Unusual Events: A Short Story Collection

by Max Florschutz

  Regardless, she knew the history, though the current articles had pointed it out for those that perhaps hadn’t. Every hundred years or so the noble houses would grow tired of one another’s games, of the political posturing and the backroom deals, of the piling verbal debts and impudent rivals in other estates. All it took was one of them to decide that a small fee paid to the right skilled individual was preferable to the time and money spent doing things through traditional channels, and a rival noble would wake up with a knife to their throat. Or not at all.

  Of course, such a thing was against the law. But where nobles were concerned, little technicalities like that had a way of … slipping to the side. More often than not, the family who’d lost one of their own wanted as little to do with the authorities as anyone else—likely because of their own shady dealings. Regardless, most cases never progressed far, either due to lack of interest or lack of evidence.

  Usually there were at least a few years between assassinations. Sometimes a decade or more would go by without any.

  But sometimes someone, somewhere, would slip up. Eliminate a rival businessman without properly covering their tracks. Request the removal of someone’s wife without taking care to make sure that what they’d paid was enough to buy silence.

  She allowed herself another smile. Fools that weren’t capable of getting their own hands dirty. Cowards. And in the end, they deserved what came to them for their carelessness.

  Death. Sometimes at the hands of the very assassin they’d hired.

  But sometimes, every once in a hundred years or so, that very act of revenge was sloppy. Perhaps ill-aimed. Or another noble house saw a chance to capitalize on the momentary weakness. Whatever the cause, the result was the same.

  The assassins walked away the victors, leaving the city with a pruned nobility, trimmed enough that the houses wouldn’t brush against one another for decades. And no one raised an eyebrow … not as long as the nobles kept it amongst themselves. Rumor even had it that the emperors themselves would sometimes make use of the inquisitors to “assist” one side or the other, thereby keeping the balance of power between the houses.

  She didn’t buy it. She’d met Imperial Inquisitors before. They were interested in justice. If a noble house grew too powerful, they’d simply look into it as they did everything else.

  She opened the paper, turning the attention-grabbing headline away from her face as the serving lady returned once more. She was holding a platter with a small loaf of bread on it, a knife and a small pat of butter on one side.

  “Thank you,” Varay said, giving the woman a nod as she set the platter on the table, just shy of the soup. The server gave a polite bow before retreating, leaving her to her reading.

  I wonder which we’ll be seeing this time? she thought as she flipped past the opening pages of the scrip, the myriad debates over who would be next and what noble houses stood to gain from the loss of the head of House Kyrillis. A small back-and-forth? A quick revenge? Or will this be a summer of blood?

  She paused, her fingers freezing mid-turn of the page. Perhaps it would be another pruning. A culling. A removal of the most stagnant rulers of the houses.

  An opportunity.

  She kept her face calm, proper, but she could feel her heart fluttering at the thought. It would be difficult, yes. Her talents so far had been honed in a different manner, but who was to say that she couldn’t apply them in new ways? Perhaps even profit on the side, if things went well enough. There were many noble men who deserved to die for their crimes. A season of short, brutal violence could very well be the Creator’s way of giving her a new avenue to work with.

  It was something to consider. After the night’s work was finished. She glanced at the large brass clock in the back of the room, eyeing the gentle back and forth swing of the pendulum. Not long now.

  She continued flipping through the pages, nearing almost the end of the paper before finding something she hadn’t yet read. It was a filler piece, a small article debating the merits of different types of gifted fashion during the summer season, but it was something to read, and besides, there was always a chance it would offer suggestions she could make use of on her own.

  The bread was still warm when she cut into it, faint steam rising from within as the knife parted the crust. It was heavy, too, not light or fluffy; a consistency that held the heat well and let the butter melt in before she took a bite.

  It was delicious. She would certainly return for more when the she could. Or at least inquire as to where the restaurant had acquired it if they had not baked it themselves.

  She checked the clock again. It was almost time. Jaceb always returned Lady Alexes to her home within the eleventh hour, never later. She would need to leave soon if she was going to confirm that they were indeed behaving as planned.

  She took another slice of bread first, and then a third. She was likely going to be charged for the full loaf regardless. It made sense to eat as much of it as possible.

  The folding of her napkin summoned the server, who nodded when she informed her that she was done with her meal for the evening.

  “Would you like me to summon a carriage, Lady Varay?” the serving woman asked.

  She shook her head. “No,” she said. “Not yet. It is a very lovely night. I think I’ll take a short walk before returning home.”

  “Very well.” The server gave her a curt nod. “But take care, my lady. The streets have been dangerous as of late. Several people were robbed at gunpoint not one level down from here a few days ago.”

  Varay clicked her tongue. “Disgraceful,” she said, shaking her head as the server gathered her plates. “And the city does nothing?”

  “They’re trying, ma’am,” the server said. “But you know how it is. It’s a big city, after all. The peacekeepers can only do so much.

  “Did they catch whoever did it?” she asked.

  “No,” the server said, shaking her head. “Or if they did, I haven’t heard anything about it. The woman got away.”

  A woman? Interesting. Maybe there was some reasoning behind her robbing. Or maybe she was just a criminal. It happened sometimes. Just as there was occasionally a man who knew his place, there was occasionally a woman who did not.

  “Well, I’m not carrying much,” she said, smiling up at the server. “How much was the meal?”

  “Eight marks,” the server said.

  “Have ten,” Varay said, pulling a single steamer coin from her pocket. The silver flashed under the lamplight, though not as brightly as it would have under some of the newer electrical lights she’d seen at some of the higher-class restaurants. Silver was still silver, however, and the serving woman took it with a wide smile.

  “My thanks, my lady,” she said. “If you’ll just wait—”

  “No change needed,” Varay said, rising from her seat. “Thank you for the meal.” She was moving across the restaurant before the serving woman could say anything, her shoes making soft thumps against the carpeted wood.

  It felt good to step out into the night air, to feel the sharp contrast of cool summer heat and warm steam swirl around her as she began to walk down the street. The faint scent of sulfur hung in the air, still noticeable despite the perfume vials positioned above every other street light, and she took a deep breath, sucking the sharp, almost acrid tang in.

  The effect was immediate. She felt awake, alert. Alive. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the sounds of the street sweep over her.

  She wasn’t alone, though that was hardly a surprise. The restaurant was in a more popular area of the city, after all, and it wasn’t as if she was the only one out this late. She could hear the echoing footsteps of at least two dozen people wandering through the night, each tap of their shoes against the smooth paving stones echoing off of the buildings around them before being swallowed by the steam mists.

  She opened her eyes once more, letting out a satisfied sigh as she began to move down the street, her slow pace betraying the
sense of urgency she felt inside. Tonight was the night. Weeks’ worth of careful planning would culminate in a brief, wondrous moment of violence and retribution, and another woman would be safe. Maybe more than one, depending on how lecherous a man Jaceb was.

  Passers-by tipped their hats at her as she passed, or nodded in respect, and she once more questioned her choice of dress for the evening. Perhaps it would have done to wear something a little less … showy. Attention grabbing. Ruffles and frills were all well and nice, but they had a tendency to draw attention, especially compared to the more subdued fashions currently sweeping the city.

  But no, she’d made her choice. And as long as she kept the fabric clean, her work quick and efficient, what she was wearing would not get in the way.

  A boisterous laugh cut through the air, a wide man with a horizontally cut beard letting his deep voice roll across the street as his friend told him what was probably some bawdy tale. Still, she couldn’t help but let her power pull at the man’s laugh, lowering the volume just a tad and adding a bit of power to the ample reserves she already held.

  No sense in not having a small amount extra, she thought as she felt the pulses of power rippling through her. Though much of what she needed her talent for this evening was living up to her gift’s title, there was still a chance she’d need to use the other half of her powers and put out sound as well as gather it in.

  She cut across the street, the sulfur scent lessening as she moved into a more upscale part of the city. Copper pipes snaked by overhead, part of the city’s pneumatic tube network, and as she listened she could hear the faint hiss of capsules streaking along through them, carrying with them missives and messages bound for other parts of the city. There were larger tubes of course, for moving larger materials and packages, but most of those were buried underground. The small tubes were simple enough to build and add as needed. Up ahead, one of them even turned, heading into one of the businesses along the side of the street. Was the hiss she’d heard someone inside receiving news? Getting confirmation that their deposit had been made? There was no way to tell.

  The street was more lively here, mostly with younger, more well-off individuals, and she quickened her pace while keeping her face steady and composed, as if she’d merely turned onto the wrong street by accident. It was unfortunate that the pair had chosen to spend their evening here, as it meant she would only be able to pass through the area once or at the most twice before arousing suspicion. If she didn’t catch sight of them on her first walk down the street, she would have to double back and set herself up in one of the alleys to watch, and that was a risky—

  There! She could see the two of them just rising from a pair of public seats, Alexes laughing at something Jaceb had said as she collected her things. Luck was on Varay’s side, and the Creator. The duo appeared to just be leaving.

  Perfect. She snapped her eyes back forward, continuing down the street towards the next intersection as her heart beat in her chest. Control. Purpose. Part of her wanted to clutch the slim blade she wore beneath her dress right then and there, to go after Jaceb and any number of his kind scattered around the street. But that wouldn’t do. Control. She reached the intersection and made a wide turn, just wide enough that she could see the couple heading back down the street, heading the way she’d come.

  Excellent. They were heading home. All she needed to do now was be in the right place at the right time.

  She turned down a street that was mostly parallel to the one she’d seen her quarry on and increased her pace, her footsteps picking up a slight sound of urgency. She flexed her power, dampening and absorbing the higher-pitched, staccato sound of her steps. To outsiders, she would now simply look like someone who was a naturally quick walker, not someone who was in fact racing to reach their destination ahead of someone else.

  Not that she was that certain she needed to hurry. After all, the pair she was following had never hurried before. Why would tonight be any different?

  Then again, there was always the if. It wouldn’t do to pass up a perfect opportunity, a perfect night such as it was, simply because she’d taken her time and been careless.

  She glanced up at the moon, smiling as she did so. Its soft, waning glow was wrapped in both clouds and mists, concealing it from prying eyes but also preventing its light from illuminating much of Indrim. No, tonight was the perfect night, the shadows long and deep. She just needed to be in place.

  She arrived at the small noble holdings Alexes was staying at just minutes before the couple did, watching from the darkness of a nearby street as Jaceb walked his date up to the front door. As he did, it struck her how dissimilar the pair looked. Alexes was soft and bubbly, her face warm, while Jaceb almost seemed nervous, unsure of himself.

  Oh no, Varay thought, her eyes widening as she looked at the young man. No … no, no, no. Not tonight. Not tonight! If Jaceb announced his intention to further their relationship, proposing marriage ... No!

  There was nothing she could do about it. If he did, her window would be slim, if existent at all. She held her breath as the couple neared the door, not even daring to breathe as they came to a stop. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, nor could she read their lips at the distance she was at, but she could tell that they were speaking about something.

  Then they broke apart, Alexes running a shy hand across Jaceb’s arm as she turned for the door, and Varay let out a silent sigh of relief as the man began to turn away. That event wasn’t going to happen now, then. Not tonight.

  Nor ever, she thought as she turned and ran down the alleyway, pulling on her power as she went. A sphere of silence emanated out around her, a complete void of any and all sound; every rustle of fabric, every slap of her shoes against the cobblestones, even the very rush of air moving past her not just faded, but completely gone, the energy absorbed into her body.

  She needed to move fast to be in position when he passed by the back of the house once more. Any further than that and there was a chance that his route would vary. The night was dim, the alley would be darker still … it was perfect.

  She reached the alleyway with minutes to spare, still drawing on her power to conceal her belabored breaths as her chest heaved. She was close. Very close. He would be there soon. And then … Then she would lure Jaceb in and strike. A blow against the father who had beat her, against the brother who had tortured her. A blow against a disease of a sex.

  Her breathing slowed, and she let the sphere of silence drop, her eyes fixed on the end of the alleyway, waiting. It didn’t take long. The soft slap-slap of loose footfalls began to echo down the alley. She forced herself to relax, a small shiver working its way down her spine.

  Control. Purpose. She had to control the urge to just rush out, had to remember her purpose. She needed to kill Jaceb, yes, but carefully. She couldn’t let others know. Not yet.

  In addition to that, she needed to make sure that it really was Jaceb, and not some other poor unfortunate out for an evening walk. She closed her eyes for a moment, focusing her senses on her hearing. There were no other footsteps. The only other sounds were the distant noise of the rest of the city, and even those seemed far off. They were alone.

  She opened her eyes again just as Jaceb walked into view, his hands in his pockets and his eyes fixed on the street in front of him. He looked nervous, alarmed, though she couldn’t say why. Maybe, like a prize pet before its master choked it, he knew something was coming.

  She waited until Jaceb was almost past the alley to bait her trap. She stroked the power deep in her chest, the collected energy of hundreds of sounds of all different scales and frequencies, and selected the ones she needed most. Her mouth opened.

  “Jaceb?” she said, calling out in a voice that was not her own. Nor was it quite Alexes—the inflection was off, along with the tone. Still, it was close enough. Jaceb came to an abrupt halt.

  “Jaceb,” she called again, adjusting the pitch as she spoke. It was a nifty trick, being able to release
her power in the small quantities that allowed her to mimic another’s voice. It had taken hundreds of hours of practice. Worth it in the end. “Jaceb, over here.”

  “Alexes?” Jaceb asked, looking at the alleyway with a shocked expression on his face. “Is that you?”

  “Yes,” she said, smiling as she spoke. She’d chosen her spot well; Jaceb wouldn’t be able to see much more than the vague shadowy form of a woman. Once he came close enough, well … “I wanted to surprise you.”

  “What are you doing back there?” Jaceb asked, taking a step forward. “I just—”

  “I wanted to see you,” she said. “It wasn’t enough to say goodbye, so I snuck out. Come on, Jaceb, there’s no one else around. I just wanted to give you a more … proper goodbye.” She tried to add a little purr onto the end of her words. She didn’t know if it was something the real Alexes would say, but that hardly mattered where a man was concerned. They were such slaves to their lusts.

  “Come on,” she said, gesturing with one hand as the other reached beneath the folds of her dress, grasping the handle of her knife and pulling it away from her side. “Just a quick little goodbye kiss?” He was almost in the alley, stepping forward with a look that was partway between perplexed, confused, and … was that fear? “There’s no need to be afraid,” she purred, throwing a slight trill into her voice. “I just wanted some privacy.” He was inside the alley now, stepping towards her, though she could see his face twisting as he drew close enough to see that something was wrong.

  “Hey,” he said, his brow furrowing in the dark. “You’re not—”

  She yanked with her power at the same time as she bolted forward, all sound vanishing as she brought her elbow up into his unprotected neck. He staggered back, trying to lift his arms, but she batted them away before slamming into his chest, twisting and shoving him back against the alley wall. In a moment he was pinned, one arm crushed beneath her hip, the other held tightly by the wrist with her free hand, her body weight behind it to keep him from moving. If she gave him time to gather his thoughts, there were ways out of the pin.