“Good.” Ilanna nodded. “If whoever did it returns, I want your Foxes to report back here at once.” She stopped and grabbed Eden by her huge bicep. “Under no circumstances are your Foxes to take action. They are to watch, nothing more.”
“You expect me to tell them that?” Fury flashed in the Eden’s dull brown eyes. “Every one of my Foxes knows what happened to Arashi by now. If they find whoever’s responsible, they’re going to gut the bastard first and let the Long Keeper ask the questions.”
“Which is exactly why I’m telling you.” Ilanna met the Fox’s anger with icy calm. “The last thing we need is for more people to end up dead. This murderer has already killed four men, not just children.” She drew a finger across her neck. “Slashed their throats, bled them like pigs. Your Foxes are clever and quick, but they’re not fighters. Your orders are to have them report back to House Serpent.”
Master Fox’s eyes narrowed. “The Serpents?”
“They’ll handle it,” Ilanna insisted. “Errik’s got most of his Serpents out hunting, but the moment you get a location on the killer, he’ll get them back and send them after the bastard.” She gripped Eden’s huge arm again. “Trust me, whoever did this won’t get off easy.”
After a tense moment, Master Fox nodded. “As you say, Guild Master.” She spun on her heel and hurried in the direction of her House.
Ilanna was on her way back to her office when she heard someone calling her name. A young Hawk raced up to her.
“Uhh, Master Gold.” The boy—Mayk, wasn’t it?—no older than ten or eleven, looked nervous to be speaking with her, but his expression was that of a man on a mission. He held out a folded parchment. “This is for you.”
Ilanna took the parchment and read. “Another child found in Old Town Market this morning. The deaths must stop.” The note had no signature, but she recognized the handwriting. It had come from Duke Phonnis.
“How did you get this?” Ilanna demanded.
Mayk reddened. “I…er…I was grabbed by a Praamian Guard in the Ward of Refuge, right beside the Coin Counter’s Temple. But instead of hauling me off to the hangman’s noose, he gave me this and told me to get it to you at once.” Tears slipped from his eyes. “I-I’m sorry, Master Gold. I didn’t mean to get caught.”
“Mayk.” She spoke in a voice at once firm and kind. “You did good. You have nothing to fear.”
The Hawk apprentice scrubbed at his cheeks. “Thank you, Master Gold.”
“Thank you, young Hawk.” With a nod, Ilanna turned and strode in the direction of House Hound.
A long, straight tunnel led to the double doors that opened into the Kennel, the main chamber of House Hound. Twin amber-colored gemstones twinkled in the eyes of the hound etched into the door’s face, and long curving canines served as the door handles.
Ilanna marched up to the doors and pounded on it until, a few seconds later, one of the doors opened.
A Hound apprentice, perhaps twelve or thirteen, stood framed in the doorway. “Yes?” His eyes flew wide at sight of Ilanna and panic creased his face. “Er, Master Gold! Forgive me, I—”
“Tell Master Hound that I have a job for him. He’s to locate the body found in Old Town Market this morning, snatch it, and bring it to Journeyman Rilmine for examination. Can you remember that?”
“Yes, Master Gold, of course!” The youth nodded eagerly.
“Good.” Ilanna stalked down the bare earthen halls that led away from House Hound.
Her mind raced. Two deaths on the same day. That can’t be good.
She had to find and stop the killer before the body count grew too high. Duke Phonnis wouldn’t hesitate to lay blame at the Night Guild’s feet, and his efforts to convince the King to eliminate them might actually pay off.
No, we’re going to deal with this quickly and ruthlessly, the Night Guild way.
She couldn’t find out anything about the two new victims yet, not until Journeyman Rilmine finished his examination. But if Ria had found information on the dead prostitute, Chantelle, maybe it could point her in the right direction.
* * *
Ilanna sucked in a gulp of fresh riverside air as she stepped from the hidden doorway into the Night Guild.
I’ve been spending too much time in those stuffy tunnels, she thought. It had been nearly two weeks since her last run on the Hawk’s Highway with Kodyn. Her excursion to the palace last night had been her first time leaving the Guild’s corridors in ten days. I’ve got to get out more.
She drew in another deep breath, adjusted her nondescript clothing, and set off in the direction of The Gilded Chateau. Though she kept a steady pace, fifteen years as a thief made her cautious, wary. Her eyes wandered into every alley, watched every window, looked through every open door. She didn’t take a step without calculating three avenues of flight should she find herself confronted by an enemy.
She knew it was an unnecessary precaution. Few outside the Night Guild even knew who Ilanna truly was, and fewer still could recognize her on sight. She had cut her black hair and dyed it a shade of light brown, and her face had aged in the last eleven years since she’d led the Praamian Guards and Arbitors on a raid into the Guild tunnels. In truth, only King Ohilmos and Duke Phonnis knew what she looked like now.
Eleven years of tenuous peace with the Crown hadn’t erased the memory of all the Guild members hanging in the Watcher’s Square, but Ilanna had fought to maintain the ceasefire as long as Duke Phonnis kept his men in line. Despite his hatred of her and the Night Guild, the Duke had proven obedient to the King’s command to leave them alone. He wouldn’t send his Arbitors, his private paramilitary force, or the Praamian Guards to hunt her down, provided Ilanna didn’t go pissing in the wrong nobleman’s porridge.
It was personal for the Duke. He saw the Guild as a stain not only on his city, but on his family’s name. After all, it had been his ancestors that founded the Guild—a fact he’d done everything in his power to conceal. Their very existence insulted his honor, and Ilanna had learned that honor meant everything to Duke Elodon Phonnis, trumped only by his loyalty to his brother, the King.
Ilanna’s instincts warned her of danger as a troop of Praamian Guards marched past, but she forced herself to smile and nod at the olive-clad soldiers. They actually returned her greeting, and she felt a smug sense of satisfaction warm in her belly. She had nothing to fear now that she was no longer a thief.
To be fair, being Master Gold carries its own burdens. Not the least of which is the knowledge of what will happen if we don’t find the killer and stop the murders.
Hopefully, she’d find her first lead here in The Gilded Chateau.
The Gilded Chateau was a towering, four-story white stone building in the heart of Mercantile Square, a ten-block section of Praamis dedicated to the more affluent vendors: jewelers, watchmakers, and purveyors of whatever other luxuries the nobility desired. The location of the pleasure house made it one of the Guild’s most lucrative sources of income—after all, merchants with fat purses and fatter wives always sought the company of beautiful, willing women.
Red glass was set in every window, and the lamps shining within the rooms filled the air with a soft crimson glow that screamed temptation to passersby. Two women clad in feather boas, elegant top hats, and dresses made of more lace and jewelry than actual fabric sat on an upper-story balcony—a sampling of the offerings within.
A solid oak door barred entry to The Gilded Chateau, but it stood slightly ajar to allow the sound of laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses to waft out onto the street. The sweet scent of desire-inducing incense—a special concoction crafted by House Scorpion—hung in a pleasant miasma around the entrance.
Ilanna nodded to the young woman standing at the door. The bouncer, a dark-skinned Issai named Celesa, was Ilanna’s height, her build just on the solid side of lean, but she watched the street with a quiet confidence that marked her as dangerous. The truncheon on her belt had sharp metal studs that could tear throu
gh flesh and clothing even as the club itself shattered bone. Fearsome weapons in the right hands.
The bouncer inclined her head without taking her eyes off the street, her attention never wavering from her duty. She had to be good to have been awarded this position at the upscale brothel.
Ilanna pushed through the doors and stepped into a paradise of the flesh.
Colorful paintings hung on the wall, each displaying images at once suggestive, erotic, yet highly artistic. Wood carvings of a visibly phallic nature adorned every corner of the room, every tabletop, and every shelf. The sweet smell of incense hung thick enough to be noticeable, yet never truly overwhelmed the senses. Red-glass lamps bathed the room in a soft glow that only added to the sensuality within The Gilded Chateau.
Plush couches, comfortable settees, and fur-covered love seats occupied the main chamber. Men and women—guests of both sexes enjoyed the pleasures offered by the women of The Gilded Chateau—in various states of undress lounged around the room, sipping drinks and enjoying canapes. Three tray-carrying young women, more dark-skinned Issai, moved among the guests, their dresses somehow straddling the line between chaste and tastefully scant.
Ilanna glanced around, but saw no sign of Ria. She stepped up to the marble-topped bar that ran along the east side of the room, where bottles of every shape, size, and color sat on alchemical lantern-lit shelves. Wines and liquors from Nysl, Voramis, and even faraway Vothmot and Fehl sat beside enormous caskets of Praamian-brewed ale. Stronger, less legal spirits and opiates remained locked away in the brothel’s strongroom, available only upon request.
She waited until the young, pretty Issai girl behind the bar glanced her way, then signaled for her to come over.
“Yes?” The girl, Afia, had the same kaffe-colored skin as the bouncer and the serving girls, but her clothes were a bit more modest, with less flesh showing. Yet the dozens of silver, gold, brass, and bronze bangles adorning her wrists and throat—with matching ear, nose, and lip rings—made her seem somehow more exotic and intriguing than the others.
“Ria, where is she?” Ilanna asked.
“Not here.” The girl shrugged her strong shoulders, a motion that set her ornaments jingling.
“I’ll wait.” Ilanna slid onto a stool beside the bar. “Snowblossom wine, chilled.”
“Coming right up.” Afia pushed through a hanging bead curtain and disappeared through the doorway behind the bar.
Ilanna turned on her stool, chosen specifically for its proximity to the exits and its unobstructed line of sight, and studied the room. More accurately, she studied the men and women filling the room. Most were too drunk, happy, or randy to care what went on around them. They only cared about whatever feminine object of desire sat across from, beside, or astride them.
Ilanna’s gut twisted at the thought of what the girls working here had to endure. She hated the idea of any woman having to sell her body to earn a living, yet for many of them, it counted among the best of a long list of terrible choices. At least they now had House Phoenix to keep an eye out for them.
At that moment, a loud cry echoed from the staircase. “Dodger!”
Ilanna turned in time to see a tall, broad-shouldered man stomping down the stairs. His dull brown clothing was a mess, his almost handsome, too-angular face reddened by drink, drugs, sex, or a combination of the three.
Behind him, a fancy-tickler clad in multi-colored veils stood at the top of the stairs, anger twisting her features. “Dodger!” she cried.
The man had taken three steps toward the door when the bouncer stepped in his way.
“Move aside!” the man snapped.
“Sorry, sir, but I’m afraid you haven’t paid the lady for her time yet.” Celesa spoke in a quiet voice that held no threat, but she stood unwavering.
The man loomed over the Issai girl. “Piss off!” he snarled. “When I come to The Gilded Chateau, I’m paying for a good time. When I don’t get that good time, I don’t pay.”
“Those are not the rules of the house, sir.” Again, Celesa spoke in a calm, almost placating tone. “You pay the women for their time. Whether or not you enjoy it is entirely up to you.”
“You train your women better, they’d actually make decent whores.” The man swayed under the effects of alcohol and anger.
“Sir, there are no whores in this establishment.” Tension lined Celesa’s umber-colored face. “If you want whores, perhaps you’re better off looking among the bordellos outside the Praamian Wall. But if you desire the company of the women at The Gilded Chateau, you treat them with respect and pay them fairly.”
“Do you know who I am?” The man’s voice rose to a roar.
“No, sir, but I’m certain your coin is as good as any other Praamian man’s.”
Ilanna marveled at the way Celesa kept her cool. Had it been her, she would have ripped off the man’s gonads and rammed them down his throat by now.
Which is probably why I’m not hired to work at places like this. She could be as cool and level-headed as anyone else, but there were certain circumstances—this one, for example—when her temper got the best of her.
“I am a nobleman of Praamis, a close personal friend to Duke Phonnis, and wealthy enough to buy this place a dozen times over!” The man was shouting, his spittle flying into Celesa’s face.
“Then you should have more than enough gold to cover the lady’s time.” The Issai girl actually managed to keep her hands by her sides and away from her truncheon. “After you have done that, you are welcome to leave.”
“And if I choose to go now?” The man’s eyes narrowed. “You think you can stop me?”
The bouncer gave him a too-sweet smile. “I’d rather not find out, sir.”
Ilanna winced as the nobleman made to push past Celesa. He’d taken exactly one step when she snaked an arm around his shoulder, tucked her hip behind his, and flipped him over backward. The man’s feet flew off the ground and he slammed into the wooden floor with bone-jarring force.
When he managed to rise, his face was purple with rage. “Big mistake, bitch!” He ripped an ornate, straight-edged knife from its sheath at his belt. “You’re going to suffer for that!” With a roar, he charged Celesa.
Chapter Six
The Hunter chafed with impatience as his carriage rolled through The Gardens on its way to Baronet Wyvern’s mansion. He knew little about the man, save for the fact that he came from one of Praamis’ nouveau-riche families—a fortune made by smart trades in Voramian steel shares when the mines were first discovered.
Like all men who bore titles of lesser nobility, Baronet Wyvern had overcompensated by investing in a mansion that left extravagant far behind. It looked more like a fortress, all solid stone, rooftop battlements, even a wooden gate with a spiked steel portcullis. The five-story manor was finished with the light grey marble popular among the nobles of Praamis and Voramis.
The manor was modest by the standards of The Gardens. Grassy lawns, tasteful hedges, and ornamental trees surrounded the mansion itself, with a white paving stone walkway leading up from the Path of Penitence, the main thoroughfare, to the enormous covered archway and double doors of the front entrance.
The Hunter snorted. What a stupid waste of money. Baronet Wyvern had likely spent a vast portion of his fortune on the property, yet all for what? What sort of man could need something so needlessly opulent?
The Hunter had purchased his own Praamian mansion—Lord Anglion’s mansion—for a pittance from the family of one of the minor Voramian noblemen he’d been hired to kill. A necessary investment for his previous life as the assassin of Voramis.
“Here we are, sir,” Rayf called out as he slowed the coach in front of the mansion.
The Hunter stepped out of the coach, his heeled boots and gold-tipped walking cane clacking loudly on the white marble paving stones. Immediately, the double doors flew open and a rail-thin, white-haired man with the prim demeanor and permanent haughty frown of a majordomo hurried out to greet the Hu
nter.
“Lord Harrenth Anglion calling on Baronet Wyvern,” the Hunter said.
The servant’s face twisted in an exquisite, if visibly false, expression of regret. “Alas, Lord Anglion, but the Baronet is not available at the moment.”
In servant-speak, that could either mean Baronet Wyvern wasn’t on the premises or was engaged in activities not suitable for company.
The Hunter sighed. “How disappointing. I had come to speak with him about business matters of mutual interest. When might he be available?”
“I could not say.” The servant shot a glance over the Hunter’s shoulder—an indication the nobleman was away. “However, I do know that he will be attendance at Lord and Lady Chasteyn’s mansion this evening. Perhaps you could find the time to speak to him then.” He didn’t ask if Lord Anglion was invited to the party—if not, Anglion wouldn’t be worth the Baronet’s time.
The Hunter stifled a grimace. That was the way of the upper crust of cities like Praamis and Voramis. Everything was a battle of subtlety, more about allusions, hints, and things that remained unspoken. Give me a dockside brawl any day!
“Thank you, my man.” The Hunter inclined his head. “I shall be sure to seek him out tonight.”
“Very good, Lord Anglion.” The majordomo gave him a corpse-stiff bow. “Shall I inform the Baronet that you called?”
The Hunter gave a dismissive wave. “No need. Tonight is not far off.”
With another ramrod-straight bow, the white-haired man spun on his heel and strode back into the mansion.
“Where to, sir?” Rayf asked as the Hunter climbed into the coach.
The Hunter hesitated a moment. “Take me home, Rayf.”
“Very good, my lord.” Rayf knuckled his forehead and gathered up the traces. The Hunter had barely closed the door and settled against the leather seat when the coach jolted forward into motion.
Well, that was a waste of time. He had no desire to attend any fete—the cloying mixture of perfumes, the too-bright dresses, the barely-concealed jab and parry of conversation, and the jangling music of noble parties nauseated him. But if not the party, what do I do?
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