“My bond with Skorry lets me see the marks, but it tells me nothing about when the Death Cloak will come for those who bear them. You have one as well, Myrrh.”
Myrrh feels sick. She clenches her jaw to avoid gagging.
“I’m sure you intend to explain what a Death Cloak is.”
“I’ve only seen it once before. In the slum in Tangesh. Fortunately, the Tangeshi are more attuned to the spiritual realm than Ostgard citizens. They were able to track down the soulless one and kill the body before the Cloak did too much damage.” He pauses and licks his lips, uncharacteristically seeming to hunt for words. “Let me start that explanation over. Sometimes, due to circumstances I haven’t heard explained, a person’s spirit becomes separated from their body. Sent to a different realm, or so I was told. When that happens, the person becomes a gateway for beings that don’t belong in our world. You know a Death Cloak walks the streets when people simply die with no explanation.”
Myrrh blinks, a black feeling swarming into her gut. “What does a Death Cloak want? How do you stop it?”
“The Death Cloak preys on those the person knew while their soul was still attached to the world. Why? Who knows. As long as the soulless individual is near their friends and family, they’re in danger. And the range of that danger gets wider and wider as the Cloak becomes more familiar with our realm. Eventually, it can sense its prey from across a continent.
“Skorry’s protection charm is meant to deflect some of the Cloak’s attention, but given your interest in the trinkets, I’m guessing you’ve discovered one near the site of a suspicious death. Obviously, they don’t always work.”
Myrrh’s next question is lodged on her tongue. She knows she needs to ask, but she simply can’t bring herself to do it.
Rattle watches her in silence for a while.
“Judging by your expression, I think you might know who this soulless person is.”
She drops her gaze to the floor. “Hawk. My former mentor. We rescued him from a prison cell, and he hasn’t been the same since.”
“Where was he imprisoned, if I might ask?”
“Craghold. In the mountains.”
“Hmm…if you don’t mind me suggesting a theory, the Crags region has a particular form of magic they call the oaths. The Scythe, for instance, was oathbound to serve the family of the former Maire. This is a form of spiritual manipulation, forcing her inner being to follow a vow no matter the circumstances. It’s not a large stretch to imagine that a similar oath-saying could somehow banish a soul entirely.”
“If the Death Cloak only preys on the close associates of someone who has lost their soul, why do you care? You’re not from Ostgard. There’s no Cloak’s mark on you.”
His gaze grows distant for a moment. “That’s something of a private matter. Suffice it to say I owe Skorry a few favors in exchange for some gifts I’ve been granted. Gods are generally not fond of one another, and the Death Cloaks are the spawn of a particularly odious rival of his.”
Under other circumstances, she might ask more questions about that. Despite making the sign of the Queen of Nines fairly often, she hasn’t really put much thought into whether an actual deity is watching. Right now, though, the existence or nonexistence of the gods doesn’t seem to matter much.
Myrrh’s voice is flat when she next speaks. “Please tell me there’s a way to correct this without killing Hawk.”
Rattle taps his fingers on his knees as if nervous. “Maybe, but I don’t—”
The explosion of light and sound comes together, drowning Rattle’s words and tearing a scream from Myrrh’s throat. Shadows pour into the room, overturning the table and its single candle, shaking the floor as they jump through the windows. Something slams into Myrrh’s chair, knocking her over. Her shoulder hits hard, a sudden burst of pain.
Feet pound the floorboards, men and women shouting. And from somewhere, she hears the hiss of an object in flight.
Myrrh looks up just in time to see the throwing knife sink to the hilt in Rattle’s neck. As blood pours over the hilt, he slumps forward against the chair back.
Mink runs over, thin slippers whispering over the floor. She pulls the man’s head back and sinks another knife through his good eye.
“No!” Myrrh’s cry is far, far too late. “No, no, no.” She’s still repeating the word when Glint crouches down and helps right the chair. As someone saws through the ropes binding her wrists, Glint brushes strands of hair from her face.
“I know I promised I wouldn’t tell Mink to follow you anymore,” he says with a reassuring smile. “But I hope you’ll forgive me once again.”
Chapter Thirty
MINK SOON RETURNS with word that Nab is, as Rattle claimed, currently stuffing himself with baked apples in what is apparently the foreman’s office for the nearest smelter. Myrrh doesn’t want the boy to see Rattle’s body. Not that he’s a stranger to death—no one who grew up in Rat Town has that sort of luck. It’s different for someone you know, though. Myrrh sends one of Glint’s people to stand watch over the boy, instructing the thief to escort Nab back to Rat Town when he’s done gorging himself.
After searching Rattle’s body—the man had more pouches sewn into his clothing than any thief Myrrh has ever met—and tucking away nearly a dozen weapons and six bulging pouches, Myrrh pulls Glint aside.
“What’s going on, Myrrh? You don’t seem all that grateful for someone who was just saved from a heartless killer.” Glint smiles, but she can tell it’s a struggle. For the last few minutes, she’s been ignoring Hawk’s lesson about not letting her emotions show. Rattle was going to say something about how she might be able to rid Ostgard of this Death Cloak without killing Hawk. Maybe he even had a suggestion on how they could cure Hawk. At the very least, he might have been able to tell them what the Death Cloak looks like or whether there are any defenses other than the protection sigils.
But Rattle won’t be talking to anyone again.
“Have you ever heard of a Death Cloak?”
“A what?”
She draws a deep breath. “How far are we from the river? I need fresh air.”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. A few minutes’ walk. How did he get you to come here anyway? Mink said you followed him here, so she thought you had things under control. But I didn’t trust that. You’re lucky I was able to catch a glimpse of you through the window shutters. Doubly lucky the hinges were weak.”
“Guess the Queen of Nines was looking—listen Glint. I can’t pretend everything’s okay. Yes, thank you for saving me. But the city’s thieves are in just as much danger as they were last night.”
He casts her a skeptical glance. “I guess I better take that walk with you.”
The air outside smells like brimstone underlaid by the sickly-sweet scent of the acids the smelter workers use to process some of the ores. From a distance, Smeltertown always seems to be steeping in a foul cloud of its own smog. From within, it’s the rest of the city that looks hazy. But as Glint promised, they actually aren’t far from the water. On the way to the bank of the Ost, Myrrh tells Glint about the Death Cloak and its gateway. About Hawk, and how the best way to solve the problem is to kill him.
Her eyes tear up and her throat burns. Maybe it’s the foul air. Probably not, though.
“You believe him?” Glint asks when she finishes.
Myrrh nods. “You have to admit it makes sense. Everyone who’s died is a thief or criminal. A lot of them are from your organization—the people you and Hawk recruited together. Plus a grubber in Rat Town and one of Sapphire’s dealers unless she skipped town. He said Nab and I are marked, too.”
“But he could have come up with all those targets himself, killed them to support whatever story he wanted to tell.”
“Except there’s no motive. Maybe it would make sense for him to target people in your organization. But why Cobalt? Why a scattering of people from Haven and Blackfold? One of the first things you said
to me when I mentioned my suspicion is that Rattle wasn’t a killer.”
As they pass out of the last aisle between warehouses and onto the wide cobblestone avenue that fronts the River Ost, Glint lets out a low hum of consideration.
“All right, say he was telling the truth. Where does that leave us? I know I can’t just murder Hawk. No way. It would be even harder for you.”
“That’s just what I was talking to Rattle about when Mink killed him. He was going to tell me something…an idea for how we might solve this.”
“Then it’s not hopeless.”
“If you haven’t noticed, Rattle is dead. He won’t be telling us anything now.”
“And Mistress Myrrh, queen of Rat Town and conqueror of Slivers isn’t clever enough to figure it out on her own?”
She can hear the smile in his voice, but she’s not up to his teasing right now. Not after everything that’s happened this morning.
“I don’t know where to start,” she says, then stops. “Actually that’s not true. I did get an idea just now, but I’d need your help with it.”
Glint stops at the low wall at the edge of the river and sits. He pats the top of the mortared stone, offering her a seat beside him. “Naturally, I’ll do everything in my power to help. And speaking of power, I have some interesting news.”
The stone of the wall is cool through Myrrh’s thin wool trousers. Behind her, a captain barks orders as his barge slides toward the passages beneath First Bridge.
“What’s that?”
“Seems there’s a chance I’ll have a whole lot more of it soon…”
Myrrh can’t help but laugh at the irony. “Did someone actually nominate you for the Maire’s seat?”
He smirks. “Indeed. It’s a long shot. But I often do well against difficult odds.”
She huffs, shaking her head. “Well anyway, if someone as important as a candidate for Maire of Ostgard could stoop to help a poor thief from Rat Town, I need to borrow the Scythe and her men.”
“Oh?”
She nods. “It has to be people Hawk had little or no contact with before he…changed. One of the things Rattle told me was that the Death Cloak preys on people who were close to the soulless person, but only when they’re nearby the gateway. I figure, since Hawk doesn’t know the difference right now, we can at least send him away. It’s a temporary measure, because the Cloak’s range grows over time. But it might give me a chance to solve the problem before we have to kill Hawk to save others.”
“I’ll send a pigeon to have her recalled. She’ll be here within the week.”
“In the meantime, maybe you could have members of Porcelain Hand move Hawk to a location outside the city. Or some people you recruited after Hawk disappeared.”
“Of course, Myrrh. I assume you want to send him back to Craghold?”
She thinks for a minute. “Actually, somewhere else would be best. Rattle thought the practice of oath-saying might have something to do with Hawk’s condition. I think I should”—she chews her lip—“visit Craghold again. See what I can learn about your oath magic. Do you mind if I keep pretending to be your fiancée?”
He laughs. “All this pretending…it’s killing me, Myrrh. Do you have any idea how hard”—he coughs—“difficult it was for me to sleep last night? All I could think about was you in that dress. Or out of that dress, perhaps I should say.”
Her cheeks flush. “Fortunately for you, you’ve just become a candidate for Maire. Every eligible young woman in the city will be falling at your feet.”
At her words, an awkward silence falls. Glint twists the sole of his boot against the cobblestones.
“I don’t care about that, but the nomination…hmm. Here’s the thing, Myrrh. I could get by with casual references to my largely absent fiancée when I was aiming for a council seat. I said your family spent most of their time upriver. But the Maire’s title is something else entirely. My match will be scrutinized. The council may even want assurances on a date for the ceremony.”
“If you’re asking me to marry you, I suggest you steal a ring.”
He smiles, brushing her cheek with his knuckle. “I assure you, when I propose to the woman I plan to marry, she will be so stunned by the romance of it she won’t be able to speak. And it won’t be with our backs to the stinking water of the Ost. I’m only saying that I don’t know what to do about the charade we put on for the council. You’re boss of Ghost syndicate, which is a major problem when it comes to the scrutiny I was talking about. And I assume your little crime ring keeps you too busy to come running every time Merchant Giller needs to parade his intended around.”
“Well, please let me know how our engagement proceeds. Speaking of busy, I’m going to have to find someone to train as my second-in-command.”
He smirks. “I hope you don’t become as attracted to this person as I did to the candidate I selected for my organization.”
“I was thinking Ivy. And she’s pretty enough, but not really my type.”
As Glint lays a hand on her thigh, Myrrh’s belly tightens. She sighs and thinks of brushing it away but can’t bring herself to.
“I think I may need to go to the Port Cities,” she says. “After Craghold I mean.”
Glint stiffens. “Why?”
“The night blades. Rattle said his bond with Skorry let him see who was marked by the Death Cloaks. Maybe the night blades or their god can give me more answers. Not to mention, a chance to learn cantrips that can paralyze a person or make them do what I say.”
“I…I don’t know if I can let you go, Myrrh.”
A flash of irritation sends heat through her body. “What do you mean, you won’t let me?”
He quickly shakes his head. “Clearly, that came out wrong. Let me rephrase.”
For a minute, he stares at her, then he cups her cheek with a callused palm. “Of course you don’t need my permission to leave for the Port Cities. But I’m not sure I can watch you sail away—many people that make the voyage don’t return. If you’re so insistent on leaving, I may have to stalk you.”
“That will go over well with the council.”
A conflicted look crosses his face. “I know. It’s a problem. Maybe you’ll consider staying.”
“You know, for someone who claims to like having me around, you’ve caused me a lot of problems. First you dragged me into a power struggle between you, Slivers, and your father. Now this, your old rival turning up and trying to worm his way into my syndicate.”
“But if he hadn’t shown up, we’d still be oblivious to the Death Cloak. And anyway, I just rescued you. The daring hero risking his life for yours…surely you want to stick around after that.”
She snorts. “I suppose it depends on what I find at Craghold. If I can’t figure out how to cure Hawk there, I’ll have to look elsewhere.”
Glint stands and offers her his hand. “I suppose running away together is completely out of the question now.”
“Seeing as I have a limited amount of time before I either have to murder Hawk or be killed by the Death Cloak, yes, I suppose it’s not a very good time.”
“But not out of the question someday?” he asks, eyebrow raised.
“Someday, you’re going to be Maire. That’s a lot to give up.”
“I’m not always known for making rational decisions.”
“Then I guess we’ll just have to figure it out when someday comes.”
The corner of his mouth draws back. “Just don’t wait too long. Like you said, I’m going to be a hot item once the city’s ladies realize there’s a handsome and eligible bachelor in contention for the Maire’s seat.”
“And how will these lovely girls ever manage to deal with such a humble individual?”
Glint laughs. “You better go start sorting through Rattle’s stuff. Otherwise I’m tempted to have my people steal it from you.”
“You wouldn’t dare. His squat is inside Rat Town borders.”
<
br /> “Guard your turf, Myrrh. You never know when I’m coming for it.”
With that, he winks and starts sauntering toward Lower Fringe. Myrrh just shakes her head and watches him walk away.
Dear Reader,
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