by JM Guillen
“You’re a dear.” I smiled at her. “I have to go soon, Alia. I’ll wait though.”
“Have to go.” She mimicked me in a scornful tone as she turned toward my parlor and the front door. “Hombri necia.” She shook her head.
“I understood that!” I leaned forward as I called after her, and then winced in pain. “Not that you’re wrong,” I muttered beneath my breath.
“Cheese?” The world’s most undernourished raven hopped into the room, reminding me of her tragic lack.
I shook my head, pushing myself to my feet.
“No problem, majesty. I apologize for my slowness.”
Scoundrel did not chastise me, the very picture of class and grace.
I opened the icebin, noticing that I needed to place an order from the frostwrights again. Reaching inside, I pulled out a block of marbled cheese, breaking off a piece for my starving partner. I tossed it, not truly watching as she practically swallowed it whole.
No, my attention was for the small brass container. I unscrewed the top, eyeing the small scrolled paper inside. It only took a few moments to extract it and unroll the missive.
It wasn’t even properly addressed.
I enjoyed seeing you last night, although I regret not getting to spend more time together. As I am certain you have ascertained, we share some acquaintances and have similar feelings about them.
It was, in fact, our acquaintances who insisted upon the gift I gave you at our last meeting. I do not understand its significance, but they seem to think it has some import. In fact, one of our friends questioned me about it last night.
You might give that thought some attention.
As always, I hope you are careful as you go about your habitual activities. I hope to see you soon, and we can resume our activities of mutual interest.
Firmly yours,
Tabyth
I re-read the note twice, only taking a nonce to puzzle over the name.
No woman worth her family would want the name “Tabyth.” It was the name of a seductive little molly in the very old, very popular bar-song Nary a Maiden. To be called a “stripling little Tabyth” was akin to being out and out named a whore.
Nary a Maiden was the song Sefra had sung breathily to me the night we had gone to the revel.
I read the note a third time, a smile pulling at the edges of my mouth. I hadn’t truly realized how worrying over Sefra’s allegiance had weighed on me. However, she had apparently seen me as I had seen her and worried at my opinion.
It was sweet.
I glanced across the room, where I had hung my greatcoat upon stumbling inside last night. There, gleaming silver against the blue cloak was the small pin she had given me.
Groaning, I got up and made my way across the room. Once there, I fingered the pin, unfasted the clasp, and turned it over in my hand.
There, etched into the backside of the raven, was a small symbol I did not recognize.
“Good morning.” I peered at the symbol, trying to make any sense of it at all. It seemed to whisper in my mind as I looked at it, and I blinked, trying to keep it in focus.
It was a bent, complex thing, where each line was specific, purposeful. The glyph wasn’t any portion of the vernacular, and didn’t use any of the Kabian or Q’sarri sovereign letters.
It was the oddest thing I had ever seen. I found I did not like the symbol. Just looking upon it, my breath came more quickly, and my other hand clenched, my fingers white. After a moment, the world began to tremble, my vision swimming.
“Thom?” From across the world, my girl rasped me name. I looked over at her, my heart thundering in my chest.
What was this?
If I had been on any other case, I might have assumed it was some maker’s mark, or a superstitious sigiil of one of Teredon’s many spiritual traditions. However, my last few days had been anything but typical.
I had been hunted by men who burned from within when they died, bursting into a white hot conflagration that left only ashes behind. I still had no explanation for that fact, and then when one considered—
I stopped, mid-thought, my eyes growing wide.
—When one considered that the Twilight Blades had been able to find me, no matter where I had gone. Who would have expected me to be at Ely’s shop? How had they known to track me to the door of Booker Dox?
They were troubling questions, especially once I considered that I had been wearing Sefra’s gift the entire time.
“I do not believe in sorcery.” I muttered the words to myself, even though they were foolish. Of course I believed in sorcery; men who wielded the dark secrets of the shroud were well documented in history.
No, what I meant was that this could not be sorcery. There had to be some other explanation, some cause I did not see.
I looked down at the etching again, feeling my vision swim. It was like being drunk, with the added discomfort of an odd, baseless anger that I could not identify.
“Well, Sefra, I appreciate the gift.” I clutched the pin in my hand, blinking my eyes and looking away. Immediately, the dizzying sensation stopped. I stepped into my bedroom, opening the roll top writing desk I had there, and tossing the pin inside. Almost petulantly, I slammed the top closed.
I did not like things I did not understand.
In my career as a judicar, I had encountered people pretending at sorcery dozens of times. Every single time, that was exactly the case—they were scam artists and con men. So even though I was facing people who seemingly had characteristics I could not explain, and a small, unknown symbol that made my head swim—
“It’s not sorcery. It’s explainable.” I looked at the closed desk for a long moment and then returned to my kitchen.
It didn’t matter what my convictions were, I still wasn’t going to wear the pin.
2
Soon enough, Alia returned. She had brought me several of Doc Thane’s tinctures and unguents, which I found humorous given his minor role in my assignment. She also brought me a few drachms of yrris root, in three separate tincture bottles.
Most importantly, she brought me hot, black, strong coffe.
I downed the coffe and the one of the tinctures together, feeling their combined stimulant rush through me.
“Oh, sweet Elsador.” I sat at my table, my eyes closed, with a wide grin on my face. I sat there for long moments and then gulped one of the Docs’ potives as well.
Soon, I felt far better. Almost giddy.
“This isn’t enough, Mister Thom.” Alia clucked her tongue as she looked me over, and I was thankful she couldn’t see the bruises beneath my shirt.
“Alia, I am leagues better.” I stood and did a quick little sashay, showing that I was no longer achy and sore. I knew it was the Doc’s fine goods—the alchemy he produced was just short of magical.
Which was good. I had no time for distraction now. I needed to go to the Havens. I needed to speak with someone about Rebeka’s route and if they had seen anything odd on the day she had disappeared. Hopefully, that would lead somewhere. If it didn’t, then I was out of paths.
“Harumph.” It was obvious that she didn’t believe me, but she knew that talking would do her no good. Still, I wasn’t just shining her on. As I stood, stepping over to put on my greatcoat, I did, in fact, feel like a new man.
“Are there any spoiled birds that wish to come with me?” I called into my bedroom, where I knew a certain young lady was busy in my trash bin.
“Thom!” She hopped out to me, a scrap of cloth in her beak. “Good, smart bird.”
“Sure you are.” I smiled at Alia.
My domestic simply scowled at me.
I knew better than to try and talk Alia into being happy. Instead, I gave her a side-hug, thanked her, and stepped out into the gloomy day, hat and stave in hand.
“Ready to save the city, smart girl?” I gestured as I spoke. I couldn’t help but grin. The yrris root was a strong stimulant, and I felt positively bouncy.
“Rea
dy.” She hopped along next to me. “Ready.”
I knew no one else heard us, but the banter still tickled me to no end. A few moments later, I stood in the misting rain and waved down a foot-cab.
“You need the lowers, Senĩr?” The lean Esperan operator gave me a toothy grin. The foot-cabs loved waiting in Uphill for a fare. We usually had some money, and it was a fairly straightforward task, being downhill the entire way. I smiled pleasantly.
“I do. Will you go as far as the Warrens?”
“Ci, Senĩr.” He smiled again and began to set up his harnesses as I climbed onto the soft cushions. My girl settled on top, and before I knew it, we were off.
Every bump sent low, red sensation through both my shoulder and my ribs—Doc Thane’s magic didn’t seem quite as potent when I was tossed about. In order to focus on something else, I went over everything I knew about my assignment: Santiago, the four missing searchers, Eddie’s tallow-works, the Twilight Blades, and even the things Cutter Greene had said.
Most importantly, I considered the presence of Jakob the Fox and Killian Gould at the Coilwerks. I definitely hadn’t expected them and had been more surprised when Killian had called the Blades on me.
The tiniest thing could prove vital. I knew clues could be right under my nose, and if I wasn’t careful, I would miss them.
Before I realized it, we were all the way to Dockgate.
It was like a different city on the other side, a darker city. The Warrens were a twisted labyrinth, with no set standards for streets and alleys. It was the oddest sensation—for most Teredi, the entire borough was a place to fear, where the poor went to live in squalor and the unfortunate died.
For me, it was my borough. It might be dingy and dark, but it was mine.
“Where to now, Senĩr?” My cabman had stopped for a breather. I looked around, always slightly amazed at the differences between Uphill and the Warrens. I mean, certainly, the district I patrolled was seedy with criminal influences. Theft was common and murder almost as much.
But it was something more than that.
It was darker here. Some believed it was from the boroughs’ sullied past, a darkness that could still be felt as much as seen. It was a hard superstition to deny, especially when one considered the history of the Warrens.
The borough had been the secret home to the depraved cult of Orahiel, only a score of years ago. They had worked through mollies, which was why so many Teredi would not stand for prostitution. Some believed that the memory of the cult’s wicked acts lingered here and touched those within.
Then there was the Haven’s fire, a disaster I had been present for. That horrific night was still unexplained.
“This is far enough, ’migo.” I smiled at him, and he returned it.
“I only need a moment, Judicar.” The man was scarcely out of breath. “We can go on.”
“No, my friend.” I was always amazed at the strength of lung the cabmen had. The man was barely winded. I, on the other hand, would have been laid low.
I thanked the man and paid him, over-tipping by a silver slip. The man gave me a toothy grin as I walked away, shadowed by hunger and curiosity on dark wings.
She flapped her way up to one of the gaslights, looking down on me.
“Good bird. Good bird.”
I laughed at her. “You keep reminding me.” I pointed in front of us and made the closed-fisted hand sign for go. Without hesitation, she swooped down through the street.
It was time for work.
A quarter-bell later I came to the winterward side of the Warrens, near the Havens of Elsador. The orphanage might have been decimated several years ago by the fire, but today all was rebuilt and green with gardens. Those gardens were different every year but never failed to be one of the most beautiful spots in the Warrens.
It had been a wonderful place to grow up.
There was a willow there, older-than-old. Its branches hung over the wall, and I smiled, remembering how many times I had used it to slip over the wall.
Even now, it was hard not to think about that fire and the friends I had lost. I looked at my girl and scratched her head, as I tried to focus on the present.
The memories came anyway, scented with sweetness and ashes.
“There.” Cyrl and I were hiding behind a thick, brambly hedge. He was grinning as he peered through the tangled green.
“I see her.” We were kneeling in the gorse and trying not to get stuck. “We’re going to have to take her in. She’s gone too far this time.”
Tia had no idea we were this close. That was good. The girl was lithe and quick. If she got a head start, she could easily sprint ahead of us.
“We’ll catch her this time, Judicar.” Cyrl adjusted the hat he always wore when we played this game. “We’ll catch her and take her to the legates. She’ll be sent to the outer bounds for her crimes.”
“What if she resists?” I spat on the ground.
“Don’t hold back. She’s dangerous. The city needs us to be on the job more than they need another street rook to take the Vigil.”
We slipped around the edge of the hedge, slinking along the border of the Stonegarden. We were less than four strides from her when another boy gasped at seeing us in the brush. Tia glanced over her shoulder, gave a grin, and was off like a shot.
“Scut eater.” Cyrl gave Rio, the other boy a scowl. “We almost had her.”
We came close that day, perhaps closer to catching her than we ever had. Tia was too clever by far, however. We never would catch her, no matter how hard we tried.
Tia was a scoundrel until the day the fire claimed her.
I could almost taste the memories of my friends as I walked along the wall.
Cyrl would have been my age, although Tia was a little younger. Rio had been the eldest at thirteen. That placed him squarely in his ‘prenticing year. Jaque, the youngest, was three summers younger. He had started his ‘tiquities year only a few months before the fire.
The white flame had come and eaten almost everyone I had loved. The shadow of that day had changed everything for me. The white flame had whispered, had called our names.
It had burned my friends alive. Sometimes, in my sleep, I could still see the ghostly flame reflected in my friend’s eyes. It was as if it was reaching for me but could never quite grasp me.
I took a deep breath. Those were old days.
Today was a new day with new problems.
As I rounded the wall, I heard children laughing in the Haven’s gardens. A few of them were gardening, off in the herb beds. I absentmindedly scratched Scoundrel’s head and smiled. Somewhere behind my heart, I relaxed, unclenched.
Home. After all this time, the Havens were still home.
I made my way past the lavender gardens, taking special care not to interrupt one of the classes that was happening there. A small group of children sat around Cantoré Sersan, listening to him tell the story of the Reclamation and the Devout heroes who first drove back the gloaming. I remembered what that was like. I had been one of them, sitting there, making those stories my entire life.
“Is that Thom?” I recognized Cantoré Lilita’s creaking voice before I even turned around.
“Thom. Thom.” Scoundrel hopped down from my shoulder and peered up at Cantoré Lilita. “Cheese?”
I had to smile. Her begging always sounded so hopeful.
“Not this morning, you hungry thing.” Cantoré Lilita hobbled over to me, holding a tray of lavender tea and biscuits, her typical breakfast. Even though she could no longer see well, she always knew me by my height and my wide brimmed hat.
I gave my girl an irritated look. “Go, greedy. You know where the food is.” I gestured go, pointing toward the mess.
Scoundrel flapped off toward the kitchens. I visited so often that they knew her.
My bird was going to get too fat for work.
“It’s me, Cantoré Lilita.” I reached out for her shoulder. “I was in the neighborhood and thought, ‘I bet that
Cantoré Lilita will have some sweetbread, tea, and stories if I stop by.’”
She grinned at me. “Just like your bird. Always hungry. Are you certain you have time to sit and have morning tea with an old woman?”
I chuckled. “Always. Today, however, I’m afraid I need more than ‘tiquities stories. I’m on an assignment for the city.”
“You know anyone here will help you in any way they can, Thom.” She smiled. Her smile was like the sun at dawn.
“It’s about one of ours, actually. I’m looking for Rebeka Ortiz.”
The old woman was quiet, just for a nonce. When she spoke, she sounded even older.
“I …” She cleared her throat and shook her head. “I knew it wasn’t normal that she didn’t show up. Her heart was good, Thom, almost too good. She was here, every morn, getting her parcels so she could deliver food and Elsador’s mercy.”
My face grew dark. “Until a little over a week ago?”
Cantoré Lilita nodded. “She just stopped coming.”
We walked in silence for a few moments. We were in the sungarden before I spoke up again.
“Her family is looking for her. I was hoping that if I came by, I could get her route. Maybe I could find something to lead me to her.”
“You mean her brother is looking for her.” Her voice was terse.
“Yes.” There was no use sweetening it; the cantoré was no fool.
“That shouldn’t be too hard. Rebeka worked the Eastyrn Warrens. We should be able to get a list from Cantoré Giles.”
I frowned. “The Eastyrn Warrens?” Those were bad neighborhoods.
“Yes, dear. Is that strange?”
“I had a lead on her that had her making a delivery over by the tallow-works.” Eddie’s story was holding up less and less.
Cantoré Lilita frowned. “No. She wouldn’t be over there. That wouldn’t make sense. Rebeka took cases that were…” She drifted for a moment, trying to find the proper words. “She took deliveries that others didn’t want. I remember Cisle trying to stop her, telling her that a young woman needed to be careful, but Rebeka wouldn’t have any of it. She seemed to think that, because of her brother, there was nothing in the streets that could ever hurt her.”
