On the Matter of the Red Hand

by JM Guillen

  She was young, a few years younger than me if I guessed well. The woman was Q’sarri, or at least of their blood, given the long, dark hair and the spice-tea colored skin. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes glittered like hard pieces of flint in a pool of kohl. Yet, those eyes had just the touch of a cant to their edges, the slightest bend upward, a trait that spoke to a trace of Nimjiminese in her blood.

  Just her face was enough to stop a man in his tracks, but that was far from the whole story. She wore leathers that had been dyed a deep, midnight black. A small bag hung at her side, and several small throwing knives glistened at her hips, thighs, and chest.

  When she stepped forward, she was grace given form.

  “I’m looking for Killian Gould.” Her soft voice was crisp, businesslike.

  For a long moment, my head swam from the serum. It wasn’t a specific vision or even the insistent whispering behind my mind. It was as if, the nonce I met her eyes, the serum asserted itself in my veins, and I felt a glimpse of gold burning in my blood.

  Then I heard Bryana gasp.

  I saw the bull-necked doorman on the floor behind the dark-haired woman. There was blood at the corner of his mouth, and I could not tell if he was breathing. Across the room, I saw Martin slumped over the counter, unconscious.

  “I saw you with him.” Bryana’s voice was tight, spring loaded with panicky terror. “I saw you with my father. You are the Warren’s Spider.”

  “I am who I am.” The woman regarded Bryana curiously. “I was with your father. Now, I’m looking for him again.” The woman’s voice was smooth with a razor’s edge. “I’m afraid he has become distant as of late. I was hoping to discuss my business with him.”

  “As it so happens, I’m looking for the same man.” I took a single step forward. “The city has a special interest in him and his concerns. Perhaps you could share with me what business you have with him?”

  The tiniest smile appeared around the edge of her mouth. “Perhaps I could, but I will not at this time. My business is my own, Judicar. Perhaps another day.”

  Scoundrel shuffled nervously on my shoulder. She said nothing, but my girl was definitely off her ease.

  Tainted night, I was off mine.

  The Warren’s Spider wasn’t real. Wasn’t.

  “I think there has been a miscommunication.” I gave her a small tight smile of my own. “I’m afraid I must insist.”

  “You may be afraid.” The woman’s smile vanished. “But I frankly do not care. If you know nothing of Killian Gould’s whereabouts, then I will excuse myself.” The woman began to turn away.

  “We’re not done here.” I took another step forward. “I have some questions for you.”

  The woman glanced back over her shoulder, a playful, wicked smile on the edge of her mouth. “I don’t think you say when we are done, Judicar. I am done. That is all that concerns me.”

  I drew my stave. Scoundrel hopped off my shoulder to the floor.

  “I must ask you to submit, miss.”

  Her grin grew wider. “Better men than you have tried, Judicar. I’m afraid I don’t have time for bed-play.”

  I paid her grin no heed. Her smile wasn’t what mattered.

  It was her stance.

  Bryana had called it square. This woman was the very essence of dangerous. It wasn’t as much in the long-knives that she wore or the cool deadly grace of her walk, it was something unexplainable. Something made up of everything that she was.

  Death. Bryana couldn’t help the word from running through her mind. That woman is death given form. Death is meeting with my father.

  It wasn’t just in what she did; it was also in the things that she did not do. She did not treat me like I was a threat or an authority in any way. The expression on her face was more like that of a parent speaking with a petulant child.

  “I am authorized to use lethal force, miss.” I adjusted my stance slightly, and Scoundrel took two hops to my right. “I am afraid I must question you regarding your relationship with Killian Gould, as well as what has happened with—”

  “Santiago’s sister?” Her eyebrow arched again. “I know who you are looking for, Judicar. My concern is that you do not.”

  “Of…” I was slightly taken aback by the certainty in her voice. “Of course I know who she is. I spoke with Santiago regarding this only last night.”

  “Last night, perhaps, but still many days late.” Now she turned to face me again. “You are a few moves behind, Judicar. I do not have time to educate you.”

  I clenched my stave, my knuckles white. I took two steps to the left, adjusting my position so that Scoundrel would know what I was about.

  “Madam, by my authority as judicar of the Warrens and hand of the law in Teredon, I hereby detain you.”

  The look in her eye was positively condescending. “Oh, sweetling, you don’t even know the game you play at.”

  That was when, from five paces away, the woman struck me square in the face.

  Let me be as clear as I can. I knew where she had been standing, I knew where I had been standing. I knew the space between. Yet before I could react, before my eyes even tracked her moving, she had closed the distance and struck me square in the nose with a fist that obviously knew exactly what it was for. The small shop spun with the pain that exploded in my face, and I staggered to the ground.

  Before I was even through falling, her knee came up caught me in the chin. My head rocked backward and I slammed into Bryana, almost knocking her down the stairs.

  “You’ll have to make me submit some other day, Judicar.” Her gran was positively wicked as she turned her back to me to walk away. “I’d love to tussle again sometime, but I’m a superlatively busy lady with important matters to attend.”

  She opened the door and stepped through it.

  I struggled to my feet, blood cascading down my face.

  “Mith,” my nose was throbbing, perhaps broken. “I mutht athk that you dethith.”

  She paused, casting an almost flirtatious grin back over her shoulder. That moment was all I needed.

  I signaled to Scoundrel, strike.

  In a blur of onyx feathers and glinting steel, my girl took to the air.

  In an instant, the woman’s grin fell. She went from casual flirtation to dead seriousness, all in a nonce. She sprinted forward, out of my sight. Scoundrel followed her as the door closed.

  Mother of whores. I grasped the bridge of my nose and stumbled forward. That single punch told me a lot about the woman. It was strong, precise, and perfectly executed.

  More importantly however, it told me that she was willing to strike a judicar. It was rare to stumble across an undesirable who was willing to strike a judicar square in the face. That single punch told me much about how dangerous she was.

  A wise and rational man would cry off.

  I, on the other hand, chased her into the streets.

  2

  If anything could be said, it was that the entire situation had not spiraled out of my control.

  “No.” My nose was still bleeding rivulets. “All according to plan.”

  The moment I stepped into the street, I thought I had already lost her. I took a quick glance both up and down Erris Street before finally catching her in the corner of my eye. She was nearly twenty strides away by my reckoning, which showed how stunningly fast she ran. Scoundrel was ghosting her, just behind and just out of reach.

  The woman dove into a nearby storefront, knocking a coifed woman out of the way.

  “Pardon.” I scarcely smiled at her. “City business.”

  The small glazier’s shop was likely one of the businesses that Gould had funded. Now, there were several small pieces broken on the floor, and a distraught older man on his knees trying to clean them up.

  “Judicar!” That one word was both furious and bewildered.

  “Bill the city in my good name.” I glanced around “Where is your back door?”

  The man pointed behind the counter with a tremulo
us finger.

  Without another word, I ran through.

  The alley behind the glazier’s shop was tight and smelled like filth and misery. There were tenements that lined the side, three stories tall, both on the right and left. They leaned oddly toward the top, making the alleyway feel even more enclosed than it actually was. Multiple lines of laundry stretched across the narrow space, which my quarry was using to bait my good girl.

  I watched, unbelieving.

  The woman had slowed, and Scoundrel dove for her, gaffs gleaming. It was a ruse, however. The lithe young lade stepped aside, let my girl tangle in someone’s laundry, and deftly gathering her into a make-shift bag

  Scoundrel was wrapped in a dingy sheet.

  “Scoundrel!” I was absolutely stunned. If I hadn’t just seen it with my own eyes, I never would have believed that my raven could have been outmaneuvered, even by someone as quick as this young woman.

  It was uncanny.

  “Judicar.” The woman stood three paces away, holding my good girl in the bag. She swung the sheet slowly, keeping Scoundrel twisted and bound up in the end.

  I stopped in place. My eyes met hers, but mine held no mirth. “I need you to release my partner.”

  “I’ll release your good hand into one of these brick walls if you like.” She swung faster, and I heard Scoundrel’s raucus caw. “How hard of a hit do you think she can take?”

  Cold fury gripped me. “You can only kill my bird once. After that, you have no cards.” My voice trembled. “I’ll bring the city’s wrath against you. I won’t eat. I won’t sleep. My every waking moment will be devoted to finding you.”

  “I can see why you were chosen for this assignment.” She grinned, taking a lithe step forward. “You care. Something like a vanished young lady would get a man like you all,” her eyes went to the bag, “tangled.”

  I paid her no heed. “Release my raven.”

  Her grin grew wider. She swung a touch faster and glanced at the wall. “Is that what you want?”

  “Unharmed.” I almost stammered. “You will release her unharmed.”

  Her voice was a razored whisper. “I don’t have to, Judicar. I can take her from you. I can do it right now and then make away before you can catch me. I don’t threaten idly. Why should I release her?”

  My fury was slowly crystalizing into fear. Her complete lack of concern for her situation boggled me.

  “Why, Judicar? What do I have to gain by not smashing your pretty against the cobbles?” She swung faster.

  I scrambled for thought. “I’m looking for the same girl you were.” I hated that my voice held just a touch of pleading. “You said I’m a step behind. Fine. All I’m asking is that you enlighten me.”

  “I already did. You don’t know who you are seeking. When you do, you will find her.”

  I shook my head. “That makes no sense.”

  “Not my concern, Judicar. Suffer fools, and you will suffer their foolishness.” She slowed her swing. “I’ve given you all I will about the girl.”

  “Then what of Gould?” I wiped blood from my nose. “He made away from you. What happened? How did your foursome fall out?”

  She grinned again. “Know of that, do you? Perhaps not as much of a fool, then.” She paused. Scoundrel was struggling in the makeshift bag, squawking loudly. My good girl was trying to slash with her gaffs, but the woman kept it twirling quickly enough to keep her off her stride. The woman glanced at the bag and then back to me.

  “Free her.” My tone was as strong as it could be under the circumstances.

  “If I do, will you set her on me?” She tilted her head. “If I kill her, I know I’m safe from her wicked blades.”

  “Free her, and I’ll call her off.” My voice trembled just a touch. “Please.”

  The woman glanced at a bin of rubbish, then back to me. “I’ll toss the bird in there. Gently. However, I must have your guarantus that you will call her off.”

  “I can.” I swallowed.

  She gave me an unbelieving look.

  “I will,” I amended.

  “Fine.” She stepped to the left, slowing her swing. She gave me one last look. “Don’t deal me false here, Judicar. Hold your oath.”

  “I will hold my oath.”

  She gave the bag one final spin and released it into the bin, setting my girl as gently as she could.

  “Scoundrel!” I made my voice as strong as possible. My good girl answered, and I stepped forward.

  As I did, the woman took a few steps back. “Find out who Rebeka actually is, Judicar.” She paused. “Or was.”

  I stepped to the bin, unwrapping Scoundrel. My smart bird cawed wildly. I glanced up, toward the woman.

  She was several more steps away. “You’re sharp, Judicar. If you’re sharp enough to find me again…” She grinned. “Maybe I can help you.”

  “We aren’t finished.” I gave Scoundrel a hand signal.

  Wait.

  “I think we are.” She raised an eyebrow looking at my bloody face. “I know I am. In all honesty, you look as if you should be too.”

  “You have attacked a judicar as well as a citizen of Teredon. Holding my raven is a detainment of judicar will.” I took a step forward. “And you still haven’t answered any of my questions.”

  “I’ve answered the only questions that matter.” Her cool eyes flashed with a hint of anger.

  “Thom.” Scoundrel sounded small, probably still unsettled and dizzy.

  Wait. I signaled again with my free hand, my gaze never leaving the woman.

  She sighed, seeming almost world-weary as she walked back toward me. Her hands were empty, but I knew that she could bloody me even without the knives in her belt.

  I drew my stave.

  “This is a mistake, Judicar.” Her face was grim, and her eyes seemed tired. “I don’t want to leave you bleeding in the alley. We are allies, whether you believe it or not.”

  “My allies work with me.” I kept my tone tight, but my muscles relaxed. “They don’t attack me or my good right hand. When I’m in danger, they stand with me.”

  “You don’t even understand who your allies are.” A trace of her smirk appeared. “You don’t understand the lay of the playing board or the danger you’re in right now.”

  I drew my stave and settled into the second stanza. By rote, I let its accompanying poetry, which we used in training, to drift through my mind.

  Single feather floats

  The spinning cyclone awaits

  Cannot pass a wall

  “I suppose you’ll have to show me.”

  Stanza two is a defensive pose, specifically designed for times when our birds are injured or unavailable. If you had asked me at the time, I couldn’t say why I chose it. Even though Scoundrel was slightly unhinged from her experience, I knew that she could fall in line and perform the stances.

  That wasn’t truly the point, I suppose. The point was I had said that I would have my good girl cry off, and I would stand by my word. That didn’t mean that I could let my new lady friend go, however.

  I had made other oaths as well, oaths to the city.

  She sighed. “I suppose I will.”

  She moved like a thunderstorm, like a serpent strikes. I scarcely had time to bring my stave up. If I had not, she would have struck me in the face again.

  In a nonce, I was fighting for my life.

  I had never seen anyone fight like this woman, and I’d been in more than a few scrapes. It seemed that in every situation, she did exactly the opposite of what I expected, almost as if she guessed my moves before I had even made them. Every time I swung my stave, she slid effortlessly out of my path. Everyplace I sought to strike, she was no longer standing there. Everywhere I was open—there she was.

  Even as I was pushed back, I had to admire the elegance, the pure grace, of her fighting form. She was weaponless, but it never mattered. She swept away my stave with her bare hands whenever it struck close, all the while landing blows on my chest,
arms, and stomach. Every strike that she landed caught me off guard, leaving me reeling for the next.

  When she grabbed me by my collar and pulled my face with a fingerspan of hers, my eyes grew wide.

  She smelled of saffron and the sea, and her smile was almost sweet. She held me there, motionless, her mouth a scant breadth from mine. She licked her lips, and I quivered. My gaze was pulled involuntarily to her mouth.

  For a moment, I actually thought she might kiss me. Then, I felt the blade at the base of my throat.

  “Quiet, Judicar.” Her voice was a shadow of a whisper. Sharpness grazed my chest. It was obvious that she could have stabbed me true, had she wanted.

  That’s when I felt the tingling burn spread across my chest.

  “It’s fine.” She stepped back.

  “What—” I almost dropped my stave.

  “She bit me!”

  What started as a tingle quickly became a frigid, prickling burn. It was like the pins and nails of sleeping on an arm the wrong way.

  “It’s a tincture of coniym.” She took another step backward. “It won’t kill you, Judicar. It will just slow you up.” She shrugged. “It will give me a moment to be about my business.”

  My balance was already shaky. I took a step toward her, but I knew the truth.

  This battle was lost.

  “In a few moments, you’ll be lying flat on your face.” Her voice was clinical, almost like a physikan. “You’ll still be awake, but everything will be numb. Your mind will drift, and you will be dreamy and unfocused. It’ll be Eventide before you’re back to yourself.”

  True or not, I could feel the grip of whatever ‘chemy this was slowly spreading in my blood. I took another drunken step forward, and shook my head, trying to keep my focus.

  “If I were you, I would call for help while I could. You are about to be helpless in an alleyway, and I won’t be here watching over you. You should send your good hand for help.”

  With that, the woman turned her back on me and walked away.

  “Scoundrel!” Already my mouth felt like it was full of mud. “I need you to get Wil.” I tried to make the sign for get but could not get my fingers to move the right way. While I stared at them stupidly, my left leg buckled underneath me.