by C S Vass
“What are you—”
“It wasn’t random,” Shifter interrupted. “There were Tellosian moneylenders in the bar. Prominent ones. Their deaths will send a message.”
“So who killed them? The Forgotten?”
“Perhaps.”
“I should have known better than to try to squeeze information from a godling,” Fiona complained. “What do you want from me Shifter? If you only found me to tell me something about Rodrick, then tell me and be gone.”
“Very well,” Shifter said, rather somberly. “Not that it matters, but Rodrick is still serving the Vaentysh Boys. They’ve been inactive for quite a time, but they are plotting something. I don’t know much, but I believe that they may be searching for some kind of weapon. Only…”
“Only what?”
“It’s unclear. The Tellosian government believes that they may be trying to permanently leave Tellos.”
Fiona let the words linger, trying to detect any emotion in them. There was none she could decipher.
“They are of course wrong,” Shifter continued. “The Vaentysh Boys will not abandon their quest to restore Tellos to the days of old. They’re certainly up to something, though what it is I can’t be sure.”
Fiona bit her lip. She wanted desperately to believe that this was a lead that she could follow through to the end, but her disappointments had piled up around her like corpses on a battlefield over the last two years. She no longer had the optimism of her youth.
“Shifter, was Rodrick responsible for that explosion? Either directly or indirectly?”
Shifter turned his back and paced around the room. “Directly, certainly not. Indirectly…who am I to say? The smallest actions in this world are as rainwater on fertile soil. The drops cannot always see the seeds that wait beneath the earth. I would venture a guess that whoever did it hates the presence of Tellosian moneylenders in the city which would give them a common enemy with the Vaentysh Boys. But there are many who share those sentiments these days.”
“I see.” Fiona sighed. There would be no easy answers from the godling. That much was certain. “So how bad is it? Can Sun Circle handle what’s happening?”
“That remains to be seen. Sandra certainly has a much different game to play than her father ever did, and I’m not sure that anybody could have properly prepared her for what she now faces. But surely you didn’t want to come here and discuss such matters of state.”
“I suppose not,” Fiona said.
“I will not force you into politics when you’ve gone through such extensive efforts to get away. However, Fiona, I will ask you to do one thing that I know you won’t be happy about.”
“Oh?”
“Speak with Sasha. She’s not well, Fiona. She needs you.”
Fiona felt as if another explosion had gone off at the mention of Sasha’s name. She had to struggle against her own instinct to ask how her old friend was doing and find out what was so wrong that Shifter and Donyo felt the need to bring it up after everything that had happened.
She hardened her heart.
“I think not. I’m sure whatever she’s going through, Sasha can handle it.”
“Very well,” Shifter’s voice had changed. It was still that of an adult, but became softer and more feminine. “I will respect your privacy while you are here, but I have to issue you this warning at least. You must be careful with your plans. I’ve made a point not to monitor you, but all the same I know of the path you walk. It is not a road that you can turn back from once you go too far.”
Air rushed from Fiona’s nose like a bull. Nothing ever changed here. She still had no trust from anyone. “Speak plainly,” she said. “I’m too tired to parse through your riddles, Shifter.”
Shifter’s shadow on the wall grew longer as the blue light above them intensified. The soft, feminine voice turned old and hard like the gnarled root of an ancient oak. It was a voice eerily similar to the crone Suomo’s.
“The manjeko is not for you, Fiona,” Shifter warned. “You do not understand the powers that you’re meddling with. You are not meant to contend with such dark forces. I implore you, leave it be and seek other methods of achieving your goals.”
Fiona slowly approached. She was a good two heads taller than Shifter and looked down upon the godling through eyes that burned like green fire. “So much for taking your pains not to monitor me,” she said with mild disgust. “I plan on minding my own business while I’m in Haygarden, Shifter. I suggest you and the rest of the rat’s nest of a court in Sun Circle follow my example, and we’ll all be the better off for it.”
Shifter nodded. There was nothing more to say.
Later that day Fiona turned over all the information she had learned in her mind. It was clear that her access to court was going to be limited. So be it, she wanted nothing to do with the command of Sun Circle anyway.
Still, with the manjeko not working properly she needed to find some way to search for Rodrick. What if he was behind the rune-bomb explosion and this was her one chance to find something out? But where to turn? Smiley and the Tellosians he represented seemed to need her far more than she needed them.
Then it dawned on her. Perhaps most of the organizations in the city were unable to help her, but there was one new element in Haygarden that had started building a reputation for itself. It was a long shot, but someone might know something and finding out was better than sitting around waiting for Rodrick to burst in through her front door.
* * *
Not fifteen minutes later Fiona moved down the streets of the Stone District as discreetly as a passing shadow. The rain from earlier had stopped, but the air was still wet and cold and dirty slush piled the streets. Her hood was pulled over her head and to anyone watching she was just another anonymous cloak crawling through the labyrinth of Haygarden’s poor district.
They tend to congregate at a filthy little tavern here in the Stone District—The Spotted Weasel. That was what Donyo had said. She stopped and approached a beggar-woman who was slumped against a building.
“I need to find the Spotted Weasel,” Fiona said. She flipped the woman a piece of silver from Smiley and at once her eyes turned as round as the coin she had just received.
“Down this road until you reach the tanner’s shop. Make a right and continue on. It’s on the left, but keep a steady eye out. It’s easy to miss.”
Fiona nodded and before continuing on her way decided to chance a question. “What can you tell me about the Forgotten?”
The old woman stared at her blankly and then spit on the ground. Fiona nearly walked away when the beggar said, “Cut-throats and murderers. You’re just a young thing. You go down to that place and ask about them and they’ll end up selling you for parts. Go home, girl. You don’t want what they have to offer. What brings you there? Drumba? I can help you find an easier way than going through them boys.”
Fiona simply tossed the woman another coin and continued on her way. In a city with so many factions and no way to know where a person’s loyalties lay it was better not to linger.
She followed the instructions and eventually found herself coming upon a plain wooden house with piles of snow covering the walkway. Attached to a support beam was a hastily made sign with a worn picture of a weasel that probably once named the tavern but now the only visible letters were the large S and W above the weasel’s head.
Fiona pushed the door open and immediately felt a blast of heat as she stepped inside. She found herself in a room that was surprisingly comfortable given the dingy outside appearance. There were couches sprawled around a large stone fire-pit dug into the floor. Garlic, onions, and an assortment of herbs hung from the ceiling behind the large wrap-around bar in the far corner of the room.
Not entirely sure what she was doing, Fiona approached the bar. A woman with sharp blue eyes, a thin mouth, and curly blonde hair nodded while she cleaned a mug. “What’s your poison?”
Fiona smiled. “Something a little harder to get most p
laces,” she said.
The barmaid rolled her eyes. “New in town I take it? Well we do everything by the books here in the Spotted Weasel. We don’t just let any filth that stumbles in from the street take the run of the place.”
Fiona placed a piece of Smiley’s silver on the table, making a mental note to ease up on using them in the future. “I can respect that.”
The woman picked up the silver and bit it. “Silver’s clean, but are you?”
“Watch yourself,” Fiona said. “I like to play nice, but I know other games too.”
The barmaid shrugged. “Whatever you say. I’ll let the lot downstairs figure out what to do with you. Cause any problems and Brandon will feed you to the dogs before feeding you to the dogs if you understand me.”
“Like I said, I can play nice,” Fiona said.
The barmaid tapped a quick rhythm on the bar. “Go tap that on the wall yonder. A doorknob will appear and you can go in. Understand?”
Fiona nodded and moved towards the wall. She quickly repeated the rhythm, and a circular golden doorknob slowly poked out. She gripped it with her hand and pushed to reveal a staircase that descended downward into a stone cellar.
It was time to meet the Forgotten.
Chapter Five
The tunnel extended downward and then opened up into a circular stone chamber with a dark wooden floor. Torches placed in metal sconces lined the walls casting shadows from the two-dozen people in the room in multiple directions. Red drapes cut with cloth-of-gold hung from the ceiling between the fires and gave the area an ambience of comfort. The smell of something sour lingered in pinkish fumes throughout the room, blown in thick clouds from the ends of long curved pipes.
Nobody paid much mind to Fiona as she walked down. A group of men were rolling dice on the opposite side of the room. Most folks were by themselves, smoking in peace. It was immediately obvious who was running the operation.
He was wearing a fine blue woolen tunic and simple woodland-green cloak overtop it. His brown eyes found her, and he nodded for Fiona to come over. He had a plain face with a large curved nose and pale skin. On the table in front of him was a dangerously sharp blade caked in blood.
“I don’t remember seeing you around the campfire before,” he said.
“I don’t often go camping,” Fiona replied.
“Always a first time for everything.” His voice was thick, but not unkind. Fiona found him all around a hard man to read as his face betrayed no expression and his eyes no emotion. “What’s your name?”
“Fiona. And you are?”
“Brandon. So tell me, Fiona, why have you come to our cozy little cave?”
“I’m looking for somebody, and I’d like to recruit the help of your organization. Perhaps we can go somewhere a little more private to discuss this?”
Brandon smiled but his eyes were as lifeless as the wood on the table between them. “What exactly do you have to offer, Fiona, that I would care to undertake such an endeavor?” He looked her up and down, eyes crawling over her in a way that made her feel like her clothes were being stripped away. “You know, I have to sample everything that we offer to customers here. Can’t have our reputation in jeopardy because of lower quality products.”
She took a knife out from inside of her cloak and slammed it so that it stuck into the table, then placed a piece of silver beside it.
“I think myself a fair woman, Brandon,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “But not one to be intimidated and especially not one to be insulted. I’m coming to you with a business opportunity. So you can treat me like a potential business partner, or I can hang your ball sack from the ceiling. So which will it be? Silver or steel?”
To her surprise Brandon smiled. “Very well, Fiona. I can respect that you didn’t come here to sell yourself for a hit of drumba and a spot by the fire. I apologize if I’ve given offense. Let us speak somewhere a little more privately. Daelin!”
A sleepy-eyed man with large hulking shoulders came forward.
“Watch the room.”
Daelin nodded.
“You may follow me, Fiona,” Brandon said, and swept away. Fiona followed him into a small back room where he sat behind a table that had some weighing scales and several assorted piles of gold and silver.
“Please, make yourself comfortable.” He gestured to the plush cushioned chair opposite his own. From beneath his desk he found a jug of wine and poured two long thin glasses full of pale pink liquid.
Uneasily she took her seat and the wine. It was very sweet. She still didn’t know what to make of Brandon, but nothing he had done had left her feeling particularly optimistic about the prospect of working with him.
“You’ll have to forgive my rudeness earlier,” Brandon said as he relaxed his hands gently into each other. “I’ve grown overly accustomed to working with a certain type of scoundrel.”
The words rang hollow to Fiona. She knew better than to trust this man. But that didn’t mean he might not be of use.
“I’ve traveled a long way and I’m a bit cranky,” Fiona said. “So forgive me, but I’d like to be blunt.”
This time Brandon’s eyes did smile with his lips. “By all means.”
“I’m looking for somebody and I’d like to recruit the help of the Forgotten in finding him.”
Brandon sipped his wine. When he placed it down Fiona noticed there was not a speck of dirt to be found on his long spider-like fingers. “Who might you be looking for? A lost lover? Or someone who betrayed you, and now you seek revenge? Perhaps both of those answers are correct.”
“I’m looking for Rodrick Sacrosin, previous Commander of the Brightbows under Duke Redfire until the Vaentysh rebellion two years ago. I will pay well to have him brought to me alive.”
“Alive, is it?” Brandon’s tongue traced his upper lip after he spoke. “Very well. Now tell me, can you afford us?”
Fiona thought of Smiley. Officially he had offered her a passport, but surely a Tellosian agent would pay well for Rodrick Sacrosin’s head? She would cross that bridge when she came to it. “I assure you, Brandon, I can afford it.”
He laughed at that and took a long gulp of wine, finishing his glass before pouring himself another. “Well, one might think that the little sister of Rodrick Sacrosin would have inherited enough money to pay for such a thing. It’s unfortunate for you, however, that I’m quite aware that after Rodrick’s…shifting of loyalties, shall we say, his younger sister, one Fiona Sacrosin, disappeared into obscurity and poverty.”
She gave him her coldest, hardest stare. He laughed again.
“Come now, surely you didn’t think to come here and find a brain-dead den of thugs? The Forgotten are not run-of-the-mill crooks, Fiona. I’ve been expecting you ever since you returned to Haygarden and your little experiment with that false sorceress went sour. Yes, I know about that too. Don’t worry, I couldn’t care less. All that has shown me is how desperate you are to find your brother.”
“You’ve been following me!”
“Obviously. I follow a great many matters of importance in Haygarden. Oh, don’t give me that look just because I’ve caught you off-guard. You owe me something after all. Why do you think the Vaentysh Boys didn’t come back in droves after Duke Redfire’s death? Do you not realize how their supporters have swelled here after the presence of the Empire became felt by the everyday people?”
“Are you trying to tell me you’ve been keeping the Vaentysh Boys at bay?”
“Why would you doubt it? It’s true that they are a group of fanatics and low-lives, but even so before they foolishly tried to take the city the Vaentysh Boys controlled much of the underground markets now run by the Forgotten. It would not do to have them come back and try to make their coin in the shadows where we now operate.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to stalk me in my own city.”
“Fiona, the only thing that gives anyone the right to do anything is force. Especially now. You needn’t worry. It seem
s I’ve agitated you by revealing what I know. I simply wanted to say that you needn’t try to trick or scam me—surely you had some half-baked plan to acquire the proper coin to pay us for Rodrick. But you don’t have it and you won’t get it, so let me save you the trouble.”
“Why see me then?” Fiona demanded. “Why not just tell me to get lost the second I showed my face if you’re so all-knowing?”
Brandon clapped his hands together and laughed. “I said you were penniless, not useless. I know you have friends in this city though you may be hesitant to go and see them. The Fiona Sacrosin I’ve heard rumors about has access.”
“Access? Access to what?”
“Sun Circle,” Brandon said. “Let’s put all pretense behind us for the moment, Fiona. I don’t want your money, the Forgotten has ways of acquiring that on our own. What I want is information. Particularly, I want information on a fat sod named Donyo Brownwater.”
Fiona kept her face a mask. “I don’t have access to Sun Circle any more than the common peasant,” she said. “But I assure you, I will pay you well if you help me find Rodrick. I can give—”
“Enough!” Brandon raised his hands, and for the first time since she entered the room he did not look amused. Incense from a scented stick on his desk wafted around his head giving him a frightening aura. “Let me be clear. You cannot pay. Not any amount would do because I don’t want your money. I want to know what Donyo Brownwater has been working on.”
“What?” Fiona was unsure what was being asked of her. How was she supposed to know what Donyo had been up to besides drowning his liver for the last two years?
“I don’t have a clue what Donyo’s been up to,” Fiona said.
“You better find out. I know you were close with him once. There are rumors coming from my people that he is working on something powerful and important. Something that could disrupt the power dynamics here in Haygarden and beyond. I must know about such things! I would not accept a mountain of gold from you in exchange for Rodrick, Fiona, because you may be my sole connection to discovering what that man is doing.”
