On the Matter of the Red Hand

by JM Guillen

  We came close that day, perhaps closer to catching her than we ever had. Tia was too clever by far, however. We never would catch her, no matter how hard we tried.

  Tia was a scoundrel until the day the fire claimed her.

  I could almost taste the memories of my friends as I walked along the wall.

  Cyrl would have been my age, although Tia was a little younger. Rio had been the eldest at thirteen. That placed him squarely in his ‘prenticing year. Jaque, the youngest, was three summers younger. He had started his ‘tiquities year only a few months before the fire.

  The white flame had come and eaten almost everyone I had loved. The shadow of that day had changed everything for me. The white flame had whispered, had called our names.

  It had burned my friends alive. Sometimes, in my sleep, I could still see the ghostly flame reflected in my friend’s eyes. It was as if it was reaching for me but could never quite grasp me.

  I took a deep breath. Those were old days.

  Today was a new day with new problems.

  As I rounded the wall, I heard children laughing in the Haven’s gardens. A few of them were gardening, off in the herb beds. I absentmindedly scratched Scoundrel’s head and smiled. Somewhere behind my heart, I relaxed, unclenched.

  Home. After all this time, the Havens were still home.

  I made my way past the lavender gardens, taking special care not to interrupt one of the classes that was happening there. A small group of children sat around Cantoré Sersan, listening to him tell the story of the Reclamation and the Devout heroes who first drove back the gloaming. I remembered what that was like. I had been one of them, sitting there, making those stories my entire life.

  “Is that Thom?” I recognized Cantoré Lilita’s creaking voice before I even turned around.

  “Thom. Thom.” Scoundrel hopped down from my shoulder and peered up at Cantoré Lilita. “Cheese?”

  I had to smile. Her begging always sounded so hopeful.

  “Not this morning, you hungry thing.” Cantoré Lilita hobbled over to me, holding a tray of lavender tea and biscuits, her typical breakfast. Even though she could no longer see well, she always knew me by my height and my wide brimmed hat.

  I gave my girl an irritated look. “Go, greedy. You know where the food is.” I gestured go, pointing toward the mess.

  Scoundrel flapped off toward the kitchens. I visited so often that they knew her.

  My bird was going to get too fat for work.

  “It’s me, Cantoré Lilita.” I reached out for her shoulder. “I was in the neighborhood and thought, ‘I bet that Cantoré Lilita will have some sweetbread, tea, and stories if I stop by.’”

  She grinned at me. “Just like your bird. Always hungry. Are you certain you have time to sit and have morning tea with an old woman?”

  I chuckled. “Always. Today, however, I’m afraid I need more than ‘tiquities stories. I’m on an assignment for the city.”

  “You know anyone here will help you in any way they can, Thom.” She smiled. Her smile was like the sun at dawn.

  “It’s about one of ours, actually. I’m looking for Rebeka Ortiz.”

  The old woman was quiet, just for a nonce. When she spoke, she sounded even older.

  “I …” She cleared her throat and shook her head. “I knew it wasn’t normal that she didn’t show up. Her heart was good, Thom, almost too good. She was here, every morn, getting her parcels so she could deliver food and Elsador’s mercy.”

  My face grew dark. “Until a little over a week ago?”

  Cantoré Lilita nodded. “She just stopped coming.”

  We walked in silence for a few moments. We were in the sungarden before I spoke up again.

  “Her family is looking for her. I was hoping that if I came by, I could get her route. Maybe I could find something to lead me to her.”

  “You mean her brother is looking for her.” Her voice was terse.

  “Yes.” There was no use sweetening it; the cantoré was no fool.

  “That shouldn’t be too hard. Rebeka worked the Eastyrn Warrens. We should be able to get a list from Cantoré Giles.”

  I frowned. “The Eastyrn Warrens?” Those were bad neighborhoods.

  “Yes, dear. Is that strange?”

  “I had a lead on her that had her making a delivery over by the tallow-works.” Eddie’s story was holding up less and less.

  Cantoré Lilita frowned. “No. She wouldn’t be over there. That wouldn’t make sense. Rebeka took cases that were…” She drifted for a moment, trying to find the proper words. “She took deliveries that others didn’t want. I remember Cisle trying to stop her, telling her that a young woman needed to be careful, but Rebeka wouldn’t have any of it. She seemed to think that, because of her brother, there was nothing in the streets that could ever hurt her.”

  I chewed on my lip for a moment. “Seems like she may have been wrong.” I paused. “Did everyone here know who her brother was?”

  Cantoré Lilita shook her head. “Only a few of us knew. She kept pretty tight about it. Still, she always took the dangerous routes.”

  The sister of Santiago Il Ladren had little to fear. In the end, however, it seemed that someone had gotten to her anyway.

  Lilita continued, “I always worried that it would go t’other way—that someone would take her because of who she was. Or that perhaps her brother would get tired of her being such an obvious target for his enemies and do something about it himself.”

  That was a direction I hadn’t even stepped. I quickly thought about the possibilities as we took the last few steps into the streamgarden, where Cantoré Lilita liked to take her tea.

  Could Santiago actually be behind it all? Perhaps not killing her, but holding her somewhere until the fervor died down? It wouldn’t be the most unlikely thing; he could even have allies among the Twilight Blades murking things up.

  Or, alternatively, perhaps he had discovered that someone was planning to take her and had moved her himself, and the rest was all a facade. I remembered the thick black hair in Scoundrel’s talons from the night at the tallowworks. The Red Hand was full of Esperans, who were known for black hair.

  Santiago certainly could have sent some dirkman after me, if Eddie the Filch had tipped him off. It was possible that he didn’t want Rebeka found. After all, I had gone to him. He could just be playing with me.

  I could certainly imagine him sending someone to kill me if I was in his way. Lost gods, perhaps the Warren’s Spider was only involved to keep city officials at bay.

  My head pulsed with a quick spiral of dizziness.

  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. He is looking at his cards, as if she will be there.

  No. Santiago didn’t know where his sister was, according to the serum. Nothing else made any sense. I sighed.

  “Cantoré Lilita, I need to look into this issue with Rebeka. Let’s take a moment for some tea, but then I need to get Rebeka’s route from Cantoré Giles.”

  “Yes, Thom.” Her smile was a thin, sharp line. “Whatever it takes, son. Whatever helps you find the monsters who took our Rebeka.”

  That was what I needed to remember. Perhaps Santiago wanted her back, perhaps he was fuming, but in the end…

  Well, Rebeka had been ours.

  She had done as much good in the Warrens as her brother had ill, spending her life giving to those who needed her.

  I wasn’t looking for the sister of the Red Marquis, not really.

  I was looking for one of my own.

  3

  The list was simple enough and, for the most part, seemed uninteresting. I went over it twice while in Cantoré Giles’ paper-strewn office, in case something leapt out at me.

  ~Marc Iledion, Serenity House. Olsen Street, Warrens —Cannot hear well. Bread and sundries, every Delving, Sundering, and Seeking Morn.

  ~Oria Devaris, Suns
et House. The Downs, Warrens —Needs medications. Tincture of foxglove and Doc Thane’s Magnetic Tonic. Seeking and Striving Morn.

  ~Rudolfo Corviigh, The Olde Path. Eldcity Row, Warrens —Quite senile. Needs bread, milk, and sundries the second and fourth Delving of every month.

  ~Rando Fortunato, Lapizian House —

  Wait. The Old Pathe? I re-read the line.

  Rudolfo Corviigh, The Olde Path.

  The Olde Path wasn’t someone’s residence, it was a tavern and way-house over near the Eastyrn Warrens. As I considered, my head swam from the serum.

  I see the stranger shuffle the cards into another deck. The card on top of the deck has a blade made of ice upon it. Another has an old, darkened road upon it…

  Last Delving was the third Delving of the month. If these notes were correct, she would have been there just a few days before her disappearance.

  I turned to Cantoré Giles. “This entry, right here. How long had Rebeka been delivering to this location?”

  The kindly man pushed his half-moon glasses up on his nose. “Oh, that shouldn’t even be there, Judicar.” His voice was like warm coffe and aged wood.

  “Why not?” I looked at the list, puzzled.

  “We get requests from families after services on Sundering. Sometimes, we don’t even know who makes the requests. They are just on slips of paper left in the coffers.” He wrinkled his nose, pushing his glasses back up again. “This family requested aid for Mister Corviigh a few weeks ago, but just last Sundering, it was requested that we stop.”

  That seemed odd. “Did the note say why?”

  “Mister Corviigh was moved to the ‘sylums for care. Quite senile. The family let us know because we don’t exactly have the resources to waste. They were thankful for our help and left a donation.”

  I spoke slowly. “So, Rebeka never went to this way-house.”

  “Oh no, I expect she did. It’s just that no one else will be going back. I thought you wanted information on the route, so you didn’t need that house. So sorry.”

  “No, this is exactly what I needed, Cantoré Giles.”

  Her route. I needed to know where she had been. Now I knew that one of the locations on her route had been sparkling new and then removed from the route.

  Removed just after Rebeka vanished.

  Cantoré Giles smiled at me. “Always happy to help, Thom. Does an old man good to see one of ours do so well for himself.”

  I reached across the table and clasped the man’s wrinkled hand. “You are part of why I am who I am, Cantoré. You all are.”

  I stepped from his office into the brilliant morning sunlight, thoughts swirling around my head. Things were starting to slip together.

  Whoever had taken Rebeka had been clever. They had requested a delivery along her route and taken her by surprise. As soon as they had her, they requested the Olde Path be removed. If it hadn’t been for Giles’ mistake, I might never have known.

  The place bore checking out. It could be dangerous. I had no idea if anyone would still be there or what might be happening inside. I needed to at least check in with Wil, so that someone knew where I was.

  But first, I went to the kitchens.

  I had a fat bird to retrieve.

  4

  Fortunately, I knew where I was most likely to find my good friend Wil.

  It was almost noon, and he wasn’t on the serum, as far as I knew. That meant he would likely take a leisurely patrol now and again, but he would always find his way back to the Masque and Moon.

  Of course, it wasn’t possible that I simply made my way without interruption. No. I had to advise a young crier that he couldn’t sell herbal bitters outside a guild apothecary, as well as stop a fight between two stoneworkers who were far too drunk to be out and about this early in the day.

  As I got close to the tavern, I saw him inside. He was sitting at our table next to the window, looking at some papers. His mouth was twisted into a frown. As we got closer, I looked about for Svester but did not see him.

  “Wait for me, little pretty.” I scratched Scoundrel’s head and pulled one of her rings from my belt. As soon as she saw the shiny ring, I tossed it up, and she was after it like a shot. Moments later, she had it in her talons.

  “Wait. Wait.” She flapped her way to one the light posts and stretched her wings in

  the sun. Then, she started tugging and playing with the ring.

  I had scarcely sat down before being served.

  “Everybody know where the judicars do their best work.” Celia, the smart, sarcastic woman who owned the Masque and Moon, smirked at me. She was Esperan, and her deep black hair held only a few streaks of grey. She was matronly, but still Wil and I idolized her for her welcoming manner and delicious food. She knew it too and already had us a fresh ceramic pitcher of cold bitter and an additional mug.

  “I think I’ve decided I’m hungry after all.” Wil looked at Celia. “Stuffed potatoes?” He raised his eyes hopefully, and she laughed. Celia made spicy, crunchy potatoes with rich cheese, crab-meat, and a butter sauce that was a step from pure ecstacy.

  Lost gods. I looked at the bruises on Wil’s face from our adventures the night before. The man looks as bad as I feel.

  “I’ll see what I got.” She stuck her tongue out at him and stepped away.

  “I have little time.”

  “I know. It’s your last day.” Wil slid his papers aside, still looking worried.

  “So what have you stumbled into?” I knew Wil. If I didn’t let him vent a bit, I wouldn’t have his full attention.

  He shrugged. “Following up on the ramblings of an idiot.” He gave me a small smile. “It seems like young women have been going missing all over the borough. Not anyone you would know, of course. No one sees it happen, and no one knows where they are taken.” He took a long pull on his drink. “I had three different guilds that brought me information and then a message from Goodman.”

  I scowled at the mention of Goodman’s name. Wil relied on that particular source of information a bit much, I thought. I didn’t trust the man. Goodman was one of the enigmatic Guilemen, and their secrets always came at a price.

  “Twilight Blades, maybe?” I gave him a winning smile.

  “No.” He was shaking his head before I was finished. “Sebaste is in enough trouble, what with all your shenanigans.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “This is nothing like one of his guild hits, anyway. No silver or expensive oils. No works of art. Whoever is doing this is trafficking in flesh. They never take anyone who would be noticed either.”

  “Unless they took Rebeka.” I took a drink. Lost gods. There was nothing like Celia’s brew.

  Wil shook his head. “I thought about that too. I don’t buy it. She’s too different from the others.”

  I chuckled. “Well, if you weren’t busy enough, I have some insight to my shenanigans.”

  He grinned tiredly at me. “You found Rebeka, I assume she is happy, healthy, and you are to be wed.”

  “No such luck.” I sighed. Quickly, hoping to step things along, I went over the finer points of my dalliance at the Havens, finishing with my next move.

  “I’m heading to the Olde Path after I leave here.”

  Wil stroked his fair beard. “I’ll lend you a hand if you need it.”

  “I don’t think it’s required. You’ve helped plenty, and I think you’re on to something else. I was just letting you know what I was up to.”

  “Well.” Wil nodded. “If you could do me the favor, please don’t die.”

  “Yeah?” I grinned at him. “Miss me, would ya?”

  “Well, they’d have to get another judicar, wouldn’t they?” He sipped his drink. “I’d hate to compete with someone capable.”

  I grinned at him, and we chuckled over our drinks. Then, he turned a serious eye to me.

  “Let me know when yer done, Thom. I mean it. If I hadn’t been along last night, that would have been bad.”

  “It was bad anyway,”
I nodded, knowing what he meant. “I promise, I’ll stop by after.”

  “Well enough then,” he nodded, the matter settled.

  We sat in quiet for a moment, enjoying our drinks and watching the city slip by. As Wil and I contemplated things moving in the shadows, things that might spell life and death for innocents, the world continued to turn.

  I couldn’t explain how much Wil’s concern meant to me. He and I were the only full time patrols in the Warrens, a borough where things could turn dire, right quick. Most days, citizens in the Warrens didn’t much care for what happened to a city official.

  Some days, Wil Sommers was all I had.

  An Olde Path

  Sundering, First Bell Dusking

  I had only been to the Olde Path a few times in my days as a judicar. It was not the best little tavern but nor was it the worst.

  It was a place than had made do with the hand it was dealt.

  Once, the building had been a quaint little pillow-house, back when I was a boy at the Havens. In those days, such things were legal and well regulated, so the business had no need to hide its activities.

  Then came darker days. Practitioners of sorcery secretly shaped the minds of the night-women and then used their talents to gain the secrets of powerful men. Thus, they were able to manipulate people who had positions of power in the Guild Senate, all without revealing who they were.

  It was a dark season of our history, where no one knew who was under the thumb of the cult.

  Once it was over, hundreds of doxies had been sentenced to death, and scores of folke accused of sorcery were executed, their remains burnt and cast beyond the bounds. Places like the Olde Pathe did not fare well.

  I couldn’t recall what the name of the building had been in those days; it wasn’t exactly one of my interests as a boy in his ‘prenticing. But I could imagine what had happened. Businesses sprung up selling all manners of junk alchemy, all with the purpose of clearing the Contagion from the mollies’ places of business, as if they themselves had been practicing foul rites. Structures were either seen as clean or as bearing the taint of Contagion. Many buildings still sat vacant to this day, largely because of superstition.