by JM Guillen
Mimic. Bad.
“Bad.” My good girl piped up, just as trained. “Bad. Bad. Bad.”
His anger cooled just a touch, and he almost smiled at my girl. However, he was not mollified.
“How is it then, Judicar, that you know business that is not yours, unless you have little mice in my house?”
That was always the question.
I could never admit the existence of the judicar’s alchemical serum. Therefore, I had to be agile with excuses, especially when asked how I came by certain “unknowable” knowledge.
I shook my head. “You’ve got it all wrong, Senĩr. I only know what I hear whispered in the streets.” I leaned forward. “I was actually after a completely different rat. While I was investigating another matter, I heard of your situation.” I gave him a sly smile. “I think our interests cross. I’m here to help you.”
He still wasn’t quite convinced. “How is a judicar going to help with Red Hand business, hmm? How are you going to do what we cannot?” He cracked his knuckles. “Most important, Judicar, why?”
I shrugged. It was a casual thing, a shrug that told Santiago that it wasn’t a question that mattered. “I don’t know how, Santiago.” I shook my head, rolling my eyes just a touch. “Let me tell you what I do know.”
“This I must hear.” He looked skeptical.
I leaned forward, unfolding my hands. I held up one finger.
This part was a gamble.
“The Red Marquis, a man who is in charge of one of the most powerful guilds in the Warrens, loses his sister. She is simply gone, from beneath his nose.” I stopped, tilting my head toward him. A long moment of silence hung heavy in the air.
Santiago sighed. He gave me a small nod.
I held up a second finger. “He has lost more than just her.” When he didn’t deny it, I went on. “I suspect that he sent out men, but they vanished as well.”
A Fox. A Sword. A Spider. A Golden Coin.
“Good men, men I trusted.” Anger coiled tightly in his voice. “Men who knew what was at stake.”
I leaned even closer, my voice conspiratorial. I held out a third finger. “If she isn’t found, and soon, this man is likely to tear apart my borough to find her. The Red Marquis is a powerful man. Many, many people may die.”
I felt his anger, his fury. It was like a wash of heat. “If I don’t find her, people will die.” His voice was twisted and fierce. “That’s the way of it, Judicar.”
“Innocent people?” My tone was quiet, calming.
“You think I can let some other guildmaster or some street thugs thumb their nose at me? You think I can afford to let something like this slide?” His fury was palatable, like a living thing. “I will not be mocked, Judicar. I will not.”
“No. You won’t.” I kept my face unreadable. “I know you won’t, Santiago. I know you can’t sit on your hands about this. That’s why I came. That’s why I’m going to handle this.”
He paused then, looking at me with incredulity. I had thrown him off his stride, and his anger seemed to skip a step. He looked at one of the ladies guarding him. “That’s why the judicar came?” He shook his head, chuckling. It was an ugly, rueful thing.
I simply sat, saying nothing. Scoundrel preened and ruffled her feathers.
“Tell me then, Judicar.”
I took a deep breath. “I have a proposal. It’s not a writ from the Offices or a judicar casting judgment. It is a simple proposal, and if you don’t care for it, I’ll leave.”
He nodded, intrigued. “Go on.”
“Of course, if I leave, I leave knowing everything I know. Nothing changes, except that a judicar knows that you have cause to murder citizenry.”
He scowled, shaking his head. “Threats, Tomás?”
“I would be a fool to threaten you. Have you ever known me to be a fool?” I kept my voice as even as I could and held his gaze. “I don’t want you tearing through my borough to find your sister. It seems like someone is having a poke at you. I don’t want this to be something that spills into the streets, something that costs lives.”
“It may have already cost lives. If she is hurt—”
I leaned toward him. “Let me handle it. Tell me what you know, what you’ve found out. I can go places you can’t, and I have access to resources that you don’t.”
My head throbbed.
I shrug. “I have nothing.” I lay down a Stave.
I blinked, trying to keep my focus. “Give me one week. Share what you have with me. If I can’t bring back your sister, then do as you will. If I succeed, you both get your sister back and get to claim you worked with the law. I get to know that a guild war didn’t begin here.”
He looked at me, thoughtfully and long. The silence was thick in the room.
“What if I do this thing, and she dies, hmm? What then?”
I took a breath, remaining as casual as I could. “Then it will not be you who has failed. It will have been me. You can still try to take your justice from whoever did this, but unless you are quite close to finding her, a few days might not matter.”
He sighed. For the first time, he looked truly weary.
“Fine. Three days it is. Sundering. I will even give you until sixth bell, Eventide. I am a kind man.” His smile grew thin. “But Tomás, I had better never find that you spoke crooked here.” He raised his hands, palms out. “Don’t get me wrong. I respect a man who can make his tongue dance. But if I find that you have mice in my house, and that this is all some large game…” His voice trailed off. His eyes were steel and fire.
“Then we have a problem.” I nodded. “I understood before I walked through your door, Santiago.”
He is a dangerous man.
“Yes.” He gave me a long look. “You are right, Tomás. I have never known you to be a fool. Let us make certain this does not change. Yes?”
I nodded. “I understand, Senír. I’ll do my best.”
“You’ll do that and more.” He was stern. I could see the wheels spinning in his mind. “If I let you handle this, it will not be some judicar’s best, working for the Red Hand.” He gave me a shrewd look. “I want the best of Tomás Havenkin. I don’t want the word of the judicar, I want the word of the man.”
I nodded. Esperan men leaned heavily upon concepts of honor and the weight of a man’s word. “Let’s bring her home, Santiago.”
He knocked on his desk and leaned forward. “Yes.” He glanced at one of his guards and then back to me. “But I say nothing publicly. Not until you have your three days. I won’t claim to back you, just to watch you fail.”
I put my hand out. “Understood, Senír.”
He took my hand and shook it. Then, he stood. His smile was grim. “Come, Tomás.” He walked around the desk. His lithe guardians flanked him, just steps behind.
“Let me have Grith introduce you to the last man who saw Rebeka alive.”
4
Santiago had Grith walk me down through the gambling pits. As we walked through them, folks grew just a touch quieter. In the corner of one was the man I had heard on the violi when I had come in. He had long gray hair and wore a tie and bowler. Now, he played something slower than he had been, almost mournful. It was a song that seemed to pull sadness from the air. I listened, trying to catch the tune.
Was it Drae’s Sojourn?
Perhaps. I listened for a moment. Scoundrel shifted and muttered on my shoulder; I absently scratched her neck.
“Judicar.” A thin man tipped his hat to me. He was playing a game of daief with three other men. It looked to be a fierce hand, but no one was showing their castle yet.
“Gents.” I smiled, looking over their table. There were a half dozen just like it, scattered around the room. Of course, some played rout and others draughts, but each game was deadly serious. Just this one had a small pile of silver slips in the middle, along with a fistful of salt notes.
“Want to throw in, Judicar?” A younger man, with a waxed mustache sat on the other side of the
table. “We’re only two rounds deep. Plenty of time to toss some silver in.”
I eyed the table skeptically. “Two rounds? That’s a rich haul for two rounds!”
The third man leaned back in his chair. He was one of the Sindri, with their typical, bright-red hair. “What use is playing if the pot’s poor?”
“The judicar hasn’t time for any play, does he?” Grith gave me a wide grin. “Why, he has all manner of noble work to do.”
I gave Grith an irritated look. He was correct, of course. I just didn’t like that he got to enjoy being right.
“Master Grith is correct.” I gave the gentlemen a smile. “There are things that he has failed to take care of for the Red Marquis, and as a result, an adult had to step in.”
The men laughed. Grith, however, did not enjoy my wit as much as the men at the table did. He grumbled as he led me on.
I shrugged at the men as we strode away. They were still laughing.
After stepping down a wending corridor, the lean man opened a door and stuck his head in, peeking. He nodded, seeming satisfied. He turned to me.
“It’s Edmund Groil.”
A tight smile found my lips. “Eddie the Filch.”
“Filch.” Scoundrel mimicked me. She looked at Grith. “Filch, Filch.”
Grith flinched away from Scoundrel but tried to hide it by leaning on a nearby door-post. An uncomfortable moment passed before he spoke again.
“You know the man?” Grith cocked an eye at me.
“I know his reputation. Eddie has a long list of things I suspect him of. Several break-ins, to be exact.” I grinned. “My fellow judicar, Wil, was after him for a while.”
It was a bit more than that. Eddie was exactly the man Wil had been after when he had started digging into the Red Hand. On the surface, Eddie was a registered lock-hawk, but things went considerably deeper than that. Wil had been hunting someone who had slipped through the locked side-gate at a Warrens taproom, and that single assignment had led him on a merry chase.
“I’m certain our Eddie proved hisself clean.”
I smiled at Grith. “Wil couldn’t prove anything, or Eddie wouldn’t be here.” I nodded toward the door. “What does he have to do with Rebeka?”
Grith smiled at me. “Eddie had his eye on Rebeka. Long years now, ‘e’d do her the occasional sweet, but she really weren’t interested.”
I gave the man a curious look. “So Eddie had a liking for Santiago’s sister?”
He gave me a dour glance at the familiar use of the man’s name. “Senĩr Il Ladren wasn’t having any of it, was he? Eddie Groil wasn’t quite the man the Red Marquis wanted for his sister.”
“I bet Eddie didn’t take well to that.”
“Rebeka always had men looking after her, whether she knew it or not. She had a kind heart and did a lot of good in the c’munity.” Grith reached for his tin of fumas and set one between his lips. He struck a match against his thumb. “Eddie wasn’t the only one, but he were persistent.” He lit his smoke and grinned at me.
“You think one of these men might be who I need to be hunting?”
Grith inhaled sweet smoke and considered. “Rebeka was a good woman. Happy. If you were looking for every man who had even sniffed after her’ that’d be a long list.”
Happy. That made sense.
“The Smiling Lady.” He played a card with a beautiful, dark haired woman on it. She seemed familiar somehow.
“Santiago says Eddie was the last one to see her?” That sounded suspicious. The man was carrying a torch for Rebeka, and he also was the last person to see her alive?
Too easy.
“He was. I’ll let him tell you though, won’t I?” Grith smiled and stepped into the room.
I followed closely behind, with my good girl on my shoulder.
“Thom.” She ruffled her feathers and nuzzled into me. I knew she just wanted attention.
Quiet. I quickly made the hand-sign, and my girl settled down.
Eddie the Filch was a slender man, short and nervous, with thin brown hair. I knew him by sight. As I had said, he had been a suspect of Wil’s, and I had suspected him in a great many minor illegal events, but he had never actually been caught.
The room swam with thick tabac smoke. It had an odd, spicy scent. The walls were lined with wooden shelves, piled with small boxes and disassembled padlocks. Eddie sat in the corner, smoking, as he looked over a lockbox. In his hands he had a pair of thin pick-wires.
When I walked through the door with Scoundrel on my shoulder, I thought he was going to leap through the ceiling.
“Judicar!” The word exploded out of him. “I been here all night. I haven’t been—”
“Shut up, Eddie.” Grith gave the man a tired look. “Thom here is just looking to ask some questions about Rebeka, ain’t he?”
Eddie relaxed just a touch. Still, the man seemed wound tightly. Drunk? Maybe. I gave him a nod.
“I am, Eddie. I wasn’t even here to talk about whatever—” I paused, “—whatever that is that you’re up to.” I gave the man a hard smile while looking at the box.
“I’m a registered lock-hawk, Judicar.” He met my gaze. “This here is a hired piece of work by Malthers, over at the Salt-house.” He smiled. “It’s easy for a skilled man to find honest work.”
“Malthers.” I didn’t ask any questions. I knew from experience that sometimes, I didn’t have to.
“Right. He has commissioned new strongboxes. Better locks.” Eddie made a twirling motion with one of his picks. “Something about salt-springs north of the city.”
I nodded. Someone had been hitting caravans coming from some of the city’s outliers, caravans loaded with precious salt. It sounded as if Malthers was looking at his options.
Lost gods. The Filch might actually be about solid work.
“That’s fine, Eddie. That’s not what I’m here for.” I took a seat in one of the rickety wooden chairs, straddling it backward. Scoundrel, for her part, squawked and opened her wings, trying to keep her balance.
“Oh. That’s real good. Not that I’ve—” Eddie shook his head. “Haven’t been up to anything, is what I mean. I was just afraid you’d come looking for someone and you had the wrong guy. You know. Like before.”
“I remember before, Eddie.” I gave him a hard look. “Wil still isn’t certain he had the wrong guy.”
Eddie shrugged, his eyes red and unfocused. “I been here all night. Wouldn’t catch me outside in the rain anyway. I catch sick if I get my head in the wet. Every time.”
Grith shook his head and walked out of the room. He quietly shut the door behind himself. He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “drunken idiot.”
“Eddie, tell me about Rebeka.” I leaned forward. “Tell me everything you remember.”
Nodding, he set the lockbox aside. I noticed that his hands were trembling. “Always happy to help.”
He wasn’t though. Eddie the Filch sat up straight, trying to avoid looking too guilty. He was trying too hard, it seemed to me.
That was fine. Perhaps if he was nervous, he would trip his own gait.
5
The cause was obvious, and Grith had figured it out. The man was drunk or, more likely, doped on some tonic. I could faintly smell it on him, a sharp, peppery scent. Half of what he said was rambling nonsense.
“Last week?” He was musing, as if speaking to someone who wasn’t there. “Yes. It was early Riddling morning—”
“How early?”
He scratched nervously at his face. “Third bell, Dawning perhaps? Or fourth?” He nodded vaguely. “Somewhere thereabouts.”
I sifted out that he had seen Rebeka, already beginning her rounds. She apparently delivered small baskets of staples and sundries to take out to the poor and had routes she did. I took it from Eddie’s ramblings that the goods had been donated by Santiago.
I’ll admit, the idea made me scowl. It was obviously a play by Santiago—using his sister to show the good his g
uild did in the Warrens.
The man was a kabron.
“She was so sweet, Thom.” His eyes were red and wet. “She was one of the good ones.”
As I listened, I thought about how fortunate it was for Rebeka that her brother was the Guildmaster of the Red Hand. His name had weight. No one would want to stop Rebeka from doing her rounds, not if they knew who she was. She should have been able to step through the most dangerous neighborhoods with no concern.
That was an important point.
“Do you think the men that took her knew who she was?” I interrupted Eddie, who was rambling again.
“I dunno, sir.” He was sweating. “I was over by Dockside when I saw them. They came out of an alleyway there—you know the one, it’s by the tallow works.”
I did know the alley. When it rained, the streets ran in rainbows from the tallow. “And she still had her parcels with her?”
He nodded.
“And you didn’t see their faces?”
“I didn’t, sir. I been asked by Senĩr Il Ladren, but I didn’t see nothin’ at all. Just them takin’ her.”
Of course. This was going nowhere. At least I could check the alleyway, but—
“Thank you, Eddie. If I need anything else, I’ll come back.” I stood.
“Don’t you think she’s dead?” The sentence came out in a rush. “Most folks seem to think she’s already—”
“I don’t know what to think, Eddie. But I wouldn’t be looking if I thought she was dead.”
“Dead.” My girl opened her wings. “Dead. Dead. Dead.” She fixed a gaze upon Eddie.
I gestured to my smart girl. Quiet, sweet bird.
Eddie didn’t like Scoundrel’s attention. “Well, Judicar, if there’s anything—I mean, if you need—”
I nodded wearily. “If there’s anything I need from you Eddie, I’ll be back.”