by Tim Paulson
Jacques waved the girl to a chair. “What is going on? Why are you suddenly interested in witches?”
Gerard leaned back in his chair. “That is privileged information. First, I will hear what she has to say,” he replied, pointing one finger at the girl. “What is your name child?”
“I'm Margot,” she said, taking a seat in the chair to Jacques's right. She looked to him.
Jacques nodded and Margot told her story. The entire time, Gerard did not smile, he did not nod. When she'd finished, he stood and walked to the window, looking out toward the cathedral, his ringed hands clasped behind his back.
“Well?” Jacques asked.
“There is a war going on,” Gerard said quietly.
Jacques shook his head. “And? You don't have tell me Gerard. I walk the streets of this city every day. I see the violence.”
Gerard waved a hand. “I don't mean what you know. Yugenot, Ganum, Cavlinist, Marlinist. Meaningless. The real war is for the future of children like her brother.”
“So he's a witch? How is that possible? You said yourself-”
Gerard nodded, still facing the cathedral. “I was just a priest then. I knew nothing of the prophecy of the sacred heart. By the time I was ordained it had already been confirmed, though I did not know it. Since that time it has only gained in strength.”
“What has gained in strength? Witchery? The Devil?”
Gerard sighed. “God save me to speak it, but I wish it were the Devil. Things would be a great deal simpler.”
“What do you mean?”
“I'm not at liberty to discuss the particulars.”
“What should I do with Daniel?” Margot asked.
Jacques stood. “What can you tell us?”
Gerard turned around. “That the boy is in grave danger.”
“Why?”
Gerard walked back to his desk, sat, and looked at Margot. “The Tian church can help you girl. Bring the boy to us. We have an order dedicated to this. I will ensure that you are all cared for.”
“You're not explaining anything!” Jacques snapped. “How do you know the boy is a witch? All she did was tell you a story!”
The archbishop's eyes drifted to Jacques. “The details are telling. However, you're correct, I don't know for certain. I assume the boy was not baptized?”
“I was, I remember mother saying that, but the rest were not,” Margot replied.
Gerard nodded. “Then they must all be brought here and quickly.”
“Damn it Gerard! Why?”
“Because we're not the only interested party. Those misguided reformers making a mess of our fair city see children like this boy as witches and burn them alive.”
“Daniel isn't a witch?” Margot asked.
Gerard sighed. “No my dear, it's not the Devil in your brother. With proper training, perhaps, if he has the will for it, he could become a saint.”
“Like Joan of Arc?” Margot asked, her eyes wide.
Gerard nodded.
“I don't understand...”
“You don't have to Jacques. Just go, now, and find this girl's siblings. Bring them here before it's too late.”
Jacques grit his teeth. “Alright. Girl, let's go.”
“My name is Margot! she said.
“I don't worry too much about the Yugenots, they've got their hands full marching and shouting at everyone,” Jacques said, waving the girl toward the door.
“You should,” Gerard replied. “Why do you think they're here in Pallus? Do you think it's just a coincidence that they have five thousand armed soldiers camped outside the city?”
Ushering the girl out the door, Jacques turned back. “When I return, you will tell me more,” he said and closed the door behind them.
As they left, Gerard studied one of his rings. “If you return.”
* * *
The building was a tall and dilapidated older wooden tenement. The fact that it was sandwiched between two stone facades was likely the only reason it still stood. The smell of refuse of every kind was quite pungent.
“This is where you live?” Jacques asked.
“This is all I can afford,” Margot replied.
“Let's get the children out of there,” he said.
Margot seemed to hesitate for a moment.
“What's the matter?”
“I have to go to work soon or Monsieur Vilchambot will be upset. I've already spent too much time away.”
“I don't think that's going to be your primary concern-” He paused. Something had caught on his boot as they began ascending the building's short front staircase. It appeared to be the shredded remnant of a rag.
Margot noticed his pause and looked down as well.
“Oh no!” she said with a gasp, bending down to grab at the bit of cloth, her hands shaking. “This is Isabel's!”
“Damn!” Jacques said, scanning up and down the street, but seeing nothing. “Inside, quickly! Take me to the room!”
The girl ran ahead, but Jacques could hear her ragged panicked breathing. Her state only deteriorated when they reached the second floor and the remains of a door could be seen hanging open at the far end of the hall. Margot cried out as if struck and collapsed against the wall.
Jacques drew his sword. “It's alright,” he said, patting her shoulder as he moved ahead. “I'll take a look.”
There was no blood on the floor as he approached, a good sign. Nor were there any signs of struggle in the hall, though that was unlikely in any event. From what the girl had said before, the children were weak.
The door had been shredded, likely by an ax. The remnants of the lock lay on the floor. It was quite an expensive one actually, well made, yet it had been left attached to the door.
He hesitated before entering. There were few hazards of his profession Jacques hated more than expired children. Luckily, as he passed through the door, there were none. However that didn't make it pleasant.
The first thing that assaulted him was the smell. No tenement smelled good and this one was no exception, even in the hallway the ripe odor of the unwashed and their excrement was everywhere. However this room was significantly worse.
The girl had been right. There had been a lot of food. The full bucket of waste in the corner attested to it. As did the bones and plates, every one picked clean, scattered around the floor.
The children had apparently eaten three roast chickens, two hams, and an innumerable number of bread and rolls from what Jacques could tell from the ubiquitous crumbs. At least five mice were feasting in various areas of the room.
“They're not here,” he called back but the girl was already behind him. Apparently she'd mastered herself.
“What happened? Why would they take them all? How did they know!” she asked.
Where outside there were no signs of struggle, inside it was a different story. There was a clear path of destruction where the girl's siblings had been dragged toward the door. Unfortunately he could see nothing else that would tell him who'd done it.
The room was littered only with the typical debris one would expect of a tenement filled with children. There were some old toys, a Tian bible, and a few other sundry items scattered around the floor. The only furniture was a mattress in one corner of the room, a single wooden chair in another, and an empty short bookshelf against the wall. The single window had no glass and was boarded, it appeared, from both sides.
“Look around. Is there anything here that shouldn't be? Anything?” he asked her.
Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “I'm sorry mama,” she said, hands over her mouth, preparing to sob.
Jacques sheathed his sword and took her by the shoulders. “No! Stop. The only chance they have is that you keep your wits! Look around, at the floor, the walls! Tell me if anything there is not yours!”
Margot grit her teeth, biting back tears. “Yes... Yes I will look.”
The girl cast her eyes around the room.
“I don't see anything! Just the fo
od they ate... the waste bucket.”
Jacques looked again also, scanning for anything he may have missed before. The mattress was old but appeared unmoved. Most of the commotion had occurred in the center of the room... except. He walked toward the wall to his right. One child had been near the book shelf, he could see drag marks in the carpet of crumbs there. But why? Their only book was on the floor by the mattress.
Jacques squatted down. “Do the children play with this shelf?”
“Sometimes,” she said, “I think.”
There were scrape marks on the floor as well.
Jacques smiled, stood, and made for the door.
“Where are you going?” Margot asked. ”Are you leaving?”
“There is someone I'd like to talk to. Come,” he said.
Margot followed. “Who?”
They exited the room and went right to the next door over. Jacques raised his fist to knock but before he'd even brought his fist back fully a woman's voice issued from inside.
“Go away!”
“I will not madam. I am Captain Jacques De Voulon, of the Pallus guard. I know you were involved in the matter next door. You will open the door and tell me.”
“No!”
“Yes, or I will call more guards and we will break it in! You choose madam.”
There was a long sigh followed by the clicking sounds of several bolts. The door opened, but not fully, only a few inches. Through the space Jacques saw an elderly woman, scowling.
“I don't know anything!” she snapped.
“You do and you will tell me. Now!”
The woman's eyes flared.
“What's going on? Why would she know?” Margot asked.
The old woman's face filled with disgust. “Be quiet you harlot! Leaving your little ones in filth like that! You ought to be ashamed!”
“Madam, the children are Mademoiselle Margot's siblings. Not her own.”
The woman looked like she'd been slapped. “Mmm.. what?”
“Tell me. You saw us arrive. You see everything here. Who took the children?” Jacques asked, pointing a finger at the woman's face as he quietly slipped a boot in the open door.
“I don't know!”
“You do! I know you called them here!”
The woman's eyes widened again. “How can you know that?” she said, but slapped a hand over her mouth, realizing what she'd done.
“What?” Margot asked.
“I know because I saw the bookshelf the children use to hide the hole in the wall. I assume there is at least one child in with you as well. I also know from your Ardan accent that you're not from Pallus or any part of Fenasia.”
“So what if I'm not?”
“Well, if you'll just show me your residence papers, I'll be on my way. Otherwise...”
The woman grimaced. “Fine! I did it! I called them... The little buggers over there was passing food to my James, and he's not a child, he's a corgi. The poor dear got the runs and now he's sleeping it off. It was expensive food they had. The kind of thing you don't get unless you've been doing favors for rich men, if you know what I'm saying,” she said, narrowing her eyes at Margot.
“Who did you call?”
“I walked right down the street and told the crier. Some pastor making a racket as usual. Marlinist I think. I told him about the food showing up, not an hour before they came. Good riddance I say. Little mongrels like that ought to be in an orphanage, not filling this place up with the stench of their leavings.”
“I was going to dump the bucket when I got home!” Margot shouted.
“Let's go,” Jacques said.
Margot spat on the floor at the woman's feet. “Ardan swine!”
Jacques grabbed her by the shoulder. “Don't be a fool,” he said.
Outside the street was full of people who had their own problems but no Marlinist crier.
“Who are the Marlinists?” Margot asked. “I've heard of the Yugenots but not them.”
Jacques sighed. “They go by another, more common name.”
“What?” she asked.
“Witch hunters,” he said.
Margot gasped. “No! Where would they have taken them?”
“I have no idea,” he said, hands on his hips as he looked down the street.
“Then what can we do?”
He looked at her. “Perhaps you should go to work. Your employer will be looking for you.”
“I can't do that while the children are missing! I promised our mother I would keep them safe!” She cocked her head. “You must know someone who can help us. You must!”
Jacques sighed. “There is someone I can ask but it's not a place for you.”
The girl glared at him. “I don't care where it is. I'm going!”
* * *
The walk to the Pink Lily Brothel was shorter than Jacques would have liked. He scarcely had any time to attempt to dissuade Margot. Unfortunately she would not waver in her determination. So there he stood in front of Madam Collette Botteur in her extravagantly embroidered corset.
“Whatever can I do for you Jacques?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow. “Don't ask for a discount.”
Jacques rolled his eyes. “Hilarious as always Collette,” he replied.
She looked down at Margot. “This one would need to eat before I would let her work. She'd attract the wrong kind of clientele I think,” she said, with a smile.
“What does that mean?” Margot asked.
“Never mind girl,” Jacques said. “I need something from you Collette.”
“Information I'd assume,” the woman replied.
“Yes...”
She held up her hand, “You don't pay your debts Monsieur Voulon and I am not a bank.”
Margot folded her arms. “I don't know which is the greater fool. The man who goes into debt at a place like this, or the woman who extends credit to a Pallus guard.”
Collette laughed heartily. “This girl is smarter than she looks!”
“Collette please, the girl's younger siblings have been abducted by Marlinists. I'm sure you know what they plan to do.”
Collette sighed. “Normally I wouldn't betray clients. Discretion is very important here, as I'm sure you're aware.”
Jacques waited.
Her eyes drifted toward Margot and a hint of sadness passed across her face.
“Those men paid well, and up front I might add, but too often they took impermissible liberties with the girls. I banned them last week.”
Jacques shook his head. “Damn.”
Collette held up her hand, one finger in the air. “However, the week prior I did send one girl to them, at their request. I'm sure I couldn't recall the address,” she said as she nodded toward a note pinned to the side of a tall wooden secretary.
Jacques snatched the note. “Thank you.”
“I'll add it to your bill,” Collette said with a smile.
Outside they jogged back up the Rue Monge with Margot struggling to keep up. Jacques wanted to stop and buy her another meal but there wasn't time.
When they arrived at the station the crowd that had been yelling out front before had largely dispersed. Only two remained to spit and curse at them as they entered the guard station, an old woman and a younger man with a limp and scars from the war.
Jacques went straight for Mademoiselle Frisé. “Who is here?”
“Rianne and Arnault are still here. They're in the kitchenette I believe. She's still talking about that sword you... found. Oh and I think there are four or five others in the common room,” she replied. “What's going on?”
“I'm about to pick a fight,” he said. Margot ran up behind him.
“Can't you ever slow down?” the girl asked, puffing.
“Ah good. Frisé, please confine this girl to the station.”
“What? No! Monsieur Voulon I must come! They are my brothers and sister!”
“You barely made it here with me. I don't want you getting hurt,” Jacques said. He looked to Frisé. “C
an you handle her?”
The clerk nodded. “Not a problem.”
“What's going on?” Rianne asked, sticking her head out of the kitchenette.
“I'm heading out to cause trouble and I need backup,” Jacques replied.
“Count me in!”
“Me as well,” Arnault said, stepping into the hall.
“But you don't even know why,” Jacques said.
“I know I am responsible for this one,” he said, gesturing to Rianne. “Where she goes, I do.”
“And I know it's to help this girl,” Rianne said. “That's why I joined the guard.”
Jacques nodded. “Alright, to the common room. I have to make an announcement.”
One quick shout and all the guards currently in the station common room turned from whatever they were doing.
Jacques cleared his throat.
“As you all know. I have a well deserved reputation for sticking my nose where it doesn't belong. Today I'm planning to do something that could endanger the tenuous peace we have with the reformers in Pallus.”
“Marlinist witch hunters have abducted three children on the accusation of an old Ardan woman in the thirteenth ward. I intend to get those children back, by force if necessary.”
Jacques held up a hand, looking in turn at all the eyes that regarded him. “Do understand however that this action violates our fair and benevolent mayor's-” several boos chorused from around the room, “edict to let the Yugenots and their friends alone. If they complain, and they most assuredly will, all those who go, may lose their rank and station.”
“Therefore I will not order any of you to do this, nor will I hold it against those who stay. Take a moment and decide. Those coming, meet me in the back. Thank you, and if I don't see you again. It has been an honor.”
Jacques stopped by his office where his glass of cognac still sat, waiting for him. His first impulse was to leave it be. Even if he didn't come back it would be there, slowly evaporating, like an offering. No, that was not the Fenasian way, he thought, and took and big slug of the warm golden liquid, savoring the feeling as it burned in his nose and throat.
He then put the glass down and turned, his eyes falling upon De la Cour's veil sword and the box of powder. He hated using evidence, hated it. If he lost the sword he would have little to bolster his side of events once De la Cour's family or associates complained about his death. Still, the weapon had power, and the witch hunters were known to be well financed, they could have similar advantages.
