On the Matter of the Red Hand

by JM Guillen

  “I can sit here and still watch my front door.” He smiled.

  I sat and tossed a couple of Scoundrel’s play-rings on the floor for her to chase. She happily cooed as she leapt after one, caught it, and then tossed it again.

  Booker smiled. “I know some of what you believe you want, Thom, but it may not be enough. Why don’t you share with me what you’ve found, and then, if I can fill in any missing pieces for you, I will happily do so?”

  “That simple?” I gave him a wry grin.

  He nodded. “You are on Santiago’s business.”

  So I spoke, starting with my night at the Scarlet Cellar, brushing over where I had first found my information. I told him about my adventure over at the tallow works. I told him of the men who had broken into my home, and how one had vanished before I had discovered the purpose that had led them to my doorstep. I told him of my conversation with Bryana, the Spider, and my night at Ely’s.

  I told him about the Twilight Blades.

  “The Blades?” His voice was soft, and slightly amused. “That is something of note.”

  If he had any other thoughts on the subject, he did not clarify.

  “Do you know what it is that I do for the Red Hand?”

  “I truly don’t.”

  He smiled at me. “Tell me what you do know about me, Thom.”

  I cleared my throat. “I know that you ’prenticed with the Scriveners at the Library of Ægedas. You had a couple of years of their mental training before your financing fell through.” I shrugged. “Probably the best thing that ever happened for Santiago. You have a Scrivener’s training in memory and attention; maybe not the upper levels but enough to be more than a match for the memory of any normal man.”

  He nodded. “Santiago uses me as a recorder of sorts. When great agreements are made or when people within the guild have some kind of conflict, I am the official witness.”

  I considered for a moment. “So the night that I am here to discuss, four members of the Red Hand came to you. They came seeking some kind of official witness?”

  Booker nodded. “They did.”

  I was trying to keep ahead of him. “So it wasn’t the kind of thing that they felt they could trust each other with. They weren’t happy about the business they were on.”

  Booker leaned back in his seat. “Interesting, isn’t it? One might think that these men would leap over themselves to please Santiago. Instead, they come to me and work out all the details.”

  “And a woman,” I interjected. “A supremely dangerous woman.”

  Booker nodded slowly. “The Warren’s Spider. Indeed, one of the most dangerous I’ve met. Yes, she was with them. They sat in this room, not eight days ago, and had a stark discussion about who was bringing what to Santiago’s feast. She told those gentlemen what her portion would be and what they could expect if she didn’t get her share.” He steepled his fingers. “I wasn’t really part of their compact, but I hope those men followed their word. For their sakes.”

  “Why would Santiago hire an assassin?” I mused. “Specifically one who wasn’t associated with a guild…” My voice trailed off as I realized the truth.

  Booker watched understanding blossom on my face as I collapsed back into my chair.

  “He doesn’t trust his men. He thinks someone in the Red Hand took his sister.” My thoughts drifted back to Santiago’s words:

  “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.

  “Lost gods.” I remembered his white knuckles, his scarcely contained rage. “Santiago is right to be furious.”

  If the Red Marquis believed that I knew his own had turned on him, I was lucky to still be standing. That was the kind of information that Santiago couldn’t have floating on the wind.

  This fit right in with the concerns I had voiced to Grith.

  “This is why they came to me as well.” Booker cleared his throat, “Not only did Santiago want all that passed between them to be remembered, but he wanted me to watch for what was not said. He wanted to see the truths that their faces might tell but their words would not.”

  I leaned closer. “And?”

  Booker shook his head. “Nothing those four said sang false to my eyes. They came to me because Santiago wanted them to, of course. On the surface, they had a contract to work out. The Red Marquis had offered them a percentage of ten salt notes for the group to split. They needed to discuss how that would be shared out and what they would be doing for said payment.”

  “Ten salt notes?” I gave Booker a rueful look. “I’m getting robbed. My only wages are honor and other things you can’t spend on pretty girls.”

  Booker chuckled. “The Warren’s Spider took four for herself, leaving two for each of the others. They didn’t argue as much as you might think. Each one knew that she was there as a hedge against the other two.”

  “I imagine that money didn’t play into it that much.” I glanced at Booker while my pretty girl tugged at the training ring I held. “I weigh the most important thing for them was the good eye of Santiago.”

  Booker nodded. “All true. I imagine, however, that the important bit for you is not how they got paid but where they were going after.”

  I leaned forward on the edge of my chair. “You know where they went?”

  “I know where they talked about going. Important, but not quite the same.”

  It was close enough for me. I grinned at Booker Dox. “Tell me what you know.”

  He nodded. “I’ll start from the beginning.”

  3

  “Here we are then,” the Fox let them all in the front door. He was grinning, grinning a bit widely for Booker’s taste.

  Was the man drunk? Booker sniffed, but couldn’t catch the scent of any liquor. There was the tang of an odd fragrance, however. He was possibly on a tonic of some kind or perhaps he made use of sniffing powder.

  “Booker,” Jakob the Fox nodded his head in greeting, even as he held the door open. The others followed him in and, as the tap-room was empty, they made the introductions there.

  Booker showed no surprise when the name of the Warren’s Spider was mentioned. He nodded at the woman, his eyes drinking in a score of tiny facts.

  Graceful. That was the first word that crossed his mind. Dangerous was a close second. The woman was Q’sarri, or at least had enough of their blood for the spice-tea colored skin, dark hair, and almond shaped eyes. Those dark eyes glittered like pieces of flint.

  Cold. Hard. Booker noted the fact and moved on.

  The other two, Padraig and Gould, were well-known to Booker; he gave them a perfunctory nod and led them up his narrow stairway. He took them into the same garret room that he had been sitting in when he saw them approach. Here he set out one of the larger tables and several chairs next to the window.

  “How would you like to begin this?” He gave the four an amiable smile as they sat.

  “Money.” The Warren’s Spider’s voice was soft like silk. “We will again agree to the terms in front of Santiago’s witness. From there, we will discuss what it is we are to do.”

  Booker was surprised at how little the Red Hands argued over the disbursement of a full ten salt notes. He realized they must have met previously.

  Have they already had this discussion? Where? Booker idly wondered. Why meet when you aren’t in a safe house?

  “The last thing we need to hammer out is where we’re going to go.” The Fox leaned back in his chair, tipping it, and placed his hands behind his head, elbows and knees spreading out wide.

  “You keep telling us that’s what we need to hammer out.” Padraig placed his elbows on the table and leaned in, giving the Fox an irritated glance. “But the only iron you bring to that conversation makes no sense.”

  “I haven’t heard this.” Booker gave them in a small, apologetic smile. “Please, Jakob, tell me what you
spent your time trying to convince your friends here.” He nodded at the group.

  Jakob glanced at the rest, a sour, slightly superior frown on his face. He leaned forward, allowing his chair to bang back to the floor.

  “I been tellin’ them I heard about a place over in the Remnants, just dawnward of the Eastyrn Warrens. I thought my c’mpanions might take a quick peek about.” Jakob spoke directly to Booker. “I got reason to think that might have something to do with Rebeka.”

  “You have yet to tell us what you heard about this place.” Gould pointed a finger at him. “You’ve brought it up twice, but we still don’t know why.” He spread his hands. “Why would Santiago’s sister be all the way out in the Remnants?”

  Jakob leaned back in his seat. His nose tipped into the air, and he regarded the Golden Coin from narrowed eyes. “You all heard the same story as I did. Someone’s buying up Remnants propr’ty—buying and buying big. Difference between you and me is,” he sneered, “Santiago asked me to look into it. He wanted to know who was buying out there and what they wanted.”

  Now Gould leaned in just a touch. His fingers played at the table’s edge. “You found something.” It wasn’t a question.

  The Fox grunted assent. “Property bein’ bought up by a small group of private citizens. Not a guild. They bought several small warehouses so far, all clustered together. I stuck my nose in, and it looks like there’s some repair and renovation inside.” The Fox shrugged. “I couldn’t get close enough to look inside the buildings. There were a buncha Kabs around the place. Great big gets, looked like they could snap a man’s neck.”

  Gould shook his head, smiling slightly. “You shouldn’t check out that kind of thing by yourself. If there are renovations happening, then the Guild of Carpenters and—”

  “No.” Jakob’s tone was flat. “Not a guilded man would claim to know what was happening there. I done checked, Gould. No paperwork for supplies, no man assigned to the project, nothing.”

  “What does this have to do with Rebeka?” Padraig was still irritated.

  The Fox held up a single finger and smiled thinly. The Warren’s Spider fidgeted sideways in her seat.

  Jakob gave her a quick sidelong glance, and then hurriedly continued, “Now, while I was looking into all this I was asking a lot of questions and hearing a lot of nothing. But then, I started hearin’ bout how there was other people going missing. Not just the sister of the great Red Marquis, but other, smaller folke.”

  “Folke like whom?” Booker tilted his head, intrigued. “I consider myself a man who keeps his finger on the pulse of underground happenings in the Warrens, yet I haven’t heard any of this.”

  The Fox touched his finger to the side of his nose then pointed it at Booker.

  “That’s the thing, ain’t it? Nobody you’d really know. No one you’d notice. Lots of them were just street people, or ’prentices that people thought had run away. I even found the story of an orphan or two gone missing from the Havens.”

  “Rebeka’s not the only one then,” Gould mused softly.

  “Now,” the Fox shook his head, “th’ thing is, every last one of them, they was women. Or maybe young girls.”

  Booker watched the group’s stances and faces intently. The body language of the other three shifted slightly. The Warren’s Spider was curious. Padraig was getting angry. Gould, a touch confused.

  Gould spoke first.

  “So you think there’s someone in the Warrens who’s taking girls and young ladies who won’t be missed. And then…” His mouth gaped just slightly, and he sucked in a quick breath as a thought struck him. “Maybe Rebeka was on her rounds, and someone snatched her too?”

  Jakob nodded. “So I’m poking all about, trying to track where these ladies may have been vanished off to, when I catch a break on something else. I paid a young street rook to watch over those warehouses in the Remnants.” Jakob shrugged. “I’da forgotten about it by then, but he come and got me when he realized he done seen something.”

  No one said anything, each listening intently.

  Jakob smiled, realizing he finally had his audience.

  “My clever young friend had found a way inside. Seems like those warehouses are built over a rat’s maze of old sewer tunnels. I didn’t think it had anything to do with Rebeka, but I poked my head in any way, so I could tell the Senír what was going on in there.”

  “And?” Padraig was clearly losing patience.

  “They was installing stages with dancing poles and lounges. Bar in the corner. And room after room of small, comfortable bed chambers. They—”

  “They can’t build no doxie house.” Padraig was confused. “Pillow houses are illegal, end of story.”

  Jakob looked at the man. “It’s also illegal to steal girls and young women off the street.” He sniffed. “I don’t think these women are selling themselves. I think someone else is planning on selling them, all secret-like. I think the Senír’s sister done got caught up in it, maybe while she was out delivering to the poor or—”

  “This hasn’t connected Rebeka to the Remnants yet.” Gould gave the Fox a calculating look. “It’s a story, for sure; something the Senír should hear about. But I don’t see how—”

  “Yer right. You don’t.” Jakob picked at his face. “But I know that other girls done gone missin’, don’t I? And…” He leaned in closer. “I know the direction they was taken.”

  “How?” Padraig eyed Jakob warily. His tone was less sullen than it had been, but he still didn’t sound too friendly.

  “These same tunnels. They was the old sewer tunnels for Oldtown. Dry now, but they stretch all the way out to the Remnants.” He looked smug.

  “It doesn’t matter.” The Warren’s Spider looked at Jakob coolly. “Unless the story ends with you seeing Rebeka being taken down those tunnels, you have no connection to her.”

  Jakob gave her a sharp look and held up both hands, palms out. “The story stands. I’d wager my teeth there’s some house or old manse out in the Remnants,” one finger poked the table top, “some place where those girls are—”

  “I don’t want your yellow teeth.” Her eyes glittered. “I want my money. I’ll only get it when we bring the girl home. I’ve done some peeking about myself.”

  “Did you find anything?” Gould looked to her now.

  Booker noticed the sudden flush on Jakob’s face as he turned to listen to the Spider.

  No love there. Booker watched Jakob’s quiet fury.

  “Nothing about secret whore houses or schemes involving kidnapped women.” The Spider looked each of them over. “No, I used my time to actually find Rebeka—at least a trace of her.”

  “You know where the girl is?” Booker’s tone held surprise. The idea that the Spider had sat here and listened to Jakob prattle on, all the while knowing where Rebeka was, was intriguing.

  Was the Spider curious about Jakob’s sources? Suspicious of him?

  “I do not know where she is.” Her words were crisp. “If I did, I would already be paid. No, suffice to say I know where Rebeka was. I have a tab on the last person to see her alive.”

  “Already spoke to Eddie, didn’t I?” Jakob shook his head and leaned back. “The man’s as useless as tits on a toro.” He blew his breath out in a rush, making a rude noise.

  She gave him a condescending smile. “Eddie isn’t the last person to see Rebeka alive. His story doesn’t hold up. That’s a curious thing, by itself, but Rebeka didn’t actually vanish the morning that Eddie talks about. I believe she was taken the night before.”

  Gould eyed her scantways. “How do you know you that, unless you saw her get taken?”

  “I have a source that we should talk to. Someone who saw her the night that I’m talking about. I have it on good authority.”

  Booker cleared his throat and smiled politely. “I can appreciate the desire for secrecy. I can even understand protecting one’s sources. But part of the reason we’re here is because of the importance of this matt
er. I am to record where you went and why, just in case there’s trouble. I spoke with the Senĩr myself. I know what he wants of me, and he would not be pleased if I allowed you to be this vague about your intentions.” He gave the Spider a twisted smile. “Where do your sources have Rebeka last?”

  She looked at Booker for a long moment. “The Coilwerks, on the near side of the river. She came by herself, but she left with a young man.”

  “The Coilwerks.” Gould looked at her. “Unguilded boxing there. Rigged fights.”

  “Doesn’t look good on the young man, do it?” Padraig sat back in his seat. “Are you thinking he took her then?”

  She gave him a pitying look, and slightly tilted her head toward Jakob, as if to indicate him. “Not everyone makes guesses based upon supposition. I can definitely say she was at the Coilwerks. I can reasonably say that she left that place with a young man, half Kabian. I poked into him as well.”

  “Yeah?” Padraig leaned forward. “What then?”

  “The man’s named Cutter Greene. He does some underground fighting for the Twilight Blades.” She paused, making certain they were all ears.

  “The Coilwerks?” Jakob was confused, “But the Blades—”

  The Warren’s Spider held up one slender hand. She gave a small almost imperceptible shrug. “That is all I know of Rebeka.”

  “It seems pretty clear-cut to me.” Gould shrugged and smiled almost apologetically at Jakob. “Your idea is a good one, and you’ve got a lot behind it. You just don’t have Rebeka.”

  Jakob’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t say there’s nothing to it just because I don’t have my eye on the girl. There’s something amiss in the Remnants.”

  “Per’aps, Fox.” Padraig leaned back in his chair and gestured to Gould. “But he’s right. There’s no reason to check shadows if we have something with substance.”

  The Warren’s Spider leaned forward and spoke firmly. “We go to the Coilwerks tonight. It won’t be a long trip. We’ll poke around and see if we can find Rebeka’s mystery man.” She shrugged. “It shouldn’t be an issue to make him speak up.” Her smile made Booker’s skin crawl.