Mourningbird

by Brock Deskins

  Kiera shuddered. The process of being fitted for a mask and creating the mold was one of the most traumatizing things she had ever experienced. The mask maker stuck small tubes up her nose so she could breathe while he covered her face in soggy strips of cloth permeated with plaster. She was certain she was going to suffocate despite the tubes up her nose.

  “Your country upbringing will excuse some of your lack of refinement, but the ball is next week and there is a great deal of non-combative lessons you need to learn. Have you been reading every night?”

  “You know I have.”

  Conner nodded. “Yes, I do. Do you think you can read well enough to understand personal correspondences and glean important information from them?”

  “What kind of information?”

  “Someone tried to kill the chief inquisitor a few nights back, and a third party intervened and likely saved his life. Bertram is very keen on finding out who that third party is and what their motivation was for acting on his behalf—and so am I.”

  “He doesn’t care who tried to kill him?”

  “He might already know that answer. He came to me with two suspects in mind, but he would only discuss one of them. I would like to know who the other party might be who would go to such lengths to ensure nothing befell him.”

  “Why does it matter who saved him?”

  “Because no one does anything in this city, in this world, without ulterior motives, and those motives could be the prelude to a crime more insidious than a simple murder, even one committed against the chief inquisitor and heir to Velaroth.”

  “Why not just ask him? Aren’t you two friends?”

  Conner sighed and locked his gaze over Kiera’s head. “There are things a man does not talk about, even to his friends.”

  “Like you, and why you do this?”

  “I…”

  “Why do you do this? Cleary nearly got himself killed. He’s certainly killed plenty of people, some at your direction if I understand his role.” She glanced at Conner’s hip. “Someone inflicted a similar wound on you at some time and, I’m guessing, for similar reasons. Now you are putting me in the same situation. Why?”

  Conner continued to stare at the walls as they danced around the room. “Because there are crimes, horrible crimes committed by people who think they are, and actually are, above the law, that go unpunished. I was this city’s chief inquisitor once. It was my duty to enforce the law and bring justice.”

  Kiera shook her head. “There’s more to it.”

  “There is not.”

  “You quit because someone shot you?”

  “I was unable to adequately perform my duties. I had no choice.”

  “Rammox crap. You said you had a daughter, which means you probably had a wife. What happened to them?”

  “It…it doesn’t matter. They’re gone.”

  Kiera stopped and pulled away from him. “If you’re going to bring me into the middle of all of this, then it does matter. I need to know what I’m doing and why I’m doing it.”

  “You chose—”

  “Yes, I chose, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to go into it with my eyes closed. What happened to your family that made you quit being an inquisitor and become a vigilante? Why am I risking my life for your cause? And don’t say for the money. I know why I’m doing it. I want to know why you want me to do it.”

  Conner held her gaze for several uncomfortable seconds. “My wife and daughter were murdered, burned inside my home. Their killer shot me and left me almost crippled because I was digging into affairs I shouldn’t have been.”

  “What kind of affairs?” Kiera asked, her voice softening.

  “It started as an increase in violence throughout the city between street gangs. Rastus’ father had recently abdicated due to failing health and named his eldest son Asher as his heir.”

  “I never heard of him. I thought Rastus was always the duke.”

  “No. There was a lot of infighting between gangs at the time, and it was spilling out into the populace. Innocent people were dying in gun battles and bombings between different groups. The surface gangs were trying to break Nimat’s rule over them, but she was not going to let them secede without a fight.

  “Asher was a man of conscience and strict justice. He felt it was time to put an end to the somewhat liberal tolerance the former duke showed on certain criminal activities. He ordered the gendarme to step up arrests, which put me at the heart of it. Some of the wealthy citizens who made a great deal of money by dabbling in criminal enterprises were not pleased with this crackdown since most of the violence took place in Blindside and, to a lesser extent, Midtown. I took it upon myself to separate them and their money from the gangs to weaken both their holds on the city.”

  Kiera nodded as she followed along. “So one of the highborn hired an assassin to kill you.”

  Conner shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I was a popular inquisitor among the gendarme and respected by the Velarius house. Killing me would have invited even greater actions by the gendarme, possibly even would have resulted in Asher bringing in the navy and using soldiers to quell the violence and go so far as to invade Undercity. They needed to break me, and so they did. Then Asher became ill, died, and Rastus took over the city. He created a truce with Nimat, and together they put an end to the gang wars.”

  Kiera crinkled her brow as she thought. “Do you think Rastus had something to do with his brother’s death?”

  Conner smiled at his young protégé. “Now you’re thinking like an inquisitor. It was my first thought, and I had begun looking into that very possibility when…” Conner shuddered at the pain of the memory.

  “That sounds like far more than coincidence.”

  “It does, but everything I was able to find out then and afterward showed two brothers who cared deeply for each other, and not one piece of evidence to indicate foul play on either of their parts in any of it. Several physicians examined Asher while he was alive and post-mortem. They all came to the same conclusion: that he had become ill and died of natural causes.”

  Kiera pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Still…”

  “Yes, still. That is why we are going to attend the duke’s ball. What happened to Bertram strikes too close to home with what happened fifteen years ago, and I will not let it happen again. I want to know what game is afoot and who is playing.”

  A wry smile crossed Kiera’s face. “And you want me to do some snooping around in the palace.”

  “If you are able to separate yourself from the crowd and do so inconspicuously.”

  “I could get to like this vigilante business.”

  “This isn’t a game, Kiera,” Conner warned in a stern voice. “It is very dangerous, as Cleary and myself can attest to. I do not want you to get hurt as well.”

  Kiera chewed her bottom lip as they resumed their dance. “You do know that I am not her, right? I can’t replace her.”

  “I know,” Conner said, his voice weak and trembling.

  “Do you?”

  Conner sighed. “I admit, I do feel some attraction to you.”

  Kiera took a step back and scowled up at him.

  “Not like that,” he replied with a chuckle. “I guess there is no way for me to completely divest myself of a paternal connection with you, some part of my subconscious living out a fantasy it can never have.”

  “Yeah, well, keep it inside or you might screw up the job you hired me to do.”

  “Look at you, a week of training, not even on your first mission, and you’re lecturing me on how to be a vigilante.”

  “I’m a quick study, and I know how to not get myself killed.”

  “Seems to me you’ve been really toeing the line on that one lately.”

  “Keep it up and I’ll toe the line of your trouser inseam.”

  Conner barked an honest laugh, a genuine amusement he had not felt in a very long time.

  “So what’s the deal with Cleary?” Kie
ra asked. “How’d you end up with him doing your dirty work? Was he someone out seeking justice on his own too and you decided to combine forces?”

  “Hardly. Mr. Cleary, as he’s known now, was a man I had sought as chief inquisitor for a very long time. His lifetime of criminal activities ran the gamut of offenses.”

  “How’d you catch him?”

  “I didn’t. Not really. Someone tipped off the new inquisitor a couple of months after…I stepped down from the post. I visited him in his cell and, to my surprise, I did not find an unrepentant man cursing the fates, gods, or his inevitable execution. After several conversations, I found him genuinely contrite and remorseful for at least some of his more heinous crimes.

  “I had already been trying to figure out how to continue my investigations, and I found the solution in Mr. Cleary. He had many talents that suited the job perfectly, as well as a desire to atone for his past. I called in every favor owed me and put people I could trust in key positions surrounding his execution. The crowd saw Mr. Cleary executed, but inside the hangman’s box, my people swapped out a very much alive Cleary with a corpse, which they promptly buried in an unmarked prison cemetery. He has been working faithfully at my side ever since.”

  “So you…you’re a criminal. You set a convicted murderer free, and you were an inquisitor!”

  “All true. Sometimes, justice is not black and white. There are grey areas where we must tread very carefully to enact it. Freeing Mr. Cleary may have been a step too far, but I do not regret it.”

  “Has he redeemed himself?”

  “In my eyes? Yes. Mr. Cleary would likely tell you otherwise. His ghosts haunt him, though he hides it well.”

  “So what is it you want me to do tonight?”

  “I already have a good idea why Esmerelda Dushane would act to keep Bertram from coming to harm. I want to know why he paid the Thuumian embassy a visit, if there might be a connection with them. Do you think you can handle that?”

  “What am I looking for?”

  “Correspondence linking Bertram or Rastus to Farelle or someone else highly placed in the embassy. It’s no secret that the Thuum inside Velaroth want a stronger position within the city and government. They’ve been here two hundred years, and many still feel as though they are treated like refugees. Perhaps someone sees a way to strengthen their position through Bertram. Another Thuum faction seeks to leave the city and strike out on their own. If they thought Bertram was sympathetic to their cause, they might seek to hasten his ascension.”

  Kiera shrugged. “Sounds easy enough.”

  “Do not get careless. The Thuum do not take trespassers lightly.”

  Kiera broke from his grip and elbowed him as she pushed past. “Yes, Father.”

  “It’s Uncle.” Conner chuckled despite the stab of pain he felt in his heart.

  CHAPTER 18

  “Back so soon, Inquisitor?” Cleary asked as he opened the door wide.

  “Mr. Cleary, you appear to be healing well,” Bertram replied.

  “Sah Conner has spared no expense in relieving himself of the awesome burden of opening his own door and fetching his drinks.”

  “It’s good to have a purpose.”

  “No matter how menial it might be,” Cleary concurred. “Sah Conner, Sah Bertram to see you,” he announced as he led his guest to the parlor.

  “Bertram, another unexpected surprise,” Conner said.

  “I apologize for once again stopping by without an invitation and bringing my work with me.”

  “Not at all. I enjoy our discussions. I was just about to have a nightcap. Care for one?”

  “More than you can imagine, thank you.”

  Both men looked at Cleary, who started under their scrutiny. “Oh, of course. My mind drifted. My apologies,” he said, and hastened to fetch their drinks.

  Bertram sat down, removed his soot-stained mask, and grinned at Cleary’s back. “He seems a bit out of sorts today.”

  “He overextended himself earlier and is likely feeling the effects. I have tried to convince him to take more time off, but he despises idleness.”

  “That’s a good quality in an employee.”

  “It is unless they push themselves too hard and the pain causes them to become petulant.”

  Cleary set the men’s drinks onto the table. “Do not let him fool you, sah. I was petulant long before my injury.”

  “Not a trait one usually finds in a servant,” Bertram said.

  “Only the best of us possess and openly display it.”

  Conner added, “And only the best of employers appreciate it.”

  “Then I expect you’ll be appreciating me a great deal over the coming days and weeks.”

  Bertram drained his glass in a single gulp and held it up for Cleary to refill. He grimaced at the sooty fingerprints he left all over the crystal vessel. “I hope you aren’t responsible for doing the dishes as well, Mr. Cleary. I fear I am making a mess of your fine crystal.”

  “Fortunately, that duty falls to another, but she is a far more frightening character than I, so perhaps this would be a good job for Felicity.”

  “Speaking of appreciating petulance, how is your niece faring in the big city, Conner?” Bertram asked.

  “She is adapting.” Conner leveled his gaze on the inquisitor. “Is that why you’ve come by?”

  Bertram chuckled. “No, it’s purely professional, I assure you. Did you hear of the explosion in the naval mooring yard last night?”

  “I did. An airship if I heard right.”

  “Not just an airship but our flagship, along with Commander Thibault and twenty-six airshipmen.”

  “Tragic news.”

  “It is disturbing to say the least, and not just because of the loss of life and property.”

  Conner nodded. “You have another who and why situation.”

  “Precisely, and this time I have no idea as to either of them.”

  “Do you think this and the attack on you are related?”

  “The timing and egregiousness of the act make it difficult to discount the theory. However, there is something that makes me think they are not. I have a witness who claims to have seen a man and a woman board the airship and attack the crew.” Bertram retrieved the warped gold spike from his pocket and handed it to Conner. “I found this. You can make out some techno-scribings along its surface, but they aren’t like any I’ve seen before.”

  Conner studied the item in his hand. “I’m far from an expert, but they do appear foreign. These prongs look as though they might have held a small arcanstone.”

  “That was my guess as well.”

  “You say two people fought past the crew and destroyed the airship?”

  “That’s the report.”

  “That seems extremely unlikely.”

  “My witness claimed that the man who engaged the soldiers on deck was impervious to their weapons, at least for a time.”

  “Have you recovered the bodies?”

  “Some, one of which I believe was one of the perpetrators.”

  Conner handed the spike back to the inquisitor. “What makes you think that?”

  “I saw no less than four musket wounds and several deep slashes and punctures. I imagine the physicians will find more. The most gruesome detail was that he appeared to have no skin.”

  “No skin…”

  Bertram nodded. “Our skinstealer.”

  “Not just a skinstealer but someone able to animate corpses, if you are right.”

  “So much for hoping he died.”

  “Who died?” Kiera asked as she walked into the room wearing her new mask. She settled her eyes on Bertram. “Oh, it’s you again. You appear even filthier than the last time you were here. I know water is a precious commodity, but a person of your status should have adequate access to it.”

  “Is it customary to offend your guests where you come from?” Bertram asked.

  “Only those who offend the senses. I thought the cook was smoking a r
ammox haunch, but it’s just you.”

  “Then I must apologize once again. There was an explosion and fire last night, and I have been dealing with the aftermath.”

  “And they needed you to put it out—with your face?”

  “K-Felicity…” Conner warned, his voice low.

  Bertram chuckled and waved him off. “Most women like my face.”

  “Most women like your money. They tolerate your face.”

  “Felicity! Bertram, I apologize. My niece is…a bit rough around the edges.”

  “Nonsense. I find her candor refreshing.”

  Conner glared at Kiera. “Still, she needs to learn how to play her part, particularly when in civilized company.”

  “When I find myself in civilized company I will play my part to the fullest. Goodnight, Uncle,” she replied, her grin hidden behind her mask.

  Kiera bounded up the stairs to her room, exchanged her house clothes for something stylish yet dark and unrestrictive, and buckled her batons and grapnel gun beneath a reversible cloak. She slipped out of the manor’s upstairs window, launched herself across several rooftops using her grapnel gun, and dropped to the street two blocks away.

  Traveling through Highborn was a breeze. Not only were the streets vacant of vagrants, the people still out and about took one look at her mask and ignored her, accepting her as one of their own. Even the few criminals skulking about were of a much higher class than the typical ruffians she was accustomed to dealing with. No one accosted her or tried to mug her. That sort of petty crime was rare in Highborn. The thieves here engaged mostly in more respectable crimes, like money laundering, extortion, and black-marketing. Things that were carried out behind closed doors so as not to involve the gendarme.

  Rafferty controlled most of Highborn City’s criminal activities. There were a few small sub-gangs, but they ultimately answered to him, and he answered to Nimat. Nimat had been unusually quiet these last couple of weeks, since the warehouse fiasco, and Kiera wondered what was going on in Undercity.