The Raike Box Set

by Jackson Lear

  The woman turned, snapping out of whatever curiosity held her attention. “Yes?”

  I cleared my throat and smiled, signaling to my friend.

  Lieutenant took over. “Good morning. We’ve just come from the orphanage. Have you had any luck finding Día?”

  Joa looked us up and down, blinking in puzzlement. You could see the question written across her face. ‘Why would two of your types be interested in an orphan’s disappearance?’ “No. No, I haven’t found her.”

  “You just came from …” Lieutenant turned to me for help.

  “Relund’s,” I said.

  “Yes,” said Joa. “She’s not there.”

  “She didn’t stay the night?” I asked.

  “No. He said she never did.”

  “Why not?”

  Her suspicions started to heighten beyond normal chit-chat. “Why are you asking this?”

  “Because we want to find her,” said Lieutenant. “She’s scared and she doesn’t deserve that.”

  Joa peered at us closer. “But … why you?”

  “Because of Kiera,” I said. “It’s been twenty years. No one’s heard about her?”

  Joa’s look faltered. She now knew my name without me having to give it.

  “Día was average height, wasn’t she? Brown hair? Well behaved. On the quiet side. Never stole anything, maybe got into trouble once, but that was it. She actually had a chance when she was old enough. Right?”

  Joa lowered her head. The weight of who I had once been and what I was now must’ve smacked her around.

  “Día has friends at the orphanage, doesn’t she? Friends who will do something stupid to find her. Friends who will never forget.”

  She glanced back up to me. “Is that what happened to you?”

  I closed the gap on her. “Let’s talk about Día. What do you know?”

  “Nothing, really. I tried to find her. Last night and this morning.”

  I pointed to the wall within a short walk of us. “The note was found down there?”

  “Yes.”

  “You spoke to a woman with sandy hair just a moment ago?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the note was found just a couple of yards away?”

  “Yes.”

  Good. I had the location locked down. “The girls were screaming a couple of nights ago. Who climbed in through their window?”

  Clearly I had been asking around for a while, as she shifted from a look of, ‘how did you know that?’ to ‘I’m not the first person you’ve spoken to.’ “No one climbed in. They thought they saw a ghost.”

  “Who was on duty that night in the corridor?”

  “Me.”

  “Did you see it?”

  “No.”

  “You came into the room when they were screaming?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you go to the window?”

  “I did. I looked around. I didn’t see anyone in the street.”

  “It might’ve climbed onto the roof and jumped from the boy’s side to one of the rooftops.”

  Joa squinted at me, then shook her head. “People don’t climb into girl’s rooms just to scare them. The girls were all awake, all crying, all apologizing for trying to summon a ghost. My guess is that they were all already scared and something flew in through the window and startled them. As soon as one of them screamed, they all screamed.”

  Fair point. “Did Día like working at Relund’s?”

  “She was there for two years, so I guess so.”

  “Where was she before?”

  “At the dye house.”

  “Why was she moved?”

  “She kept falling asleep,” said Joa. “The fumes got to her, made her dizzy.”

  “Does Relund use that dye house?”

  “Yes. His son brought Día over. She begged us to let her leave that place. She even threatened to runaway and live at Relund’s if we didn’t give her permission.”

  “She threatened this before she started working there?”

  Joa shrugged. “I guess she liked the boy.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Eldin.”

  “How did he seem this morning?”

  “Guilty, but the boy doesn’t have anything to do with it. He was working until late in the night. When I told them Día was missing, Eldin and Relund helped me look for her. The shock on their faces when I first told them … they didn’t believe it. I went back this morning. She hasn’t turned up.”

  “How was she yesterday? Scared?”

  “I don’t remember seeing her before the children went to work, but Nevah did. She says she was there, and Relund said she worked yesterday.” She looked over her shoulder, annoyed with herself for being caught up in this. “I should get back. Sesta Silvia will need me.”

  Lieutenant stepped in to save the day. “Let us walk you. It is quite dangerous out here, what with people disappearing.”

  Joa had little choice but to accept.

  “Can I ask where she’s from?” asked Lieutenant, working the sesta back into answering our questions.

  “Miller’s Den.”

  “And her parents?”

  “I believe they’re both dead. Some of the children still have parents. They just can’t be looked after for a while, and it’s easier getting them a job through us, so here they stay.”

  “What happened to Día’s father?”

  “I heard he was beheaded by the city watch for killing a neighbor.”

  Even though Lieutenant had heard the answer earlier, he still wanted to verify Kel’s information. “He killed a man?”

  “Woman, I think.”

  “Could Día’s disappearance have anything to do with that? Something in revenge?”

  “I don’t see why,” said Joa. “He was beheaded for his crimes. If it’s about revenge then Día’s the only one of that family left.”

  “Why did her abductor leave a note?” I asked.

  “I really don’t know.”

  “It was found where she was taken?”

  “It was found. Only her abductor would know if that’s where she was taken.”

  “Who found it?”

  “I … really shouldn’t tell you.”

  “Why not?”

  She stopped, looked us up and down, and pulled her shoulders inwards as though she was delivering bad news that scared her. “You two shouldn’t be here.”

  “We’re looking for Día. We want to make sure she gets back alive.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of Kiera.” She may not have known her, or heard the name up until last night, but she had certainly been brought up to speed by now. “I was one of the young ones there when Kiera didn’t come home one day. Sesta Silvia and Nevah already know who I am and why I’m here.”

  Joa dipped her head, wrestling between a fire on one side and a deadly wall of ice on the other.

  “Who found Día’s note?” I asked.

  “Caen. He works in the dye house. Please don’t scare any of the children when you see them.”

  Lieutenant cracked a smile. “Do we really look that scary?”

  “You don’t look like workers or merchants,” said Joa.

  We continued walking.

  “Did anyone come by the orphanage last week?”

  “A couple of people dropped off some old clothes. No one else.”

  “Who were the people?”

  “I didn’t see them. We got some old clothes from someone who is now in the army.”

  “Did they come into the building?”

  “I really don’t know. Sesta Silvia came to me in the kitchen with a handful of clothes in her hands, told me to sort through them and give them out to the more well behaved children.”

  Most of the kids would have been at work then. And it’s not like the abductor needed to know the layout of the building, not if Día was taken from the street. Not unless he disregarded the orphanage as being too difficult to break into, which it wasn’t. Tho
ugh if he wanted any random kid then he would’ve taken the girl closest to the window.

  “Who was her best friend?”

  “Kel, I think. They spent time together almost every evening. They’d all be in a group, but those two usually sat next to each other.”

  “Did they have a fight recently?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Were they in love?”

  “They’re thirteen.”

  “Even so.”

  She rolled her head at me, willing me to disappear sooner rather than later. “I – don’t – know.”

  “How did Kel take the news?”

  “He looked like he was going to burn the city down when he heard about it. He ran off, searching the streets for hours. We caught him sneaking back in. He looked like he had been crying.”

  “Guilt?”

  Joa shook her head. “Defeat. And he was still angry. Not much change there, really.”

  “Does he sneak out a lot?”

  “He’s thirteen and bored. He’s spent a couple of nights at work, but I don’t think they want him to stay on for long.”

  “Where does he work?”

  “At the mill.”

  “He’s not good at sweeping floors?”

  “They want someone older and stronger. He struggles carrying the planks of wood.”

  We were in sight of the orphanage by then. It was unlikely that the two kids in city watch uniforms were still inside, but even so the neighbors would be watching. They always do when some authority figure enters their line of sight.

  “Who do you think has her?”

  “Monsters,” said Joa. “They take just as much pleasure in killing people as torturing everyone who knew them, that’s why they’ve left a note.”

  “No actual person you can think of?”

  “No.” She stopped and held a breath in the top of her chest as tension stretched across her. “I know you types. You beat people on the street for not paying you money, you burn people’s houses down because someone paid you to. Every year, children from the orphanages turn to you because they’re angry, helpless, and hopeless. They see the power you have and they want some of that. They want your food, they want your life, they don’t want to have to move wheelbarrows full of droppings through the city all day for nothing but a single meal and a scratchy bed to sleep on. You people have drink, you have women day and night, you have beds, and you never have to clean out someone else’s chamber pot ever again. I understand the appeal of an easy life, but I’m asking you, please, if a child from this orphanage comes to you and wants to join, refuse them. You want to help Día? Then help her friends, the ones who are still alive. Help them have a life that their parents would be proud of. Steer them away from becoming monsters themselves.” Joa turned away from us and headed straight back to the orphanage, quickly, in case we chased her down like wolves in the night.

  “Women day and night,” muttered Lieutenant. “Just how exhausting would that be?”

  I stared at the back of Joa’s head as she slipped through the doors of the orphanage. They remained open, making me think the city watch were there and about to make their exit. “Did you catch that about Kel?”

  “I did, yeah. Works in a mill and we walked him right to the dye house.”

  “Caen works at the dye house. He used to walk Día back home.”

  “He’s either gone to recruit Caen into helping him find Día, or he’s gone to break the kid’s nose.” Lieutenant glanced over my shoulder. “You better brace yourself for a shouting.”

  A heavy hand clamped on my shoulder. The grizzled eyes of a fifty year old mage who had survived fourteen years in the imperial army glared back at me. Greaser. “The Captain wants to see you. Now.” Judging by the scowl in Greaser’s eye, I’d be lucky to survive the night.

  Chapter Six

  “Shit, Raike, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  The Captain had one of those oddities of speech. He’d only speak clear enough when he was in a foul mood, like his sole purpose in life was to instill a great disappointment in your sense of judgment. For the rest of the time he could’ve been mistaken for a mumbling drunk talking to you while his face was cleavage-deep into some buxom nymph. I’ve nodded my way through a lot of unknown praise based on little more than the lack of spittle flying into my eyes. What he actually said during these rare bouts of slurring brotherly moments are mysteries lost to time. Long ago we figured out the trick to his temper; piss him off just enough to make him squint and sneer, then hope that you could steer the conversation back to whatever you wanted to talk about. At least then you could understand him. Unfortunately, what we each wanted to discuss that afternoon did not align in the slightest.

  “The moment you swore your oath, you gave up every past grievance. That shit doesn’t follow anyone in here. You know that. Everyone here knows that. I can’t have a company of soldiers running after every unresolved vendetta. That might be why half of you assholes joined, but it’s not why we keep you. So what happened? A lapse in judgment? A mistake?”

  “It was real,” I said.

  Guess who got a month’s worth of night shifts for those three words?

  “How do you not understand this?” he asked, leaning over his desk as though it was the only thing keeping him from throwing a fist at me. “Whoever you were doesn’t exist anymore. Whatever shit that previous you went through – gone.”

  “There’s something here,” I said, jeopardizing another month’s worth of nights. “Someone’s taken a great risk in exposing themselves by leaving a note.”

  “I don’t care. You were supposed to have given this up years ago.”

  “I need this one.”

  “Tough shit. You’re not leaving the compound for a week. You’ve endangered us by venturing into Vanguard’s territory. Just be grateful you didn’t get any of your friends sliced up for your stupidity.”

  “I’ll hire us, then,” I said.

  The Captain paused, confused by an odd arrangement of words coming from an underling.

  “I want three men for a week,” I said. “I’ll pay for the expenses.”

  “Fuck you. Members of the company can’t hire other members to go on some private mission that will endanger the rest of us. You’ve already blown it by forcing three of your brothers to go and rescue you.”

  “I didn’t need rescuing.”

  “You did. From yourself. How many hours were you there for, anyway? All fucking night? And you’re really going to tell me you weren’t seen by anyone?”

  “I wasn’t there all night.”

  “No? Ox saw you outside when the bell from the docks sounded at midnight. You came back in, grabbed your things, and headed off. Two hours later, you were in Vanguard territory.”

  “No. I … It took me five hours to get there.”

  “Not even my grandmother walks that slow.”

  “I kept stopping.”

  “You should’ve stopped for good.”

  “I know. I turned around a hundred times. I waited by the bridge for an hour, trying to think things through.”

  “Think better. If one of the Vanguards started dicking around in our area, we’d send a message. You’re lucky you still have your face. As of now, you’re on lockdown.”

  Truth be told, I was lucky to still have my face looking the way it did. Vanguard Company were quicker with their blades than we were. We usually tried to talk things through, albeit with a heavy penalty coming your way if you didn’t like what we had to say. They weren’t as accommodating. If they caught anyone in their territory who didn’t belong there, even a civilian out for a walk from the wrong side of Erast, Vanguard would teach them a lesson.

  I left the Captain in peace, on account that he told me to get the fuck out of his sight if I still knew what was good for me.

  Downstairs, things were eerily quiet, with the sort of hushed undertones reserved for someone who just got chewed out by the boss. There was a game of bones goin
g on. Usually a loud event after a few drinks, but when I emerged the reception was icy. I had pretty much broken my oath. By now, everyone knew it.

  Chef had oats and barley stewing together with carrots and leeks. Scurvy and Runaway were at one of the tables clearing up a game of dice. The chilled looks encouraged me to head out into the alley. I wasn’t breaking the Captain’s command by leaving the compound. We had three buildings. Two were across the street from each other, the third was down the end of the alley. All were three stories. We owned the whole street and rented out the space within.

  We were the Governor’s Hand, one of the oldest still-standing companies with our set of skills, operating for sixty years in the province. If the governor ever knew we took liberties with his identity, he’d hang us. Among our rivals on this side of town were the City Watch – not the actual city watch – the Gray Tower, and the Collectors. To the south was Vanguard Company, the Peace Keepers, and Ispar. That last one was always presented as, ‘We’re from Ispar.’ Considering Ispar was a thousand miles away, no one in their right mind would pay protection money to a couple of rough looking fellas and actually believe they were there on behalf of the Emperor.

  For ourselves, our names had no doubt begun as a source of humiliation. I mean, who the hell would tolerate a name like Scurvy, Shank, or Stomp? Some new recruits hated their names so much they washed out, joined the army, and marched halfway across the world to stare at the ass end of some barbarian tribe the senators across the continent wanted to subdue.

  If you asked everyone in the company what their original names were and actually got the truth, you’d end up with five of everyone. Our parents were not all that original when it came to naming us. Boys were named after their dads, uncles, grandfathers, or some kind of hero. You can’t exactly have the Captain asking for Quintus, only to have the wrong Quintus turn up.

  “Not him! The one with the mole on his face.”

  “You ass! That’s still the wrong one! I’m talking about the one who got shitfaced last year and puked on himself.”

  “Motherfucker! Fine. You know what? Just get the ugliest Quintus we have.”

  “I said the ugliest!”

  It had been a quiet year for us, and not solely because the year lasted for just one season. I mean a proper year. Summer through to the next summer. We were working as a protection detail for the northern businesses and families in Erast, in the northern province of Syuss. We didn’t exactly protect the area, per se, since that honor fell to several rivals we knew best to leave alone. The governor, a man by the name of Antonio Gustali, ran the province. A hundred thousand people lived here, I’m told. Our city was the third largest. The governor was as concerned about moving up in the world as the rest of us, only his scope was larger. He actually had the chance of being emperor and ruling the known world. I did not. At best, I would end up running a company like the Governor’s Hand.