by JM Guillen
She glared at me and opened her mouth to argue, but I continued. “Now, I don’t know what your da meant by ‘Warren’s Spider,’ maybe it was a passcode, maybe it was a slip of the tongue, but I do know this: she’s not real.”
“I’m not—”
I hurried on, “I do believe he said it. I’ll give you that. But let’s not pin a meaning down on it just yet. Fair enough?”
Bryana continued to stare at me as if she were trying to make up her mind. Eventually, she took up the thread again. Then, as I watched her body language, as I truly listened to her story, I truly understood.
True or not, Bryana believed what she was telling me. As far as she was concerned, this story was Elsador’s truth.
4
The woman stepped to her chair, every movement one of dangerous, deadly grace. Bryana shuddered. That woman knew the secrets of a man, the fears of a woman, and how to kill them both.
Death. Bryana couldn’t help the word from running through her mind. That woman is death given form. Death is meeting with my father.
In the secret part of her that might always be a little girl, she was terrified that the woman knew she was there. Knowing she was there, the woman would look over. And then she would come for Bryana.
She looked like a woman who could kill without a second thought.
Without a first.
The four of them sat there, sharing drinks and having discussions as if there were nothing out of the ordinary, as if Bryana’s entire world was not spinning around them.
From Bryana’s hiding spot, Killian’s face and posture were like an open book to her.
She had seen her da worried, and she had seen him angry. In her entire life, Bryana thought that she had never seen him truly afraid.
Until right now.
The four of them talked for a long while. Bryana kept dancing in place, trying to angle closer, so that she might hear what they were about, but she was pressing her luck. Her father was a man who was supremely aware of his surroundings. If she got too close, or was too obvious, he would certainly see her, feel her presence.
Even if he didn’t, then that woman would. Bryana did not need to be any closer to imagine what that woman’s eyes were like. Hard. Sharp. She would have eyes that missed nothing, like a hawk on a cloudless day.
The woman projected deadly confidence.
It was ridiculous to fear a woman two poles away, especially one Bryana had never met before.
But she did.
At almost the same time, the four pushed their drinks aside and stood from their table. For a brief, horrifying moment, Bryana thought that perhaps she had drawn too close. Perhaps they were going to come her way, and if so, finding different cover would be difficult. Almost impossible.
She was crouched behind a large, painted sign that stood under the eaves of a closed clothier shop. There were only two ways to leave Llord’s Coffe House. Bryana began to look for another place to hide, some doorway to step into.
There was nothing.
Bryana held her breath as chairs were scraped under the table. She tried to arrange her features into a distracted, pleasant smile. Her father had always taught her to cover her tracks as much as possible, even when caught.
“You’ll pay double for that guilty look,” he always scolded her.
Bryana took a deep breath in, stood, and stepped around the sign to face her would-be accusers head-on.
But no. They were not there. They had walked the other way.
Bryana steadied herself on the sign for a nonce before following as quickly as her wobbly knees would allow.
As she followed, Bryana couldn’t help but consider that her father was a powerful and knowledgeable man. Jakob the Fox, when not behaving like a man on a bender, was well known for being capable and dangerous as well. The Warren’s Spider was practically a legend, of course.
Bryana had to believe that, with the serious nature of her father’s body language, this fourth man with the blades on his arms was of equal capability. Perhaps in a different area, with different skill sets, but the conclusion was stark.
Four of the most dangerous people the Warrens had to offer were walking side by side through broad daylight. They smiled at folk on the street, and for the most part looked like successful businessmen or landlords.
They were not, of course. Together, Bryana had no doubt that they could make people beg to tell their deepest secrets, swear their family’s loyalty and wealth, or simply disappear.
Yet they walked the streets. If anyone knew who they were, they did not say.
Bryana followed them until they were well away from the neighborhoods that were strongly associated with the Twilight Blades. They wended winterward through the streets, going much farther than Bryana ever would have thought her father would on foot. The man took a cab everywhere. There were too many of them for a foot cab of course, but a horse and four could easily take them.
Of course, with only a little thought, it was easy to understand why they would rather walk. It was actually more private in the streets. A driver might remember them. Whatever they were about, they made use of the special kind of privacy that can only be offered by being plainly and clearly in public, absorbed in a group conversation. Most other pedestrians barely noticed when they had to step around the group before continuing on their way, much less register what the group was discussing.
Bryana’s feet were beginning to grow sore. Like her father, Bryana also took a cab to most of her habitual locations. Had she not been so carefully observing her father and his companions, Bryana would have noticed that the streets were once again becoming familiar to her.
Soon the scent of fish stew and bitter brought her head up, and Bryana took note of her surroundings. The frown line between her brows eased a bit with the acknowledgement of familiar territory, but returned when she realized the group’s destination.
They were going to Wyndhaus.
Wyndhaus was a sprawling, rundown manse that stood not far from the winterward gate to Dockside. As an inn, however it was quite popular in the Warrens. It was a place where a person could get a room with no questions asked. Those who worked the desk would never see who came and went and no one cared about any kind of guild papers or identifications. It was the kind of place that, if you had money, you could get in and out with no record at all.
It was also an official guild location for the Red Hand.
Outside, the four paused again. They spoke for a nonce but then stepped to the door.
Of course, Bryana could not follow them inside without being caught. She watched through a window as the party went in and spoke with Booker, a well-known, retiring man that catered his services to guildmen among the Red Hand. The four of them spoke at length.
“Not a problem.” Booker smiled. “I would be happy to serve in this matter.”
Booker led them to a small stairwell adjacent the counter. When the door closed, Bryana felt ice in her heart.
Never again. The thought ran like a wild horse in her head. I will never see my father again.
She hadn’t.
5
We sat quietly for a long moment after she was done telling her story. Scoundrel looked up at me, ever hopeful for a snack or a little bit of attention. I signaled for her to be quiet before she could even crow at me.
“I appreciate your being forthright with me.” It was an understatement. I would have never expected someone like Bryana to be so honest with me, particularly when I knew the kind of business her father was in.
She smiled wistfully. “Are you surprised?”
I chuckled. “I am, actually. I often have to pry a story out of a person.”
The crooked smile on her face wilted. “Years ago, my da told me a story. Apparently, some members of his family ran into a little trouble several years back. It was the kind of trouble where a man ends up dead.”
“Common enough trouble in the Warrens.” I nodded conversationally, wondering where this was going.
“Out of absolutely nowhere, a judicar comes calling. He seemed to know everything about what happened, even knew things that he shouldn’t.” She glanced downward at my girl. “The judicar figured out who done it. He tracked down our problem, even though we hadn’t told him anything.”
“Years ago?” I mused. “Was it Alejandro?”
The small smile reappeared. “It was. I only ever met the man when I was a child, but he always had a bit of toffe for me or my brothers.”
I nodded. That sounded like Alej all right. I had ‘prenticed to the man, and one of his first lessons had been about building relationships with the citizens.
I gave her a sideward smile. “We are oathed to serve. Alejandro does a fine job of keeping that oath.”
She continued, as if I had not spoken. “My da always said that if something should happen to him, if I ever thought he was in trouble, I should watch for a judicar to come round. He said your rooks told you things that you didn’t have any business knowing. He said if he was in trouble, one of you would come calling.” She was quiet then, and she looked to the floor before continuing.
“He said that I should tell you everything I knew, if I ever wanted to see him come home.” She looked back up at me. “I do, Judicar. I want my da to come home.”
Bryana Gould’s eyes shone wetly in the dim light. She took a breath, trying desperately not to cry.
She failed.
It wasn’t the loud, blubbering cry of a child. No, Bryana’s tears were quiet. They were the sharp, sorrowful tears of a woman who had been hoping for days, praying to any Devout who would listen that a Judicar would not show up. Wondering about her father was something she had been able to do. The moment I had come calling, however, Bryana had ceased wondering.
In her mind, her father was dead.
I said nothing. There was nothing I could say. All I could do was sit with her, listen, and hope I could bring Killian Gould home.
Eventually, she spoke.
I didn’t bring up the Warren’s Spider again.
She chatted amiably for a time, but did not have much else to add. No, she had not seen any of the other people since. No, she had not filed a writ with the Offices of the Just.
“Not yet, I haven’t.” She met my eyes. “I was about to. I had almost decided to head up there today, maybe tomorrow. My Da, the man he was—” She paused. It seemed to make her angry that she had said ‘was’ instead of ‘is.’
She started again. “He has a healthy respect for the power of your birds. He would have told me nevermind about no tip-offs, but he warranted you would have showed up without any paperwork sooner or later. He seemed to think it was just the way of the world.” She smiled a touch wistfully. “It made the man a bit paranoid.”
I nodded. “It must’ve been hard for you to wait for me for this long. I’m glad you did. I don’t know what Santiago would have done if you had gotten involved in this business yourself.”
Her hand clenched. Her face was a studied mask, but I saw her knuckles grow white. “I would hate to irritate Santiago Il Ladren.” Her anger at the man was like a physical heat. “I’d hate for him to stay up nights worrying about someone he loves. I would hate for him to be the one who was troubled.”
In that moment, I wondered if he was.
I wondered if he paced his rooms at night wondering where Rebeka was. I wondered if he was capable of feeling as much as this young woman was. I wondered if a man like Santiago truly understood the bonds of family.
I reached down and stroked my good girl, but I kept my eyes on Bryana.
It was apparent that I needed to speak with Booker.
I needed to go to the Wyndhaus.
The Warren’s Spider
Striving, Fifth Bell, Morningtide
My thoughts were a storm as I wound my way back up the narrow stair. Bryana’s tale had answered many questions but had asked many more.
“I don’t want you to worry,” Bryana was close behind me on the stair, so I half turned my head so she would hear. “I promise you that as soon as I know anything, you will know.” I reached for the door and pushed.
I never heard her answer.
The serum slammed into my mind like a torrent of molten gold thundering through my veins.
Accidentally, the stranger drops one of the cards.
“It bit me!” He seems shocked. I glance down. The card he dropped was “The Spider.” The stranger reaches for the card but then stops.
“She’ll bite you too. Be careful.”
Somehow, even though I can’t see his face, I know he’s talking to me.
“Judicar?” Bryana came up behind me where I was leaning against the wall of the stairwell. “Are you well?”
As the door opened, a woman’s cold eyes glinted down upon me. For a moment, I stood stunned, struck dumb.
Oh. Oh no.
“Judicar,” the woman nodded slowly. She was oddly certain, confident. It was as if she had waited for me at that exact spot, knowing I was walking up the stairway.
“Miss,” I nodded a wary greeting at the woman. I stepped into the room, Scoundrel hopping after.
Never had a word felt more inappropriate. More inadequate.
She was young, a few years younger than me if I guessed well. The woman was Q’sarri, or at least of their blood, given the long, dark hair and the spice-tea colored skin. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes glittered like hard pieces of flint in a pool of kohl. Yet, those eyes had just the touch of a cant to their edges, the slightest bend upward, a trait that spoke to a trace of Nimjiminese in her blood.
Just her face was enough to stop a man in his tracks, but that was far from the whole story. She wore leathers that had been dyed a deep, midnight black. A small bag hung at her side, and several small throwing knives glistened at her hips, thighs, and chest.
When she stepped forward, she was grace given form.
“I’m looking for Killian Gould.” Her soft voice was crisp, businesslike.
For a long moment, my head swam from the serum. It wasn’t a specific vision or even the insistent whispering behind my mind. It was as if, the nonce I met her eyes, the serum asserted itself in my veins, and I felt a glimpse of gold burning in my blood.
Then I heard Bryana gasp.
I saw the bull-necked doorman on the floor behind the dark-haired woman. There was blood at the corner of his mouth, and I could not tell if he was breathing. Across the room, I saw Martin slumped over the counter, unconscious.
“I saw you with him.” Bryana’s voice was tight, spring loaded with panicky terror. “I saw you with my father. You are the Warren’s Spider.”
“I am who I am.” The woman regarded Bryana curiously. “I was with your father. Now, I’m looking for him again.” The woman’s voice was smooth with a razor’s edge. “I’m afraid he has become distant as of late. I was hoping to discuss my business with him.”
“As it so happens, I’m looking for the same man.” I took a single step forward. “The city has a special interest in him and his concerns. Perhaps you could share with me what business you have with him?”
The tiniest smile appeared around the edge of her mouth. “Perhaps I could, but I will not at this time. My business is my own, Judicar. Perhaps another day.”
Scoundrel shuffled nervously on my shoulder. She said nothing, but my girl was definitely off her ease.
Tainted night, I was off mine.
The Warren’s Spider wasn’t real. Wasn’t.
“I think there has been a miscommunication.” I gave her a small tight smile of my own. “I’m afraid I must insist.”
“You may be afraid.” The woman’s smile vanished. “But I frankly do not care. If you know nothing of Killian Gould’s whereabouts, then I will excuse myself.” The woman began to turn away.
“We’re not done here.” I took another step forward. “I have some questions for you.”
The woman glanced back over her shoulder, a playful, wicked smile on the edge of her mouth.
“I don’t think you say when we are done, Judicar. I am done. That is all that concerns me.”
I drew my stave. Scoundrel hopped off my shoulder to the floor.
“I must ask you to submit, miss.”
Her grin grew wider. “Better men than you have tried, Judicar. I’m afraid I don’t have time for bed-play.”
I paid her grin no heed. Her smile wasn’t what mattered.
It was her stance.
Bryana had called it square. This woman was the very essence of dangerous. It wasn’t as much in the long-knives that she wore or the cool deadly grace of her walk, it was something unexplainable. Something made up of everything that she was.
Death. Bryana couldn’t help the word from running through her mind. That woman is death given form. Death is meeting with my father.
It wasn’t just in what she did; it was also in the things that she did not do. She did not treat me like I was a threat or an authority in any way. The expression on her face was more like that of a parent speaking with a petulant child.
“I am authorized to use lethal force, miss.” I adjusted my stance slightly, and Scoundrel took two hops to my right. “I am afraid I must question you regarding your relationship with Killian Gould, as well as what has happened with—”
“Santiago’s sister?” Her eyebrow arched again. “I know who you are looking for, Judicar. My concern is that you do not.”
“Of…” I was slightly taken aback by the certainty in her voice. “Of course I know who she is. I spoke with Santiago regarding this only last night.”
“Last night, perhaps, but still many days late.” Now she turned to face me again. “You are a few moves behind, Judicar. I do not have time to educate you.”
