‘State your business,’ Lin abruptly ordered.
‘I’d like to speak to you in private,’ the visitor asked, glancing at the dark-haired woman beside the blonde one, and at the bodyguards.
‘This is my personal maid,’ Lin explained, ‘and these men are in my absolute trust.’
Crystal noted that the young thief seemed reluctant to say any more. He looked at the bodyguards again and scratched his head. ‘All right,’ he finally said. ‘I have a message from your grandfather.’
‘My grandfather’s been dead almost as long as you’ve been alive,’ Lin bluntly told him. ‘How could you have ever possibly known him?’
The thief coughed and shifted his feet nervously, before saying, ‘He said I should tell you that the platypus’s name was Brightwater.’
Crystal gasped and covered her mouth. Aware of her companion’s unexpected response, Lin asked, ‘When did he tell you this?’
‘I was in the Bog Pit with him. He asked me to speak to you.’
‘About what?’
The thief again seemed uncomfortable sharing what he knew. ‘I don’t think this is even for trusted ears,’ he said.
‘Mrs Merchant?’ Crystal interrupted. ‘Can I speak with you in private?’ Lin nodded, and followed Crystal from the chamber into the lounge. Framed against the firelight she said, ‘He knows something that was a special secret between my grandfather and me.’
‘What? The platypus’s name?’ Lin asked.
Crystal nodded. ‘Only my grandfather knew that. It was our little secret. He showed me a platypus in a creek when I was young and I wanted to keep it, but I couldn’t. Grandfather said I could give it a name.’
‘Then is his story true?’
Crystal shook her head. ‘No. It’s impossible. Grandfather died in the Royal Gaol fifteen years ago, before the king could grant a pardon that my father sought for him. I don’t know how this thief knows what he does, but it’s impossible that he could have talked to my grandfather.’
‘He seems to want to tell you something important,’ Lin noted.
A grim smile crossed Crystal’s mouth. ‘He’s clever. Someone’s paid him to get close to me for whatever reason, perhaps even to attempt an assassination. Using my grandfather’s secret is a very clever ruse. I’m just curious how he knows it.’
‘Torture. They wouldn’t have treated your grandfather well in the gaol. Perhaps a gaoler overheard his confession when he told them your secret,’ Lin suggested.
‘That’s an odd confession,’ said Crystal. ‘It doesn’t make sense.’
‘So? What do we do?’
Crystal flexed her fingers before bending to pat the tabby cat curled by the fire. ‘Have the boys rough him up and send him back to whoever sent him with a clear message that the ruse was stupid. Have Hunter follow him. I want to know who’s making a play against me this time.’
‘Gladly,’ Lin answered, and returned to the meeting chamber to carry out Crystal’s orders.
Crystal heard a cry of protest in the adjoining room, followed by a thump and the sound of a man grunting at the loss of breath. She straightened from the purring cat as Lin re-entered and they sat together on the leather and fur-bedecked lounge, discussing the possibilities behind the young thief’s visit while they waited for Cook to bring their dinners.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Chase crawled into the shadows on the street, coughing, and collapsed against a wooden slat fence at the front of another house, clutching his stomach that ached from the punches delivered by Crystal’s bodyguards. He wiped the back of his right hand across the base of his nose, smearing blood across his upper lip and cheek, and swore viciously. So much for doing the right thing by the rich bastards, he thought bitterly. The old man’s granddaughter is nothing but a precious bitch protected by thugs. He spat and got to his feet, balancing against the fence. His body had taken enough brutal punishment in recent days. I have to find something less dangerous to do, he mused.
Light spilled from the front door of the house and two men appeared, armed with hand-held foreign peacemakers. One held a lantern high to expose Chase at the fence. ‘Fuck off or we’ll shoot you!’ he threatened.
Chase staggered away, ignoring the insults sprayed after him. In the past, he had only ever come to the Northern Quarter for quick, lucrative thieving. The rich people lived under the protection of their private bodyguards, and with the blessing of the king’s city watch they were a law unto themselves when it came to dealing with anyone suspected of illegal activities. He dodged people going home from their day’s shopping, melting into the evening shadows to escape the attentive eyes of their personal guards, until he reached the thoroughfare named after the Carter family whose fortunes were made transporting goods throughout the kingdom. On the street he was just another citizen, albeit a poor and miserable one, in transit from one quarter to another. As far as the authorities knew, he had perished in the Bog Pit and dead men didn’t walk the streets. The time tower near the palace began chiming the twentieth hour.
Passing safely over King’s Bridge was always an uncertainty given the random moods of the Kerwyn soldiers responsible for monitoring the comings and goings of ordinary folk. He’d crossed earlier in the evening in the company of a merchant band, sidling in behind them to avoid attracting the soldiers’ attention. When he surveyed the few people crossing now, their figures lit by the great wire-lightning lanterns hung at equidistant points along the thoroughfare, he saw no groups large enough to make his presence inconsequential and cursed his luck. Wiping as much blood from his face as he could without the benefit of a mirror, he summoned his inner strength to overcome the bruising aches of his beating at the hands of Crystal’s bodyguards.
Three soldiers huddled by a bridge column were chatting and laughing, but one turned to watch as Chase began to cross the bridge. Chase focussed ahead as if he was utterly unconscious of the soldiers’ presence and counted his paces on the wooden surface. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen.
‘You!’
Chase kept walking. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.
‘I said you! Stop right there!’
Eighteen. He stopped. And waited. He heard running footsteps. A figure bolted past and two pursuing soldiers nearly knocked him over. ‘Get out of the way, idiot!’ a soldier screamed as he brushed past. The handful of travellers crossing the bridge stopped to watch. The poor bastard, whoever he is, is running into a dead end, Chase observed because the soldiers at the far end were going to cut off his escape. He sighed with relief that it was not him they were chasing and kept walking.
When he reached the far end of King’s Bridge, three soldiers were pushing a man against the wooden railing and shouting. Two more soldiers watched the proceedings lazily from their post. Chase strolled casually by, giving the event cursory attention without appearing too interested or too disinterested.
He was glad to reach the city centre where the people on the streets increased in number, along with the taverns, gambling dens and whorehouses, because he was in familiar territory. Small groups and individuals loitered outside establishments, but he carefully took note of a city watch patrol strolling leisurely along the centre of the street and shifted his path to avoid them. Noisy singing erupted from the Horse and Cart tavern as he walked outside the circle of light pouring from its crowded doorway, and from across the road in the Gambler’s Baiting House, a favourite haunt for those who liked to bet on fighting animals, came the sounds of cheering voices and snarling dogs. A group of men outside the dark facades of a block of shops silently watched him pass and a solitary soldier on horseback trotted by as he reached the brothels. ‘Hello, Chase,’ a silken female voice whispered from the shadows as he approached a candle-lit doorway under the painted sign of the Perfect Pleasures brothel.
‘Rose,’ he said. ‘Do you have to surprise men like that?’
A young woman, her long dark hair piled loosely on her head, a green shawl wrapped provocatively over her
shoulders, emerged from the darkness. ‘My clients find it mysteriously exciting,’ she crooned and smiled. ‘Looking for Passion? Or can I help?’
‘Hmmm,’ Chase pondered, mischievously giving her the once-over, noting how her heaving powdered cleavage was teasingly peeking from the top of her gown. ‘I think I’d better see Passion,’ he said with a grin.
As Rose leaned forward to kiss his forehead, she noticed dried blood on his cheek. ‘Been fighting?’ she asked, drawing back.
‘A woman said no,’ he answered.
She laughed. ‘Passion’s in the red room. Business is quiet tonight.’
He entered and walked along the narrow, low-lit hall that was draped sensually with mauve cloth until he reached a lamp-lit red room adorned with paintings of men and women in acts of sexual union. The thickset, dark-skinned and muscled Wahim, recognising a familiar face, pointed towards a plush red settee and three young, scantily clad women. The middle girl with red hair stood and approached. ‘You’re hurt,’ she said, stroking her brother’s cheek.
‘Nothing much,’ Chase told her. ‘What time are you finishing tonight?’
‘I haven’t had a client yet,’ she replied. ‘Is it urgent?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I can wait. Can I go clean up?’
Passion took her brother’s arm and led him through a small door into a bathing area reserved for the working girls. A steaming wooden tub dominated the room’s centre and white porcelain wash bowls sat on a wooden slat cupboard against the far wall. White towels were piled on shelves. Passion spoke briefly to one of two women in the room and then told her brother, ‘Lavender and Sunrise will wash you and get you some clean clothes.’
‘I can wash myself,’ he complained, and Lavender and Sunrise laughed.
‘Getting shy, Chase,’ teased Lavender, an older woman who he knew was responsible for the working girls’ health and cleanliness.
‘Just not in the mood to get too excited,’ he replied cheekily.
‘Relax,’ Passion told him. ‘I’ll be out in the red room. Come and talk to me when you’re changed.’
Chase waited for his sister to leave before he stripped off his dirty and torn clothes and climbed gratefully into the hot tub. While Lavender went in search of spare men’s clothes, Sunrise leaned over the tub and began scrubbing Chase’s back. Having a sister in this profession has some benefits, he decided as he enjoyed the sensual pleasure of being bathed.
‘So she wasn’t interested?’ Passion asked as she sliced a small portion of cold roast lamb.
‘Not even when I told her the old man’s secret,’ Chase explained. He leaned against the window frame, savouring the warmth of the morning sun as he gazed into the narrow alley where three children were playing football. ‘You know who she is, don’t you?’
‘Mrs Merchant?’ Passion asked. ‘Of course I do. Everyone knows the Joker. Her people supply euphoria to the Perfect Pleasures. Why?’
‘Just reminding you who she is. When she says she’s not interested, she’s not interested.’ He subconsciously touched the purple bruising across the bridge of his nose.
‘So now what will you do?’
He shrugged. ‘Who cares? I tried to do the old man a favour. I can’t help it if his granddaughter doesn’t want to believe me.’
‘But you believed him. You said so when you first came back last week,’ she reminded him as she handed him a serve of lamb before she sat on a cupboard bench beside the window. ‘What are you looking at?’
‘The kids out there,’ he replied, and sighed. ‘Remember when we used to play that game?’
Passion peered past her brother into the alley. ‘That was a long time ago.’
‘I’m sorry you had to grow up so quickly,’ he said, looking at her. ‘I should have found some employment that meant you didn’t have to work in the Perfect Pleasures.’
‘The Perfect Pleasures is not too bad,’ she reassured him. ‘There are worse places.’
‘But you’re still my sister,’ he insisted protectively.
‘I’m your older sister,’ Passion retorted with soft annoyance. ‘I don’t need my little brother to look after me.’ She slid off the bench and sat at the small table. ‘Are you going to do anything else about this old man’s story?’
‘What can I do?’ he asked. ‘How do I know what he was saying wasn’t just madness from being locked up?’
‘If he really was a Seer then he wouldn’t be making up anything about the Demon Horsemen.’
Chase looked at her. ‘You believe that stuff?’
‘I go to the temple,’ she replied. ‘Yes. I believe it.’
‘I don’t,’ he said. ‘Well, I thought I didn’t. When the old man said there was a plot going on to overthrow the king and put Prince Shadow on the throne so that the Seers could call down the Demon Horsemen, I thought he was totally crazy. There’s no Demon Horsemen.’
‘The Seers say they exist,’ Passion said. ‘The acolytes talk about them in the temple.’
‘But he said the Demon Horsemen will kill everyone, and if that’s what the Seers want then they want to kill us all.’
‘Only sinners,’ she corrected. ‘Good people will go to Paradise.’
‘The old man said everyone will die. That’s what the Seers are really planning to make happen. That’s why he wanted me to tell his granddaughter.’
‘If his granddaughter doesn’t want to know anything, tell someone who is important.’
Chase snorted, and asked, ‘Like who? Prince Inheritor? If the old man’s story is true, I could get in a lot of trouble trying to find out who needs to know what’s going on. I can’t run around accusing Prince Shadow of plotting to overthrow his brothers. That’s an instant public beheading. I don’t even know if I do believe the old man’s story now.’
‘It must be partly true if you think his granddaughter recognised the secret when you told her.’
He nodded, and said, ‘The whole meeting was really strange.’
‘How?’
‘Well, to begin with, I don’t think the person I spoke to was really Mrs Merchant. Her maid seemed more affected when I said the secret name.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I mean I think Mrs Merchant was pretending to be her maid and her maid was pretending to be her so as I wouldn’t know her real identity.’
‘But she’s been seen in public a lot of times,’ Passion argued. ‘She’s one of the richest people in the city. Even the princes know her.’
‘But I’ve never seen her before. Have you?’
‘Well, no. But that’s only because we don’t go over the river.’
‘That’s my point. She didn’t want me to know who she was. She probably thought I was there to rip her off or do something else. The old man was gaoled seventeen years ago and I doubt she’s seen him since.’
‘She probably didn’t know he was still alive,’ she said. ‘Did you tell her you met him in the Bog Pit?’
‘Yes. But I don’t think she believed that. Who gets out of the Bog Pit alive, except people who are maimed for life?’
‘You did.’
‘I was lucky.’
‘So what are you going to do?’
Chase looked out at the children and saw a tan dog skipping playfully around them. A thin, brunette woman was hauling a small dogcart, loaded with washing, along the alley and a man was singing a cheerful ballad as he plucked a chicken in a doorway across the alley. ‘I’m going to forget it,’ he said. ‘I need to find some work.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Crystal Merchant pondered the memories of times with her grandfather as she sat in the daylight of her bedroom window. She never imagined that she would ever hear anyone speak of him after her father told her that the old man was dead. She couldn’t understand why he had been arrested when he was initially imprisoned. The grandfather she knew was honourable and honest, a man who berated his own son, her father, for trading in the notoriously corrupt drug business. Then to l
earn that he’d been accused of treason against the king, of conspiring against the king’s sons and his Seer colleagues, shocked and devastated her. She couldn’t imagine that Sunlight would be capable of political manipulation and treason. She had always doubted his guilt, but there was nothing she could do and, despite her father’s efforts to gain clemency from the king for her grandfather, he died alone and unvisited. To have someone arrive on her doorstep after fifteen years claiming to have known him was a miracle, if there were such events, and even though logic clearly showed that the visitor was far too young to have known her grandfather a yearning part of her heart wanted to believe it to be true. She wanted a magical explanation for the stranger’s unheralded appearance, one like the stories her grandfather shared with her when she was little about heroes and magical events. She wanted her grandfather to have magically survived all the intervening years against the odds.
Sunlight the Seer knew about magic. He secretly told his granddaughter how he had access to magical items in the Jarudhan temple, although he never brought any home to show her. ‘They belong to Jarudha,’ he explained, ‘and it would be wrong to borrow them, even to show you, my precious child.’ She witnessed the acts of magic performed by the Seers in public venues as part of their worship to Jarudha, and she marvelled that her grandfather held so important a position in the city. She idolised him. The news of his death in the Royal Gaol left emptiness in her heart that took years to heal. If only there was magic in the young man’s visit, and not some cruel hoax by one of her business competitors.
Crystal tightened the laces on her favourite blue tunic before going downstairs to the lounge. The servant girl, Apple, was dusting the furniture. Crystal greeted her and headed towards the passage to the stairs and the house’s lower level where the kitchen and storerooms were located. She passed the kitchen, acknowledging Cook who was chopping carrots, and exited through the servant entry door onto the grassed area atop the cliff overlooking the bay.
Prisoner of Fate Page 19
