‘I demand a receipt for his Pass. The Larridy Citizens’ Charter says—’
‘Macksy, write the Fay a receipt,’ sighed Gannerby.
Doogie and the psych started up the stairs. Doogie paused for another eyebrow waggle. ‘We’re just off to rummage through your drawers. Want to come? Check we don’t try on your panties?’
‘Aw, leave it out, Doogie, eh,’ protested Macko, busy writing.
Let them paw her things. A bigger fear clutched her—what would they find in Paran’s room? She thrust the grisly images from her mind. How come they hadn’t spotted the cutters yet? Sweat trickled down her back.
The Lieutenant was watching her. ‘Getting antsy? Why? What do you reckon we’re going to find?’
She flounced. ‘Actually, Lieutenant, I have no idea what you’re looking for.’
‘You have no idea, full stop,’ he replied. ‘When are you going to stop playing detective? that’s what we’re all wondering. Not till granny stops bankrolling you, is my guess.’
Suddenly it was not difficult to achieve the Princess pout. ‘She does not bankroll me!’
He shook his head at her. ‘Listen, Peaches, why don’t you go back to finding lost pussycats, and leave the real work to the pros? That way we’ll all rub along nicely. If you play with the big boys, you’re going to get hurt.’
‘That cat was a pedigree Candacian blue, and it was stolen!’ Another foot stamp. ‘I’m putting your patronizing remarks in my report to Uncle Hector! Plus I’m going to say you used racist language about a resident alien, and that the officer upstairs insinuated things! And I’m telling your Mum, Benny Macko!’ On and on she whinged. Paran stood motionless in the shadows. Oh God, let it be over.
At last it was. The ape came back downstairs. ‘Clean as a whistle, Lefty.’
The psych nodded.
‘This place got a cellar?’ Gannerby asked. She shook her head. ‘Well, that’s us done then. Pleasure working with a fellow professional, Ms Nolio. You have a nice day now. Give Uncle a big spitty kiss from us.’
Macko handed her the receipt for Paran’s Pass, and the three officers trouped out of the house, all grins and silly salutes. The psych followed. Anabara closed the door. Leant against it. Shut her eyes.
Dear God! They’d forgotten to arrest Paran! And how had they missed the cutters? The Fairy was staring at her. She went cold. Oh no. ‘Please tell me you didn’t just charm them? Shit, Paran, I told you perception work’s illegal!’
‘You said hide the cutters. I hid them.’ He twitched the receipt from her fingers balled it up and tossed it in the grate.
‘But you need that! What if—’ She gasped.
He flipped the Freeman Pass in his fingers, then palmed it away like a conjurer.
‘But, but—They took that away! You just charmed the Guard!’ she squeaked. ‘My God, you charmed a fecking psych! That was a psych, you moron, that one in dark glasses!’
‘Was he now?’ said the Fairy. ‘Well, he was along to learn. We must hope he does so speedily, if he is the best the Guard have to offer.’
He was putting on his grey cloak. ‘Don’t you get how serious this is?’ she shouted. ‘Five years without parole! They’ll work out what you did! They’ll be back!’
‘Oh, I daresay they’ll forget me. I am not memorable.’
‘Paran, stop.’ He paused, hand on the latch. ‘It’s true, isn’t it? You did kill those rivermen.’
‘Indeed I did.’ She saw the reptilian eyelids flicker. ‘Eventually. But rest assured: I left no evidence. What was it you feared just now—that the Guard would find their tongues nailed to my chamber wall?’
‘No,’ she lied.
‘We keep no trophies. You are forgetting the old tales.’
She covered her mouth. Gagged. ‘I don’t believe you’d do that.’
‘Ah, do you not? But consider: a year and a half I was caged and used on board that ship. And in all that time, one act of kindness. One.’
‘Loxi?’ she whispered.
‘Yes. And for that single mouthful of water, he has earned my kindness in return. It is our habit to deal back what’s dealt to us. Trust me: I always repay in the end.’
‘Always? That’s so cold!’ she protested. ‘Don’t you ever forgive anyone?’
But he just stared. ‘I have no time for that foolishness.’
‘You’re scaring me.’
‘Yes? Then perhaps I needn’t describe what happened to the last person who called me a moron. At present your credit runs high with me, Anabara Nolio,’ he said. ‘But you’re squandering it with lies and insults. And your tiresome pleas for me to have mercy on those who don’t deserve it.’
The door swung shut. He was gone.
CHAPTER 14
She felt like a wet shirt on wash day. Mangled to within an inch of her life. He was a total monster! Half snake, half machine, head full of balance sheets, brain like an abacus, click-click-click, forever totting up who owed this, who deserved that. He was not… Well, of course he wasn’t human. Why was she still looking for humanity in him?
More footsteps. She was seized by dread it was the Guard again, that Paran was wrong and Gannerby knew he’d been charmed. Now she’d be done for aiding and abetting a psych crime! Sure enough, a knock.
But it was only a town messenger. There was a message from Linna, ordering her to be in at ten o’clock. There’s something we need to talk about. Uh-oh. That didn’t sound good. There was also a sealed note. ‘Meet me in the Town Bathhouse ASAP. Dt Mooby.’
She got there first, so she steamed her worries away, dashed them away in the cold plunge pool, had them smoothed away on the massage slab. Still no Mooby. But who should be in the lounging room, skiving off her washer-work, but Jennet Pettyfrock. Anabara did a quick mental check: have I moved on and matured since school days? Nope. Still hate her. Purring like the cat with the cream jug all to herself! Anabara went and lay on the couch furthest away.
‘Ooh, hoity-toity!’ cooed Jennet. She came across the room and perched at Anabara’s feet. Her robe slipped from her shoulders, oops! to display her latest hickey collection. Looked like a bad case of marsh pox. ‘It’s all true, what they say about them.’
Anabara closed her eyes. But the Gullmothers were wrong: if you just ignored them, they didn’t stop doing it.
‘About the gold rings.’ Anabara stiffened. ‘Yes—thought you’d be curious. Even if you are a frigid little tease whose britches are made of iron. La, don’t glare at me, Nan Nolio. I’m just saying what he said.’ She paused for a reaction.
Anabara stomped down hard on the surge of fury. Closed her eyes again.
‘Pity the beadles dragged him away. Hammering on the alehouse door: Mr Dal Ramek, we know you’re in there! Bursting in! La, Mopsy and me didn’t know where to put ourselves! And the language! Pillows flying, feathers everywhere—What are you staring at, bugger-lugs?’
Anabara’s eyes flew open. It was Mooby. She jerked a thumb. ‘Out, scrubber. Guard business.’
Off flounced the girl.
‘Sorry, got held up.’ She was back in uniform, thank God, but barefoot in deference to bathhouse rules, trousers rolled halfway up her fuzzy shins. ‘Got herself boffed by Dal Ramek? Silly mare. He’s just using her to get himself expelled.’
Anabara sat up. ‘You know him?’
‘Oh God yes. Record as long as your arm over in Bogganland. Zaarzuk territory borders on ours.’
‘No! Like what?’
Mooby waved a hand. ‘The usual mindless Zaarzuk hell-raising—horse theft, arson, public drunkenness and indecency. Last ditch attempt to keep the boy out of gaol, the novice thing. Chieftain’s firstborn, or he’d’ve been banged up long since.’
‘You’re kidding!’ A Zaarzuk prince!
Mooby nailed her with a bulging-eyed stare. ‘Steer clear of him, lovey. Zaarzuks only know three types of women: virgins, wives and whores.’ She crossed to the music charm and set the madrigals playing loud. Then she sat, knees sp
read like a bloke. ‘Right. More important things. We’ve got trouble.’
‘I know. I had a dawn visit from Murder Squad. They’ve obviously got more than my business card to go on, because—’ Mooby had a finger to her lips. ‘Sorry. Because they came to arrest Paran and they brought a psych with them,’ she whispered. ‘You think there are listening charms in here?’
‘Probably not. Precaution. Take it they found nothing? Plus they didn’t arrest him. Hmm. Then either the psych’s a complete tool, or your Fairy’s packing some serious charm-craft. Bear that in mind.’
‘I am doing, believe me.’
‘Yeah, well he’s in my pending tray. But at the moment he seems to be in my tent pissing out, which is where I want him.’ Thigh slap. ‘Anyhow, trouble. Thought I could stake my life on my squad’s loyalty. Breaks my heart to say this, but someone’s talking.’
‘Who?’
Palms up. ‘No idea. Thought about hauling all four in front of the psychs and making them re-swear their Fidelity Oath. But suddenly I’m thinking, what if it’s the psychs who are bent? I’m getting my man off the boats as a matter of urgency. Lord, this whole thing’s making me paranoid.’ She shook her head. ‘Thoughts?’
‘Listening charm in the squad room?’ suggested Anabara.
‘Already occurred to me. Had the top psych in to check. He’s given it the all clear. Yeah, I know—what if he’s bent? That’s why we’re here now, not at the Station. Look, you’re a sensible woman—well, you’re not, you’re barking—I’ve no wish to scare you, but it’s nearly Wolf Tide, and we’ve got God knows how many Tressy barges bringing the tourists in. All perfectly legit. But my sources think something big’s going down, so we’ll probably have old Boagle-eyes on the loose in Larridy. Stick close to a’Menehaïn, that’s my advice. Don’t know what his game is, but he’ll look out for you. Very loyal, your Fairies, if you’ve done them a favour.’
Anabara nodded. Her head whirled. She clutched the sides of the couch. ‘What kind of big thing?’
‘Well, we’ve never traced the Breaking Camp. The slaves we’ve interviewed have all had their memory doctored. Place might as well be in Tara-doodle for all the joy we’ve had. But my theory is it’s right here, and they’ll be bringing in a new shipment at Wolf Tide—while we’re busy arresting drunken prats in wolf gear.’
‘What’s the Breaking Camp?’
‘Back in the day, that’s where they broke in any condemned Fairy criminals transported here. All perfectly legal and above board.’ Mooby sneered. ‘Anyone with the cash could pop to town and buy themselves a slave. Pricey up front, but economical to run. Hardly have to feed them, last decades without ageing, work hard, phenomenally strong.’
Anabara shook with rage. ‘It’s a total obscenity. They taught us so much, and we repay them like this!’
‘Tell me about it. Illegal migrants get what they pay for, generally: crossing, false papers, and so on. But the unlucky ones—the friendless, powerless ones—they pay up, then get double-crossed. Hence the need for a Breaking Camp. Do not ask me to describe the enslavement process. Not if you want to sleep at night.’
There are ghosts down there. Ghosts of Fays. I have seen their lights. A trickle of icy water ran down her heart. She thought of the creepy Master of Stacks. And the secret entrance, right by the Slackey.
‘Ring a bell?’
‘Maybe.’ She shook herself. ‘I need to check something out.’
The sea gooseberry eyes were on her again. ‘Leave me word about any daft stunts you’re planning, in case you need back up.’
‘Certainly will.’ No way. What if her suspicions were groundless? Expose the University to unnecessary Guard investigations? She was too dutiful a Galen girl for that. Well, she was too scared of Aunt Léanora, anyway.
‘Yeah, sure you will.’ Mooby sighed and stood. She did a sweep of the lounging room. Took in the smoking censers, lingered on the pink marble caryatids. ‘You’d think they’d give us statues of naked blokes to look at, wouldn’t you?’ Eye roll. ‘Yeah, right. That would be the men’s quarters. Tell me something: are there any straight guys round here? That aren’t total plonkers?’
‘I live in hope.’ Whoa! Got that one wrong.
Mooby gave a wonky smile. ‘Thought I spun widdershins? Yeah, everyone does. But I’m just your average big homely gal, looking for Prince Charming.’
‘Aren’t we all?’ Anabara thought about the pink frilly blouse. Cringed with pity it would be impossible to express. She stared down at Mooby’s feet in embarrassment. Toes crooked from old breaks. Gnarly as the hands. ‘You’re a fighter.’
‘You betcha. Boggan wrestling. Be glad to give you a bout sometime. See how I match up against the legendary Galen art.’
‘Hey, more than happy. Come up to the…’ Bugger. ‘Um. There’s kind of an issue with my Precincts membership right now.’
‘Yeah, so I heard. None of my business, but I’m really hoping that’s not Dal Ramek’s picture you’ve got in there.’ She nodded at the amulet.
‘No! Of course not.’ Her fingers closed round it. ‘This was my mother’s.’
‘Well, keep me posted. I’m off for a spot of digging in the Slackey.’ Mooby padded from the room.
Anabara frowned down at the amulet. Why did everyone think it was a locket? Another icy trickle. Paran. He’d hidden the amulet, like he hid those cutters. Which meant she was walking about with a perception charm dangling round her neck. Feck, that was six months, even for a first offence! What the hell was this thing? Something so dangerous, the penalty for being caught with a reality-altered artifact was piddling in comparison?
Deep breath. Stay calm. She cast her mind back to the moment when Uncle Téador had given her the necklace. He had hoped it might protect her on her dangerous mission. It doesn’t feel evil. No, not evil. He believed it had ‘something of the soul’ embedded in it. But whose soul? And what did that soul want to do? Terrible deeds?
For sure. That was why Paran would sooner cut off his right ear than tell her what the amulet was. Yet she couldn’t square that with her uncle’s belief that the thing wasn’t evil—and the fact that her mother had worn it. Unless, of course, the amulet was only dangerous in the twisted mind of the Fairy. A creature who never forgave. Who ate the tongues of his enemies. She gagged again. Don’t think about it.
She left the bathhouse and hurried back down the hill to fetch the library books she’d collected the previous afternoon, and to pick up her tiny pocket daylamp. The rain had stopped. Rags of blue appeared between the clouds that raced overhead. Mule carts laden with pale yellow pumpkins were winding up Skuller to market. Overhead the red and black Larridy bunting fluttered. In every crooked corner and arch a stall selling roast chestnuts and sweetmeats had popped up. The air was sugared with their wares. She bought a poke of candied chestnuts. Wolf masks grinned like necklaces of severed heads. Suddenly dread was on every side again. She began to hurry, glancing down each alley she passed. The market teemed with potential assassins. Stay alert, don’t make yourself an easy target!
She emerged breathless into St Pelago Plaza. The sight of the Gatehouse flooded her with relief. It was always like coming safe home, like nothing bad could get you here. Maybe everyone felt that way. The Temple Mount had offered sanctuary for over a thousand years. Even to murderers, clinging with bloody hands to the ancient sanctuary knocker. Huh, Paran could learn a thing or two from studying this doorway, thought Anabara.
She went through the great stone arch to the library to offload the books. It was quiet. The students were at Morning Prayers. Or in bed. God only knew where His Royal Highness Dal Ramek was. In the beadles’ cellar strung up by his thumbs, she hoped. Better still, by his nuts. A frigid little tease whose britches are made of iron! She sprang up on to the high perimeter wall. Not a chance Jennet had made that up—the insult had his grubby Zaarzuk thumbprints all over it.
Yep, it was all true, what they said about them. Filthy liars and braggarts. Charming when
they got their way, rough when they didn’t. Hadn’t the Gullmothers always warned her there wasn’t a word for ‘No’ in Zaarzuk? Not exactly a big surprise, was it, that he’d been busted in the alehouse in a drunken threesome. Obviously the bastard had a talent for persuading a girl she was the special one. Embarrassing to have fallen for it even slightly. A knock to the pride, but no harm done. Let the washer-wenches line up for the honour of becoming notches in his bedpost. As far as Anabara was concerned, Dal Ramek was history.
But oh, oh, oh, the man knew how to kiss!
She batted the thought away and strode along the parapet. Every forty cubits it was guarded by a stone warrior. Or had been, a thousand years back when the wall was built. These days only blackened stumps remained, like rotted teeth; but she could still feel the faint thrum of their force-field as she stepped over them. Even Paran wasn’t going to be able to restore these. The sandstone had long since been weathered away, washed down Skuller, back to the sea it had come from. Gone, gone forever. Curse those generations of Chapter who’d let it happen. She fluttered down to the alley below.
Her nose told her she was getting close. An upset pail of dog-turds in the street. There was a crowd, a commotion. Crime scene ribbon across the Slackey entrance. Mooby and the ATU, digging for Thwyn’s body. She slipped past the gawpers and down the narrow alley that hugged the ancient fortifications of the Precincts. The noise faded as she rounded a corner.
There—that must be it. Well, she’d been past that trough any number of times without so much as a glance. Yes, it was a Zaarzuk all right. The fur hat, the flowing hair. His right hand gripped a scimitar. It looked like he was standing in a deep archway, but when you peered closely, there was no back wall—he was guarding the entrance to a tunnel. A small person could just slip through past him.
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