by James Evans
He barrelled through them, flailing wildly with Bone Dancer as he went and knocking one to the ground. He almost fell, arms windmilling as he tried to say on his feet, then he righted himself and found his rhythm, pounding through the warehouse as fast as he could go.
He turned left at the end of the huge room and sprinted for a door, hoping it would take him outside. He hurtled through the doorway into some sort of office full of clerks and filing cabinets. The clerks stared in astonishment as he ran between their desks, pulled open the door to the street and charged out onto the street.
Marrinek slowed quickly in the crowds, sucking in air and desperately looking around for signs of pursuit. He ducked his head and pulled up his hood, hunching over and leaning heavily on his staff. Brick dust flapped from the cloak and for several long minutes he tapped and weaved through the streets until his heart slowed and his breathing returned to normal.
Eventually he paused, stopping to rest in the shade of a tall building whose upper floor overhung the ground. He stood there for several minutes, leaning back with his head against the wall, and waited for his hands to stop shaking and the strength to return to his legs.
What had gone wrong in the inn? He didn’t know but he feared the worst. Tentatively, he focussed a little power, pulling just enough to prove that he could do it. That was fine, so he widened the draw to pull more. Almost immediately he was hit by another wave of nausea and he barely managed to hold down his lunch.
When the feelings had subsided and he could see clearly again, Marrinek pushed himself off the wall and staggered off down the street to find the twins. It took no effort at all to give every appearance of being mortally tired.
Eastside Bath, when he reached it, looked much as it had done a few hours earlier. Marrinek stopped at the first bath house he came to and went inside. A small hallway led to an archway but as the front door closed a voice from Marrinek’s right said, “Good afternoon, sir. How can we be of service?”
Marrinek turned to see an elderly lady sitting behind a counter in a small room just off the hallway. She looked at him with bright blue eyes.
“Are you looking for something particular?”
“As a matter of fact, yes, I am. I need directions to the house of a Madame Duval.”
“Madame Duval, eh? You have expensive tastes, sir, but I’m sure we could find something to suit, if you’d prefer?”
Marrinek shook his head gently then rubbed at his cheek, which he seemed to have bruised, somehow.
“Just directions. I’m meeting some friends.”
“I’ll just bet you are, sir. Well, if I can’t persuade you otherwise, you’ll find Madam Duval’s on the right-hand side of the street as you head away from the river, about a hundred yards along. Look for the green door, sir, under a golden ‘D’.”
“Thank you,” said Marrinek.
“Good day to you, sir.”
Back on the street, Marrinek pondered his next move. He knew little of the city and nothing at all about Madame Duval and her associates. Scouting the building, planning entry and exit routes and gathering equipment would all take time, during which the twins would be at risk. Things would get worse if Hitton sent people to find him. No, the situation called for prompt and decisive action.
He rolled his head from side-to-side to loosen his neck muscles. This would all have been so much easier a couple of years ago when he had more to work with than a flaky set of talents and a staff. He sighed and strode up the street looking for the green door of Madame Duval’s.
He found it, as the old woman had said, on the right-hand side of the street under a discreet golden D. The large door was painted a bright green and fronted a tall, comfortable looking house. The ground floor windows were shuttered but the windows of the upper stories were open and he could hear music coming from one of the first-floor windows. On one side the house was bordered by a second, similar looking, establishment. On the other, a narrow alley lined on one side with small shops led between two buildings to connect to another street running parallel with Eastside Bath. A second door led into Madame Duval’s from the alley but when Marrinek pushed on it he found it to be firmly closed.
He walked back round to the front of the building and reached for the knob only to encounter an unexpected charm. His fingers just above the surface, he trickled a little power into the knob and gently probed the nature of the charms built into the door and the lock; nothing dangerous, it turned out, just a lock with a link to a bell to announce new arrivals. He pushed a little more power into the charm and temporarily smothered the link to the bell, then he grasped the knob and opened the door.
He stepped quickly inside and closed the door behind him. The entrance hall was long, lined with polished oak panels and richly carpeted. A wide sweeping stairway curved toward the first floor, where a galleried landing overlooked the hallway from beneath an intricately carved ceiling decorated with erotic scenes of classical abandon. To the left and right through arched openings were comfortable sitting rooms lit by elegant charmed lamps that gave out a gentle, reassuring light. The whole atmosphere was soothing, friendly, welcoming. Marrinek, his clothes stained with travel and sweat and violence, felt somewhat out of place.
From upstairs came the sounds of laughter, mingled with music and conversation and beyond them the more muted sounds of passion. Marrinek ignored them and concentrated on the marks he had placed on the twins. Searching for someone using their apprentice marks was a technique born of desperation; easily hidden or obscured, the marks were difficult to sense and impossible to find at anything more than a very short range. He focussed his thoughts first on Floost, who was upstairs, possibly in the attic, and then on Darek, who was toward the rear of the building, maybe in the basement. Both close, both alive, neither currently in a state of pain but both in some degree of distress.
“Oh, hello,” said a voice, “I didn’t hear you come in.”
Marrinek opened his eyes. A young lady dressed in a low-cut dress of red velvet had emerged from the room at the end of the hallway and stopped, clearly surprised to see someone standing unannounced at the bottom of the stairs. She smiled at him.
“Welcome to the house of Madame Duval,” she said, recovering her poise as she reached the foot of the stairs and moving smoothly into her greeting, “where you can find all the delights that tempt or titillate. What are you looking for today?”
“Twins,” said Marrinek bluntly, “one of each, about fourteen years old.”
The hostess paused, thrown off-balance by the unusual nature of the request. She glanced back down the hall and her manner became cold.
“I don’t think we can help. Maybe you should try another establishment.”
She clapped her hands and a large man in leather jerkin and trousers emerged from the door at the end of the hall, moving to stand behind the hostess, arms folded, frowning down at Marrinek.
“It’s very simple,” said Marrinek, his voice calm and unthreatening, “you have my apprentices, twins, a girl and a boy. They were sold to you earlier today, I’m here to take them away.”
The hostess backed away leaving room for the thug to step forward.
“I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Shad will escort you to the street,” she said, backing further down the hallway.
The thug, Shad, moved forward, reaching out to grasp Marrinek’s upper arm.
“This way,” he said unnecessarily, pushing Marrinek gently but firmly toward the door.
Marrinek allowed himself to be shown back through the door, which was closed and then locked behind him. He stood for a moment, breathing, gathering, thinking. For the briefest moment, he considered knocking down the door and beating his way to the twins but he simply couldn’t face the effort. The fight at the Snarling Goat and the subsequent pursuit had tired him more than he would have believed possible and he just wasn’t fit enough to take on Shad.
He needed another way in. Cursing his prison-induced physical frailty, he walked aro
und the corner of the building and along the alley toward the rear of the house.
The side door was still locked but the charm was unsophisticated and cheap, meant only to prevent the untalented from opening the door. Marrinek placed a hand over the lock and focussed, directing power into the metal. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the shape of the charm, feeling his way along the contours of the metal. After a few seconds, he had it worked out and a sharp twist of power was all it took to break the charm. There was a crack as the charm failed and a few wisps of smoke rose from the lock where the wood of the door had been singed.
The nausea was powerful, this time, and Marrinek stood there for several seconds, fighting the urge to puke. Then he took a deep breath and pushed open the door. He stepped into the back corridor, an area for the servants to use when this had been the home of a rich merchant, and moved quickly toward the front of the house. He paused to listen at each door and at the second heard the hostess explaining what had happened with their recent visitor; a second voice answered but Marrinek couldn’t quite catch the softly spoken words. Time to act.
Marrinek pushed open the door and stepped swiftly into the room, a large study where a lady in her mid-thirties - Madame Duval, maybe? - sat at a desk with the hostess on the other side. Shad was not present, presumably not having been hired for his cognitive processes. Both women turned to look at him as he entered, the hostess showing shock and confusion on her face.
“How did you get in?” she said.
“I think we need to talk,” said Marrinek, addressing the woman behind desk, “Madame Duval, I presume?”
The woman stood, waving the hostess to step aside so that she could inspect the intruder. She was, in Marrinek’s estimation, a good-looking woman, dressed with style and care to make the most of her considerable assets, although not talented, as far as he could tell. Her dark grey silk gown was conservatively cut and she was wearing a modest silver net sewn with pearls to contrast her black hair.
“I am Duval. Elaine has told me of your request and you are mistaken if you believe I will give up my legally acquired servants. Twins are valuable, especially good-looking specimens like the ones Gander brought me this morning.”
Madame Duval reached behind her and pulled a discreet black knob on the wall.
“I don’t know who you are or how you got in but this interview is over.”
As she finished speaking Shad came in through the side door, long knife in his fist. He moved quickly to stand between Marrinek and Elaine.
Marrinek held up his free hand.
“Peace, friend,” he said wearily to Shad, “there’s no need for violence here and frankly I’m too tired to make the effort. You are the innocent party, Madame Duval, deceived and defrauded by Gander, so let’s drop the pretence. Hitton will be compensating me for the injury he has done by abducting my apprentices and if I ask nicely he’ll find something for you too.” He spoke calmly, lightly, as if discussing the weather.
Then his voice turned hard and cold.
“But your opportunities to surrender the twins peacefully are now exhausted. Bring them to me, now, then I will talk to Hitton.”
Madame Duval held up her hand as Shad started to lumber forward and then sat back in her chair, thinking hard, weighing the situation. She looked at Marrinek, eyes narrowed to suspicious slits.
“Why should I believe you or trust you? How do I know they’re your apprentices or that you can persuade Hitton, or even Gander for that matter, to give you, let alone me, a penny?”
Marrinek looked around to find a chair. He pulled the chair round to face Madame Duval, and sat down.
“Good, we’re negotiating like civilised people; it’s been a busy week for fighting and a few hours of peace would be nice.” He gave her a lopsided grin before continuing, calm but firm.
“They’re my apprentices and I know they’re in the building. You certainly can’t keep me from them,” he said it with a confidence he didn’t really feel at the moment and paused to let it sink in, “and Gander is beyond persuasion, unless you have necromantic powers. Hitton will do as I tell him, if he wishes to preserve his worthless hide, and that will mean money or some equally valuable favours. He doesn’t yet know it but his luck has most definitely run out.”
Madame Duval raised an eyebrow, and snorted doubtfully. She had long dealt with Hitton and knew from experience that he wasn’t easily frightened. Then she waved at Shad and the hostess.
“Leave us. Put the twins in the sitting room next door, make sure they don’t leave and don’t let anyone bother them. Give them some food.”
When the door had closed behind Shad’s retreating bulk Madame Duval turned back to Marrinek.
“I’m not a monster, Mr Whoever-you-are, despite the stories people tell. Gander, though, was properly evil, a real shit of a man, and he deserved to die. Did you kill him?”
Marrinek nodded.
“Well I can’t say I’m upset,” said Madame Duval, “he came here once, before we knew him, and messed up one of my girls. Since then, he gets his perks elsewhere but he won’t be missed, not by me or anyone else.”
She paused, looking closely at Marrinek as he lounged; he seemed to be completely at ease in her favourite reading chair. She was used to dealing with thugs and brutes but this one was different, exuding an air of confident menace that spoke of long years of violence despite his apparent youth. Finally, she reached out and pulled a blue knob behind her desk.
“I don’t know who you are but you must have damn great balls if you’re prepared to threaten Hitton. He’s a dangerous man, even in this city of violent killers. I dread to think what he might do to you if he catches you,” but she smiled as she said it, as if ‘dread’ wasn’t quite the right word. The side door opened and a servant came in.
“Tea please, Nandy, and some of those almond cakes that cook was making this morning.”
Nandy curtsied and left by the same door, skirts rustling, and Madame Duval continued.
“This city is run by talented men and women but you knew that already; all cities are run by the same groups, the same types of people. Even some of the thugs and gang-masters have the power and they’re not afraid to use it,” she held up her hand as Marrinek opened his mouth, “please, hear me out. Those of us without talent have to take our friends where we can find them and we survive by treading a fine line between the blocs that control the streets and rule the city. You, Mr Unnamed Warrior, don’t seem the type to follow the rules. Which bloc do you fall into, I wonder?”
Marrinek shrugged.
“Call me Bay. I don’t really have a bloc, yet. I’m waiting to see how things go.”
He fiddled briefly with the cuff of his shirt, then dropped it when he realised what he was doing.
“I wonder if we might grow to trust each other, Madame Duval, if we might form a bloc of our own?”
Madame Duval looked briefly down at her knuckles, then said, “Well, Bay, my brothers, my father, his brothers and their father all made a living with their fists, either as soldiers, watchmen or thugs. I have as well, in some ways, although these days I prefer to hire other people’s fists rather than use my own.”
She paused, looking up at Marrinek and wondering how much to say.
“I pay the Flank Siders for protection but all that really means is that the North Enders leave me alone. I can’t be seen to take sides against Hitton and his crew, it would be the end of me and my House, regardless of what I pay, and I’m not ready for that yet. I would give much to get out from under the Flanks Siders’ thumb but if you want my trust you’ll have to do a damn sight more than just talk about threats and revenge and ‘compensation’.”
“Well, why don’t I trust you a little and maybe we can see how things develop. I’m short of friends, you need some effective muscle. Maybe we can help each other.”
He paused as the door opened to admit Nandy with a tray of tea and cakes. Madame Duval and Marrinek sat quietly as Nandy poured the tea and
handed out plates of almond cakes. After she had left Marrinek continued.
“So how about this. You’re out of pocket at Gander’s hand; I’ll make that up to you. You’re paying the Flank Siders; I’ll deal with them and their protection racket. In return you’ll help me understand the city, get to know its people and work out where the power lies. I have plans and you’ll help me flesh them out and then maybe, together, we’ll both get what we want.”
“How do I know you’ll deliver and that you won’t just bleed me dry? What’s to stop you from taking everything I earn?”
“Ah, well. That’s the thing about trust; it has to start somewhere.”
Marrinek leaned forward and held out his hand.
“Do we have a deal?” he asked.
Madame Duval looked at him and his hand for ten seconds and Marrinek was beginning to think that she would refuse. Then she nodded firmly and grasped his hand.
“Yes, we have a deal, but you’ll have to prove yourself before I even take my place at the table. If anyone asks, I’ll deny knowledge of any arrangement and say you threatened to kill me to get what you wanted.”
“Agreed. You have more to lose, after all,” he said, standing up and walking to the door, “I have some things to do and I need to settle the twins. I’ll need information from you later, before I speak to Hitton; till this evening?” He bowed shallowly then slipped through the doorway into the hall without waiting for her to reply.
Madame Duval waited, barely breathing, until she heard Bay walking along the hall with the twins. Once the front door had closed she let out a great breath and collapsed back into her chair, relief and fear rolling off her in waves. She pulled the blue knob again then walked over to the cabinet on the wall opposite the fireplace and poured herself a large measure of lakh, a northern spirit for which she had acquired a taste. She sipped it as she walked back to her desk.