Wolf Tide

by Catherine Fox

  ‘Listen, lovey.’ She gave another twist, came in close with the bulging eyes. ‘As a so-called detective, you’ve probably clocked I’m not from round here. Which means I don’t give a shit who your powerful relatives are. You may also have spotted that Mummy’s boy has stepped out of the room. Now, I can send him on an errand to Tara-doodle if I want, so a really good strategy would be to start answering my questions.’ She let go. ‘Sit.’

  Anabara sat on the stool. She wiped the tears from her face. Sniffed.

  Bloke-woman plonked her broad arse in one of the chairs. ‘When did you last visit the Slackey?’

  ‘I’m entitled to send one message and—’

  Another cuff. Anabara clenched her teeth. Kept her temper. Just.

  The woman sneered. ‘And they told me you were a fighter.’

  Charlie returned.

  ‘Thank you, officer,’ said Ma’am, taking the glass. ‘Go ahead—act dumb, but you were seen by dozens of witnesses. What took a stuck-up little princess like you into the Slackey?’

  ‘I am entitled to send—’

  She dashed the water into Anabara’s face. Oh please. Do we have to be this predictable? Anabara mopped herself with her sleeve. What was with this woman? She was acting like someone was marking her out of ten for her Nasty Guard performance.

  ‘Ma’am!’ protested Charlie.

  Ma’am turned the ball-shriveling stare on him again. ‘Why don’t you go and find some reports to write up, like a good boy?’

  ‘But—’

  ‘DO IT!’

  He snapped another salute. ‘Ma’am!’

  The woman turned to Anabara again. Behind her back Charlie gave a swift thumbs-up before he vanished. Yeah, suck on that, Offcomer, thought Anabara. Help was on the way.

  ‘Can you account for your movements over last week end? Let’s hope so—because this is a murder investigation I’m in charge of here.’ She leant close and whispered, ‘This is where you gasp and say, “Murder? I don’t know what you’re talking about, detective!”’

  ‘No,’ said Anabara. ‘This is where I say, “I am entitled—”’

  And so it went on, with minor variations, until at last, Anabara heard what she’d been waiting for: the unmistakable sound of a high-powered Don’t-Feck-With-Me Galen lawyer knocking Guard heads together.

  I demand to see my client immediately! NOW, or I’ll have you demoted so fast your ears pop, sunshine!

  ‘What the hell?’ Bloke-woman got to her feet.

  ‘Well look at that!’ said Anabara. ‘Just the two of us in the interrogation room! Isn’t that illegal?’

  It took Butros approximately one minute to spring her. Threats whistled like crossbow shafts. Woo!

  ‘Come, Ms Nolio. We’re done here.’ Butros turned on his heel in swirl of red legal silk.

  ‘Well, Ma’am, this was lovely,’ said Anabara brightly. ‘We must do it again some time.’

  ‘Trust me, I’m looking forward to it,’ snarled the woman.

  Butros wheeled back round. ‘Did I just hear you threatening my client, detective?’

  ‘You did not.’

  A bout of professional eyeball-wrestling. Then: ‘Good.’

  Quite how you could get so much menace into one word Anabara had no idea. They probably taught a course on it at Galencia Law School. Butros Kaledh had graduated top of his year there a decade ago. After graduating top with his undergraduate degree here at St Pelago’s. Butros Kaledh had to be top of everything, or there was hell to pay.

  He swept through the station like a big pissed-off black and crimson vampire bat. Anabara scuttled in the wake of his billowing robes. It felt like a silly dream. Like she was drunk. Tipsy with relief, probably. She kept wanting to giggle.

  There was Chief Dhalafan in a dinner suit and academic robes, talking to a black-uniformed psych. Yes, that was right—somewhere in some far-off universe it was University Matriculation Feast tonight. Uncle Hector Dhalafan would have been dining on High Table with grandmama. Not a real uncle, of course, just an old family friend. She tried to catch his eye, but Butros jerked his head for her to catch up. Never mind. She’d rat bloke-woman out to the Chief tomorrow instead. Make her start caring who Anabara’s powerful friends and relatives were!

  Charlie had gone to ground like the coward he was. She caught a few smirks as they passed the front desk. Maybe Ma’am wasn’t popular with the locals. Of course she wasn’t. Chuck a fish head at her! Anabara choked back another giggle. They went down the steps, crossed the forecourt and were out in the street. A sleek ebony palanquin was waiting.

  ‘I thought you’d be glad of a ride,’ said Butros. He opened the door for her. ‘No extra charge.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She leant back against the plush squabs. Yes, on the whole she preferred this end of the legal system. It smelt of chypre not piss. Tiny daylamps glowed in the pleated silk ceiling, turning the litter into a rosy cave, and a music charm was playing Fairy madrigals.

  Butros got in beside her and a lackey closed the door. He was one of Grandmama’s beautiful talented young men. She collected them the way other old ladies collected stray cats.

  ‘Look, thanks for coming out like this,’ she said. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Just gone one in the morning.’

  ‘Lord, no wonder I’m starving! Can we grab something to eat? But I suppose we should talk first.’

  ‘I confess, I was hoping we might,’ he said. ‘Since this really wasn’t altogether convenient.’

  She could smell bathhouse oil. Diamond studs glinted in his ears. ‘Gosh, hope I didn’t interrupt anything important.’

  He arched an exquisite eyebrow. ‘Tell me—without too many egregious lies—what this is all about.’

  ‘Well, going by what bloke-woman said, it’s a—’

  ‘Detective Mooby, please.’

  ‘Mooby!’ Anabara snorted. ‘Is that her name?’

  ‘No, Anabara,’ he said, ‘her name is Detective Goat-banger. What did Mooby tell you?’

  ‘She—Hey, we’re going up hill!’ cried Anabara. ‘No! I am not going to Grandmama’s! I don’t believe this! Stop! I’m not a child!’ she shrieked. ‘Butros, you’re my Counsel. I pay you, so you follow my orders, not hers!’

  He winced. ‘Don’t yell, please. I know this will come as a shock, but I have lots and lots of clients, all of whom expect me to follow their orders. And talking of paying…?’ Again, the eyebrow.

  She just stopped herself—he spent too many hours each week in the combat room. It would be safer to smack a cobra. ‘I was actually about to settle your bill.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it for a moment.’ He patted her hand. ‘Let’s get back to Detective Butch, the Bog-whacker.’

  ‘It’s Mooby, you racist man-whore. And I’m not talking to you.’

  ‘What an eccentric approach to adopt with your Counsel. Did Mooby tell you it was a murder investigation?’

  ‘Can’t remember.’

  ‘What did she ask you?’

  ‘Wasn’t listening.’

  ‘What’s she got on you?’

  ‘Dunno.’

  ‘You are absolutely my favourite client, of course,’ he purred—like a panther giving its prey a ten second head start. ‘But I’m beginning to ask myself why I didn’t just stay in the bathhouse.’

  She gave him the fig.

  ‘You are all joy.’ He settled back into the velvet and closed his eyes. ‘I’ll send you my bill.’

  The palanquin was still gliding up Skuller. She knew she was being an ass. She was in dire need of his advice and expertise. But his high-handedness was insufferable. Delivering her to grandmama like a naughty schoolgirl! She gritted her teeth.

  ‘Sorry.’

  He opened one green-amber eye. ‘Continue.’

  ‘You’re right, Mooby did tell me it was a murder investigation. She kept on asking when I was last in the Slackey, and what I was doing over the week end. But I genuinely don’t know what she’s got on me, other than
he was my business associate. Believe it or not, I was on my way to report it when they grabbed me.’

  Voom! Back on full legal alert. ‘Report what?’

  ‘Well, his murder, obviously. An informant told me he’d had his throat cut by the slavers, and his body was under the floor of his shack.’

  A very long silence followed this. ‘Oh shit.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Sorry, let’s be clear here: who are we talking about?’

  ‘Thwyn Brakstone, of course.’

  He drummed his fingers. She could almost hear the thoughts zipping like killer hornets round his mind. ‘What did you tell Mooby?’

  ‘Nothing. Just kept reciting my rights.’

  ‘Thank God for that. Your informant—was he or she confessing to the murder?’ She shook her head. ‘Have you seen the body? The murder weapon?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So you don’t actually know any of it’s true.’

  ‘No. But—’

  ‘Anabara, you don’t know this. It’s hearsay. You have no duty to pass on unsubstantiated rumours to the Guard.’ The palanquin made a smooth right hand turn. Probably passing through the Minstery gatehouse arch. ‘As your Counsel, I strongly advise you to remain silent. Leave this with me. I’ll see what I can find out. I hope to God he’s not dead.’

  ‘Butros, you’re scaring me!’ She grabbed his silk-clad arm. ‘What’s going on? Someone else has been murdered?’

  ‘Yes. Two bodies were found by a mud-lark at low tide late last night. Probably killed somewhere else, then dumped.’

  ‘Oh my God! Who were they?’

  ‘Their names haven’t been released yet. But they were Tressy rivermen. My source says they choked on their own blood.’

  Everything went glassy again. ‘But how could that happen?’ she whispered.

  ‘The murderer cut out their tongues.’

  CHAPTER 10

  Oh, I learnt it from the rivermen, whispered Paran in her memory. They are careless with their tongues.

  She began to shake. ‘Oh God, Butros, I think I know who killed them.’

  Butros tugged the silk bell rope. The palanquin halted. He murmured new directions to the bearers, and they set off again.

  ‘Change of plan. Grandmama can wait till the morning. I’ll send a message.’ He put a hand on her arm, but asked no more questions until they were safely in his apartment overlooking Palatine Square.

  She had known Butros more than half her life, but she’d never been up here before. Nobody had. He was psychotically private. He conducted his business in his Chambers, his pleasure in the bathhouse. But here she was, in his reclining room, surrounded by understated good taste that murmured fifty gilders an hour. She lay on a low couch while he brought her bread, olives, cheese, wine. The best of everything. She couldn’t do justice to it. The fact that he’d brought her here told her she was in deep trouble.

  ‘Right. Let’s hear it,’ he said.

  ‘But you’ll just run to grandmama!’ Dammit, stop crying. She blew her nose.

  ‘I think you must be confusing me with Enobar. Talk.’

  So she told him everything. The library contract, Thwyn’s disappearance, Loxi’s nightmare year on the boats, the slave market, her fears about Paran. He listened without gasps and reproaches, pressing her only on the legal details of her deal with the Fairy. Then he was silent. Thinking. For what felt like a month.

  Eventually he said, ‘Well, there’s a hair-raising tale. Looks like you’re right, someone’s trying to frame you. My money’s on the rivermen. Their leader, whom you so chillingly describe, is one Semmayit Golar. Owns a palace over on the Mainland, protected by razor webs and thought-activated psycho-charms, courtesy of a certain Larridy security firm with whom he has business dealings. Allegedly. Golar also has a pack of Tressy wolf hounds roaming his grounds. Avoid him.’ He drummed his fingers again. ‘So, that deal of yours definitely bars the Fay from doing you any harm?’

  ‘The Fairy, Butros. Yes, definitely. Plus he can’t harm any member of my family.’

  ‘Well, that’s about half the population of Larridy covered. Do not ask him for the truth until I’ve had a chance to speak to him. Describe him, please.’

  ‘Oh, you know, typical Fairy worker. Kind of…’ What the hell did he look like?

  ‘Distinguishing features? Any fire tattoos?’

  ‘No. Wait…’ What was it she was so nearly, nearly remembering?

  Butros sighed. ‘Remind me never to call you as a witness. Don’t worry, I’ll have him located. Paran. Cute name.’

  ‘I couldn’t help it!’ She braced herself for more blighting sarcasm. ‘Butros, do you think he actually could be… an elite mind warrior?’

  ‘Why yes! What other explanation could there possibly be?—other than you ballsed up the deal and he’s playing you like a tinker’s fiddle.’

  ‘Yes, but what about the Freeman Pass?’

  ‘Did he actually claim he’d performed a perception charm on it?’

  She thought back. ‘Good point. He said “the charm’s in the beholder’s eye.”’

  ‘Then I think, on balance, we can assume he stole the pass, and he’s just your average lying gutter weasel.’

  ‘My God, you are such a bigot, Butros!’ Still, she had to admit it was a relief. ‘Do you think Loxi and I should go to the Guard and lay evidence against Golar?’

  ‘Not till I’ve got a better picture of what’s going on. Tell Mr. Laitolo to keep his mouth shut and make an appointment to see me. I suggest you try to carry on as normal,’ he said. ‘Look, I know you’re scared the Fay killed them—’

  ‘FAIRY!’

  ‘—but this has all the hallmarks of a tribal killing.’

  ‘Well, I just hope you’re right, that’s all.’

  ‘They were probably informants. The tongues will have been sent to their families. All of which leaves me wondering what Mooby’s got on you.’ More finger drumming. ‘Hmm. Anyway, for now, stay alert, keep out of the Slackey, and don’t make yourself an easy target.’

  ‘You think I’m in danger?’

  ‘Just a precaution. For your ears only, there’s talk of corruption. That’s why Mooby’s been brought in to head up the anti-trafficking unit.’

  ‘The City Guard are involved? You’re kidding!’

  ‘Then why do the tip-offs always come too late? Why are no big arrests ever made? These questions are certainly being asked over in Mainland Federation Guard HQ.’

  They were?

  ‘Do you keep abreast of inter-state politics at all?’

  ‘Naturally,’ she lied.

  The eyebrow. ‘Then naturally you’ll know the Federation is getting impatient with Larridy acting like it’s still a Palatinate and a law unto itself. Hence the likes of Ms Mooby, kicking ass without fear or favour. But she’ll back off you, now there’s the possibility of legal action.’

  ‘Possibility? I’m damn well pressing charges! She—’

  ‘Think, please. What if someone high up in the Guard wants to see her booted back to Bogganburg in disgrace? She’s one ugly bad-tempered mare, but at least she’s on the level. Never fear, I’ll keep her on a short leash.’ He yawned, and stretched. ‘Bedtime. I’m in Court early. Grandmama is expecting you at 10. Tell her your Counsel has forbidden you to discuss this highly sensitive case with anyone.’

  ‘Seriously? She won’t understand. And Enobar will be hopping mad.’

  A small smile. ‘A day in which I annoy Enobar is a day not wasted. Let me show you to your room. Don’t be afraid. This whole place is charmed as tight as a drum.’

  ‘Thanks, Butros.’

  He flicked her cheek with a finger. ‘Sleep well.’

  Anabara woke early to the sound of rain against the window. It was nearly light. She pulled on yesterday’s clothes. Butros had already set off for his Chambers, so she left him a thank you note like a good Galen girl, and let herself out of his apartment. The door closed behind her. Charms activated. Stat
e-of-the-art security, so powerful she got a momentary brain-fuzz off the force field. God, the man was paranoid.

  She went down the marble stairs. Not too stiff, considering what she’d been through in the last few days. Her hands had completely healed. Some serious training was overdue all the same. No way would anyone catch her napping like that again.

  Out in Palatine Square the wet cobbles shone. Rain whispered in the plane trees, dripped from the last yellow leaves which hung as big as dragon’s paws. The wind flutes were silent, but the weather was gearing up for the equinoctial storms. Only a couple of days now till Wolf Tide.

  She headed for the Precincts. The gatehouse doors stood open. Chestnut hulls lay on the flagstones like tiny hedgehogs. She saw other silent figures in the morning gloom, all heading towards the same quadrangle for the Dawn Song. If any of them were tourists expecting some kind of choral rendition, they’d be in for a surprise.

  In St Dalfinia Senior Women’s Bathhouse Anabara changed into her white martial suit. She walked barefoot across the rainy courtyard and took up her position among the other high-ranked warriors. The Master of Novices called them to order. First the formal bows, then with a slow circling move the Dawn Song began. Spectators always commented on how graceful and flowing the silent routine looked. Yeah, thought Anabara—flowing gracefully from We take down the opponent into and now we break his neck!

  The rain fell, fine, relentless. She felt it trickle down inside her collar. Breathe, focus. Inhabit each move fully. But her thoughts rambled, bleating and idiotic as saltings sheep. Smack that cow Mooby’s head in. Paran. Was the Zaarzuk here? Grandmama. I’m soaked. She was powerless to round them up.

  What a total travesty that was, she thought when it was over. She turned to slip away, but not fast enough. Her name was called. She clenched her teeth, approached the Master, bowed.

  ‘Ms Nolio, where’s your focus this morning?’ he asked.

  Behind him the novices were all earwigging. The Zaarzuk grinned.

  Anabara bowed to the Master again. ‘If you lecture me in front of these pillocks,’ she whispered in Gull, ‘I’m going to lie on the floor and kick and scream.’

  He considered this. Inclined his head. ‘You need some sparring practice. Come.’ He began to walk towards the combat hall. She fell into step beside him. ‘Had a bad night, you? You’ll feel better when you’ve kicked seven kinds of crap out of me, eh.’