by JM Guillen
“Tell the judicar. Tell him—”
“Rebeka.” I stepped up next to her. “My name is Thom.” I looked around the room. No one else was here. When I turned my gaze back to her, I had to steel myself.
She was the woman I remembered, but then again, she was not.
Rebeka’s normally shining hair was flat and lifeless, full of tangles. She looked wan, as if she hadn’t been fed. When she looked at me, her eyes seemed far away. Those eyes struck me. I remembered the woman, walking through the Warrens or getting deliveries at the Havens. She was smiles and sunshine. The woman I saw now was dead behind the eyes.
“He knows you are here.” Her words seemed rambling, rushed together. Her voice was soft. “He cut Rebeka. Cut her arms.”
I glanced over at her arms, secured tightly. Moving the candle, I could see that she was bleeding.
‘Cut’ wasn’t exactly the word for what had been done to Rebeka.
Spiraling from her right wrist were small, meticulous slices. She was still bleeding. Her skin had to have been sliced with a shaving razor, they were so cleverly cut. It looked as if she had writing on her body, and the cuts were strange letters that I did not know. Someone had rubbed something dark into the cuts after he had made them, likely a mixture of ashes and night ocher.
She would have the markings for the rest of her life.
I couldn’t contemplate the man who had done this just now. Rebeka’s safety was what mattered.
“Come on, Rebeka.” I undid the straps around her head and wrists. They were easy enough, held in place by brass buckles. When I undid her arms, she stretched them, trying to move.
“Day and night and day and night, Rebeka was tied here.” Her voice was sing-song, like a child. “He is done now. Thom is late.”
“Thom is here now.” I smiled at her. “Let me get you undone, and we’ll get you away. Would you like that?”
Of course she would. I was just talking while I was unbuckling.
“Rebeka wants to see the sun again.” Her voice was dreamy, as if she were far away. “It won’t end. Not for Rebeka.”
“It will end. We’ll get you out, and you’ll be free. Be safe.” I undid the final strap. “Can you walk?”
It was fortunate that she could. I didn’t really want to carry her, as we had far to go. She was wobbly and barefoot, but stable enough. She pulled her shirt down over herself. She had nothing but shortclothes on below the waist.
“Follow me. Tell me if you see anything.”
“Rebeka has seen too much. It was the drops.” Her voice was sad. “Rebeka may never see anything again.”
I held the candle high, and led her from the room. Scoundrel shifted on my shoulder as we approached the door.
“Bad, Thom.”
I glanced up at her, but didn’t say anything.
“Bad man. Bad.” Her words were a dire croak.
I looked behind us, to see if I could see anyone else in the room with us. All I saw was Rebeka.
“Are you well, Rebeka?”
She started to nod, but then her eyes went wide. She stared out of the room and into the hallway, as if held in a predator’s gaze. She made a tiny, mewling noise of terror.
When I looked up, he spoke. His voice was like razored darkness, a ruin of horror and night.
“Good afternoon, Thom.”
The Plague Masked Man
Sundering, Third Bell, Eventide
For a long moment, I froze, my breath like ice in my body. Then, I slowly looked toward him.
I couldn’t say which stunned me more, the man’s words, his sudden appearance, or his dramatic garb. He was wearing the plague doctor’s mask, the one that had been hanging by the closets. It gave him a long, hawk-like nose, with two large eye holes covered in silvered glass. He stood in front of the still-burning brazier and pot wearing only black with dark shadows rippling around him from the flame. His hands were hidden within his cloak.
He was a horror, clad in night. In that moment, I would have traded much to have the Spider by my side. Lost gods, even one of Altheus’ inquisitors would be well met.
Even Lilah.
I brought my stave ‘round in front of me, taking stanza three again. It was the best stance for such tight quarters. From the corner of my eye, I saw Scoundrel take a hop behind me, getting ready.
“Good afternoon,” I replied. I felt foolish, but what did one say? This man clearly knew me, even if I was square in the center of a nightmare. Behind me, Rebeka whimpered.
“I’m so pleased you came.” His voice was deep and rumbling, although slightly muted by the mask. “You wouldn’t believe how far I’ve gone to arrange our meeting.”
Did I know him? His voice was altered by the mask, but it seemed like someone I had heard before…
“Who are you, sir?” I did not relax my guard. “You should know that this building contains evidence of horrific activities. I am certain that when my companions arrive, we will discover even more—”
The man chuckled. It was a wild, meandering chuckle. It was the laugh of a man long mad.
“You have no companions coming, Thom. Not yet, anyway.” I could hear his breathing, rasping through the mask. “What did you say to your smart little bird?” He mimicked my voice: “Four or five judicars would make this safer. The stairs could fall in, and no one would find our corpses.”
Rebeka was still muttering behind me. “Knows. He knows everything. It’s all the formula. Vast and great.”
“I don’t need other judicars.” I gripped my stave. “I’d wager I can detain you myself.”
“Yet you’d rather have Wil by your side, I’d wager. Wil Sommers, your best friend. He is shorter than you, with flaxen hair. You play draughts with him at the Masque and Moon every second day or so.”
Each word raised my hackles higher. Who would know so much about me? More ominously, why?
“It’s the formula, Thom. Just like the lady says.” It was as if he was answering questions that I hadn’t asked. “You are a vital reagent. It’s important for me to have an understanding of your nature.”
“You’ll submit, or I’ll give you an understanding of my stave.” I took a step closer.
“Oh, Thom. We know you don’t comprehend—not yet anyway. Things will become clear, however.”
“I can’t let you leave until I have some answers, sir.” I stood straighter, trying to make my voice ring with authority. It was difficult, with all the dust in the air. “You are hereby detained, by my authority as the hand of the law, within the jurisdiction of the city of—”
“Thom,” he interrupted, “that’s meaningless now. I wouldn’t be speaking with you if I didn’t already know how the board lays.” His voice held an arrogant smile that I did not like.
“I am authorized to use lethal force, sir.” I made my words as cutting as I could. I stepped forward, getting ready to strike if I needed to. “Place your hands where I can see them.” He slowly pulled his hands from beneath the cloak. His right one was in a fist.
“You will regret this, Thom Havenkin. You will regret that you didn’t ask more questions when you had the chance.”
“We’ll have plenty of—”
Things happened quickly then.
With little more than a flick of his wrist, he threw something into the hot cauldron. I saw a flash of glass and heard it break before thick, grey-green smoke exploded from the glowing cauldron. It seemed impossible that there should be so much smoke from such a small phial. It was hot as well. The initial burst seared my skin, and in shock, I gulped in a large lungful of the smoke.
As I said, my lungs aren’t my strongest point, haven’t been since the Haven’s fire. The moment I gasped in the smoke, I was thrown into a violent coughing spasm. It was so strong that I couldn’t stand, and I went down on one knee, gasping for breath.
Which Scoundrel took for her signal. In stanza three, her cue is typically me striking and then ducking out of the way.
I watched as she dart
ed at him, all ebony feathers and gaffs shining silver in the brazier’s light. As always, she went straight for his face. He grunted, swiping at her and missing. The man’s eyes were protected by the mask, however, so she couldn’t find any purchase where her small, wicked blades would do any harm. As smoke billowed and filled the room, he reached up and caught her by the wing as she clawed and pecked at his face.
Then, I heard her squawk but saw her no more.
“Scoun—!” Another fit of coughing overwhelmed me. The smoke was making me feel lightheaded. It was nothing like simple wood smoke. I realized that there was something in it, something that made me feel off, as if I could slip from my body.
“Thom needs to run.” Rebeka was behind me. “He needs to get the girl away.”
“Thom is trying.” I coughed again before pulling my sleeve over my face. I took a breath and plunged through the smoke, unable to see more than a foot in front of my face.
It was a wicked, clinging smoke. It coated my mouth and the insides of my nose. I wondered with idle horror what the long-term effects might be.
“Scoundrel!” My voice was little more than a croak. I blindly pushed forward, squinting. I knew that the man could be hiding somewhere in the darkness with a cudgel for the back of my head, but I didn’t think he was.
Still, I kept my stave at the ready.
“Where’s my smart bird?” I was fighting another coughing spasm. I kept clearing my throat, pulling Rebeka behind me as we pushed through the smoke. Finally, when I had made it back down near the small alchemy room, I heard her.
“Thom?” She was struggling when I found her. She hopped up and tried to open her wings. One of them wasn’t moving properly, however, and she fell back to one side.
“Good girl. Good, pretty girl,” she cawed.
I bent, blinking my eyes against the smoke. I couldn’t tell if the wing was broken, but at least there was no bone protruding from it. That was good, but still, she couldn’t seem to open it properly.
My girl needed the Rookery.
“Yes.” My voice was husky from the smoke. The wetness in my eyes was certainly from the smoke as well. “You are my good girl.” I lifted her gently and settled her on my shoulder. She began grooming my hair.
“Good, smart bird.”
I took Rebeka by the hand, and we set out for the stairwell, pushing our way through smoke and darkness.
“We’re almost out, Rebeka,” I looked at her as I pulled her along. “You’ve had a great many people quite worried.”
“Too late though.” Her sing-song voice was soft. “I’ve already seen, Judicar—” She stopped in mid-sentence, looking ahead of me, her eyes wide.
I spun, holding my stave at the ready. It was still dark, but I could see a shape slipping among the shadows…
Then, the plague-masked man loomed from the darkness and struck me in the face with a masonry block.
2
“Arrgh!” I bellowed heroically as my face exploded into bursts of bright pain and crimson blood. I stumbled backward, swinging my stave wildly. My satchel fell from my shoulder to the ground.
Apparently, my guesses about the man’s motivations had been incorrect.
“Do stay, Thom.” The voice leered at me from behind the mask as he stepped back into the shadows. “I’d hate to consider that you found my hospitality lacking.”
“Thom!” Scoundrel squawked as I stumbled backward. I cupped my arms around her protectively, afraid for a moment that I might fall.
Dizzy.
It was more than the strike to the face; it was even more than the irritation in my lungs. There was something about the smoke that I didn’t understand, something alchemical perhaps. I felt disconnected, drifting, as if I were watching from somewhere beyond my body.
As if I were watching something where the outcome was already known.
I went down to a knee, setting my good girl down as I looked up into the smoky darkness. I scooped up my satchel, looking around wildly.
It seemed as if the man was gone, but I did not trust that to be true. I held my stave in front of myself as I stood.
“Rebeka, stay behind me.” My voice was tight but clear as I stepped forward, my eyes peering into the shadows. I was fortunate the man hadn’t broken my nose. Slowly, we stepped forward, both ladies hobbling behind me as I frantically peered about.
Nothing.
We edged past the brazier on the floor, glancing toward the macabre closets as we passed. The corpses hung silently, looking on with eyeless faces.
“This has already happened, Thom.” The man’s voice had an odd echo too it, almost melancholy. “I wish you would accept what must be. I wish we could handle this like men.”
“I hope you accept how this is about to be handled.” I coughed as I stepped forward, listening. Was he hidden in the small alchemy chamber?
Maybe. I slipped forward, glancing behind myself to make certain Rebeka was safe.
That was when I saw him.
Behind? I spun, bringing my stave to the fore. How had he possibly—?
“Now, blackbird.” He chuckled as he wrapped his arm around Rebeka’s waist, and brought a small dagger to her throat. “Let’s be cautious. We have much we need to discuss, you and I.”
“Judicar?” Rebeka’s voice was filled with trembling horror. I stepped toward her, my eyes hard.
“There’s nothing more to discuss.” I stood straight. “You are detained. Submit or—”
“So certain.” There was mad, wild laughter capering around the edge of his words. “You truly believe—”
Then, Scoundrel did as Scoundrel does.
I hadn’t known when my satchel fell, but apparently it had flopped open, scattering some of my things. Scoundrel, ever true to her nature, had opted to seize upon the thing that caught her attention first.
She shook Harys’ rattle, gleefully interrupting us with its clacky, clattering sound. Just as the plague-masked man ominously bellowed pseudo-prophecy, my bird was rattling a loud and annoying child’s toy.
Typical.
The sound was so sudden, so out of place, that both I and my foe glanced at the bird, somewhat surprised.
In that moment, Rebeka acted.
She gave the man one swift elbow hit to the chest and then brought her fist downward into his groin before pushing him back and quickly stepping over to where I stood. He cried out, stumbling backward into the shadows.
I leapt after him, swinging my stave. I struck him square in the side of the knee, a shot I thought might dislocate it. He grunted in pain.
Then, he was on me.
I never would have expected the man to be a brawler, but he stepped forward, punching me once in the throat and then grappling with me. I choked with agony from the strike, weakly trying to push back as he bore me to the ground.
His knife was still in his hand.
“Foolish Judicar.” His voice was hoarse, yet still contained dark, wild laughter. He plunged downward with the knife, and I caught his hand. We struggled for a moment, and I scrambled with my other hand, trying to find the stave I had dropped.
That’s when my hand closed on the metallic, angular object.
“Inevitability, Thom.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “You fight against great workings, gears that move all around you.”
“If you’re going to kill me…” I struggled to speak, fighting as he placed all his weight against the blade. “I’d at least like to see your face.”
Then, with every ounce of strength I had left, I slammed Ely’s contraption against one of the glass eyes on his mask. The lens shattered at once, and the man cried out with surprise.
At which point I pressed the bright red triangle on the device, holding the aperture against the hole in his mask. When the red pepper flooded the mask, the man screamed.
Rebeka wasn’t some dainty maiden. Even before I was done filling the man’s mask with red pepper, she was rushing forward to levy a kick at him. My action caused him to thr
ash sideways as he screamed in pain, but she still got a fierce kick in, albeit with bare and dainty feet.
Maybe I didn’t need a legendary assassin after all.
I scrambled up, kicking the knife that he had dropped off into the darkness. The man was frantically pulling at his mask, and I stepped forward, reaching for the top of it and jerking it from his head.
“Now, cully.” I was panting, and my heart was like a stampeding horse. “Let’s just see—”
The man looked up at me. I stood dumb, struck square by horror.
He was a disfigured monster.
Half of his face had been melted away, and it was still glistening with visceral wetness in the flickering light of the brazier. It looked as if his mutilation had been recent, as if the wound still ran and oozed over skin burnt black.
“Impossible.” I stood, dumbstruck. The accident at Doc Thane’s shop had happened long days ago. This couldn’t have been from that.
Still, Wil’s words rang in my head:
“How many died?” I knew at least one had, but I wanted Wil’s take.
“Well, Thane did, of course. The man’s corpse was horrific. All black and sticky. I could see bits of skeleton.”
Black, sticky, and skeletal? Yes.
Dead? Not quite.
The Doc looked up at me, his face rent in twain. The left side was untouched, although his eye was bright red from the pepper and ran watery.
The right side was a burnt and boney ruin. How was he not dead?
I stood there for a moment, waiting to see if he was finished. Finally, he spoke again. His voice was like gravel and darkness.
“You look upon me with horror.” He chuckled. “You think eyes are what sees?” His breathing was wet and rasping. “The heart sees, Judicar. The heart sees filth. The heart sees corrup—” He cried out as he tried to push himself up, but his leg, which I had apparently injured, wouldn’t hold him.
“I can get you help, Doc.” I kept my tone reasonable. “I don’t know what’s happened, but I can get a dociere to tend to you. You just need to tell me what happened here.”
