On the Matter of the Red Hand

by JM Guillen

  I couldn’t decide if he was happier that I was leaving or more fearful that I’d return. I couldn’t imagine any reason I would need to speak with him again. The man was a waste of breath who knew nothing that mattered.

  I had no real way forward.

  I closed the door behind me and walked back down the hallway. This time, I took a right at the gambling pits and made my way to the front door.

  “You can still pitch in, Judicar!” The Sindri man’s voice was just a touch slurred. I ignored him. I had larger problems.

  Potentially deadly problems.

  Latigo stood at the door, wearing a thick coat against the rain. The furred hat was still on his head. He was a large and dark sentinel, peering into the darkness. It looked as if the storm had grown worse.

  When he saw me, he jeered. “Have a nice night, Judicar.”

  I did not answer. I strode by him, my head swirling with dark thoughts.

  I felt Santiago’s 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.”

  That was the way of it.

  Three days.

  I strode into the storm.

  The Striking Viper

  Seeking, Third Bell Eventide

  Less than a bell later, I was halfway across the Warrens. The rain came and went, and of course I was soaked through. Still, I hated feeling as if I were empty-handed. I would have been out tonight no matter what the weather.

  Technically, I had three days. My time didn’t even begin until the morning, but I wanted to at least have a thread.

  “Thom.” Scoundrel was less than happy to be in the wet. She was nuzzling as far beneath my hat as she could and kept shaking the water from her wings.

  “Sorry, little sweet.” I caressed her, trying to wipe some of the wet off her feathers.

  Neither of us wanted to be out here.

  Unfortunately, the only real direction I had was that alleyway by the tallow-works. It had only been a few days since she was taken, yet, there was only a slim chance that I would find something that might make a difference.

  As I walked toward Gaslight Road, I began to wonder.

  Dockside isn’t a wealthy borough by any stretch of the imagination, but it has more affluence than the Warrens. Therefore, as I walked through my borough, the buildings gradually grew better kept and cleaner as we approached Dockside. In fact, one might say that, of Warrens residents, the “wealthier” ones lived near Dockside. Wasn’t it strange that Rebeka had even been over here? Whom was she delivering to?

  I passed one of my favorite taverns, the Masque and Moon. I was sorely tempted to go inside, maybe even see if Wil was about, but I couldn’t.

  I needed to stay on task.

  I kept on, bypassing three more taprooms and a show-house that was putting on a play. The rain had faded to a gentle mist now, and more people were stepping out onto the streets. I saw drunken revelers making their way home and lightmen re-lighting the gaslights that had gone out from the weather. The gentle glow of the lamps seemed to hang in the mist.

  In the shelter of an awning, three ‘prentices were playing throw-stones as I passed. One of them, a Sindri street boy, called his rhyme before his toss.

  Can you hear them, calling out?

  His men, they wander, all about.

  Terror makes the sweetest meal.

  Orahiel. Orahiel.

  He threw the die-stones, landing the three of them in a circle. There was a chorus of groans as the boy won. The boy grabbed the stones and canted again, his thick accent making the words echo oddly in the shadowed street.

  Eyes on hands, they look at you,

  Seeing all things, through and through.

  When shadows drink all that you feel.

  Orahiel. Orahiel.

  There were hundreds of rhymes that went with throw-stones, most of them about how to ward demons or detect the taint within someone. We all learned them as children.

  These, however, made me feel uneasy.

  Orahiel and his mad followers had been real, as real as Elsador or Altheus or Keinė. The depraved cult had followed his tenets and worked secrets in the shadows. For most of my life, I had imagined that the sect was long dead.

  Until five years ago. That’s when the madmen had attempted to infiltrate the Guild Senate.

  It had begun simply, in all honesty. The cult had indoctrinated women who worked in pillow-houses, typically high-end courtesans. Of course, only the wealthy could enjoy indulgences of that caliber, and so these cultists had gradually learned sensitive secrets and cowed powerful men. They took secrets and dealt back horror and madness.

  The boy chanted again.

  In the gloaming, they all hide,

  finding darkness, deep inside.

  Seeking that the world should kneel

  Orahiel. Orahiel.

  I shuddered.

  When Orahiel’s depraved worshippers had finally shown their faces, the city had been thrown into paranoia and turmoil. The boroughs had been sealed against one another with us judicars warding the gates. The Inquisitors of Altheus’ had scoured the streets, seeking any who glorified corruption and depravity.

  It was not an overreaction. We had reason to fear.

  Leaving the boys to their game, I stepped into a side alley, startling some small rodent in the filth. The stench washed over me, a miasma of garbage and animal fat from the tallows. The rains were washing the tallow into the drains, leaving multicolored trails on the stones. It smelled like the tenements above had been dumping their chamber pots straight into the alleyway, even though that was illegal.

  It was easily one of the foulest smells in the Warrens.

  As I peered into the darkness, I saw movement in the shadows at the end of the alleyway.

  Someone was here.

  A woman at the other end of the alley took one look at my cloak and hat and quickly stepped out into the street. She briskly walked away.

  I sighed.

  All I had caught a glimpse of was blonde braided hair and a short blue skirt that was almost obscene. Probably only a prostitute. I could let her go. Still…

  Go. I made my hand into a fist, gesturing forward. Scoundrel took off from my shoulder, her wings silent. At the end of the alley, the raven swooped out of sight.

  I knew she would not go far—she was trained well.

  I strode along after, allowing a stern judicar mein to fall across my face.

  When I got to the corner, I peered around, trying to glimpse the woman. It was simple, as she wasn’t making a good attempt at hiding. She had moved to a stoop across the way. She was pretending to be casual and doing a poor task of it. Scoundrel perched on a gaslight, glaring down at her. The woman looked scared.

  Woman? Lost gods, she was a child! She might be in her ‘prenticing year but not much older. She knew what she was here for, however. Her blouse was too open, and her skirt was hardly to mid-thigh. Her makeup made her look far older than she was. She wasn’t quite worn yet, however. She didn’t have that thrown-away look so many girls did once they had been used.

  She was, however, terrified.

  My anger was like coals in my stomach. This was what happened when children were left on the street. The Havens should be willing to take her, but they were already quite full, as they almost always were. That left the workhouses or the street. I let the anger smolder for a moment and then whirled around the corner, straight toward her. She started to bolt.

  “You. Girl!” I made my voice deep, commanding. Judicar voices were well trained for this very purpose.

  She stopped, frozen, like a hind that had caught the hunter’s eye.

  I strode to her, glancing up at Scoundrel.

  “You can’t run, girl. We’ve been watching for a while.”

  She was so young. She trembled, as if my words were a lash.

  I gestured to Scoundrel.

  “Watching. Watching.” It lent an omi
nous air to have the bird claim to have been watching you. But the citizens were superstitious about the birds, believing that we could see through their eyes, all kinds of nonsense. Just having Scoundrel about was authority, of a kind.

  The girl was fighting not to cry.

  I softened my tone. “What is your name?”

  “Ilsei.” Maybe it was. It didn’t matter.

  I crouched.

  “Ilsei, I don’t know where you belong or what you need, but this is not the answer.”

  She began the gentle sup-supping that the young do when they cry.

  “You know I could hold you for this, right? You haven’t gained your majority yet.”

  She nodded, trying not to have a panic attack.

  I reached into my belt purse.

  She looked up at me.

  “Please.” It wasn’t ‘please, no,’ or ‘please, yes.’ It was fear in the form of a word. I pulled my hand from my purse.

  “Two silver slips.” The small triangles shone in the sunlight. “You can’t be making more than a pence or two out here, can you?”

  She shook her head; her face was aching, almost lustful for the coins. Her voice was tiny.

  “No, sir. Drew told me I’d be lucky to get a ha’penny.”

  A halfpenny! It was hard to not let her see me tremble with anger, to see my clenched fist grow white.

  “Ilsei, I grew up in Elsador’s Haven.”

  Her eyes were wide. “You were an orphan?” She bit her lip, as if upset she had spoken.

  I smiled. “Yes. They remember me fondly. It would take nothing to have you placed with the orphans. You would have food and a roof.”

  She shook her head violently.

  Probably she had family of some kind or an extremely tight group of friends. We heard all the stories: Mum was sick, Da was into his cups, and the kids did whatever they had to. The judicars couldn’t save them all, couldn’t stop every child who sold herself. The city was full of corruption, and the Warrens were by far the worst.

  But it was seeing this, seeing what happened to the women and the girls that just tore me.

  This was monstrous.

  “These coins are yours. But I will be watching. She will be watching.” I canted my eyes up to Scoundrel.

  Ilsei’s vibrant blues got wide.

  “One more time, and yer off to Elsador’s Haven. Understand?”

  She was crying, just sobbing wildly. I held the slips out, and her hand closed over them.

  She looked at me. She could not speak, it seemed. Her mouth worked, but nothing came out. Stammering slightly, she threw her arms around me awkwardly. Her words were little more than a whisper.

  “Drew’s gone. I dunno where he is.” Her arms were tight and she was shaking. “He’s been gone before, but it’s been days this time. He’s never been gone so long.”

  I put my hands on her shoulders, letting her hold herself close for a moment. I knew better than to push her back or look in her eyes. She would bolt for certain. As it was, she was trembling like a bird.

  “I’m at the Masque and Moon quite a bit, Ilsei. I know the owner. If Drew doesn’t show up in a day or two, you should come looking for me. My name is Thom.”

  She nodded and then pulled herself back. For a long moment, those blue eyes looked at me. She wanted to say something. I could see it, a secret waiting to be born.

  Then Ilsei turned and ran.

  I watched her be swallowed by shadows. The rain had started again.

  2

  A full bell later, I had nothing in the alleyway. I had walked it from one end to the other, as well as poked around in the surrounding buildings. I couldn’t believe that Rebeka would have been delivering anything here. No one here was wealthy, but Santiago would have been better set if he only spent on the people who were desperate.

  Public opinion.

  “I think we’re going to have to head home, pretty girl.”

  Scoundrel looked at me hopefully. “Home. Grapes.” She hopped closer. “Cheese.”

  I laughed, reaching up and ruffling her feathers. “Mercenary thing. Why, I’m surprised you’ve stayed around this long.”

  “Home. Home.” She flapped her wings, spraying rainwater everywhere. She had tried to huddle underneath my hat as we walked, but still, we were both quite wet.

  “Yes.” I scratched her head, already thinking about a nice glass of korban red and a fire. Perhaps my new book—

  In the darkness, I hear the hissing of a viper. Fear stabs through me, like a knife.

  With no thought, no consideration, I leapt backward. The vision was so starkly real that I could feel the danger. My heart was pounding in my chest, and my blood burned molten gold. Pain exploded in my shoulder, and I was thrown to the ground. Scoundrel squawked, and I swore as I went down.

  For a moment, the world was only darkness and agony.

  I bit my lip and focused on my breath. Someone had just dropped something on me from the three-story building. Lightning flashed, and I saw a silhouette.

  If I hadn’t leapt back, I would have been killed. It was one of those times where the serum’s vision saved my life. Even through the thick leather padding where Scoundrel roosted on my shoulder, the strike had been brutal.

  “Scoundrel.” I held my arm out. She hopped over to me, seeming no worse for the fall.

  “Thom?”

  I gestured toward the silhouette with a sudden motion of my fist. “Seek, Scoundrel. Strike.”

  Without another word, my girl was in the air, the steel gaffs gleaming on her legs.

  Groaning, I pulled myself up. It had been a masonry block of some kind, now shattered on the ground. My shoulder was in agony, but, miraculously, nothing seemed broken. I spun my arm in the socket and peered upward, trying to see Scoundrel or my attacker.

  In the dark of night, I could see neither.

  I ran back out into the street and back in front of Alric’s pawn. I bowled over a drunken, mustached guildman, who swore at me as I knocked the hat from his head. His bald head shone with wax.

  For a moment, I thought he might be my man, but, no, surely not. He was old and quite fat. I didn’t see him prancing about on rooftops.

  I hastily apologized before sprinting away.

  My attacker had to come down sometime.

  I went round the building—no outside stairwell. That left the front door or the cellar.

  It was possible that whoever it was could sprint and leap to the roof of the tallow-works—but unlikely.

  “You are hereby detained!” I shouted the word into the night. “Submit and present yourself!” It seemed unlikely, but one never knew. Many was the criminal who feared the ravens so much that, simply knowing one was on his trail, he would give up.

  I was only answered by gentle rain and night wind.

  A quarter-bell later, I had nothing. All the doors on the building were locked, and I hadn’t seen anyone come down. My attacker—whoever he was—was certainly gone. I put two fingers in my mouth and blew a piercing whistle that cut through the mist. Two quick little blows.

  At least the rain was letting up.

  Who could have been on the rooftop? That took only a moment to answer. There was only one person who had known I would be here—Eddie the Filch.

  “Thom!” The bird I had whistled up called to me. She was perched on a light post, looking down at me.

  “There’s my good girl.” I gestured, and she hopped down.

  “Good. Good girl.” She reached down with her beak and took a small tuft from where she was holding it with her talons. She hopped down, landing on my shoulder.

  “What did you bring me, smart bird?” I held my hand up. She dropped a small tangle of soaked black hair into my hand.

  Well, that ruled out Eddie the Filch. He had long, stringy brown hair. This was thick, short, and black as night.

  Immediately, my mind went to the guildman I had bull-rushed into. He had short black hair! But who was he? I reached in my mind but couldn�
��t place him. That meant he wasn’t a regular in the Warrens. I knew most of the Warrens’ guildmen. As I thought, I noted Scoundrel’s gaffs.

  They were dripping red.

  “Looks like my new friend didn’t enjoy meeting my good girl.” I hadn’t noticed the stranger being wounded, but perhaps he had hidden it. I looked down the street, in the direction the man had walked.

  Only mist and shadows looked back.

  “Girl. Good girl.” Scoundrel nuzzled my face.

  This was as far as we were getting tonight, it seemed.

  Fecking damn.

  “Let’s go home, good girl.”

  “Home. Home Home.” Scoundrel seemed to sing the word. I tapped my shoulder, and she leapt up to it.

  I had a long way to go before home, however. Living in the Warrens would be a mistake for any Judicar, and my neighborhood was quite a ways away. Uphill, the borough where I lived, was at least a half-bell away by footcab. Maybe I needed to see if I could rent a horse and four.

  As if to accentuate the point, it started raining again. I sighed.

  “Let’s see if we can find a carriage, sweet bird.” I couldn’t afford to dally about. The serum would only last for a few days, and I needed to be at my best.

  More than anything, I needed some sleep.

  The Nameless Woman

  Seeking, Fifth Bell Eventide

  Unfortunately, sleep was nowhere in my road.

  Instead, there was a young woman with just the kind of curves to keep me awake. She met me on my way home and immediately decided we should attend a small revel over on Moor’d Avenue. The pretty thing even remembered my name, which was embarrassing, as I couldn’t grasp hers for all the salt in me.

  I’d have to take my throw that perhaps I would remember.

  “You wouldn’t even be talking if you didn’ want to come, would you?” The young woman gave me another smile. “I know you, Thom Havenkin. You’d a done told me to be on my merry.”

  Even without that wicked smile or the enticing way she dressed, the young lady was right. I did want to go to the revel, particularly with such a comely companion. It had already been a long day, and at this point it would only be a few hours til Morningtide anyway.