Tangle of Thornes

by Lorel Clayton

  “I thought you would want my information. If I was mistaken, I’ll go.” He turned away.

  “Wait.”

  Duane stopped, but kept his back to me.

  I told Erick, “Sorry. Give me a moment.”

  “Who is he?” Erick sounded angry, probably as frustrated as me by the interruption.

  “An old and annoying acquaintance. I’ll be right back.” I stepped on a fragment of broken plate but managed to avoid any more obstacles on my way over. Duane could have moved about the room without making a sound, so he had crunched the piece of glass to get my attention.

  “Any sign of Nanny?” I asked.

  He and Erick traded glares. “I don’t like talking in front of people I don’t know.”

  “Erick is Viktor’s friend from the Slave Quarter.”

  “Is he? Your brother mentioned someone obliquely, but we haven’t met before. I didn’t know he was so old.”

  “He’s not old. He’s mature and responsible and a lot of things you’re unfamiliar with. You can trust him, not that he’ll hear much all the way over there if you keep whispering. Now, speak already.” I tapped my foot, a sure sign my patience was about to be exhausted.

  “The Circle’s wagons are on their way out of the city,” he steadfastly kept to a whisper.

  “But they still have slaves to sell at market tomorrow. You said they wouldn’t leave for another day!”

  “I said ‘no more than a day’. Your favorite, Randall, has remained behind with a caged wagon to oversee the sale.” Duane’s tone was not as friendly as it had been that morning. I hadn’t been any ruder to him than usual, so Erick’s presence must have annoyed him for some reason.

  “And you’re sure Nanny wasn’t with them?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Then she must be on that ship. If they’ve left, then it’s not going to be here much longer either.”

  I hoped Conrad had managed to get a writ to search the boat. I should have insisted on going with him. I could be persuasive when needed, but it was unlikely the magistrate would have listened to a refugee girl from the Outskirts no matter what I said. Markham and even Conrad had a certain amount of respectability, because of their defined places in Highcrowne society, which I lacked.

  At least, I’d learned to negotiate that society without being stepped on too hard. How much worse for a human without wealth or connections? I tried to imagine what had been like for Duane, surviving here without family, even a hated one. Of course, he had hitched himself to my brother’s star the first opportunity he got. I pushed any sympathy for Duane out of my head.

  “Bell hasn’t been able to get aboard,” he said. “I could kill my way past the goblin mercenaries, but it would draw a lot of attention from the Guard.”

  He was serious. He thought he could take on a brigade of goblins? I knew Jorg was capable of it, but Duane was suffering from delusions.

  “Conrad is working on it,” I said. “Best if you keep your dagger in your trousers for now.”

  “I should take care of that matter we discussed,” Erick said, interrupting. “If you will excuse me, my lady?” He headed for the door.

  “Don’t go.”

  Erick stopped, but he wasn’t looking at me. He and Duane were still assessing one another, and the atmosphere was tense.

  I dug Kali’s documents out of my belt pouch. “I need you to look at these too. They must be forgeries, and I’d like to know how they’re doing it. Duane and I think the slavers are taking refugees off the streets, marking them and forging their papers before sending them on an eastbound ship.”

  “Duane thinks so?”

  “It’s the Adder,” Duane corrected him.

  “Ah. Now I can put a face to the name. Viktor was very fond of you,” Erick said.

  “And he hardly mentioned you at all, not without going quiet. I could tell he was keeping secrets.” Duane’s disappointed statue face was back.

  “My secrets,” Erick told him. “He was a faithful friend.”

  “There’s something else.” I knew I was being annoying, making shameless use of everyone around me, but whatever was happening was bigger than me, and I would take whatever help I could get. “Can I have the amulet?”

  Erick drew back slightly. “Why? It will not locate Madam Olinov.”

  “I know that. The slavers tore this place apart looking for something. It’s obviously not here. Perhaps the amulet will help me find what they couldn’t.”

  He reached into his bag and brought out the hemlock pendant again. “It is a dangerous object. If damaged, the power used to create it is released, and it can injure anyone nearby. I don’t want you harmed, Eva.”

  “And I want to find out why Viktor was killed.” I snatched it out of his hand. “I’ll be careful. Now, tell me how it works.”

  He took it back from me and said a few words. The wood immediately grew orange, like a coal in a fire, and smelled of smoke.

  “It’s not going to burst into flame, is it?” I took a small step away.

  “I invoked it is all. Viktor has been in this spot, which is why it is reacting so strongly. Do not worry, the heat and smell will vanish as soon as you go where Viktor has not been.”

  “He’s been everywhere in this neighborhood,” Duane said.

  “It might be useless.” I was disappointed. How would I be able to tell if Viktor had gone somewhere to buy groceries or to hide something secretly?

  “It only shows recent activity. A week at best,” Erick said. “That makes it somewhat easier to interpret.”

  “Viktor has been gone almost a week now,” Duane pointed out.

  A week? I couldn’t believe it. Time was expanding between us. Memories of my brother were still so fresh in my mind. Would they start to fade now, like the amulet’s ability to track him? Would I forget where he had been and who he was? I didn’t want to forget.

  “Then this may be your last chance to discover what he was hiding.” Erick carefully placed the amulet on my palm.

  It wasn’t hot as a coal, but it was warm. I put it in my pouch and felt the heat against my hip bone. “Thank you.”

  Erick surprised me by taking my face in his hands and kissing me deeply. It was not like a Solhan gentleman to display affection so publicly. He pulled away, leaving me smiling, and cast his eyes triumphantly at Duane. I got it—this was male territory marking. I was no one’s territory, but I didn’t mind the effort.

  “I must go now.” He pulled the hood over his head and swept down the steps and out the front door.

  When Erick had gone, Duane didn’t speak. He leaned against the archway, arms folded, waiting for something. Why didn’t he leave already?

  Duane could be silent, and it was too quiet in the house without Kali and Nanny arguing. Where was Kali? I felt a flutter of panic, worried she had been taken as well, and hurried up the stairs to look for her, but a glimpse in her room showed she was still sleeping.

  I was exhausted and wished I could go back to bed as well, but there was too much to do. I thought about leaving a note so she wouldn’t worry when she awoke, but she wouldn’t be able to read it. Instead, I grabbed a mealy biscuit from the larder in the kitchen—it gave me warm and fuzzy memories of jail food—and went back down the stairs. Duane was still waiting for me.

  “Thanks for the information. You can go now,” I told him.

  “I don’t like Erick. You could do better,” he said, butting into my life uninvited, as usual.

  “Who? You? You had your chance.” Why had I said that? It was stupid.

  He gaped. “You were twelve. And Viktor’s sister. Your brother would have killed me!”

  “Thirteen. And you could have at least kissed me back.”

  “I thought I did.”

  I didn’t remember it that way. I was embarrassed to remember it at all, but I’d had a crush on Duane once. He was older, and I followed him everywhere, pretending I only wanted to hang out with Viktor. I was so distraught when I found out I
would be sent away to boarding school, I spent days planning how to say goodbye. The first time we were alone, I cornered him, confessed my feelings and threw myself at him. My first kiss. It was nice too—before he pushed me away. The humiliation was overwhelming, but I managed to forget all about him by the time I came home again for the end of year holiday.

  It wasn’t because I’d been spurned at a tender age that I hated Duane. I wasn’t that childish. I grew up and learned what he was, saw him working with my uncle, saw him beating up other boys in the street, and the first day Karolyne opened her tavern he swaggered in asking for his cut. I soon realized how fortunate I’d been to get over my crush.

  I stared at him coldly.

  “I didn’t mean to make you angry. I was young too. Oh, forget it.” He looked past me, his expression hard, but he still didn’t leave.

  “What do you want?”

  “I want to see where that amulet leads you.”

  “I’m sure Grim and Gormless will be watching me, so there’s no need for you to come along. Besides,” I added, “before I spend the rest of the day following a piece of wood all over the neighborhood, I’m going to find Nanny. There’s one place left to look, and I bet Conrad is doing it as we speak.”

  “Why do you put so much faith in that guardsman?”

  “I trust my instincts.” Actually, it was the opposite of my instincts I trusted, but that would validate Duane’s theory I defined ‘good’ as the opposite of Solhan.

  It wasn’t my race I rebelled against, it was the Thorne heritage. I never knew my mother or father, but my uncle was an evil force and my sister a sadist. I admired Viktor, and I’d watched him war constantly against his nature. I had no choice but to do the same.

  “And Erick? You are quick to trust people you hardly know,” Duane said.

  “Well, I do know you, and I know I don’t trust you. They haven’t pissed me off yet.”

  “Yet,” Duane said, emphasizing the word. “I’m coming with you.”

  “I can find the way to the docks on my own.”

  “I trust in instincts too, and they tell me to stay close. Why should I shadow you all the way there when I can more easily walk by your side?”

  I didn’t care what he did. I strode down the stairs and out the door without another word. He followed.

  How had I ended up with three men looking out for me? I was becoming like Ilsa, too many admirers, not that I thought Duane’s interests were the same as Erick’s and Conrad’s. He was too pragmatic. What was his stake in this? I didn’t believe he loved Nanny’s cooking that much. Maybe he planned to take over the docks next? I’d like to see him try.

  19│ BARELY CONTROLLED CHAOS

  ~

  THE DOCKS WERE THE ONE place where the Three Kingdoms—Avian, Dwarf and Elf—melded with the outside world and was swept away by it. The orderly, layered and fiercely hierarchal structure of Highcrowne society was visible in the layout of the warehouses, airdock, and the perfectly straight roads cut through the granite of the mountain the city emerged from. But tossed around and over that infrastructure was chaos, like sticks thrown on the riverbank after a flood. People, animals, ships, machines, and every mode of transport available came together in a jumble that made my eyes hurt.

  From our vantage point, I could make out the green coils of the Serpent’s Ribbon, a broad and slow-moving river that originated in the mountain range Highcrowne was also a part of. The water had cut its way deeply into the rock long before humans ever set eyes on the region. Avians remembered when it was half its size. None but the gods had seen it when it was new.

  The gorge cut by The Ribbon was so deep, the highest towers of the palace would fit inside without peeking over the rim. Switchback roads, made passable in winter by buckets of salt and gravel, were crowded with mules, cargo-laden wagons and the coughing, spluttering machines that trundled on metal tracks up and down the slopes, burning foul-smelling black rocks from the human lands. Such monstrosities weren’t allowed past the apex of the gorge, for which I was grateful.

  Duane of course was smiling like a dog chasing alley rats as he took in all the sights and noxious odors. I’d say this love of chaos and inefficiency must be a human thing, but I was human too, kinda, so I had to blame Duane’s inferior upbringing.

  He had insisted on accompanying me, despite telling him to go away every few minutes. As good as I was at ignoring Duane’s orders, he was better at ignoring mine. All my waspish comments bounced right off his stony exterior.

  I didn’t share his love of the docks, but I was awed by the massive floating ‘clouds’ overhead. Zeppelins were like tethered balloons made of silvery cloth and heated air holding cargo aloft. The larger and longer versions, dirigibles, were propelled by engines of magic, steam or simple pedal power. Of course, the more mundane engines depended on people, which meant slaves, and were part of the problem. Despite the stench of oily smoke and awful shriek of metal against metal, perhaps it was better to embrace more of the mechanical contraptions of the South if it meant less demand for slavery?

  “Let’s hitch a ride on that locomotive,” Duane said, pointing to one of the massive machines that had reached the end of its track just a few steps away from us.

  “No.” While I might think the machine superior to slavery, I still preferred the predictability of my own two feet. “We’ll walk.”

  “That will take forever. How about the wagon then?”

  It wanted to hop on and kick back, but the road was so crowded the wagon was moving slower than the people scurrying around it.

  “You’re going soft, Duane. Just get moving.” I set the pace, a punishing one, and weaved my way through the crowds while trying not to get too close to the large locomotives that, frankly, scared the bejeezes out of me. I’d gladly take on knives in dark alleys and curse charms rather than face being crushed inexorably beneath iron wheels or having my skin seared off by a steam explosion. No, I kept well away from those things as I raced down the steep incline.

  Duane gasped for breath. He was out of shape. Too much time spent guarding ‘his’ territory, I supposed, while I’d had a few days of cross city hikes to energize me. Coming back up the hill would be another matter.

  I was disappointed when I reached the berth where the slaver’s ship was docked. There was no sign of white armor: Conrad wasn’t there. Had he failed to get a writ of forced search?

  There was plenty of other activity, though. A line of triple-decker riverboats and smaller vessels were moored, stretching around the bend. Cargo was loaded and unloaded, while passengers waiting to go downriver milled around the grimy refreshment kiosks.

  “There’s Bell,” Duane said.

  “I don’t see her.” Of course, I wouldn’t. Duane’s people were stealthy. It was hard to keep breaking the law if you got caught.

  He led me to the other side of the slaver’s vessel. I could tell what the ship was meant for from the bars on the windows of what would otherwise have been a passenger ship. Bell crouched in the lee of webbed and crated cargo. She was decked out in well-worn leather, from short boots to baggy overalls and deep-sleeved jacket. She even wore a leather skull cap, only a few stray blonde locks visible, and skin-tight leather gloves on her delicate fingers, but the gloves were a darker, richer shade of brown than the rest of her outfit. To finish it off, she had some atrocious brass contraption on her head, like a guard’s helmet, but brimming with small round lenses attached to jointed mechanical arms. And everything—absolutely everything—was smeared with grease.

  I raised my eyebrows.

  She looked down at herself and sighed. “I tried to climb a line on the other side of the boat and learned the hull had been freshly tarred.”

  “I always thought you were the smart one. Maybe I was wrong.”

  “And I always thought Thornes were too much trouble. Maybe I was right.”

  “You’re still upset about the dynamite.”

  “We ruined a perfectly good automaton.”

>   “Good isn’t a word I’d use in conjunction with any machine. Have you found the evil-er one yet? Maybe we can call that one Ilsa.”

  “No. Duane’s still looking.”

  “For what?” Duane looked confused.

  “He will be...once I tell him the whole story.” Bell positioned one of the lenses over her right eye. She closed the left one and squinted at the boat in the distance through the ocular contraption.

  “What in the name of all the gods are you wearing?” I asked.

  “It’s beyond the comprehension of superstitious primitives still clinging to dark gods and magic.”

  “Superstitious I admit, but primitive? You’re covered in leather hides and shiny bits of rock like some grall just stepped out of the mountains.... And you better not have been referring to Solhans. We’re not the only ones with dark gods.”

  “The only ones with a dark god roaming around conquering things.”

  “Did you see anything, Bell?” Duane interrupted before a thoroughly enjoyable squabble could start.

  “Ship’s full,” Bell said in her quick, professional, reporting-to-the-boss tone, “but they’re waiting on permission from the dock master before they can leave. Several other ships left this morning, and they were ready to edge out behind, when the dock master’s office received a report saying they hadn’t paid their fees. They were flagged back immediately. They’re searching for the paperwork, but I doubt the record will be found.”

  She pulled out a sheet of vellum from her inner coat, smeared with gooey black liquid like the rest of her. “Completely unreadable now. They may be here a while.”

  Duane smiled. “Good work.”

  “Thank you.”

  Bell was pretty smart after all.

  “What do we do now?” I asked.

  “We?” Duane said pointedly. “I thought you wanted me to go away and leave you to handle things yourself?”

  That was when I thought Conrad would be here with a writ, but I didn’t say that out loud. There was no guarantee he would show. I had my Ashur with me—I didn’t go anywhere without it these days—and I squeezed my hand around the metal orb at the end.