by JM Guillen
“Doesn’t change what has to happen, sweetling.” I leaned against the wall, staying well out of her reach. “No sloth for the righteous.”
She gave me a sideward grin. “I don’t want to be righteous. Come back to bed.”
Her arguments were so routine that I didn’t even remember her words, just the basic thread. It perhaps says too much that I had heard all of her lines, dozens of times.
“I could stay, you know. Get some sleep while you work. Then, I’d be rested for you later.” She gave me that grin again, letting me know exactly what she was resting up for.
“No.” I shook my head sadly. “I’ll be on official duty directly. I don’t know when I’ll be home.”
“Thom.” She was practically chiding me. “I won’t take anything. Don’t you trust me?”
I shook my head, ruefully grinning. “Of course I trust you.”
She leaned forward eagerly. “I’ll make you dinner and be here when you get back.” She had smiled coyly. “We can pick up where we left off.”
It was always the same thing. She wanted me to want her, to stay here. She wanted me to be warm and smelling like something tangy.
Truth was I wanted that too. I honestly did. That wasn’t the point. Trusting her to stay in my flat was one thing. That wasn’t the issue.
“The problem is, sweet, that I am on duty.” I sat on the edge of the bed. “Someone out there dropped a masonry block on me after all. Someone sent men to my home.”
She frowned, a small pretty frown. She hadn’t considered that.
I continued, “These things can easily continue happening—happen while I’m not around. What would those men have done if they had found you sleeping in my bed?”
“Oh.” Her brow furrowed. That had her attention. Danger always did. Now, I was not just some wolf who had fed and wanted her on her way.
Well, in her eyes.
I leaned over and kissed her furrowed brow. She giggled at me, and I’ll admit, the kiss went a little farther than I intended.
After a long moment, she spoke again, slightly breathless. “Are you certain?” She bit her lip. “You can’t dally for—”
“I’ve dallied too long.” I pulled away. “I need to be on.”
She sighed, more than a touch irritated. “Fine, Thom Havenkin. We’ll play this your way.” She stood, keeping my sheets around her as she did.
“If I remember correctly, some of your clothing was in my study. I’ll fetch it for you.” I stepped away, thankful this had gone as well as it had. I called from the other room. “I have some fruit in here, if you need a quick bite.”
“No, apparently I need to step along.”
I chose to ignore the tone in her voice.
A few moments later, she was dressed and ready to move along. The dance went on until we were finally at my door.
“At least I know where to find you now.” As she kissed me goodbye, she pressed something round into my hand. I looked at the token when she pulled away. It was cedarwood, smooth and shining. Tiny golden script decorated one side.
Sefra Eldreborn, Oaken House. Wending Way, Guildquarter
Sefra. Her name was Sefra. Not Sapphire or Saffron or—
She nibbled my neck. “No excuses now, Judicar. You can easily find me as well. Don’t wait too long; I have a surprise for you.” She ran her fingers up the inside of my leg. When she found what she was looking for, she grinned.
I raised my eyebrows teasingly. “Perhaps you should leave your surprise with me now.”
“I’d love to.” She seemed to purr and then pouted again. “Alas, you say there is no time.” She looked me up and down once more as she turned to leave. A trace of that pretty pout was still on her lips as she turned away. “It’s pity.”
She walked away.
I sighed, muttering under my breath.
“Guess who else is disappointed, Sefra.”
Scoundrel hopped onto my foot, cawing. “Thom. Thom.”
I shot the raven a glare. “This is your fault, you know.”
She had no response.
I shut the door.
It was time to get to work.
3
Half a bell later, the girl was gone, and I was on my way.
I lived in Uphill, a well-tended borough full of small, fragrant gardens, statuaries, and cascades of blooming erris. The streets were well cleaned, and there were gaslights on every corner. Most of the buildings here were old brick or well-cut stone, and the citizens were typically guildmen or businessowners, people of means.
“Morning, Thom.” A young man tipped his hat and smiled as he walked past, and I did the same. I did not live in the same borough I patrolled—but these people knew me all the same. My smile grew as I rounded Kyllen’s Bend, and my favorite view of the city blossomed before my eyes.
On a bright, clear day, before the mist rolled off the ocean, I could stand on this spot and see eight other boroughs, the gardens at Teris Hill, even three of the bounds that warded the winterward side of the city. Soon autumn color would begin to steal through the trees. Within a month the Reaping lights would shine across the city, and everything would glow with spectral light as the mist poured in off the bay.
I loved living in this neighborhood.
We Teredi were a lucky people. Yes, we had survived the falling of the Shroud that had devoured our world, but we had done so in the absolute gem of the civilized lands. The last remnants of humanity had managed well for several hundred years, and it didn’t seem as if that would change anytime soon. Even with the run down and ruined areas, overall, we were doing quite nicely in the last home of man.
“Morning, Harys.” I nodded at a young man setting up his tack-cart. He was a good enough fellow who wandered the street doing small repairs and running errands for coin. He always had a smile for me.
“Mornin, Thom!” His grin grew wider when he saw my good girl. “I wondered if I’d be seeing you. I have a lil’ something here.”
“Really.” I raised one eyebrow. “Official business?”
He shook his head while looking through his satchel. “Nothing like that, just found—” He smiled. “There.” He held the item up.
“A baby rattle?” That’s exactly what it looked like, a small tin rattle with some shiny bits attached to the side.
Harys chuckled. “Exactly.” He held it in front of Scoundrel and shook it. Her face reflected in its side.
“Thom!” Her voice was almost awed. “Good, good bird.”
I shook my head ruefully. “I bet this isn’t going to get annoying. Go on, pretty girl.”
“Good Thom!” She hopped forward and took the rattle from Harys hand. Merrily, she shook it back and forth, her eyes gleaming. It sounded like tiny beads inside a tin drum.
“Elsador’s song, Harys. You know I’ll never get a moment’s peace again.”
He was still grinning at Scoundrel. “I know you spoil that bird like a favored daughter. It will make her happy, and you like that.”
I hated that he was right. I reached into a pouch and found a few copper pence. Of course, Harys tried to deny me, but I was insistent. Every chance I got, I was free with my coin.
After denying me more than once, he took his payment and was on his way.
I wasn’t giving with my money because I was wealthy, of course, not by any means. But Teredon took excellent care of judicars for our entire careers. My flat was paid for, as were much of the staples and sundries that a man needed to survive. My domestic was provided as well. Alia owed a debt to the city, and she tallied herself even by doing small tasks for me and two of the Legates. I almost didn’t want to see her pay herself clear; the woman was an absolute marvel.
So yes, while I didn’t have wealth, I absolutely had security. Of course, the appearance of means was one reason why so many attractive young does like Sefra came about.
Not that this mattered in the end. A judicar could never marry; we were oathed to the city. Still, I never seemed to lack for com
pany.
This fact made my friend and fellow judicar Wil absolutely livid. We often argued this point while we played draughts. The last time had only been two days ago.
“Doesn’t account for it.” Wil was touchy on the subject. “I’m a judicar too. But I’m lucky to meet a woman. You step out to some lowlife revel in a seedy pub, and you’re taking home another one.”
“Have you considered being handsome?”
“I’ve considered getting a new friend.” He took a move on the game board between us. “It’s just hard to find someone I can trounce like a child every time we play draughts.” He grinned at me. “Tally.”
“You prissy little bint.” I looked at the board. There was no winning. He had me again. Then, I grinned at him. “I hope your victory keeps you warm tonight. The lost gods know that something needs to.”
I honestly had thought he might throttle me.
After speaking with Harys, I walked down my street, smiled at the boys whitewashing the side of Hillock House, and then bought myself a small fruit pasty. Moments later, after my breakfast had been begged from me by the rudest bird I knew, I bought a second.
I knew I wouldn’t get a chance to sit and eat.
“Thom?” Some bird, which will not be named, had devoured her pasty, and now was looking at mine.
“Absolutely not.” I swallowed it quickly, almost burning my mouth in the process.
“Thom.” Now she sounded hurt.
“It’s going to be a rough day, little one. I need my strength. I don’t expect this morning to go well.” For my own amusement, I flashed her quick mimic sign with my hand.
“Bad?” She was confused at the mimic, but I kept on talking. A boy playing at throw stones gaped at our banter.
“Right you are. Our guest from last night will be truculent but probably not ready to speak with us.” I wiped the crumbs from the pasty off my jacket. “No, he will be wet and angry. He won’t be hungry enough for his tongue to get loose. He will talk eventually but probably not today.” I eyed her. “That means that we won’t get much from him, and there will only be one person who can figure this all out. Do you know who that is?” I gave her another mimic sign. The boy watched, his game forgotten.
“Thom?” She flapped up to my shoulder. “Thom!”
“That’s right, sweet bird. It’s always up to me.” I winked at the boy as we walked past. He was grinning, ear to ear. Of course, other folke were watching and half listening, but it was the children I always enjoyed entertaining. Truth was, this was a ploy taught to me by the man who ‘prenticed me into the judicars. The idea was to let the citizens see your bird as something besides a fearful weapon.
“So here’s how we want this to go, smart girl: we’ll go speak with our friend, and he’ll actually tell us everything we want. Do you know who he will tell us to find?” My fingers danced at my side.
“Bad. Bad man.”
“Right. We’ll find out which bad man sent our guest last night. Then, our guest will be repentant and ask our forgiveness.” People around us were grinning, but I pretended not to notice. “Do you know what else we will find?”
“Pretty girl.” Scoundrel was flawless in reading her mimics. “Pretty, pretty girl.”
I passed the corner at Aryn Road. “That’s right. We have a pretty girl to find. And who will all her sweet thanks be for?”
“Thom. Thom. Judicar.”
“Yes.” I waggled my eyebrows at Scoundrel. “She’ll be happy to see a judicar, I wager.”
If only it would be that simple.
The judicar in question had no solid plans on what was actually next. No matter what Scoundrel and I played at, my “guest” was likely a dead end. The serum hadn’t lent near the hand that it typically did, and that worried me. The visions were often more frequent the closer we were to our quarry, as the alchemical concoction tended to nudge us along.
I had one idea, only one. It was a long, possibly ridiculous toss that involved a man named Killian Gould.
Of the few people that Santiago had sent after his sister, he was the one that I thought might actually have been outright named in my visions. If that was the case, then I could start tracking him, and that was something solid.
Killian was a debt merchant, a notorious one. His street name interested me the most.
He was known as “Santiago’s Coin.”
He quickly lays down four others. A Fox. A Sword. A Spider. A Golden Coin.
It was an extremely long shot, I thought. The serum was rarely so direct. At this point, however, I was lost in the dark. I didn’t really have another option.
No, better would be if my guest could lend me a hand. Perhaps I would be lucky, and he would be ready to talk.
A man could always hope.
4
Those hopes were crushed before they even had the chance to bloom.
“No.” My voice was incredulous. “No, no, no.”
“Thom?” Scoundrel hopped next to me, quizzically attempting to determine what troubled me.
I ignored her. “Fecking damn.” I threw my hat on the ground.
The block was empty.
I stood, looking at it, uncomprehending. The bar was shut, and the locks secured. Everything looked exactly as it should have. Except—
My guest was gone.
“Thom. Thom, Thom.” Scoundrel was hopping around me, shaking that damnable rattle in her beak. I knew she was just in a hurry to be out and about. She was often eager in the mornings, but today I had no patience.
This was impossible.
I tried to lift the stock arm and failed. The hinge was secure; the locks set. Was it possible I hadn’t locked it? I had been pretty drunk. Maybe it had been unlocked, and he had slipped out. Then, he could have locked…
No.
“Good morning.” I leaned closer to the stocks, peering intently at the wood. “What’s this, then?”
There were black marks inside one of the holds for a man’s hand. Were those burn marks on the wood? They were black, and my finger came away covered in soot.
“Passing strange.” I sniffed at my hand. They were definitely scorch marks. But what did that mean?
I glanced into the other hold and found the same marks. It wasn’t, however, as if the wood had been burned significantly, only charred. The holes weren’t really any larger. I tried to push my own hand through the locked hole but could not.
“Well, no one was burning you free.” I ran my fingers through my hair, crouching next to the stocks.
“Thom?” My girl cocked her head, casually toying with her rattle with one foot.
“I know you weren’t here, pretty girl, but I was certain this man wasn’t on fire when I left him.” I glanced down at her, my brow furrowed. “I don’t suppose you have any ideas?”
As was typical, my selfish partner kept her own council.
The stocks had definitely been locked. I distinctly remembered the key. I remembered the feel of it turning its tumbler. It had been locked.
What then?
I examined the locks. They were iron and brass, specially made for the Offices of the Just. They were supposed to be nigh-impossible to trick open. I didn’t know how much of that to believe, of course, but the locks were impressive.
That wasn’t the oddest bit, however.
The stocks were a primary means of detainment for judicars in Teredon. Typically, we used them when an undesirable might have information for us or when they awaited transport for trial by legate. The citizens were used to seeing the occasional ruffian in the stocks. It was part of the punishment actually. Most citizens had an unmistakable malicious streak toward those held. Given an undesirable to take their frustrations out on, it wasn’t unheard of for a man to spend a full day covered in rotting fruit, offal, or other waste.
It was almost impossible for me to grasp that someone had let my prisoner free from his bonds. But what else could have happened?
“Detainment of law.” I muttered under my breath
, musing to myself. “At a minimum. Tampering with the locks could be seen as contempt of judicar will…” I let my voice trail away.
“Thom?”
I distractedly signaled for my good girl to be quiet.
“Someone let you go.” I murmured under my breath, looking over the locks again. “That took some stones.”
Someone had let the man free on a busy city street, less than a block from my home. Was it possible no one had seen? The street was largely empty when I had been out last night; the storm had seen to that. I marveled at the sheer gall of someone making certain my large friend was free and unable to be questioned.
I had never heard of anything remotely like this.
“Yer messing with things outside yer ken, cully.” I could still hear the man’s whining voice. What did they know about my business?
I sighed. There were no answers here. No sooner did I have the thought than my head swam from the serum.
The king doesn’t notice that the man took the card. His eyes are on me. Then he glances down.
“Where did she go?” His voice is a rising panic.
I had made no progress at all. I didn’t know any more than I had known when I left the Scarlet Cellar! Only now I had a large bruise on my shoulder, and my stomach had taken about three punches too many. Technically, it was still only the morning of the first day, but while I felt like I could trust Santiago on his word, I had no way of knowing how long the serum would actually last in my blood.
I needed to sharp up and get moving. The problem was that I didn’t know exactly which direction to step. I had my single hunch, but it was distant. Still, at this point a distant hope was better than no hope at all.
It seemed that I needed to speak with Killian Gould.
“Sharp up, sweetling. We have to get on.”
Scoundrel knew my moods and my tone. She dropped the rattle at my feet, peering up at me with a cocked head. When I gestured to her, she took to the air. Immediately, she began the lazy, swooping circles that indicated a judicar on patrol. Any who saw would know that I was here on the city’s business.