by JM Guillen
But were we? If we were, why didn’t the Spider just claim Rebeka herself then?
“Any answers, rookie?” I smiled at Scoundrel, who was toying with the dead man’s silver earring. “You need to hold your weight around here, you know.”
“No.” She mimicked, looking up at me.
I sighed.
“Fine, then.” I stood, straightening my hat. “If we’re not alone down here, then I suppose there’s no need for secrecy.” I drew my stave, holding it loosely in one hand, with the small glowing bottle in the other. “Come on, sweet girl.”
“Sweet. Sweet, sweet.” Scoundrel hopped after me, only stopping occasionally to explore some bit of trash or shiny gewgaw that had washed beneath the city streets. We stepped forward, only the echoes of dripping water and the light of alchemy to guide us.
Somewhere, in the shadows ahead was a murderer. Even more chilling, that killer might have taken a man’s life for the sheer purpose of sending me a message.
The worst thought of all was that, just perhaps, we were on the same side.
3
The passage seemed to stretch into unending shadows before us. I was certain that, in fact, we had only walked a few city blocks, but it seemed like so much more.
Part of it was my own nerves, I was certain. Every footfall was magnified as it echoed, and the lucia shone like the sun. I tried to hold the small bottle beneath my greatcloak, only letting out a little light at a time, but I wasn’t certain how well I was doing.
Scoundrel wasn’t much help.
“Good girl. Home. Cheese.” She cawed every few feet her voice croaking as it echoed. I had tried to silence her, but it had proven to be a lost cause.
Every few feet along the causeway, there were other branches and alleys of tunnels. Sometimes, they seemed only a little larger than the pipes that ran through them, but some of them were large enough for two men to walk abreast. More than one was entirely full of steam, which billowed out in great clouds.
Soon, it was difficult to see four strides before me.
Eventually, one of the side-branches was capped with an iron door, bearing four locks. Each of them had been broken at some point, and each one repaired. On the door was a small brass plate:
Binder’s Court Pumping Station
I traced my fingers along the letters, contemplating. If nothing else, it was a good indicator of where I was. Binder’s Court was once a place of fountains and waterworks in the Warrens but had long stood dry.
I had traveled farther dawnward than I had guessed.
“We’re almost to the Remnants, sweet girl,” I mused. The moment I had the thought, another idea burst upon me, one I should have already had.
“Oh. Oh, Thom.” I let out a sigh. “You birdbrain.” I glanced down at Scoundrel, who only looked up at me with dark eyes.
Apparently, she wasn’t going to chime in.
So much had happened in the past few days that sometimes it was hard for me to pin it all together. However, thinking of the Remnants brought a conversation back to mind, a conversation between a certain Fox and his fellows.
The Fox had come along a similar road while he was looking for Rebeka—if his story was to be believed.
“But the Spider didn’t believe you, not then.” I looked into the shadows ahead, biting my lip. “Did she change her mind? Why?”
The entire subject of Jakob the Fox was a slippery one. Even Bryana had said he did not seem himself, as if he were drunk or on some tonic. But if he had wanted his little foursome dead, he probably had plenty of chances.
So then, he was loyal to Santiago. After all, why tell them about this place at all if he was working with the Blades? But then…
If he wasn’t working with the Blades, why had he and Gould been at the Coilwerks?
“Neither of you were quite… right though, were you?” I murmured. Killian had seemed downright haunted, looking as if he were about to rise from his own grave. I furrowed my brow, the thought circle beginning to make my head hurt.
That was when I heard the fighting.
It was one echoed shout that caught me first, the voice of a man. After a moment, I heard the harsh clank of metal against metal and then another cry.
“Thom?” Scoundrel was intent upon the sound.
“I heard it, little rook.” I opened my satchel, placing the lucia inside, and then hiding the satchel beneath my greatcoat. In a moment, we were shrouded in the darkness.
“Ashe!” The voice echoed through the passage, warbling oddly. “She’s—”
I ran forward through the steam-filled darkness, stopping just as I came to a small stairwell down. It looked as if it went down about the height of a man and then the main passage continued forward.
The firelight, however, was coming from a passage to the left.
There were shadows stretching from the passage, swift, darting things that spoke of a skirmish. There was more yelling, a second male voice, and then a third.
But I had eyes for none of this. No, what I noted was the man standing in the passage, slipping up onto the fight, a brassbow aimed toward the fire.
Then, a man cried out in pain. I heard him fall. My friend in the alleyway began to crank the brassbow, intent upon the action.
I made my choice in half a nonce. No matter what was happening, this wasn’t the action of the Deepcity Watch; they would have identified themselves. Therefore, whatever skulkery was happening was something I could feel free to stop.
“I must ask you to desist.” I kept my voice deep, letting it echo as I strode through steam and darkness. “Right there. Hold it.”
Obviously the man was the last human in the wide world to not understand the vernacular. That was the only explanation that made sense, as he turned the brassbow toward me.
Fortunately, I was ready.
Strike. One hand forward, with my fingers in position. Dim though it was, Scoundrel could still see me well enough to know exactly what I was after.
I heard the brassbow’s iron cord twang as she darted through the darkness. The quarrel struck my greatcoak, stunningly hard, down toward the bottom. It tore through the thick fabric, before clattering across the stone floor.
The man began to scream.
“Ashe!” It wasn’t the same man that had cried out before. “There’s another! Judicar!”
“Probably only the one judicar.” I strode forward, my stave out. “Good thing is, one is all it takes.”
Scoundrel was on the man’s face, doing her grisly work. The man flailed, screaming.
“Yield! I yield!” The panic in his voice was high and wild.
“Scoundrel.” I spoke softly, as if chiding a youngster. “To me, pretty.”
“Pretty, pretty.” She hopped away from the man, who lay on the ground.
“Now, I told you to desist.” I took a few steps closer, keeping my eye on the man. “But you had to go and not desist.” I sighed heavily. “Persist? That might be right. Anyway, I hate it when people do that.”
“Judicar, I—” The man tried to sit, holding one hand over his readily bleeding face. As he did, the orange light, flickering from the passageway to my right, dimmed. When I looked, the light was being blocked by a distinctly slender and feminine form.
“Why, Judicar.” The Warren’s Spider’s soft voice was practically a purr. “Were you trying to save my life from a skulking dirkman?”
“Succeeding.” I cleared my throat. “I mean, if I had been trying—”
“Yes.” Her head turned a bit, looking toward the downed man. “Were you planning on finishing your task or were you going to allow him to alert his fellows?”
‘Finishing’ had quite the final tone within it, coming from her.
“I wasn’t planning on killing him, if that’s what you’re asking.” I kept my tone as even as possible. “The man yielded to my good right hand here. Unless he again proves violent—”
“He won’t.” The man spoke up, somewhat panicked. “All he wants is to prov
e his need for a dociere.”
“I’m afraid that’s not in the cards.” The Warren’s Spider’s tone was absolute. “Thom, the Twilight Blades are actively—”
“I know about their involvement.” I cut her off, slightly terse. Not only did it annoy me that she felt she could dictate terms to me, but she was treating me as if I was a child.
Again.
“Then you know he can’t leave. He knows we’re here. One word to his guildmen, and we will be facing far more than we can handle.” I could hear the smirk in her voice. “Well, you will be, at any rate.”
“You’re not slaughtering a man who has surrendered.” My tone was old, unyielding iron. “I’m fairly certain you can keep him from alerting anyone until, say tomorrow. I’ve tasted your solution in that regard.”
“Except,” she sighed, clenching her fist, “someone saw fit to allow their bloody bird to shred half the man’s face.” There was more than a little heat to her words. “If we used my solution, he would bleed out in that time.”
“He doesn’t want to bleed out.” The man’s voice was laced with panic. “He’d much rather keep mum about the judicar and the madwoman.”
“He walks away.” I held my ground.
“In custody, perhaps.” Her voice had that silken edge to it that was so hard to define. “Put him in manacles and take him to the stocks. Leave your current task to someone who is better suited for such things.”
The insult was soft but present.
“No.” I opened my greatcloak, letting the muted light of the lucia shine from my satchel. “Let me tell you how it will be.”
“Oh?” The amusement in her voice was grating. “Do go on.”
“The simple way here is that we let—” I paused turning to the man. “What is your name, guildman?”
“Kyle.” I could hear the pain in his voice. “Kyle Nehlman.”
“The simple way is that we let Kyle go. We have some faith that he’s willing to keep mum.”
“And when he breaks that faith?” She took a step closer, her movement closer to gliding than walking. “Which he will.”
“Then we know who he is. I can levy all manner of legal force against him in that case and make him sorry he was ever born.”
“He already is, if that makes a difference.” Kyle groaned.
“Well, it’s a pretty plan, but it assumes you survive.” Her voice was musing. “I have no guarantees.”
“I suppose, in the quite unlikely case that I do not survive, then Kyle will have your sweet hand to deal with in the aftermath of his vile betrayal.”
“Hmm.” I could hear the frown in her voice. “Messy. There’s a lot more ‘ifs’ in that version of things than there are if I simply kill him here.”
“The Esperans say that ‘if’ is the world’s longest word.” I paused. “The case is, however, you don’t know all the outcomes of doing things your way.”
“Fine.” She sighed. “Enlighten me, Judicar. I just slaughtered this man’s fellows like hogs. Tell me what will happen if I do the same to him.”
“Yes.” Kyle’s voice was small. “This also pertains to my interests.”
I took a breath, forcibly trying to relax. I had been waiting for this moment, of course, ever since the Warren’s Spider last left me face down in an alleyway.
I couldn’t beat her in a fight, I was certain of that. I had already seen how fast she was. I had spent good, long hours coming up with my response for the next time I saw her.
Now I would see if it was time well spent.
4
“The difference between those other men and honest Kyle here is that he is mine.” I subtly emphasized the word, not even knowing if such a concept mattered to the assassin. “He has attacked and offended a judicar, and as such his disposition is mine to decide.”
“Go on.” She sounded intrigued.
“Now, should you decide to remove that right from me, I will try and stop you.”
“You will try?” I could hear the grin in her voice, teasing back to the jape about ‘trying’ to save her life from a skulking dirkman.
“I do not know if I will succeed… but, if I fail, you will have to kill me. Our mutual benefactor will be displeased.”
“Come now.” She sounded a touch bored. “I know better than that, and so do you. I didn’t have to kill you previously, after all.” She paused. “And I don’t know if he would be displeased.”
“That was before.” My tone was filled with certainty. “I’ve had some time to study up, you see. I’ve taken some alchemical tinctures, like a good, growing judicar should. Therefore, the situation has changed.”
For a long moment, there was silence between us, punctuated by the dripping of water and the hissing of steam. It was a heavy, stark silence. I waited, wanting her to break it first.
“I see.” Her voice was tight. “So it is your belief that my previous solution will not prove fruitful this time.”
“It is more than a belief; it is fact.” I nodded, not knowing if she could see me or not. “Now, there are further ‘ifs’ that you must consider.”
“Go on.” Her voice was tight.
“While I do not know if I have the skill to stand against you—”
“You do not.”
“—I am much better positioned than I was previously.” I reached into my satchel, palming the lucia. It did not shine brightly, held in hand the way it was. “My good girl is behind you, in the darkness. I have been positioning her as we have been speaking. If we tangle, you will not walk away unscathed, even if you leave my corpse here.”
“I have been wounded before, Judicar.” Her tone was like ice.
“I personally won’t try to wound you, not at all.” I smiled. “That’s for my swift and silent girl, hidden by darkness. No, I will make it my dying act to coat you in lucia lumen. The stain will only last for about an hour yet, but you will be alone, bleeding, and shining like the Lightman’s Star. Continuing your current path will be nearly impossible.”
“That…” When she spoke again, it was as if she were biting the tail of each word. “That is uncertain. You may fail. Even if you succeed, it is no guarantee that I will be hindered.”
“I don’t know.” Kyle piped in. “Seems reason—”
“Shut up.” The Warren’s Spider kicked him, and he yelped.
“This is not the worst I have to offer, however.” My tone held just a hint of regret. Now, we would see how well I could bluff. After all, I knew her one great and glaring weakness.
“Does it involve you talking me to death?” Her tone bit. “Do I die from boredom?”
“No.” I cut to the chase. “Thing is, you let me see you before. I know what you look like.”
“Easily remedied.” There was, again, just a touch of play in her tone. “If you and Kyle die here together, then that memory dies with you.”
“No. You see, while recovering from our first meeting I took the liberty of requisitioning an artist. There were several hours where I wasn’t well but could talk.” I paused, letting the idea sink in. “Together, we created a nigh-perfect representation of you, to which I added all the details I personally knew. I wrote in things like your combative prowess and tactics and added notations regarding your current contract and who that was for. That is why our mutual friend would be displeased with my death.”
“You did.” Her words were flat.
“I did,” I lied. “If I do not check in with a third party, a person you do not know, then they open the seal on that artwork and take it to a press-smit. Within the week, hundreds of them will be wheat-pasted on every flat surface in the Warrens.” I shrugged. “I will be dead, but so will your secrecy, your reputation.”
I could feel her fury, like radiating heat. For a long moment, we stood in silence. “This person…” I could literally hear the Spider as she fought to maintain control. “The artist. Did they know who they were drawing?”
“They did not,” I answered firmly.
&nb
sp; “And the mysterious third party?” Her voice was still tight. “Do they know what they are holding?”
“Also no.” I grinned. “Not even Kyle here knows who you are. Only me.”
“That’s very true.” Kyle’s puling tone indicated he was expecting another kick, but it did not come.
There was another long moment of heavy silence.
When the Warren’s Spider spoke again, her words were sharp, angry.
“And this, all of this, depends upon you surviving to check in with your third party.”
“It does.” I nodded. “Which, if I’m even slapped over poor little Kyle here, I might forget to do.”
“I hope you catch cockrot.” Her tone was furious. “I hope someone with plagueboils tups your mother in the mouth.”
“Noted, and disgusting.” I took a breath. “But, it does not change the situation.”
“No.” She sounded like she was chewing glass. “It does not. Fine, Judicar. You threw sevens on me.” She stepped toward Kyle, and for a moment, I thought she meant to end him.
“Your name is Kyle Nehlman. You are an associate of the Twilight Blades.”
“Yes…” It was obvious that he didn’t quite know what to say.
“We are letting you go. Keep your wounds clean and find a dociere. Do not speak to any of your fellows about what has happened here.”
“Yes, miss.” The relief in his voice was like a sweet balm. I honestly thought the man might cry. “Oh, thank—”
“But Kyle,” her tone grew sharp. “You will not tell any of your fellows about this. I do not care what you tell them, but you may not inform them as to the whereabouts of me or my oh-so-brilliant companion. Do you know what will happen if you do?”
“You will…” He paused. I could see him glance to me, but I simply shook my head at him. “You will find me?”
“That will be the simple bit, Kyle. Do you know what will happen next?”
