial chain of command,” said the captain.

  Hectory could only make strangled noises, his face turning bright red.

  Stephan tried to keep his tone and manner reasonable. “The Vinchen order has been the right hand of the empire since the days of Cremalton.”

  “Is that so?” asked the captain. “Then it’s strange that in the many years that I have served the empire, I have never seen any of your kind before.”

  This seemed to enrage Hectory further, but the truth of the comment cut deep into Stephan’s heart. The Vinchen had been hiding from the world while simple, honest men like this captain toiled their entire lives to keep some semblance of peace and order in the empire. Really, it was Stephan and Hectory who should be treating this man with more respect. They had no real authority here.

  Still, he had a mission, so he gave it one last try.

  “We are acting at the behest of the Council of Biomancery. Surely you recognize their authority.”

  “I certainly do,” said the captain. “And if a biomancer came in here and asked for one, or even all of the prisoners, I would obey without question. But you’re wearing the wrong color.” He pointedly picked up his pen and returned to his notebook. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have a great deal of work to do.”

  Stephan took Hectory’s arm and pulled him away from the desk. “Come on, there’s nothing we can do here.”

  “That Kever knows where she is,” said Hectory as he allowed himself to be led to the entrance. “We can’t just … let it go.”

  “We’ll ask the grandteacher for his wisdom on this,” he said.

  But Stephan was using the word wisdom very loosely. He already had a dark sense of foreboding about what might come next.

  Stephan and Hectory returned to the Commercial District of Vance Post, where Grandteacher Racklock awaited word of their investigation. The Commercial District was so different from the Shade District that Stephan found it almost unnerving. As one of the most important trading posts in the empire, an enormous amount of money and goods changed hands in the district, and it was all handled with courteous gravity and a calm efficiency. Stephan wondered if these were the same people who spent their leisure time in the taverns and pleasure palaces of the Shade District. If so, did they recognize their own duplicity?

  The two Vinchen made their report to their grandteacher in his rooms at the Sleeth Harbor Hotel. When they finished, he stood up, belted the Song of Sorrows to his waist and only said, “Take me there.”

  As Stephan and Hectory led their grandteacher through the Shade District, they exchanged glances that were both eager and nervous. Perhaps Hectory was more eager and Stephan more nervous. They might well be vindicated, but Grandteacher Racklock was not known for his restraint in dealing with those he considered inferior, which was nearly everyone.

  It was later in the day, and the chaos of the Shade District had only increased. Howling, drunken merchants sprawled in doorways, and couples of all varieties spilled out of various businesses and into the alleys. Semi- and even full nudity were rapidly becoming the norm. But Grandteacher Racklock seemed not to notice any of it. He kept his eyes forward, his stride steady, his face impassive. And people scurried out of his way.

  When they reached the police station, the cacophony of sound in the enclosed space didn’t seem to affect him either. He didn’t slow down in the least as he made his way to the captain’s desk.

  “I am Racklock the Just, grandteacher of the Vinchen order. You will release the prisoner known as Clean Kever to me immediately.”

  The captain looked up, and when he saw another Vinchen in front of him, he didn’t even try to hide his disdain. “As I explained to your underlings, the Vinchen have no recognized place in the imperial chain of—”

  The Song of Sorrows flashed from its sheath and stabbed through the captain’s eye.

  There was a moment of absolute silence, except for the lingering hum of the sword. Even the prisoners were quiet as the grandteacher pulled the sword from the captain’s head, and the body slumped forward onto the desk, spilling blood across the open notebook ledger.

  But the silence broke a moment later when the imperial police began fumbling for their revolvers. Perhaps if they hadn’t done so, there would have been no more death. But could Stephan fault these poor, ill-equipped police from merely defending themselves?

  Before the first revolver had left its holster, the Song of Sorrows began its eerie drone once again. Racklock leapt through the air, his bulky physique no hindrance to his movements. The first officer lost his gun arm. A second had his belly split open so wide, his guts fell to the floor with a wet slosh. The sword continued to flash back and forth, rending flesh and bone with every blow. The police station was again full of noise, only this time it was with screams of pain, and the terrible hum of that sword.

  In mere minutes, there was only one police officer alive. The man lay on the ground, his face pale, his entire body quivering. Racklock was not a tall man, but he loomed large, his massive shoulders slowly rising up and down from his exertion. He pointed the blood-drenched Song of Sorrows at the officer.

  “You will give me the prisoner now.”

  The man nodded his head spastically and crawled on hands and knees over to the captain’s desk. He reached up with shaking hands, pulled open one of the drawers, and pulled out a ring of keys. Then he crawled back to Racklock and held out the keys. They jingled loudly from the tremors that ran through his hand.

  “Stephan,” Racklock said tersely.

  Stephan had been suffused in a numb shock while he watched his grandteacher slaughter unprepared and unarmed people, many of them innocents. His mind rebelled at the possibility of such wanton and pointless violence wrought by Vinchen hands. Still feeling that great dissonance within himself, he hurried over to Racklock’s side and took the keys from the lone surviving police officer. Then he quickly unlocked Kever’s door and moved aside.

  Racklock stepped into the small cell and pointed the bloody sword at Kever, who had pressed himself back into the corner.

  “I am Racklock the Just, grandteacher of the Vinchen. You will tell me everything you know about the woman called Brigga Lin.”

  And Kever did. In a desperate torr
ent of words, he told them the name of the ship she sailed on, the names and descriptions of her companions, and the name and location of the inn she frequented.

  “Was she ever accompanied by a blond woman of the Southern Isles?” pressed Racklock. “Perhaps wearing black armor similar to mine?”

  Kever shook his head jerkily. “N-n-no, sir, Lord Grandteacher, sir. I never seen nobody like that.”

  Racklock nodded and sheathed the still-bloody sword. “Perhaps it’s for the best that we deal with them one at a time.”

  Racklock took the keys from Stephan and tossed them to the surviving officer. He left Kever’s cell door open and, ignoring the carnage he had caused, walked calmly out of the station, with Stephan and Hectory scurrying after him.

  11

  He did what?” demanded Lady Merivale Hempist. Her voice was like two blocks of ice scraping against each other.

  Captain Murkton gave her an apprehensive glance, then went back to staring at the gold imperial helmet in his hands.

  “That Vinchen chief killed ’em all, your ladyship. Everyone except Furnyum, who sent word as soon as he could. They need a full battalion, as soon as we can mobilize one.”

  “Policing the Shade District after an event like that, they could probably use two,” said Merivale. “Although I don’t think we could actually spare that many right now.”

  “No, your ladyship,” agreed Murkton.

  Murkton was a new recruit to Merivale’s organization. She didn’t usually trust common soldiers to be able to handle the nuanced layers of loyalty required of them as servant to both military and espionage wings of the government, which didn’t always agree on the best way of doing things. But the former Lord Pastinas had recommended him highly, and while Red was not really much of a spy, Merivale felt that his judgment of character was more reliable than most.