Thief of Lives

by J. C.

  His goading good humor proved mildly settling, and Magiere relaxed a little. Although Chetnik's continually eyeing her was more than a little puzzling. In fact, it made her rather uncomfortable.

  "Can you give us a list?" she asked more politely.

  "Hmmm… perhaps you've time for an exchange." His thick eyebrows arched. "I don't care who catches this murderer, but I want it done with."

  Leesil stepped closer. Magiere noticed that he appeared to be strangely put out by this conversation.

  "What do you mean, ‘exchange'?" he asked.

  Chetnik acknowledged him briefly and turned his full attention back to Magiere.

  "No matter how good you are, you may need help sooner or later. I've spoken with all of Count Lanjov's neighbors. I'd be willing to share their statements, if you'll tell me what you've come up with so far or what you discover along the way."

  Magiere suppressed the urge to immediately agree. Chetnik was more than a soldier. As captain, he might know the city as well as any of the local constables assigned to its separate districts. Anything the constabularies heard would likely be passed to Chetnik. She and Leesil were working blind. On the other hand, she didn't want to appear too eager. If Miiska was to be saved, she and Leesil—not the Strazhy-shlyahketne-—had to produce the remains of an undead.

  Chetnik's warm eyes watched her expectantly. She returned him a shallow nod of agreement, though she wouldn't necessarily share everything.

  "Have you found any bodies?" she asked.

  The blunt question surprised him. Likely he thought he would be the first to get some answers.

  "No," he answered. "We mostly hear about disappearances. One way or another such things often get resolved, for better or worse. In the last month, there've been more reports and fewer resolved. There are now more missing people than we can possibly search for at once."

  None of this made sense to Magiere. So many missing, yet Chesna had been left to die on her own front porch in plain view.

  "Chesna's killer wanted her body found," she said aloud. "I think he mutilated her and left her there intentionally."

  "I'd considered that, but why?" Chetnik asked thoughtfully. "It doesn't fit with any of the disappearances."

  He stepped around the table and closer to Magiere, his brows knitted. As he settled on the table's edge, he leaned toward her just a bit.

  "And what makes you certain it's a man?" he asked, and his gaze wandered a bit.

  Leesil let out a sharp breath. "I think we've taken up enough of the captain's time. If you could give us the list, we'll be on our way."

  Leesil's voice was icy, and Magiere could tell he wanted out of here for some reason. The tone wasn't lost on Chetnik, who grunted and walked to a short chest of drawers against the wall.

  "There isn't any list," he said. "I can get you started with a few statements, but I expect them back." He dug through parchments in the top drawer and pulled out a stack as thick as his thumb. "Names and addresses are all written out. Can you read?"

  "He can," she answered without embarrassment, giving a nod in Leesil's direction. "But that's quite a few statements."

  "They aren't all going to help you," he said, again rather friendly and chatty. "A drunk or two have been known to see monsters in the dark, and there are always those who latch on to rumors and tavern tales to blame for misfortune."

  Leesil snatched the stack from his hand. "Thank you. Let's go."

  He headed straight for the door. With little choice, Magiere hurried after him, urging Chap ahead.

  "Keep me informed, and if you need anything else," Chetnik called after, "stop by and let me know."

  Magiere merely waved in thanks and hurried out. By the time she reached the courtyard, Leesil was already in the street hailing a coach.

  * * * *

  Although Leesil considered himself adept at talking to almost anyone, by the time the sun dipped low at dusk, he didn't care if he ever spoke a word again. They'd been over half the city. All right, so it was probably a tenth or twentieth, but it felt like half, and they'd managed to find only eight people noted in the reports Chetnik had given them. Chap became more restless throughout their search, and twice Leesil had to go scouting about neighborhoods and markets to track him down.

  Magiere had been severely shaken by her experience at Lanjov's, as had he. He'd wanted to both comfort her and fathom what was happening to her before it happened again. But in typical fashion, she grudgingly put up with a few questions over breakfast and then refused all further efforts to discuss these newly manifesting abilities. The "sight" was not so surprising, but the vision, and what had triggered it, was another matter.

  It couldn't have been the dress, for she'd handled items— even bloodied ones—from victims before in Miiska. The same reasoning stood for walking in the footsteps of an undead at the site of a killing. In spite of this unsettling awareness she'd developed, a part of him felt they shouldn't be thrown by any kind of unexpected help. They had no trail, not many clues, nothing to hunt, and on top of that, the guard captain had spent the better part of their brief meeting appraising Magiere as if he wished to make her part of his breakfast, or perhaps a late evening repast. Leesil didn't like this Chetnik one bit.

  He was tired, hungry, and sick of listening to sad, despondent folk relive unsettling experiences. They'd talked to cobblers' daughters, tanners and sons, barkeeps, and even low-ranking gentry. So far, only one tanner's son and one young noble—who hadn't even wanted them in his home— had managed to produce coherent and unified stories. Both men had encountered a female with bright blue eyes in garish clothes. Of those tales, neither teller remembered what had happened, only that they'd found themselves wandering later in a befuddled and weak state, torn wounds in their throats.

  "The sun is going down," he said. "Let's just go back to the inn. We can start again tomorrow."

  "One more," Magiere said absently, staring at a parchment.

  She could make out a few words at a time, and Leesil sat watching her read the same line of ink scrawl three times. It was getting even darker outside. Most shops they passed were closed. Chap lay on the seat across the coach, and Leesil had the oddest impression the dog looked sullen.

  "Bright blue… blue… blue eyes," Magiere mumbled as she worked word by word through the scribed report.

  Leesil groaned. "Let's at least have some supper first."

  "Isn't this another name for a brothel?"

  He reached out. "Let me see that."

  "Oh, yes," she said in mild disgust. "That would get your attention."

  "Not funny," Leesil eluded, and scanned the parchment.

  Just over a moon ago, a woman with bright blue eyes— like "crystals," the witness had said—attacked a hired guard named Koh'in ib'Sune serving at one of Bela's loftier "domvolyne," a house of leisure. In other words, a brothel for those who preferred not to frequent an establishment that might actually be called a brothel.

  "It's the same description," Magiere said. "Like the tanner's son and that haughty little noble."

  Leesil nodded.

  "That makes three matching accounts," she said.

  "All right, all right. One more and then back to the inn. But there's no exact address." He leaned through the coach door window and called to the driver. "Do you know the Blue Dove?"

  The driver looked at him cautiously. "I know where it is, if that's what you mean."

  "Take us there." Leesil ducked back inside the coach.

  Chap let out a whine without lifting his head. They rode for a while in silence until finally the driver called out their destination: "The Blue Dove."

  Leesil hadn't paid attention to their progress and was surprised to find they'd passed back into the inner wall ring. What they knew from the reports didn't add up in a way that would lead to this place.

  The young noble who'd seen the blue-eyed woman lived inside the second ring wall in a respectable but not overly wealthy area. The tanner's son lived in the outer r
ing. The three encounters had occurred in different parts of the city, but still, it wasn't unimaginable that an undead would range so widely.

  Magiere paid the coachman, asked him to wait, and then stood next to Leesil, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. The brothel was a lavish stone dwelling with two large braziers on each side of a door painted sky blue. The building's unusually small windows were shuttered tight, so no one could see inside. As they stood there with Chap looking about, a few people, particularly one elder couple, passed them with disapproving glances.

  "I've never been inside a brothel before," she said finally.

  Leesil grinned at her. "Neither have I. How tragic is that?"

  "For who?" she muttered under her breath. "You or the women?"

  "The women, of course," Leesil answered. "And from what I've heard, these places serve a wide variety of entertainment. Some even employ young boys, and I know of a place in the Warlands with a large mastiff that—"

  "Not another word." She gripped his arm, pulled him up the steps and knocked on the door.

  A gargantuan man opened it and looked down at them in surprise. His head was as clean-shaven as his wide, cleft chin, and his eyes were a brown so dark they were nearly black. But his most noticeable feature was his deep brown skin. He wore dark green breeches and an open vest with no shirt, and the handle of a flanged mace was slipped through the side of a wine-red silk belt wrapped more than a dozen times around his waist.

  "You are too early," he said.

  "Uh, no…" Magiere stammered. "You don't understand. We're looking for a man named Koh'in ib'Sune. Is he here?"

  The man's body blocked the entire doorway.

  "I am Koh'in, but I do not know you."

  Leesil noted that his accent was smooth and fluid, like Lord Au'shiyn's from the city council.

  "We're working with the city guard," he lied. "We wanted to speak with you about a report describing a woman with crystal-blue eyes who attacked you. There've been other reports, and we're trying to find any link between them."

  Koh'in's stern expression didn't change. "You do not look like the city guard."

  "We're not," Leesil replied, exhaustion getting the better of him. Bluntness seemed to be the only option. "We're vampire hunters working for the city guard. Can we come in?"

  Koh'in blinked twice with a flare of his wide nostrils as his expression changed to mild concern.

  "Come to the kitchen," he said, shifting slowly aside. "My mistress was displeased that I reported the event at all. She correctly believes such a stain on our reputation may hurt business."

  With a quick glance behind himself, he ushered them toward the back of the house.

  Leesil was curious to see the parlor, but he barely got a peek from the foyer before being hurried away to the kitchens. Pillows of shimmering fabrics rested upon divans and couches, and rich, thick draperies were pulled across the windows. Following Koh'in, he looked at the man's bulging shoulders straining the back of his vest. It was likely the patrons of this domvolyne conducted themselves with every bit of good manners.

  The kitchen was well kept with pottery stacked about, and a warm, low fire in the cooking hearth. The room already contained two occupants. A beautiful woman with a generous figure and a mass of chocolate-brown hair sat at the kitchen table drinking tea, while a lovely blond nymph curled the woman's already impressively spiraled tresses. They wore matching silk dressing gowns of amber with embroidered white roses.

  "This is Brita," Koh'in said, respectfully gesturing to the seated woman, and then lifted his hand toward the other. "And young Natasha. They must prepare each other while we talk."

  "Koh'in, what is this?" Brita asked disdainfully, taking in Magiere's breeches and falchion. "You know the mistress doesn't allow visitors at this hour. And a dog?"

  "They are from the city guard," Koh'in whispered, "and need to ask me questions about… the woman."

  "Oh." Brita immediately stood up, and at full height she was taller than Leesil. She stepped directly in front of Koh'in as if to block passage. "Well, you can pose any questions in front of us. The guard helps us little enough, and troubles us plenty when some fop starts complaining. Ask your questions—and then leave him in peace."

  Natasha set her curling rod on the stove and stepped close to Koh'in's side, crossing her arms in agreement. Next to the tall Suman guard, she looked like a tiny porcelain figurine.

  "Yes," she said with some bitterness. "Poor Koh'in was attacked in the alley nearly a moon ago. The slashes on his throat are already healed, yet this is the first time you decide to look into this?"

  "We don't actually work for the guard," Magiere replied, both empty hands in front of her, seemingly on the defensive. "We're working for the city council on another matter, but it might be connected to what happened. We may be tracking whoever attacked your friend here."

  "Vampire hunters," Koh'in whispered to Brita.

  Brita snorted and crossed her arms, crinkling her amber silk sleeves.

  "That's what the council is spending taxes on? What happened, some pasty-skinned noble get his throat cut? But when it happens elsewhere, it's no concern of theirs."

  Leesil shifted uncomfortably at how closely she assessed the situation.

  "Can you just tell us what happened?" he asked tiredly.

  Koh'in nodded. "I always make sure all the ladies are safe, alone in their rooms, before I lock up the downstairs."

  Natasha wrapped her dainty hands around the large man's forearm. It took both hands to encompass the bulk of his limb.

  "But before locking up," he went on, "I walk the outside, all around the house, to be sure no one remains, someone looking up at one of the windows, if you understand."

  Leesil nodded.

  "That night," Koh'in said, "I saw a red dress and blond curls in the alley behind the house. I thought one of the ladies had been called to a party and was coming home late. I hurried to take her inside. She was not one of ours."

  "What exactly did she look like?" Magiere asked.

  "Pretty. Small. Dark-blond rings of hair and bright blue eyes. So bright they made me think of gems, like they could reflect the light from the street lamps. But the mistress would not hire her to work here."

  "Why not?" Leesil asked, and Koh'in frowned.

  "Her dress was rich satin, but she looked…"—he searched for the right word—"cheap—not like Brita or Natasha. Perhaps it was her face, the way she looked. I cannot explain. I thought to help her, as she should not be alone in the alley. She smiled and asked me where we might go to be alone. Then I thought she was a poor street whore in a stolen dress trying to make coins from our patrons passing by. So I went to chase her off, and…"

  The large man's eyes wandered, and he wrung his hands as Natasha leaned her head against his upper arm. He appeared shamed.

  "She pushed me against the alley wall. Her mouth opened, and I saw her teeth come for my throat. They were like those of a numar."

  "A what?" Leesil asked.

  "A large wild black cat in my homeland," Koh'in explained. "Fanged above and below. I threw her off, but she was strong—so strong—and I ran. I did not know I was bleeding until back inside with the door bolted. This was not a real woman."

  Natasha patted his arm softly. "It's all right. There was nothing more you could do."

  "Did you manage to rip part of her dress or anything she was wearing?" Magiere asked.

  "What kind of a question is that?" Brita snapped.

  Magiere pointed at Chap. "He tracks. If you have anything that belonged to this woman, it would help us."

  "Oh." Brita's demeanor softened. "Koh'in?"

  The Suman shook his head. "No. I did not think of anything but to get inside."

  Leesil hadn't expected much, but the man's description of the woman closely matched that of the tanner's son and the noble.

  "So now you'll catch this thing?" Natasha asked.

  "We'll try," Leesil said, for lack of a better ans
wer.

  Brita looked at them both and said, grudgingly but politely, "Thank you for coming. At least finally someone has."

  With a few promises and good-byes, Leesil found himself once again climbing into the coach, but this time heading back to the inn and a hot supper. Only now, he found no joy or comfort in the thought of rest and warm food. One fact hung in the silent air between himself and Magiere.

  "There are two," she said finally. "We're hunting two of them."

  "If your vision was correct," he added.

  "My vision is correct. And we've hunted more than one before."

  "Do you think they're connected?" Leesil suggested. "Are we dealing with another pack?"

  Magiere shook her head in uncertainty.

  "The council can quake in their houses for all I care," Leesil added. "But I liked Koh'in—and Brita and Natasha. Besides the other common folk, the pier boys and such, these are the first people I've met worth protecting."

  "And Chesna, who's now beyond our help " Magiere glanced sidelong at him. "We'll protect them. That's what we're here to do—so it seems."

  Leesil leaned back. A fight was coming their way, and he smiled with a mordant sense of contentment for the first time since they'd left home.

  Chapter 7

  Past dusk the following evening, Leesil and Magiere finished another grueling day of wandering the length and breadth of Bela, speaking to as many people from Chetnik's reports as they could find. For all their efforts, they learned nothing new nor came any closer to beginning the hunt. Leesil's dark contentment faded shortly before lunch.

  Magiere's concern over the price of coaches, mixed with his reluctance to ride on horseback, had resulted in a great deal of walking. Chap limped slightly, his paws obviously aching from the city's cobblestone streets. But even more frustrating to Leesil was their lack of progress.

  Back at the Burdock, they sat in the common room in their dusty clothes, mildly relieved that the hard wooden stools let them get off their feet. Leesil took off his scarf and scratched his head freely, shaking out his white-blond hair.