It will not wait, and neither will we!
Stifling a groan, he threw back his blankets and left the warmth and comfort of his bed. The cold bit into his shivering limbs as he stepped beyond the protection of the bed curtains, and his mood soured a little more. Damn the serpents. Could they not see that permitting Konrad to rest comfortably abed made for a far better Solstice gift than anything else?
How far are we going?
Not far, said Ootapi.
Probably not as far as the Bone Forest, then, in which case he would not need his most robust attire. He chose heavy black trousers and a thick cotton shirt, a woollen waistcoat to put over it, and his favourite crimson-lined winter coat. Fine black boots, a long cloak and his top hat completed the ensemble, and he was ready to depart.
Lead on, he said briefly, not troubling to disguise his lack of enthusiasm.
The serpents sailed away, and Konrad fell into step behind them. He paused only to snatch up a pair of black wool gloves on his way out of the house, and then they were away into the streets of Ekamet, exposed to all the delights of a dark night enlivened by a persistent snowfall.
It is cold, Konrad informed his detested servants, wishing that he had thought to pick up a scarf.
Try being dead, Ootapi suggested. We do not feel the cold at all!
A fantastic suggestion.
Ootapi, as impervious to the nuances of sarcasm as he was to the cold, rippled with pleasure.
I cannot help suspecting that our Master would be displeased, however, Konrad continued. A dead Malykant is of little use to anybody.
When you have finished being the Malykant, then, Ootapi amended.
We will kill you ourselves, if you like, Eetapi chimed in. It will not hurt at all!
If this is your idea of helping, I dread to imagine your notion of a gift.
You will love it, Eetapi promised again, and Konrad sighed.
You said it was not far? They had traversed several streets already — curiously bustling streets, considering the lateness of the hour and the season. Should not all these fine people be in somebody’s home, sitting by a roaring fire and indulging in too much food? Or tucked up in bed with a book and a glass of brandy…
The serpents swerved left without warning, so rapidly that Konrad almost overshot the turn. He hastily adjusted his direction, and found himself ducking under the lintel of a shop. A liquor shop, he soon observed, which seemed to add insult to injury, for had they truly dragged their poor master away from the fine brandy he had already been enjoying in order to acquire more?
So absorbed by his grievances was he, it took a moment for him to realise that it was far too late for the shop to be open, especially at Solstice. A second look revealed that the door had been forced open.
Then the serpents began to emit an eerie, pallid glow, lighting up the dark shop, and there stretched out upon the counter was a man.
He was a decade or so Konrad’s senior, as far as could be judged under such conditions: perhaps in his mid-forties, his cheeks mottled with the reddish hue of a regular drinker. He was plump and bald, dressed in a rather luxurious wine-red silk waistcoat, full-sleeved shirt and brown wool trousers.
He was also very dead, judging from the fact that half of his throat was missing.
When you spoke of a gift, Konrad said, I did not imagine that you meant another job. This is work!
Talk to him! Eetapi frisked about in the air over the man’s rigid corpse, gambolling like a delighted child. He is wonderful!
She did not wait for his response. She and Ootapi instantly caught up the unravelling shreds of the man’s sundered spirit and bound them back into his body. A shudder went through the corpse, and he blinked once.
Konrad stood over him, trying not to look too closely at the mess of the man’s torn-out throat. ‘Good evening,’ he said gravely.
The dead wine merchant smiled. The movement caused his broken throat to sag horribly, leaking blood, and Konrad hastily averted his eyes. ‘Evening! Come for a spot of toddy to warm up the night, have you? I’ve got everything you could want, sir, everything! You’ll probably want the best, I should think.’ The merchant folded his hands comfortably over his blood-soaked waistcoat and beamed at Konrad.
‘I haven’t come to make a purchase,’ said Konrad, mystified. Did the man not realise he had died?
‘Just as well,’ said the merchant, with unimpaired cheer. ‘I would have trouble assisting you like this, wouldn’t I? I’d better not get up. Ain’t proper to make your acquaintance like this — ought to stand up, oughtn’t I? But I’d hate to bleed on your cloak.’ The man touched a finger to his torn throat. ‘Has it stopped bleeding?’
‘Almost,’ murmured Konrad. The man was probably mad, he decided. Nobody reacted so cheerfully to their own death. ‘What is your name?’
Normally he had to compel the recently deceased to speak much; they were in too much shock to co-operate without interference. But the merchant said jovially: ‘Illya Vasily. Proprietor of fine wines, spirits, liquors of all kinds — the finest in Ekamet! Ask anybody!’
Konrad cleared his throat. ‘And, um, Mr. Vasily… how did you come to be deceased?’
‘There I can’t help you.’ Vasily drummed his fingers against his silk-clad belly, and hummed a few bars of a popular ditty. ‘Man came in earlier tonight, just as I was about to leave. All locked up and everything. Wanted to make a last-minute purchase, he said, for a Solstice gift, and who was I to refuse? It’s Solstice! So I made to get him a bottle of Kayesiri claret — that being what he’d asked for — and… now I’m as you see me.’
There were a few details missing from the story. Konrad began his questions. ‘What did this man look like?’
‘Couldn’t tell you. He was wrapped up even tighter than you, all bundled up against the cold. Red scarf around his neck, covered half his face. All dark clothing.’
‘What did he do to you?’
I don’t know, sir. Can’t rightly remember.’
A shame, but not unusual. It was the mind’s way, sometimes, to erase from its records anything it found too shocking, too traumatic, too difficult to cope with. Violence resulting in death certainly qualified. ‘How did you come to be laid out upon the bar, like this?’
‘Can’t tell you that, either!’ Vasily smiled ruefully, and shrugged his meaty shoulders. ‘I wasn’t rightly aware of much until you woke me up. Good of you, by the way.’ He nodded to Konrad, and — more interestingly — to the serpents who floated above. Usually they terrified people, especially the newly dead, but Vasily was as cheerfully unconcerned by their eerie, frigid presence as he was by his own demise.
‘It was not done as a service to you,’ Konrad felt obliged to admit. ‘I am charged with finding your killer.’
‘The Malykant, is it?’ Vasily regarded Konrad with new interest. ‘Never thought I would meet you, that’s for sure! But pleasure, pleasure! Good to make your acquaintance! I hope you find him.’
‘I will,’ Konrad promised. Let him go, he ordered the serpents.
But Vasily seemed to sense that his brief revival was over, for he held up a plump hand. ‘May I make a request? Seeing as it’s Solstice.’
Konrad sighed inwardly. He probably wanted to be brought back to life, somehow; it wouldn’t be the first time a newly expired ghost had asked for that. And it was Solstice! Of course, he would be asked such a thing on such a day, when it was especially sad to have to refuse.
‘I couldn’t… stay, could I?’ said Vasily. ‘I shan’t mind being dead, but I’d rather not be parted from my shop, all the same.’
Konrad was too surprised to speak right away. Here was a new request. A ghost who wanted to remain a ghost? Who preferred to linger, sundered from his mortal body? Usually they were in a hurry to move on; to leave behind a world they could no longer share in, a world they were otherwise condemned to drift always upon the edges of, always cold, always alone.
‘You do not wish for justice?’ Konrad final
ly said.
‘Yes I do! Deliver that justice, by all means, and my thanks for it! Only don’t send me away!’
‘I… will see what I can do.’ Here was new territory; Konrad was not at all sure he could contrive to do both at once. But it was Solstice…
Illya Vasily beamed upon him. ‘Talk to my cousin,’ he recommended. ‘I don’t know why, but I feel she could probably tell you something about all of this.’
A vague and unlikely lead, but better than nothing. ‘What is your cousin’s name?’
‘Kristina Vasily. She owns a couple of warehouses by the docks. I use her premises all the time.’
Vasily. It occurred to Konrad, belatedly, that it was a name he was not unaware of. ‘Big merchant family, yours?’
‘Oh, yes! Quite the network! You’ll find out, I’m sure.’ Vasily winked at Konrad. ‘All right, I suppose my time is up, isn’t it? Solstice greetings to all of you! Enjoy your fires, your dinners and above all, your wines! Enjoy them double, for me!’
The serpents released Vasily’s soul, and his corpse went back to being just a corpse. Konrad regarded the inert body with regret.
Isn’t he wonderful? sighed Eetapi. No one is ever so cheerful about death!
How did you know? He said himself, he has been insensible since the moment of his death until now.
It’s the way his spirit resonates, Eetapi answered incomprehensibly. Such merry vibrations! Never have we seen the like!
Konrad judged it best not to enquire further. Eetapi, let Nuritov know about this, he instructed. Ootapi, with me. Inspector Nuritov would not be best pleased to be interrupted on such an evening, but somebody had to deal with poor Vasily’s corpse, and that was a job for the police.
His job was a little different. Steeling himself, for he had never before had to carve open the body of so friendly and chatty a ghost, Konrad applied his knives to Illya Vasily’s vacated corpse and extracted a single, thick rib bone. This he carefully wrapped, and stored inside his coat for later use.
Finding a way to dispatch Vasily’s killer without also dispatching Vasily’s ghost into the Malykt’s care would be impossible; the two had to occur together. But he had not had the heart to admit that to Vasily.
So your idea of a Solstice gift is an unusually challenging job, with next to no leads. Konrad made for the door, donning his gloves once more.
No! Eetapi sounded disgusted with him. A man who is not afraid of death! Who can greet his own demise with equanimity, and optimism! Is that not an example of true Solstice cheer?
The serpents could do with an education about Solstice, Konrad thought. Somehow, he did not feel that their interpretation of Solstice Spirit was likely to be much taken up.
Chapter Two
Konrad tried to convince himself that he was free to postpone the next stage of the investigation until the morning. It was Solstice Eve, after all. Not only was he entitled to revel in the joys of the season himself; those whom he needed to speak to were likely to be busy doing exactly that. Would they welcome a visit from a stranger bearing ill-news, on such a night?
He could not carry these ideas very far. For all that his fireside and his bed might beckon, a man had died tonight, and violently. Could he be certain that the person responsible had now completed their brutal errands, and had no further targets in mind? Of course he couldn’t. Proceed he must.
But how? Vasily had not appeared to know of anyone who might wish him harm; he’d had no notion whatsoever as to the identity of his killer. What had he meant by pointing Konrad in his cousin’s direction? He could not mean to imply that Kristina Vasily might have had something to do with his death, surely? If she had, she had not carried out the crime herself. Illya Vasily had described a man… though could he be certain of that? Yes, for the person had spoken, ordered claret. It would not be easy to mistake a woman’s voice for a man’s.
I wonder, thought Konrad vaguely, what became of the claret?
Warehouses by the docks. Kristina Vasily would not be at her warehouses at such a time of night, surely? She would be at home, with her family. Konrad could not follow her there. Having no official, public role as an investigator had its drawbacks; he was not part of the police force, he could not simply present himself on somebody’s doorstep late at night and expect them to co-operate with him. Nor could he be the person to share the news of her cousin’s death with Kristina Vasily, and therefore, how could he ask her if she knew anything about it?
He would relay this suggestion to Nuritov. The Inspector knew of Konrad’s identity as the Malykant, as of recently. To Konrad’s surprise, and secret pleasure, Nuritov had altogether failed to baulk at the news, or to condemn Konrad for it. Instead, he had accepted this insight into Konrad’s life with a mixture of calm unflappability and characteristic curiosity. True, the fact that Konrad interested himself in murder investigations was not news to him; this was how they had become friends in the first place. But he had taken the rest well.
It was useful as well as reassuring, for now Konrad could share the burdens of his investigations more freely with Nuritov, and vice versa. It was almost like having a partner.
So, Kristina Vasily was Nuritov’s territory. What did that leave for him?
Ootapi? Have you suggestions?
Yes, said the serpent promptly.
Konrad waited, but nothing followed.
Well?
The snake was behaving oddly, floating back and forth over the door of Vasily’s shop like a streamer caught in the wind. Konrad watched these antics for a few moments, until Ootapi let his manifestation fade into nothing, and vanished from sight.
There is a trail, he finally reported. A scent, a vibration.
A what?
A disturbance in the aether. Something has torn through here…
You did not notice this on the way in? Konrad growled something inarticulate. If this “trail” had been left by the person who slew Vasily, they should have followed it at once. They might have caught up with him already!
It was not here earlier, replied Ootapi, and that brought Konrad up short.
You mean this was done while we were in the shop?
Yes.
Hm. Then it was either unrelated, or… Vasily’s killer had lurked outside while Konrad was within.
Let’s follow it, shall we? Lead on.
Ootapi gave a mental salute and took off, and Konrad fell into step behind, musing. This disturbance in the aether, what did that mean? It certainly was not usual for any killer to leave such a trail behind, or to have any such effect upon their environment. If this was the doing of Vasily’s killer, he might be unaware that he was doing it at all. If he was, and he had indeed lingered outside the shop… perhaps he intended that Konrad and Ootapi should follow.
Suspicion and paranoia… Konrad was becoming far too adept at both. He dismissed the idea from his mind — mostly. It would not hurt to take some care.
Ootapi gathered speed, soaring overhead with the swiftness of a bird. Konrad hoped that the trail might lead them away from the centre of Ekamet and its busier streets, but no such luck: he was forced to push and dodge his way through crowds of smiling, red-cheeked passersby, and felt in danger of losing Ootapi any moment. The serpent was excited, deaf to Konrad’s pleas to slow his pace.
‘Konrad?’
The voice was familiar, and dear. Konrad stopped dead, Ootapi forgotten, for Nanda stood before him. She was wrapped in a warm blue coat, a dark scarf encircling her throat, a woollen hat covering her pale blonde hair. She held a bag bulging with parcels in one hand.
Konrad grabbed her free arm and set off once more. ‘There’s trouble!’
‘But it’s Solstice—’
‘Season of Joy and Cheer, I know. But not everybody can keep it up quite all the time.’
‘There’s been a killing?’
‘You don’t truly believe people will refrain from hacking each other to pieces just because it’s Solstice, do you?’
‘I suppo
se not.’ Nanda trotted along behind him in silence after that, leaving Konrad to wonder why he had dragged her along. Some mad impulse. Poor Nanda, he ought to let her get back to her celebrating. Just because he had to be out chasing killers all nigh—
He stopped, because a woman lay sprawled in the street and he had almost run over her. Her enthusiasm for the season had perhaps got out of hand, for she was decked in sprigs of holly and everything about her was red: her coat, her hat and shawl, her gloves, dress, shoes… and the blood that soaked the front of her clothing, from her torn-out throat down to her waist.
‘Oh!’ Nanda came to an abrupt halt beside him, her toes only inches from the woman’s out-flung arm. She stared down at the body in wide-eyed horror, and Konrad bitterly regretted whatever whim had prompted him to bring her along.
‘Sorry, Nan,’ he sighed, and knelt by the woman’s head. The blood still flowed; she had not been dead for long. Ootapi, bind her up.
Nanda collected herself and approached the crowd of horrified onlookers who were beginning to gather; Konrad heard her soothing people, asking if anyone had seen anything. His feelings turned about again, and he was glad he had her close. She was eternally reliable.
Of course, the crowd was slightly inconvenient. He couldn’t very well compel a visibly slaughtered woman to start talking, not with such an audience at hand. Not if he wanted to maintain the secrecy of his position as the Malykant, anyway, and that was vital.
He would have to do it the more difficult way.
Ootapi, keep her mouth shut.
The serpent obeyed. The woman’s eyes lost the staring look of death, filling with character and a semblance of life once more, and fixed upon Konrad. He gazed back, taking note of the lines about her eyes and mouth, her grey hair: she was older than Vasily, much older.
Speak, he ordered her. Not aloud. What happened to you?
She blinked slowly, twice, and tried to move, but Ootapi had her bound fast. I do not understand. Is something amiss? Have I fainted?
Konrad winced inwardly. Once in a while, he encountered someone whose death had come upon them so swiftly, so unexpectedly, they failed to realise it had happened at all. He did not relish having to break such news. He never knew how to do so gently.
Death's Avenger- The Malykant Mysteries, Volume 2 Page 12
