The Verse of Sibilant Shadows: A set of tales from the Irrational Worlds

by JM Guillen

  I pounded the door again. It was like thunder echoing in the old building. Then, I retook my pose. I waited ten breaths.

  Exhale.

  “I guess no one’s home.” Sarcasm dripped like cold honey from her words. “Maybe we should go play draughts in a tavern and drink grain bitters all night.”

  “Maybe so.” I tried the door handle, but it wouldn’t turn. I tried pushing the door, but it seemed quite secure. Too secure.

  Strange. Why wasn’t the lock as rotten as the rest of the building?

  I leaned back, glancing up and down the street. If anyone was out and about, they weren’t watching. Not that it mattered. I had legal right to go where I pleased. It just might not bear well in this neighborhood, to be seen as the judicar that would break into someone’s locked home whenever he wished.

  Such a judicar might be seen as a problem. Such a judicar might not make it home safely.

  “Let’s just go in.” She sounded bored now. “We both know I’m going to do all the killing anyway—”

  “I’m entering!” I called toward the guildhouse. “I’m making a legal forced entry into a location of suspicion!” I waited.

  No answer.

  “Are you serious right now?” The Spider seemed floored. “We should just—”

  I struck at the door with my stave. The old, rotting oak was no match for my ironwood. The door broke in where I struck it. Another couple of swings, and I was able to peer inside.

  “Hello?” I called through the hole I had made. I couldn’t see anyone inside. I could smell the place though. It had the dead smell of dust and rot, the smell of abandonment. The empty smell of things forgotten floated in the air.

  Satisfied that no dire ogriim was on the other side of the door, I reached through the hole and found the lock-fob. It only took a quick turn, and I heard the heavy thunk of the tumblers giving way behind the door. I swung the door open, casting light into the shadows inside.

  Emptiness waited within. Nothing lurked in the shadows, with sharp teeth.

  I turned and looked at the lock I had tripped. It was new, made from brass. I could still see the stamped seal of the lock-hawks on the bottom.

  “Who paid for you, I wonder?” The lock-hawks did keep records, and any legate could give me a writ demanding them, but I imagined that would be a dead end. It would show that some great-father, dead two years ago, had somehow risen again and bought this lock.

  “That’s a good eye.” The Spider peered at the lock as well. “Proof someone’s here, that’s sure.”

  Scoundrel bounced in through the door. “Thom.” Even her squawking sounded muted in this shadowy room. “Good Thom. Good.” I held out my arm, and she jumped to my shoulder.

  The three of us looked around.

  It seemed like my initial assessment had been correct. This room looked to have been a front parlor, a place where men had come and rested after a long day of working on mining equipment or selling ore. Everything was covered in dust, but it was apparent what this room had been. Some kind of small table had fallen apart. Two candles and some old tubing lay scattered next to the chairs. I picked up the tube, noticing that it opened on one end.

  Sulfur matches, still good. I set them on the floor and peered around.

  There was a half-rotted lounge in the center of the room with three smaller plush chairs around it. In my imagination, I could see men using the room, men tired from working on greasy machines, coming here to have a cold bitter and grouse about the foreman before going home to the missus.

  Everything was coated in a thick layer of dust. Everything except the floor.

  The floor had been swept clean.

  “Well now.” I furrowed my brow as I looked at the wooden boards. “If the lock wasn’t proof enough…” I let the words trail off.

  “What?” The Spider walked over to me, staring at the floor at the same spot I was.

  “It’s clean. The floor’s swept.” There was cleverness here, something I wasn’t used to seeing with most of the undereducated thugs I dealt with.

  “They’re hiding their prints.” She nodded. “It’s a reasonable idea.”

  “Someone went to a little trouble, not only to make it difficult to get in but to make certain that no one could see how many people had been here.” I looked at her.

  “Caution, then.” Her hands fell to her sides, and she pulled two gleaming shortblades to the ready.

  I looked down to my good girl.

  “Wary, Scoundrel.” She preened herself nervously, but said nothing as I crept forward through the room. Silence was impossible. The boards creaked and groaned with every step. I crossed the room toward a large, glass-paned double door in the far side. Carefully, I pulled the door open. It squealed on a rusty hinge.

  The hallway beyond was empty.

  “Thom?” Scoundrel was nervous. I knew she was actually picking up on cues from me, so I took a deep breath.

  “Don’t worry, pretty little bird.” I scratched her head. “We’re fine. Everything is good.”

  “Good. Good.” She preened.

  2

  That’s when I heard the laughter.

  It was more giggling than laughing, high and childlike. The laughter echoed eerily down the long hallway, but no one stood within it.

  The sound sent chills racing down my back.

  “That—” The Spider stopped in mid-stride.

  “Right.” I brought my stave to the ready and stepped into the dim hallway.

  The only light in the hallway was from the room I had just been in, so it was difficult to see. I could tell there was a thick, green carpet on the floor that sounded and felt slightly damp under foot. There were two doors leading out of the hallway at the sides, with an additional door at the far end. I took another step into the hallway and then called out.

  “I am here on official city business!” The words echoed in the passage. I heard the giggling once more and then silence. It seemed as if the sound had come from the far door.

  “No one cares, Judicar.” I could hear the tension in the Spider’s voice. “Particularly anyone who sounds depraved.”

  Two more steps. Then three.

  “Here.” The word was a rough whisper, like the cry of someone who had gone too long without water. “Here. Here. Here.” I heard a scratching, as if, on the far side of the door, some misbegotten thing was clawing at it with fingernails.

  “Show yourself!” I put bravery into my voice that I did not feel.

  The scratching continued and became louder. With my stave in front of me, I crept down the hallway.

  “You are hereby detained for questioning.” It was difficult making my voice firm. “I seek information regarding the disappearance of a young woman.”

  “You are unbelievable,” the Spider whispered but did not sound certain.

  The laughter came again, more shrill this time.

  “Here. Here.” The scratching sounded painfully fierce; I was certain now that it came from the far door. Step by step, I grew closer.

  A Fox.

  The serum thrust itself into my mind. Almost by instinct, I spun as a man burst from one of the side doors.

  Oh, lost gods.

  It was Jakob.

  He quickly lays down four others. A Fox.

  He looked ragged, the white in his eyes now blood red. Rivulets of yellowish ichor ran along his face, as if he did nothing but weep.

  The red-haired man swung at me, but I easily dodged and pushed him back with my stave. He stumbled, and I kicked at his knee, knocking him back some more.

  “Inevitable.” Jakob’s voice was a distant, rasping sound. I had no idea what he meant.

  I threw out the stave in front of me, sliding as best as I could into stanza three. Scoundrel knew the stance and hopped behind me.

  The ancient stone wall

  May conceal secrets unknown,

  Swift strike, victory.

  I held the stave forward, vertically, ready to parry a knife or club tha
t might be coming my way.

  “This is your only warning, Jakob. I am licensed to use deadly force.”

  “He’s mine.” The Spider’s voice was right behind me. “He’s what I’ve been looking for.” She slipped to my left, her blades at the ready.

  “What?” I glanced at her. Wasn’t she looking for Rebeka, same as I?

  “Hello, Spider.” Jakob’s grin danced with madness. The man was lean once, but now appeared absolutely cadaverous. He was unwashed and had flaky sores mottling his skin.

  What was this? I looked back and forth between the two of them, completely befuddled.

  “We have business, Jakob Winters.” Her tone was low, deadly.

  “How many times does a man have to squash a spider?” His raspy voice held hidden laughter and madness.

  Then, he lunged at us.

  The man clawed at me, cackling maniacally as he swiped with cracked, blackened nails. His body odor was thick, with a strong scent of pepper, like the man was sweating rotten, spiced ginger. His hoarse cries rambled off into nonsensical gibbering, with only the occasional bit intelligible.

  But I wasn’t his true target. From the folds of his clothing, he produced a longknife, grooved down its length. He swung at the Spider once, then twice, wielding the knife as did a man who knew how to use it.

  “Ware him! Ware the Unreal! He walks where no one sees!” Jakob cackled as he spoke, completely unhinged. Drool ran from his mouth like tiny, mucus-filled rivers.

  “Yes, yes.” The Warren’s Spider stepped between us, lithely dodging his thrusts. “I’ve heard this before.”

  Somewhere, at the end of the hallway, I heard the giggling.

  “Here. Here.”

  Jakob lunged again, trying to get past my parries with his swiping hand. This time I was ready. I stepped aside and ducked low.

  Like a bolt of midnight, Scoundrel flew at the man’s face, gaffs flashing.

  It is not a widows’ tale about ravens and their attraction to eyes. It has to do with seeing their reflections, the rookmasters say. Regardless, in our training, we exploit that tendency. As Scoundrel dove at the man’s face, I stayed low and brought my stave into a block.

  The Spider leapt forward, just as Scoundrel slashed once, then twice, leaving long scores of crimson down the man’s face. He screamed, stumbling back into the doorway from whence he had come. He slid down the wall, his hand over his eye.

  Then, he began to laugh.

  “Thom, you need to step away.” The Spider’s tone was tight, intent. She did not look to me as she spoke.

  “I think we have him.” I kept my eyes on Jakob as he pushed himself up.

  “Thom?” My girl hopped up to me. She was more than a little macabre, with Jakob’s blood on her talons and gaffs.

  “No.” The Spider sounded certain. “You don’t understand. He’s not a man.” She paused, looking to me. “You need to find Rebeka. You won’t see me again.”

  “I don’t—“

  “Listen to the lady, Judicar.” Jakob’s voice was greasy, rambling. Abruptly a force like an invisible hammer smashed into my mid-section. I was hurled aside as simply as a child’s plaything. I didn’t see Jacob move, and I hadn’t thought anyone was behind me—

  “Thom!” Scoundrel was far away.

  I was on the squishy carpet, leaning against a dilapidated wall. Every ounce of my will was focused on attempting to breathe. For a long moment, my vision swam with red shadows.

  There was a brief moment of darkness. It felt like I was drowning in honey.

  Then, I sat up, gasping.

  Something was happening, down at the end of the hallway. I could hear rapid movement, and the singing of blades against one another. The Spider grunted, but I could not tell if it was pain or exertion.

  “Bad Thom.” Scoundrel bounced up to me, close enough that I could see her.

  There was another long moment of darkness, where I felt like I was falling. When I fought my eyes open again, Scoundrel was much closer.

  “Thom!” She pulled at one of my hairs.

  “Fecking damn!” I yelped. I gave her a dirty look. The sounds at the other end of the hallway entirely faded as I rapidly blinked my eyes, trying to get myself straight.

  Had I passed out?

  “Thom.” Scoundrel’s voice seemed almost smug, satisfied.

  What had that been? I weakly pushed myself to my feet, peering down the dim hallway. Are they gone? It was impossible, I knew.

  But still, it had grown quiet.

  There had been a door that Jakob had come through; perhaps their fight had led them back that way. Or maybe, even past the door to the foyer we had come through?

  I spent long moments thinking before I realized the truth—it didn’t especially matter where Jakob was or the Spider. Tainted night, but the Spider had told me I needed to step back, was this why? Had she intended to fight Jakob, freeing me to move forward and find Rebeka?

  The more I thought about it, it made sense. The Warren’s Spider certainly had tricks I didn’t ken to, and she had obviously used one of them to remove me from their duel.

  “Unless that’s just what I want to believe.” I sighed, peering into the darkness. After all, she had also claimed that Jakob was who she was looking for.

  In the end, it didn’t matter much.

  My job was the same—Rebeka was somewhere in the shadows.

  Turning, I moved along the hallway, my hand against the moldering wall. I considered pulling the lucia back from my bag, but some deep, instinctual part of me felt as if that were quite a bad idea, as if I would alert the house to my presence.

  It was then, as I was alone in the awful darkness of that place, that I heard the eerie, haunting giggling again.

  3

  “That does not sound friendly,” I peered into the shadows, intently listening.

  I heard the giggle. It was muffled and quiet.

  “Hello?” I lent my voice as much weight as I could. “Jakob is hurt. Come out here, and we can get him help.”

  More giggles. Then, I heard a long, deep scratching at the door.

  “Here.”

  It was a young woman, or perhaps a youth. Could it be—

  “Rebeka?”

  More giggling. “No. No, no, no.” It was a young woman. It was coming from around a corner ahead. When I crept forward, I heard the long scratching sound again, against one of the doors.

  I reached for the handle and slowly turned it. I didn’t want to make a sound if I could help it.

  Unlocked.

  “I need to come in, sweetling. I need to make certain you aren’t hurt.”

  The door pushed inward. I could rush in if I needed to. But if it was a hurt girl, just on the other side of the door…

  Her voice was a strange whisper. “No. No, no. They’re not in here. None of them. You need to go into the downs.”

  I paused for a moment. “Who, sweetling? Who isn’t in there?”

  “They’ve all gone. It was the drops. They were so good. So, so good. But ‘ventually you were just dreaming. Dreaming and rotting.”

  I began to push on the door, gently. “I’m coming in—”

  I never got to finish the sentence.

  The door wrenched from my hand as she pulled it open. She stood there, ragged and almost naked. Her hair was like a shroud over her face.

  She screamed, “No! Stay out!” Her voice was like a ban-sidhe, a wailing screech that stopped me where I stood.

  Tainted night. I thought my heart would burst from the shock. She looked horrifying.

  The only clothing the girl wore was a white, torn shirt that exposed as much as it covered. She had on no skirts and no shoes. Her skin was dirty and covered in long, deep scratches. Strange black markings covered her face.

  Her fingers. She had clawed and scratched until her nails and fingertips were gone. As I watched, she brought her hand to her face, scratching in an almost unconscious gesture. I could see dried blood and yellowed scabs where her
fingertips had been. My stomach roiled.

  “The downs. They are in the downs. It’s cooking in them.” Her fingers made an alternating twitching motion and her eyes rolled wildly in her head. When I saw them, fear rent at me with talons of ice.

  One of her eyes was so blue it was almost white, white like the eyes of the orphans who had burned when I was just a boy. Memory washed over me, as strongly as the serum.

  Looking up at Shaen, I could see the strange white light flickering on his face. The boy’s eyes were empty, holding only echoes of anything like laughter or being a boy.

  No. They weren’t empty. Now that I thought about it, I could remember the white fire in his eyes, dancing there. It was like it was already inside him, already devouring his secret dreams.

  No. That was gone. I took a deep breath.

  “Sweetling.” I stepped forward with just the slightest quaver in my voice. “You need to let me—”

  “No!” Her voice was a screech again. “No! You can’t come in! It’s safe in here. No one comes in but him!”

  Jakob?

  She pushed against the door fiercely.

  I could push against her—she was little more than a waif—but I had seen into the room. It was a dead end, full of detritus and her waste. The smell was unbelievable.

  I let her close the door.

  “Here. Here.” She giggled. “I’m safe here. Here.”

  I rested my hand against the old wood. “Yes. You’re safe. No one is coming in.” I heard her scratching at the floor. I had a sudden image of her in my mind, scratching with the tips of her finger bones. It was hard not to retch.

  I had to come back. Even if I found Rebeka, whatever was happening here was monstrous. I had to raise a small contingent and return here. We would bring everyone out, until we understood what was happening.

  “Thom?” My girl looked up at me. I was gasping for breath, and my heart was pounding.

  “Yes, pretty girl, I’m fine.” I was anything but fine. I took a deep breath. I nearly leapt through the ceiling as the girl muttered behind the door.

  “Unreal. Anything for him.” Her voice was haunting.