On the Matter of the Red Hand

by JM Guillen

  There were loose ends I didn’t like. What did Sefra have to do with Blythe? What was the symbol on the back of that pin?

  Too many questions.

  Rebeka gripped my leg excitedly, but I already saw it. I only had to move one white piece, and I had Wil caught in Orin’s Snare. I moved it and gave him a lazy smile.

  “Tally.”

  “Curse your eyes.” He gave me a bitter look. “You’re having some luck today at least.” He leaned back. “So, what’s the move then? Rebeka isn’t safe if someone is still behind Santiago’s back. Does she remember anything at all about who actually took her?”

  “I went to the Olde Path.” Rebeka was looking into the dregs of her cider, as if she could read the future there. “When I took my parcel up, there were men in the hallway. Someone grabbed Rebeka, and they made her sleep.”

  The change in her grammar unsettled me.

  I blinked, squeezing my eyes shut. “We talked on the way here. She doesn’t know who it might be.”

  “Well…” Wil smiled slowly. “But only we know that. As far as anyone else knows, Rebeka could have told us all manner of things.”

  It fell in place for me then. Jack had no idea what Rebeka might know or might not know. Her being quiet or dead was the single largest security he had.

  “That’s a fact.” I mused, thinking of how things could be turned. When I had all my thoughts in order, I gave my friend a smug look.

  “Would you have time for a stroll, Wil? I have some business to handle.”

  He grinned. “Scarlet Cellar?”

  “Yup,” I nodded. “I think some people might be interested in seeing Rebeka.”

  “Yes.” His grin grew wider. “I’d be happy to come along.”

  As he spoke, I felt the slightest whisper of the serum, scarcely an echo now.

  I look at my hand. I only have one good card to play: the Cavalier. The stranger knows I have him, however, and I briefly worry about putting him in play.

  But there is no choice.

  3

  It was well into night by the time we made it to the Scarlet Cellar. A gentle rain was starting to fall, which wasn’t unusual. This time of year, it rained as often as not.

  By Santiago’s schedule, I had almost an hour to spare.

  Grith was waiting in front, as was his position. He didn’t see us yet, as we were across the street and down a way, sheltering underneath the awning for a leatherworks.

  “You remember that you are staying near us?” I tried catching Rebeka’s eye but just couldn’t. It was like her gaze would just slide off of whatever she was looking at. “No wandering. It’s not safe here.”

  “Rebeka knows.” Her voice was kitten soft. “Rebeka will stay with the judicars.”

  “That’s right.” I looked at Wil. “You still good with going in like this?” Santiago was a dangerous man, and the Scarlet Cellar was a dangerous place. Making enemies here could have a long shadow.

  Wil grinned. “After you, pendo.”

  As one, we turned about on our heels and strode toward the Scarlet Cellar, with Rebeka a shadow behind us.

  Overhead, the sky rumbled.

  Grith saw us when we were still ten strides off. He gave me that slimy smile of his as we got close.

  “How can I help you this evenin’, Thom?”

  Time to lie.

  My face was dour. “At this moment, Grith, a writ is on its way here from the Offices of the Just. Coming behind it will be half a dozen judicars.” I gave him a tight smile. “How about you go ahead and let us in to speak with Santiago before they get here? Could make things less messy.”

  Grith drew himself up as tall as he could, with two judicars staring him down. “I don’t see that I want to, do I?” He looked from me, to Wil, and then back. “What with you boys all going and getting writs when Senĩr Il Ladren has been so accomidatin’ and all.”

  “Accommodating?” Wil gave Grith a deriding look and snorted. His tone was seeping with sarcasm. “It’s not about what you want, anyway, Gloria. We need to find the perpetrator of a tier five offense.” He fixed the man with a glare. “We have the witness with us, and people need to be questioned.” He stepped out of the way, and there, behind him, stood Rebeka.

  Grith’s eyes grew wide. “Rebeka!” He stepped forward as if to embrace her, but Wil whipped his stave in front of the man, poking him in the chest. It stopped him in place.

  “Yes,” My voice was low, like a bladed shadow. “Someone in the guild put her in danger, Grith.”

  “We’ll figure it all out,” Wil’s words followed mine. “No one’s getting near her until we have some answers.”

  Grith’s face was a portrait in stunned incredulity. “Well, it wasn’t me, was it?”

  “Was it? Was it?” Scoundrel crowed at him, and he looked at her aghast.

  “No!” he yelped. He threw me a wild eyed look. “No, Judicar, you know it wasn’t me. You believed me, din’cha?”

  I did, actually. That was a lot of what our plan pended upon. Grith was loyal at heart. Wil and I both felt as if he could be ruled out as the person who had turned Rebeka over to the strange masked man.

  “You want a chance to prove that, Grith?”

  The man nodded eagerly.

  Wil handed him a small envelope. A blob of Celia’s candlewax sealed it closed with the imprint of a judicar’s token set within it. “Take this to Santiago. Do not open it. Wait while he reads it and do as he says.”

  The message inside was simple.

  I have Rebeka. Play along as I talk sideways.

  ~Thom

  “Don’t talk to anyone else either, Grith.” I gave the man a look. “If you truly want to help Rebeka, then do as we say.”

  The man nodded. “Yes, Judicar. I will.” He gave Rebeka one last look and stepped inside.

  “I think that went about as well as it could go.” I looked at Wil.

  “Agreed. Now if we can just escape without being stabbed, I think we can call this a win.”

  “We don’t have to do much.” I gave Rebeka a look. “As soon as my Jack knows that Rebeka is talking with us, something should happen. He won’t want the only witness speaking with judicars.”

  It didn’t take Grith long to return.

  “Santiago is waiting for you in the gambling pits. Said to remind you what he said about talking sideways.”

  I met his gaze. “I remember.” I gave Wil a look.

  My friend gave me a nod, and we stepped into the Scarlet Cellar. Grith led the way.

  Coming in the front was an entirely different experience than scuttling in the side door. Santiago had taste and made his guests feel as if they had come to a pleasure palace. The hallway to the gambling pits was opulent to say the least, with works of art lining the walls and a thick, luxurious carpet. In the back of my mind, I wondered how much of this opulence had been stolen.

  In what seemed like no time at all, Grith had led us to the large double doors that led to the gambling pits. Latigo stood before the door, looking grim as ever. He was wearing that little round fur hat again. This time it caught my eye.

  “I didn’t tell you the other day how I liked your hat, Latigo.”

  He scowled. “You and everyone else. Every time it rains, I have to fight to keep it off the head of every ha’penny grifter in this place.” He opened the door. “Let’s go.”

  We followed him, but my gaze was drawn to his hat. On the back of it, there was a small bald patch, where the black fur had fallen out.

  Or been pulled out by a raven’s talons.

  It all fell in for me then. Of course. The simplest answer really was the correct one typically. I even remembered what Eddie had said.

  “Wouldn’t catch me outside in the rain anyway. I catch sick if I get my head in the wet. Every time.”

  This changed my plan.

  Santiago was standing on the balcony, overlooking the gambling pits. The pits were silent. Everyone who was in there was looking at us when we entered.r />
  Trust Santiago to make it a show.

  “Tomás!” He gave that wide, cat’s grin. “I am hearing that you have something for me, yes?”

  I cleared my throat. “Yes, Senĩr Il Ladren. We have done as you asked.” It was so important that I keep my tone just right.

  He arched an eyebrow at me. I never called him “Senĩr Il Ladren.” He took a long pull on his fuma. “So what have you found then, ’migo?”

  I turned to Wil. He stepped aside, and Rebeka was behind him. There were gasps around the room. I kept looking about, trying to find the man I sought.

  There he was.

  I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it before. He had sat there, bold as brass, working on a locked chest, right in front of me.

  I catch a glimpse of a tattoo on the back of the stranger’s hand. It’s a stylized key—a skeleton key, I realize.

  Eddie the Filch was a lock-hawk. He sat right in front of me working a lock the night we spoke. He was probably the lock-hawk who had made the lock for the Argyrian door. As I looked him in the eyes, my dreaming mind connected the dots.

  Eddie was my Jack. But what was his connection to the plague-masked man, and his house of addicts and insanity?

  “Rebeka!” Santiago’s voice boomed across the pits. “Are you well, ’ermana?”

  She looked up at him, her eyes like a frightened doe. She nodded and started to say something, but I interrupted her.

  “I am afraid, Senĩr, the protocols indicate that we have to take her for questioning.” I looked around the room, trying not to focus on Eddie. “She claims that the person who gave her to the men who did this is one of your own. That it’s someone from within your guild.”

  “I see.” Santiago’s words were low, dangerous. “So why then, Tomás, would you bring her here, hmm? Why not question her first?”

  “I wanted the Warrens to see that I had done as you asked, Senĩr.” I met his gaze. “The situation has been handled, exactly as you planned. Everything you told us was correct, and soon we will know who stabs Il Ladren in the back, right in his own home.”

  “Yes.” He was seething, but realized what I was doing. In a not-so-subtle way, I was showing everyone present that Senĩr Il Ladren took care of business. “What of my other men?”

  “Dead.” I did not flinch as I lied. “They had been dosed with highly addictive tonics of an unknown type. Your men died bravely, as good men of the Red Hand.”

  I held his gaze as I said the words.

  I could tell he was angry but not with me. After all, I was making him look upstanding in front of his clientele. It appeared that Santiago had handled things through legal channels.

  “When we find the serpent in your house, Santiago, he will be found guilty of a tier five misdemeanor. He didn’t hurt Rebeka himself. It just seems like he arranged things so she would be taken. That isn’t much of a crime.” I paused. “If anything, he would face a higher penalty for his attack upon my person.”

  Santiago cocked his head. “You were attacked? By one of mine?”

  “Mine.” Scoundrel mimicked him quietly.

  “It was the night I came here.” I kept my gaze on him. “After your man told me where to go, someone tried attacking me from a rooftop. I set my bird on him, but the attacker got away.” I gave Santiago a grim smile. “I expect that this person has wounds on their arms where Scoundrel struck him. They are likely deep gashes as he defended his face.” I shrugged. “A class five isn’t much. He won’t be hanged or have to take the vigil.” I gave Santiago a look. “This man has spit in your face, Senĩr. But I’m afraid that my legal power regarding what he did to you doesn’t go far.”

  Then, Santiago’s eyes became thoughtful. He understood the subtext. If you find this man, you can punish him, but if I find him, the punishment will be light. Santiago smiled at me.

  “How long will your questioning take, Tomás?”

  Good. He understood where this was going. I glanced up. Eddie was no longer where he had been.

  That wasn’t good.

  I scanned the crowd looking for him but found no sign. Trying not to seem conspicuous, I kept talking.

  “A few days at least, Senĩr. She will be safe with us. I simply wanted you to know that she was safe and that soon we would have—”

  A small explosion thundered from the balcony. The man who had been standing next to Santiago cried out and then fell, blood blossoming on his shirt. I looked over into one of the pits where people were playing rout, and there stood Eddie Groil, pointing Santiago’s own three-shot, fire-powder pistol at the guildmaster. It was the same one that had hung on the wall in Santiago’s office.

  “You don’t know everything you need to know, Judicar.” Eddie looked at me, his eyes wild. “You don’t know what you’ve done, do you? You don’t even know what you’ve stumbled into!” As Eddie swung the pistol from Santiago, toward me, and then back to Santiago, I could see the long gashes Scoundrel had left in his arm. Eddie giggled wildly, sounding just as Jakob the Fox had as he was attacking me.

  Tainted night.

  Eddie was on the drops. I remembered my early impression of him.

  It took almost a half-bell of my time to figure out that Eddie didn’t know enough of anything that was going to make a large difference. The man was obviously drunk or perhaps doped on some tonic. I could smell it on him, a sharp, peppery scent. Half of what he said was rambling nonsense.

  “Why, Eddie?” Santiago stood tall, unbowed by the gun being waved at him. “Why do this to me?”

  Eddie didn’t answer him but turned to me. “Take me under your protection, Judicar. I’ll tell you everything.” He giggled again. “He’s unreal, you know.”

  Rebeka spoke in a hushed whisper. “Tell the judicar he walks between. Unreal also means unseen.”

  “Quiet, little dove.” Wil hushed her.

  “You think you are protected by going with them?” I saw the rage in Santiago’s eyes. “Eddie, I promise you, no one spits in my face and walks away.”

  Eddie cocked the hammer back. “Maybe I should rid the Warrens of a rat before I go, Santiago. Maybe clean up a little street trash before the judicars take me away?”

  “You are a coward and a fool, Eddie Groil.” Santiago did not flinch from the gun. “You think you can wave my own pistol in my face and walk out of here alive?”

  “I think I can take you with me, Santiago.” Eddie rubbed furiously at his eyes, as if they were burning. “I think I can help the judicars find the man they are looking for—and get rid of you.” A strange laugh played around the corners of his mouth. “Thom needs to know who is behind this, he needs to know…”

  While I watched Eddie, agape, Rebeka had slipped away from Wil. She stepped deftly through the crowd, unseen. I didn’t even notice she was gone until I heard her voice.

  “Eddie.” Her words were sweet, were gentle. “It’s the drops, isn’t it? The drops are eating Eddie.”

  He turned toward her, holding the gun out. When he saw it was Rebeka his eyes filled with tears.

  “I didn’t know, ‘Becka. I didn’t know. He made me.”

  “Hush.” She took another step. “I know. It’s that man. It’s the drops. They dream for you, and then they eat you.”

  “Yes,” he nodded as if what she said made perfect sense. He was trembling. “Told me I couldn’t have any more of them unless I went to the Havens. I requested a change to your route.” He was full on crying now. “I didn’t—”

  “Eddie. I know what your heart says. What it always has said.”

  I remembered Grith’s words. “Eddie had his eye on Rebeka. Senĩr Ladren wasn’t having any of it though, was he? Rebeka was clean—not part of the guild.”

  “Loved you, ‘Becka.” He was full on crying now. “Always loved you.”

  “Rebeka knows.” She smiled then. I think it was one of the sweetest smiles I had ever seen. “Give me the pistola, Eddie. Give Rebeka the pistola, and we can go with the judicars. We can be safe.” />
  Eddie was held in her eyes. Slowly, trembling, he reached out to her, handing her Santiago’s fire-powder pistol.

  Rebeka grasped it. “Thank you, Eddie.”

  Before he could say anything, she shot him in the face.

  The explosion was less stunning than the act itself. For a moment, as the shot rang in our ears, everyone stood frozen, unbelieving of what they had seen. Then, the crowd was in an uproar, with as many people pushing out as there were those trying to get closer.

  I ran to Rebeka, almost losing Scoundrel from my shoulder as I pushed through.

  When I arrived, Eddie’s smell washed over me. It was the same rotten, spicy scent that I had smelled on Jakob.

  Rebeka was looking at the pistol in her hand. “It fired.” She looked at me trembling. “The pistola—”

  “Not now, Rebeka.” I snatched the pistol from her. “Let’s get you to safety.” For a moment, the symbols on her wrist seemed to writhe on her skin. I blinked, and she looked at me. The reflection of the lanterns in her eyes made them seem to shine a brilliant white.

  When I looked closer, however, I saw that was not true.

  I shook my head.

  I looked behind me to see Wil calming Santiago’s patrons. I caught his gaze, and he nodded.

  Wil had this well in hand.

  I pulled Rebeka from the throng, toward the door to the back. Already, Latigo and Grith were moving toward Eddie’s body. As I pulled Rebeka along, I looked up at the balcony where Santiago had been standing.

  The man had not moved. He was watching me. His eyes were sharp, cunning and quick.

  Santiago nodded and lifted a glass toward me. He was smiling a grim smile. It was the smile of a predator. It was a smile of satisfaction.

  I dragged Rebeka away from the crowd, and into the back of the Scarlet Cellar.

  “I left my shoes in the underplace.” She looked at me. “Will we be getting them?”

  “I’ll have to take some judicars back there, Rebeka.” I gave her a weak smile. “If I find your shoes, I promise I’ll bring them back.”