Tan Skulks (A Wielders Novel Book 1)

by Max Anthony

  Speaking to the first guard he came across, Captain T Skulks asked where within the building he might locate the duty ledger for the preceding days. With this knowledge imparted into his ears, he marched to the Office of the Watch, wherein it was said to be maintained. At the said office, Skulks opened the wooden door without knocking and approached the clerk within, who was a bespectacled, elderly man carrying an air of timidity.

  “I am Captain T Skulks and I wish to look at the duty ledger!” he commanded.

  “Oh dear,” replied the clerk. “I’m afraid you can’t, Captain Skulks. It has gone missing.”

  “Missing?” demanded Skulks in consternation. “Who looks after it and why has it gone missing?”

  Though not personally responsible, the clerk had the nervousness of a man who thinks he is about to be blamed for a Crime He Did Not Commit.

  “Erm, we clerks keep the records, but we don’t know what happened to the old one. It went missing some time yesterday. We only come here for an hour to keep it up to date and then the room is empty for much of the day. I’ve started a new one,” he said helpfully, waving down at a new ledger with a scrawny hand.

  Skulks came around the desk and looked at the new ledger over the man’s shoulder. It was open at page one – Fifteenth of the Midday Sun. The Ko-Chak calendar was convoluted in the extreme. Occasionally even scholars devoted to the study of it came to blows over what was the correct nomenclature for the days of the coming year.

  The ledger looked to be very well kept, with a description of who was on guard, when and in what part of the building. It showed when shift changes were due and if there were any discrepancies such as a guard being ill, this would be recorded the following day. All-in-all it would have been just what Skulks needed, had the original not gone missing.

  Many years ago a drunken man had given advice to Skulks at a bar in High Domes. He couldn’t remember the name of the man or the tavern, but the words still echoed in his mind as if he’d only heard them yesterday: “If ye regret what ye can’t do nothin’ about, yer a stupid tit.” Truly, Skulks thought, one of the unspoken marvels of the alcoholic beverage was its ability to condense the wisdom of philosophers into compact, pithy sayings, such as this one.

  Skulks’ cerebral door was therefore firmly shut, bolted and triple locked on feelings of regret, with a loaded mousetrap placed in the letterbox in case it decided to push a pamphlet through for him to read later. So he asked:

  “Who maintained the ledger before it vanished from your care?”

  The clerk peered up at him, myopic when his lenses were not directly in front of his eyes.

  “That would have been me, sir.”

  “Jolly good,” said Skulks, squatting down next to the man and beginning the process of questioning him about who had been on duty the previous day. The clerk was a conscientious man and pleased to be of assistance, but given the tedium of many of his duties, it was not surprising to find that specifics escaped him. It is understood by many who complete repetitive tasks on a daily basis that while the hand may do one thing, the brain controlling it is mostly thinking about what to have for lunch or whether it’s time to pour the seventh hot drink of the day. Nevertheless, the clerk proved to be a valuable, if incomplete, source and provided Skulks with details of several guardsmen, two of whom were in possession of the same family name. Unfortunately, they were not due on duty for another three hours. Skulks had several tasks he wished to pursue, but none of them could be done in less than three hours.

  So, off he went into the streets, his captain’s tassel detached and hidden from view. He stopped at a stall selling cakes and sticky buns, paying one Sliver for two iced spirals. An outrageous price, he thought, but the vendor apologetically explained that prices were rising across the city with the bargemen strike and the lack of wood making it harder for bakers to keep their ovens hot. Leaving the stall behind he walked, seemingly without purpose, stopping every now and then to absorb the chatter around him. Soon, he was directed to that which he sought.

  On a street corner, perched upon an upturned crate was a man. Scruffy and ill-kempt in his rags, he was haranguing the smattering of people around him.

  “And the Rat God sayeth ter us that we need ter believe in ‘im! And wer not believin’ in ‘im! ‘Ow can we expect peace an’ prosperity if wer not believin’?”

  He babbled, like a new convert to the Rat God, lacking the glibness of someone more practised at delivering the words of their chosen deity.

  “An’ cos we don’t believe in ‘im, there’s no wood fer the fires and no flour fer the bakers and no cheese fer the cheese shops!”

  A few people were nodding at his words.

  “And what do the Chamber Council do, sitting up there in their big building with their big orifices?” Stumbling over his words, the preacher accidentally transposed consonants. No one seemed to notice as he continued.

  “Eatin’ their cheese, drinkin’ their wine, with a big pile of logs in front of ‘em fer the fire.” The man seemed obsessed with cheese but his words, rough and ready as they were, seemed to find some agreement amongst those before him.

  “They do noffin fer us! Noffin!”

  Skulks let himself drift by and went on his way. Enough time had passed and the brothers Underman would be due on duty soon. He wanted to speak to them alone.

  Back at the Chamber Building, Captain T Skulks addressed the guards as they got ready for a shift change, having already introduced himself to them. He held a clipboard securing several pieces of paper upon which could be seen writing. There were twelve men in the barrack area, struggling into armour that had fitted once, but which now seemed tight about several midriffs. Hardened was a peaceful city and even the guards didn’t get enough exercise to keep them as lean as would be desirable.

  “Yesterday morning,” said Captain T Skulks, “I was able to walk through this building without challenge! I got as far as Chamber Member Spout’s door before anyone saw fit to ask me who I was! I visited the privies and spoke to you in the next trap,” he pointed at a bewildered looking man, “and you didn’t even greet me as captain, nor offer me your cleaning roll! Rest assured I will be making spot-checks over the coming days and I expect to see some improvements!”

  Having opened up with stick, Skulks then introduced carrot:

  “But I hear good reports about you all, so I feel sure that you will not leave me disappointed. Indeed, I am told that Chamber Member Fulup is looking at salaries as we speak and will be putting her recommendations to the Chamber Council in the coming days. I would recommend you all be extra vigilant and attentive to Chamber Member Fulup’s needs, in case she is distracted unfavourably.”

  With that Skulks dismissed them to proceed about their duties. As they were filing out, his pointing finger selected two of the guards.

  “You two stay back. I need to speak with you.” The men hesitated, before breaking file and coming to stand before him. They were in their early thirties he guessed, with no especially distinguishing features. Medium heights, medium builds, one light haired, the other with dark red hair, the latter being not uncommon in Hardened. Skulks looked down at his clipboard as if lost in thought.

  “Bren and Tybot Underman.” He spoke the words in such a manner that it was unclear whether he made a statement or asked a question. He would judge their demeanour by the response. He was content when both responded. It meant they were keen to please.

  “Yes, sir,” they said at once.

  Captain Skulks studied the board once more, letting the moment drag out uncomfortably. He looked up.

  “Captain Sluice speaks well of you,” said he, referring to another of the guard captains. She was currently not on shift in order to deny these words, or in fact state that she’d never seen Skulks before in her life. “She tells me that she trusts you both implicitly and has an eye on you for future promotion. So, I think I have the right men to speak to about certain matters.” He gave them a moment to digest this. “We have a
problem. In fact, we have two problems and I need men I can trust to help me with them.”

  The brothers Underman stared straight ahead while Skulks trampled onwards.

  “The first problem we have is that a log book has gone missing. It’s vitally important that we find this log book, as we need to trace the movements of the guards for the last few days, to see who was on duty and when!”

  He watched them closely as he dropped his voice to a low whisper:

  “Some of the guards have claimed paid overtime for those days and we’re not able to confirm that they were on duty!”

  He wasn’t sure if he detected a relieved sagging in two pairs of shoulders.

  “And there’s a second problem. You’ll know by now that a body was found in the basement of this very building.” He looked shifty, voice dropping even lower so that the brothers Underman had to lean forward to hear him. “We suspect an inside job!”

  Was that a small sheen of sweat upon an upper lip, wondered Skulks? Maybe the light was just poor today.

  “The Guards…,” spoke Skulks, ending with a long pause to seem as if his sentence was complete, “…are known to be free of involvement. We think one of the clerks could be to blame. I would like to have two men whom I can trust to keep an eye on the clerks as and when I find out the prime suspects in this terrible crime! Do I have such men in front of me?”

  Without any choice, they nodded in unison.

  “Good! Now begone about your duties! I will ask for you when you are needed.” With these words they were dismissed.

  Hoping he had done enough, Skulks slipped out after them, ensuring that he remained unseen. As brothers, they were allowed to patrol together and so it was today. They set off on their prescribed route around the ground floor, talking softly to each other. There were a lot of people about, which made it difficult enough for Skulks to remain unseen, let alone get close enough to hear what was being said, but he got the impression they were agitated. After an hour and a couple of circuits of the ground floor, they took a different route, going down a flight of steps which led to the basement.

  Down here it was quieter, so Skulks was able to get closer to them.

  “Do you remember where you put it?” said one of the brothers to the other.

  “I don’t know. I just shoved it in a crate. I think it was over this way.”

  Their stuttering path gradually homed in on what Bren Underman finally remembered was the hiding place of that which they sought. It was just another room, doorless and full of crates and boxes.

  “Second crate from the left, on top,” Bren spoke.

  Tan Skulks watched as the lid was lifted and a book withdrawn: the missing ledger. He’d have never found it otherwise.

  “We’d best get this burned,” said Tybot. “Or put in a sack and thrown in the river.”

  With some of his suspicions confirmed, Skulks left them to it, shifting off quietly to the ground floor where he treated himself to ten minutes’ contemplation on the privy. He had things to do and wouldn’t be going to a tavern tonight.

  Chapter Ten

  The hour was five and the location was Chancery Fountain. The Prophet Incurious Spelk stood before his flock, nodding to himself in satisfaction that their number was noticeably swollen from the previous day’s address.

  He began with his familiar refrain. “My friends! Have you come to hear the words of the Rat God Plumpus as spoken by me, his humble servant Incurious Spelk?”

  As he swept his hand in a welcoming arc over the crowd, he was unaware that in his room at the Hotel of Wines other hands were also sweeping, but these ones were sweeping efficiently through his personal possessions.

  Having let himself in, Tan Skulks was searching, though he knew not what for. Spelk’s room was one of the better lodgings the hotel offered and far more elegantly appointed than Skulks’ own humble room at the Filigreed Whore. The room was dominated by an enormous four-poster bed, whilst the two wardrobes, desks, chairs and bedside cabinet looked old and expensive. A doorway led into a private bathroom which had an ornate metal bath and its own hot water supply. In addition, there was a wide balcony, allowing the resident to take their early morning hotleaf in the open air if they so wished.

  The room was neat and tidy, with few personal possessions on show. Skulks would have expected an itinerant to have left a few things unpacked, or scattered about untidily. It appeared that Spelk had made himself at home and was intending to stay for some time.

  There were no surprises in the wardrobes, containing as they did six identical drab green robes. Skulks was interested to note the concealed dagger-pocket in each wide cuff. There were also several sets of normal day wear – shirts, trousers, socks and underwear, all neatly paired or folded.

  The bedside cabinet had a small oil lamp upon it and the top drawer played host to a book of accounts. Skulks scanned over it, seeing it to be a list of takings from the daily collections. They weren’t small amounts and appeared to be growing steadily; plenty to keep a man in the lifestyle to which he had become accustomed. He also saw that the only takings recorded were for Incurious Spelk’s sermons and no other preachers were mentioned.

  The second drawer was poorly locked and Skulks permitted himself to raise an eyebrow as he saw the pile of Slivers within. There must have been eight or nine hundred, with a smattering of Five-Sliver bits. They were scattered loosely in the drawer. Presumably the Rat God Plumpus was saving them up for something nice. Skulks’ hand had already helped itself to fifty of them before his brain intervened, warning that these were likely to be closely counted. He was here to find out information, not to alert Spelk. Reluctantly, his hand returned the Slivers to the drawer and slid it shut. The final drawer contained a pair of socks.

  Standing up in order to search the desk, Skulks saw that only a single person had lain on the bed. It was not unusual, almost expected, for self-styled prophets to enjoy a tumble with some of their nubile converts. To bring them closer to their new god.

  The desk provided something more substantial, sitting folded in the top drawer alongside a stale bread bun. It was a piece of paper and the words were addressed to Spelk:

  Spelk, stop fleecing your new converts. We don’t want to arouse suspicion. We are paying you most handsomely already. TL.

  Skulks replaced the note and undertook one final scan of the room to ensure he’d left nothing out of place. Then, he drew on his Wielding and scanned back through the last few hours of the room, hoping to pick up on a conversation or some other clue. There was nothing for him apart from the sounds of a few footsteps, a door opening and closing once or twice and when he went back further, some snoring was heard. It seemed like Spelk didn’t get many visitors.

  Drawing himself back to the present, Skulks let himself out of the room, whilst over at Chancery Fountain the forbidden collection jugs were being dispersed amongst the flock, willing hands dropping hard-earned coins within as the self-styled Prophet Incurious Spelk nodded approvingly.

  Chapter Eleven

  The following morning, Chamber Member Heathen Spout rose early as she always did. It was a little past six and the sun was already up, foretelling another fine day in the great city of Hardened. Whilst a new employee in the Chamber Building might have been forgiven for thinking that Heathen Spout lived in the place she worked, she in fact had her own house. It was a beautifully maintained house in a beautifully maintained part of the West District. Spout was a well-liked neighbour, for the Chamber Council was mostly respected and for her part, Spout didn’t host any loud parties, nor have comings and goings at all hours.

  On this day, as on almost every day, she headed her way to the Chamber Building, mind already working through the business awaiting her. There was the mid-morning meeting with the other Chamber Council members, an afternoon meeting with a representative of the bargemen and around those meetings there was paperwork to read and sign. Spout was content.

  The streets were already starting to bustle, though the Cha
mber Building gardens did not yet see the signs of it. She climbed the steps and greeted Clerk Souter in the reception with a cheery smile, though he looked despondent as he greeted her in turn. He was keen if a little dour; perhaps she should take a look at his remuneration in the next week or two, Spout thought to herself.

  She passed a total of six guards, all of them looking alert. She knew of Captain T Skulks’ remonstrations with them after the major security breach of finding a dead body in the Chamber Building and smiled to herself. She recognised the guards at her doorway, who greeted her formally. Spout was also well-liked by the city’s employees. Entering her room, she was momentarily surprised to see Tan Skulks languishing in her favourite leather chair eating a sausage sandwich.

  “You took your time,” he told her around a mouthful of fresh bread and meat.

  The guards hadn’t told her she had a visitor, so she assumed he’d entered her room by means covert, but the main reason for her surprise was to see him out of his bed at such an early hour.

  “Did the goat you were rutting shit on your pillow?” she responded tartly, using the Qol-Wert vernacular.

  Now it was Skulks’ turn to be taken aback, not aware that Heathen Spout was capable of such an earthy and barbed verbal assault.

  “When doings are afoot, we Wielders don’t sleep.”

  As she prepared a cup of hotleaf, he finished his sandwich. She joined him in the chair opposite.

  “I think you’ve got a bit of trouble,” he told her. “I need to expand my scope of investigation.”