Darkblade Guardian

by Andy Peloquin

  Ria nodded at Celesa. “Well done.”

  “Thank you, Master Phoenix.” Celesa’s lips quirked into a little smile as she bowed and returned to her place by the door.

  Ria’s eyes brightened as she caught sight of Ilanna at the bar, and motioned to a doorway at the rear of the room. Ilanna finished the last of her wine, tossed a coin to the girl behind the bar, and followed Ria through the door.

  The office beyond lacked all the finery and ostentation of the rest of the brothel. Indeed, it had nothing more than a desk, chair, and shelves laden with the financial records of The Gilded Chateau. Plus a lengthy dossier of blackmail-worthy information obtained from drunk, drugged, and coitus-befuddled clients, of course.

  “Celesa’s good,” Ilanna said as she closed the door behind her. “She actually tried to talk that idiot Wyvern down rather than beating the snot out of him like I would have.”

  Ria actually laughed. “I love you with all my heart, Ilanna, but even I know that you would have made a terrible bouncer. Too brash, too willing to kick someone in the teeth.” She settled into the plush armchair and pulled a bottle of wine from one of the desk drawers. “Though a good teeth-smashing is handy every now and then. Especially with arrogant pissants like Baronet Wyvern.”

  “Think he’ll try something?” Ilanna accepted the cup Ria offered her and sat in the chair across the desk.

  “Maybe.” Ria shrugged. “I’ll have a few more of House Phoenix’s apprentices and Journeyman handy, just in case.” She drained her glass in a single pull and refilled it. “Though, given how well the girls are taking to Errik’s training, I doubt it’ll be necessary.”

  “Good.” Ilanna smiled and sipped her wine.

  House Phoenix had been Ria’s idea, a solution to help the girls rescued from the Bloody Hand traffickers years earlier. Some of the girls—Aisha, Celesa, Afia, and many more—hadn’t wanted to return to their home country of Ghandia or its neighbor, Issai, after their ordeal. They’d accepted Ilanna’s offer of a place in the Night Guild, and when Ilanna had returned from hunting Lord Torath in Voramis, Ria had broached the subject: a House dedicated to the protection and management of Praamian brothels.

  Ilanna was surprised the Night Guild had never thought of the concept before. Prostitution had and always would exist, the oldest profession on Einan as well as one of the most lucrative. However, turnover among the girls tended to be high when clients refused to pay, beat the women, or got them pregnant. None of that made for a prosperous business.

  Ria, however, had proposed a simple solution: the Night Guild would control all prostitution in the city, just as it controlled every other vice and crime. A new House would be created for the sole purpose of improving the conditions of women who chose this profession. She would find a way to make it livable for the women who chose passion. No more enslavement to a greedy Madame or cruel pimps—the Night Guild would give the prostitutes control over their choices.

  Ilanna had loved Ria’s choice of animal for her House. Phoenixes were creatures of legend, golden birds that burst into flames at the end of its life, dying only to be reborn once again. A fitting depiction of the once-enslaved young girls and women freed from the Bloody Hand.

  Two years earlier, House Phoenix—with the backing of House Serpent, House Hound, and House Bloodbear—had seized control of every pleasure house in Praamis. Not without some fuss from their owners, certainly, hence the need for assistance from the Serpents and Bloodbears.

  Yet Ilanna and Ria’s meticulous planning, combined with the copious amounts of leverage obtained by the Hounds, made the transition fairly painless—for the Night Guild and the brothels, of course. The pimps, madames, and pleasure-brokers unwilling to bend knee to the new regimen found themselves on the wrong side of a dagger or hauled before King Ohilmos to stand trial for crimes real or fabricated. Two public executions was all it took to convince the brothels that the Night Guild’s control was in their best interest.

  All the while, the new Phoenix apprentices had undertaken martial training—a regimen that combined the Serpents’ weapons with the ferocity of Ria’s unique fighting style. Even Errik had grown wary of Ria’s assegai spear, which she wielded with speed and savagery. Before she’d been taken captive, Ria’s mother had taught her the Kim’ware war dance of her people, and no amount of abuse had broken the Ghandian woman’s warrior spirit. As the apprentices had demonstrated, they could more than hold their own in a fight.

  Ilanna sipped at her wine and ran her eyes over Ria’s form. Even reclined in her armchair, Ria looked every inch a warrior. Hard training with Errik had filled out her willowy frame, and she had the powerful, lean muscles of a fighter. Her ebony coloring, coupled with her full lips and kinky black hair, made her even more beautiful to Ilanna.

  She was about to speak when a knock sounded at the door. “Master Phoenix?” came a familiar voice.

  Ria smiled. “Enter, Aisha.”

  The girl who opened the door bore a strong resemblance to a younger Ria, with the same tight black curls, deep brown eyes, longer nose, darker lips, and lithe grace. After years of weapons and combat training with Ria and Errik, Aisha had developed a similar fighter’s build—albeit lacking the strength Ria had developed over more than a decade.

  She hesitated at the sight of Ilanna, but only for an instant. “Master Gold.” She gave Ilanna a bow, which didn’t conceal her nervousness.

  “Apprentice.” Ilanna inclined her head. She kept her tone carefully neutral, not letting any of her thoughts or feelings show on her face.

  To her credit, Aisha’s voice didn’t waver as she addressed Ria. “I’ve just come from The Fire Lily, but no one can tell me anything.”

  A stream of curses rolled of Ria’s tongue in her native Ghandian. Ilanna allowed a small smile to crack her stern demeanor—Ria had taught her those words first.

  When the invectives trailed off, Ria drew in a breath and nodded to the young woman. “Thank you, Aisha.”

  “I’ve still got The Flavored Delight, but I doubt they’ll have something useful to say, either,” Aisha said with a shake of her head. “But if I find anything, I’ll report at once.”

  “Very good.”

  Aisha turned to Ilanna and gave another bow, this time far less nervous. “Guild Master.”

  “Aisha.” That was all the acknowledgement Ilanna gave.

  Ria waited until the door was closed before letting a smile broaden her face. “That was too cruel, Ilanna, and for you, that’s saying a lot.”

  “Too cruel?” Ilanna raised an eyebrow, a matching grin twisting her own lips. “Impossible! I’m his mother, after all.”

  “I’m his mother, too,” Ria said, “and you don’t see me toying with Aisha like that. The girl may know her way around an assegai, sword, and dagger like the best of House Phoenix, but when it comes to affairs of the heart, she’s as inexperienced as I was when we first met. Her feelings for Kodyn are genuine, I’ve seen it for myself. She’s my best apprentice, and I trust her with my life.”

  “You trust her.” Ilanna shrugged.

  “And you trust me.” Ria reached across the desk for Ilanna’s hand. “Which means that you will listen when I tell you that Kodyn will find few better companions in this world than Aisha. After all, she’s Ghandian, so the bravest, brightest, most loyal, most beautiful—“

  “I get the point.” Ilanna chuckled softly. “It’s just so hard to think of him as anything but that little curly-haired child. It feels like just yesterday that we were playing in our garden, watching him with those little hawk figurines, curled up in that stuffed armchair reading the story of Agarre the Giantslayer.”

  “A mother’s love knows no bounds, no time or distance,” Ria said. “Yet it also suffocates young men and women who need their freedom to test themselves, to make mistakes, to face hardships.”

  “I’m pretty sure I didn’t come here for advice on how to care for our son.” Ilanna spoke in mock seriousness, which only made Ria grin wider.
“I’m a very busy Guild Master, after all.”

  Ria laughed, a warm sound that Ilanna still found so attractive, so comforting. Hard to imagine that she was once afraid of her own shadow.

  She had found Ria enslaved in an illicit brothel and, after killing off all the pimps, had brought the young girl home. Ria had been a kindred spirit, her inner strength undimmed by the suffering she’d faced. It had been Ria who saved Kodyn’s life when the Bloody Hand burned down Ilanna’s house. The Ghandian woman had come to love Kodyn with a ferocity to match Ilanna’s, just one of the things that had made Ilanna fall for her in the first place.

  “Did you find anything about Chantelle?” Ilanna asked.

  Ria’s laughter died and her smile faded to a frown. “No.” She shook her head. “None of the girls knew anything about why Chantelle was away from The Gilded Chateau that night. When I asked Celesa and the other Phoenixes, none of them saw Chantelle leave.”

  “And yet she did.” Ilanna tugged at her lip as she pondered the problem.

  “Before you even think it,” Ria said, “none of my apprentices are to blame. The Phoenixes are loyal to the House, and specifically to me and you for what we did for them. If any of them knew anything, they’d say.”

  “I know.” Ilanna gave a dismissive wave. “I have never doubted House Phoenix. I trust their Master implicitly.” She grinned at Ria. “But maybe one of the working girls knows something and is too afraid to speak up.”

  “I thought of that.” Ria nodded. “I’ve told my Phoenixes to speak to each of the girls one at a time and get anything they can out of them. If any of them know something, we’ll find it out.”

  “Good.” Ilanna let out a long sigh. “Duke Phonnis isn’t going to let these murders go. He doesn’t give a damn about dead prostitutes, but if he can use it to shut us down, he’ll sing the bloody hell out of that tune.”

  “I’ll find out,” Ria said. Her face clouded. “It’s the least we can do for Chantelle.”

  “Hey.” Ilanna’s voice was firm. “This isn’t your fault. You’re doing everything you can for them, Ria.”

  “Not protect them, it seems.” Bitter remorse edged Ria’s words.

  “You have, more than any of them will ever realize.” Ilanna reached across and squeezed Ria’s hand. “You’ve made all their lives better. They were living in filth and misery, virtually slaves to their pimps and Madames. Everything has improved since you created House Phoenix.”

  Ria drew in a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “You’re right.” She gave Ilanna a little grin, clearly forced.

  “Let nothing stand in your way,” Ilanna said in a quiet voice. “Certainly not guilt or remorse over Chantelle’s death. Use it, let it drive you.” She stood and raised a clenched fist. “Nothing will stop us from finding the bastard that’s killing people. And when we do, we carve out his heart and shove it down his throat.”

  Ria smiled, genuine this time. “There’s the Ilanna I know and love.”

  Chapter Eight

  The Hunter smiled as he pulled himself up onto the roof of a nearby mansion and felt the first blast of late afternoon wind on his face.

  It has been too long, he thought.

  During his days as assassin of Voramis, he’d spent most nights traveling his own personal highway on the city rooftops. He’d come to love heights—not just for the breathtaking panoramic views, but for the silence and absence of smells. No one could ever accuse Voramis of being a sweet-smelling city, so he’d always appreciated a chance to escape the myriad foul odors that clogged the streets of the Beggar’s Quarter or the rank perfumes of the noblemen of Upper Voramis.

  But now, since his return from Enarium, he’d spent far less time on the rooftops and far more time enclosed in stuffy rooms with people like Father Reverentus and Graeme.

  He sprinted along the rooftop and hurled himself into the air with all the force in his powerful legs. He sailed for a full fifteen paces to land lightly on a nearby mansion rooftop, tucking into a roll to absorb the impact. It felt wonderful to stretch his muscles and work out the kinks of sitting in an enclosed carriage for the ten-day trip from Voramis.

  As he ran, he consulted his mental map of the city’s layout. His mansion in The Gardens stood near Old Praamis, the former heart of the city and the place where Praamis’ richest aristocrats lived in estates both vast and ancient. Old Praamis occupied a quarter of the modern city of Praamis, and a staggering amount of the city’s wealth passed through the hands of the sixty-some noble families occupying the land.

  Amidst it all, stood the Black Spire, the monolithic tower at the dead center of the original city. The structure resembled an obsidian dagger thrust into the belly of the sky, its heights a challenge to even the Hunter. He’d always wanted to tackle it—the view from the tower’s rooftop had to be breathtaking, comparable to the views from Lord Apus’ tower in Malandria, the twin temples in Kara-ket, and the uppermost room in the Illumina at the heart of Enarium.

  But his steps led away from Old Praamis, instead in the direction of Vendor’s Block, a series of sprawling open-air and enclosed marketplaces where most business in Praamis occurred. He expected to find the Night Guild there. The mansions of the nobility would doubtless hide more of the Guild’s sins—either the buildings used for the Guild’s trafficking like the Bloody Hand in Voramis, or nobles under the Guild’s thumb—but he had a far better chance of finding the criminals he sought in the sort of places where they worked. Places like the markets, the riverside docks, or the Ward of Refuge.

  He thrust a hand in his pocket to ensure the blackmail note and the brown thread remained tucked safely away. Right now, they were the only clues linking him to the murderer.

  If only the boy had torn a bit more of his killer’s robe. Another of the side effects of the Hunter’s Bucelarii heritage gave him the ability to find people. He didn’t quite understand how it worked—like so many of the Serenii’s other creations, the workings of his dagger were a mystery to him—but it sufficed to know that his ritual of seeking connected Soulhunger to the heart of his target. However, he needed more than a single thread to make the ritual work.

  Looks like I’m going to have to do this the old-fashioned way. He shot a glance up at the sun. He had at least three or four hours of light left, and he could cover a lot of ground in that time. On the rooftops, he could take the shortest, most direct route to his location. Those on the ground below had to travel between and around buildings, yet their obstacles served as his stepping-stones, leading him to his destination more quickly.

  His eyes traveled over the rooftops ahead, scanning for the safest and easiest routes to cross. To his surprise, he found wooden planks, ropes, and even occasional hanging ladders joining the rooftops. Someone—the Night Guild, undoubtedly—had invested a surprising amount of time and resources into building a path to make traversing the city easier.

  A damn good idea, too. The web of bridges, ladders, and walkways seemed to connect every building in the city, or at least the ones strong enough to support the weight of a man his size. Looks like the rooftops in Praamis get a bit more use than those in Voramis.

  The Bloody Hand had avoided the rooftops out of fear of the mysterious Hunter of Voramis—fear he’d paid good coin to encourage. But things worked a bit different here in Praamis.

  He contemplated descending to the city streets, but discarded the idea a second later. He hadn’t yet overcome his dislike of crowds, people packed so tightly together that he couldn’t find a quick avenue of escape. And, reaching the busiest areas of Praamis, those areas most likely to be a hub for crime, would take far longer on the ground.

  I’ll just have to keep an eye out for any of the Night Guild up here. The rooftops offered a clear line of sight in all directions; he simply needed to be alert for any enemies ahead or around him, and he could get out of sight behind a chimney, duck into the shadow of a sloped roof, or drop to the streets.

  He chose to head to Old Town Market. That w
as where the body had been found, so it seemed as good a place to start hunting the Night Guild as any.

  Where there are people with money to spend, there are pickpockets waiting to lift their coin.

  He smiled at the memory of his encounter with Evren, the thief that had possessed the daring and quick fingers to steal his purse in the city of Vothmot. Evren had helped him get into the Master’s Temple, which led to his discoveries in the Vault of Stars. He’d let the young thief accompany him into the Empty Mountains and Evren had proven instrumental in finding the way to Enarium. On his return to Voramis, he’d offered the young man a chance to join his mission to hunt down demons, and Evren had accepted. Over the last three years, the Hunter had been impressed by Evren’s resourcefulness, ingenuity, and determination.

  And he’s not bad with his fists, either. The story behind Evren’s skill at combat was a foul one, rank with abuse and torments—which should never have existed in the temple of Kiro, the Master, god of virtue and nobility. Evren had almost seemed relieved to hear that no such god had ever existed, and he’d thrown himself into the Hunter’s mission eagerly.

  So eagerly, in fact, it was almost impossible to stop him from coming to Praamis. At seventeen, Evren had proven as stubborn and headstrong as the Hunter. Finally, the Hunter had resorted to using Hailen, the boy Evren had come to treat as a younger brother, as an excuse to keep the young thief in Voramis.

  “Keep an eye on him,” the Hunter had said. “His education with the Beggar Priests will do him good, but I don’t trust them fully, not yet.”

  “You don’t need to tell me twice.” Evren’s face had clouded at the mention of the word “priests”. “He’ll be safe, I promise.”

  As always, thoughts of Evren and Hailen sent the Hunter’s mind wandering toward Jaia. My daughter. Even three years later, the words still sounded strange in his mind. He’d learned of her existence in Enarium, only to discover that she had been freed from her prison long before his arrival. She was out there, somewhere, roaming Einan, wearing a face he’d never seen and bearing a name he might not know.