Mourningbird (Empire of Masks Book 3)

by Brock Deskins

  “I see he’s as talkative as ever,” Kiera said as she stared at the locked door.

  “He’s actually worse. I go days without seeing him.”

  “What’s he doing?”

  Wesley shrugged. “Russel stuff. So, what are you doing?”

  She mimicked his shrug. “Kiera stuff.”

  “I swear you’re getting more like Russel every day. Before you know it, you’ll start talking with your hands.”

  Kiera flashed him a rude gesture. “Oh look, it’s starting already.”

  “Classy Kiera, you’re referred to by no one anywhere, ever.”

  “As if you are.”

  “I am an extraordinary gentlemen. Through years of study and practice, I have turned this humble lump of clay into a statue of refined elegance.”

  “That’s strange, because of the two of us standing here, only one is going to be attending a party at the palace in a few days.”

  “You lie.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.” Kiera turned the grapnel gun around in her hands, aimed the back end at the airship’s mast, and touched the sigil. The grapnel shot out of the front, narrowly missing her face, and stuck to the rocky ground below. “Oops, wrong button.” She fingered the proper rune and secured the rear-facing grapnel to the mast. “See you at the party. Oh wait, I guess I won’t,” she said before sliding down the line.

  Wesley rushed to the side of the airship and scowled at her. Kiera touched down, retracted the cords, and flipped another rude gesture at him before scampering off.

  “Bitch,” Wesley cursed her retreating form, “I will be at that party.”

  ***

  Cleary was in the training room sparring with Kiera, leaving Conner to answer the knock at the door. He opened it to a young man with a face marred by fading bruises.

  “Can I help you?”

  Wesley pushed past Conner and gazed at the luxurious interior. “Nice place! No wonder Kiera didn’t want to share. Still, it’s a bit selfish to leave us stuck on a derelict airship plagued with murderous thugs while she’s living like a princess.”

  Conner limped after the intruder, but Wesley was already moving into the living room. “I think you have the wrong home. You need to leave.”

  Wesley flopped onto the sofa and helped himself to a bowl of dates sitting on the small table before him. “Nope. I’m right where I need to be. Where’s Kiera, off in some creepy sex dungeon?”

  Conner gripped his cane in one hand but did not draw the blade concealed within. “I do not know anyone named Kiera.”

  “Yeah you do. I followed her here. You must be the one who employs her. I know you run a brothel, but I can’t believe Kiera is doing that kind of work, but she’s doing something for you. What is it?”

  Conner sat in a chair with a sigh. “You must be Wesley.”

  “I like to think that I get to be Wesley. Must makes it sound as if it’s a bad thing, like if I had a choice I would be someone else. I have to admit, on a bad day, I might choose being you given the option; live in a mansion surrounded by women of low morals.”

  “What can I do for you, Wesley?”

  “I was just going to ask what you’re doing with Kiera, but since you brought it up, perhaps we can do some business as well.”

  “You want a job in my pleasure house?”

  Wesley waved a hand. “No, I’m strictly freelance. It’s a niche market but very lucrative. Have you heard the name Angus Summerfield?”

  “It sounds vaguely familiar.”

  “Angus is a wealthy man who earned his fortune in textiles. He is also quite the philanderer. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s patronized your establishment on more than one occasion.”

  “I assume this is leading somewhere that you think should involve me.”

  “Yes, more specifically, your money. You see, I am the bastard son of Angus Summerfield. Instead of taking my brother and I in when our mother died, he tossed us into Wayward House and disavowed our relationship. Now, one of his servants has uncovered correspondences between my mother and himself that proves my legitimacy. As his eldest son, I am entitled to his fortune when he passes, and I hear that he is in very ill health. The problem is that the servant wants five hundred staters for the letters. It is a small sum considering my inheritance. If you were willing to back me, I would return your investment five-fold.”

  Conner stroked his chin and pretended to consider the offer. “An interesting proposal. You do not know much about me, do you?”

  “You’re a man with money. What more is there to know?”

  “I used to be this city’s chief inquisitor. As such, I learned to smell proverbial rammox shit a mile away, and you sir, reek of it. Now, what else do you want?”

  “I want to see Kiera,” Wesley replied.

  “Not possible. Her position here is a secret for her, and your, safety.”

  “Now I’m getting a whiff of rammox shit. Let me talk to her or I will stand out on the street corner and shout to the world what I know.”

  “You don’t know anything.”

  “Then I’ll make it up as I go along.”

  “You realize I could simply kill you instead.”

  Wesley bit his lower lip. “Actually, I hadn’t really considered that option until now. I don’t think you will. If Kiera isn’t a prisoner of some kind, then you wouldn’t want to do something that would certainly destroy your working relationship. Besides, if you killed me, you would miss out on an excellent investment opportunity with a guaranteed return.”

  “Uh-huh. Wait here.” Conner stood, took a few steps, and turned back around. “Don’t steal anything.”

  Wesley returned an exaggerated smile.

  ***

  “Did you get the stuff I hid in the tavern?” Kiera asked as she blocked Cleary’s swing.

  Cleary parried her counter-attack. “I did.”

  “Were you able to read the letters?”

  Metal met wood wrapped in bronze bands in a series of strikes and parries. “Of course. Unlike you, I can read.”

  “I can read!”

  “Children’s books,” Cleary replied with a scoff.

  “It’s just that I heard your eyes start to go as you get old. I didn’t know if you had your old man glasses with you.”

  “My eyes are just fine, kid.”

  Kiera tried to sweep his legs out from under him, but he leapt back, avoiding the move. She sprang to her feet too fast for him to take advantage of the opening the attempt gave him.

  “You move pretty good with a bad arm.”

  Cleary charged forward, brandishing his sword with vigor. “I only need one for a terrible swordsman like you.”

  Kiera backpedaled in a controlled retreat, batting his attacks aside with steady rhythm. “I imagine at your age, your arm isn’t the only limp appendix you have.”

  “You mean appendage, and you’re playing with fire, girlie,” he snapped.

  Kiera grinned. “Whatever. It’s just that I never see you with any women, which, given your face and all, I understand, but you live in a whorehouse. I’m sure Conner pays well enough that even you could get one of the women to look past your shortcomings.”

  “Girl, I don’t know what your problem is—”

  Kiera ducked a hard but clumsy swing and managed to land a blow to Cleary’s stomach as she darted past him. “Maybe my problem is that I am sick and tired of gimp, limp old men telling me what to do when neither of them can raise an arm or leg or the one thing that actually makes them a man!”

  Cleary rushed her once more, his swings coming in fast and furious. “I might have a bum arm, but I can still put you over my knee and beat your narrow little ass!”

  Kiera backpedaled, bobbing, weaving, and blocking the flurry of swings. Cleary overextended his thrust when she pretended to slip. She turned her pretend fall into a forward roll and struck her tutor in the back of his knee, causing the limb to buckle. She reversed her roll, twisted in midair, and came down on his chest with her
baton poised over his head for a finishing blow.

  Cleary glared up at her. “You are a hateful little bitch, you know that?”

  Kiera smiled down at him. “And if you think an opponent won’t use your sex against you, you’re a fool.”

  His scowl vanished as he belted out a braying laugh. “You are a good student. You’ll make an excellent…whatever in the Tormented Plane we are, if you live long enough. Help me up.”

  Kiera stood and extended a hand. “I’m sure that’s not the first time you’ve said that to a girl.”

  “Hey now!”

  “Was there anything good in the letters?” she asked with a grunt as she heaved Cleary off the floor.

  “They were old love letters between Farelle Vanos and Ambrosine Velarius.”

  “Isn’t that Duke Rastus’ sister?”

  Cleary nodded. “Was. She died when Bertram was very young.”

  Kiera’s eyes widened. “Is Farelle Bertram’s father?”

  “The letters don’t clearly state it, but if you read between the lines, it’s a powerful conclusion to draw.”

  “That’s reason enough for Farelle to have people watching his back, especially after he became inquisitor.”

  “I suppose, but social and political scandals aside, there’s nothing nefarious about it. Nothing we know of just yet.”

  “But you said that puts Bertram in a position to inherit a lot of power, especially if he marries Lysse Dushane.”

  Cleary nodded. “That will be your next assignment. We know who the two parties are. Now we have to find out why they went out of their way to keep Bertram safe, aside from personal relationships.”

  Kiera beamed up at Cleary. “So I did good, huh?”

  “You did all right, kid.”

  “I did awesome!”

  “Don’t oversell yourself.”

  Conner’s voice echoed down the stairs. “Kiera, you have a visitor.”

  She glanced toward the stairs. “He doesn’t sound happy.”

  “Were you expecting someone?”

  “Of course not. No one knows I’m here.”

  Cleary gave her a pointed look.

  “Oh…crap.”

  “Best go see who it is,” Cleary said.

  The two trudged up the stairs. Each step felt as if it were a bit higher than the previous one to Kiera as her anxiety increased the farther she ascended.

  Kiera walked into the sitting room, and her eyes went wide at the sight of Wesley calmly sipping a glass of wine. “Wesley, what in the Tormented Plane are you doing here?”

  “I followed you. You’re not the only one with skills.”

  “Yeah, but yours are typically of the…bedroom variety.”

  Wesley scowled at her. “I wasn’t always a pleasure boy, Kiera. You think I was going around selling myself when I was a child? Not that I didn’t have offers, but I wasn’t ready for that yet, and certainly not for the people making them.” He looked past Kiera to Cleary and grinned. “You look familiar.”

  “Not on your life, boy,” Cleary rumbled.

  “What are you doing here?” Kiera asked again.

  “I needed to know what you were up to, that you were safe.”

  Conner replied, “She is safe. Your showing up here however makes her decidedly less safe.”

  “Why. What is she doing? You run a whorehouse. She comes up with this old man, both of them covered in sweat…I’m not the type to judge, but that’s not Kiera’s thing, and if you’ve forced her to work for you, doing that, then we have a problem.”

  Cleary pushed past Kiera, his hand dropping to his sword hilt. “What exactly are you going to do, pleasure boy?”

  Wesley smiled in the face of Cleary’s threat. “I’ll tell my little brother on you. Now, I don’t know exactly what he’ll do, but I’ve seen what he can do, and you don’t want that.”

  Conner held up a hand, forestalling Cleary’s response. “We’re all friends here. There’s no need for threats. Wesley, Kiera is here of her own volition. She works for me, but not in the way you think. I use her skills to acquire things, mostly information. It’s as simple as that. In return, I let her live here under an assumed identity and pay her for her work. You following her risks exposing who she is. What if someone who was looking for her followed you here?”

  Wesley’s shoulders sagged and his bravado fled. “I didn’t think of that.”

  “No, you did not. What you now know must be kept secret, or Kiera’s life could be in danger. All of our lives. We both have no shortage of enemies. Our anonymity is our greatest defense.”

  Wesley set his glass on the table and stared at his feet. “I needed to know what was going on. We’ve never had secrets before, so I thought she was in trouble.”

  “She is not, but she could be now because of you.”

  Kiera said, “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you, Wesley. I know I have worried you, but I’m fine. More than fine. Cleary and Conner are teaching me how to be a better fighter, and I’m learning a lot.”

  Wesley grinned at her. “I bet the food ain’t bad either.”

  “It’s definitely better than cured worm meat and rotten vegetables.”

  Wesley craned his neck to take an exaggerated look behind Kiera. “I can see how well you’ve adapted.”

  Kiera glanced down and back. “I do not have a big butt!”

  Conner grinned and said, “Our Kiera is turning into a woman.”

  “Still too narrow for my tastes,” Cleary quipped.

  Kiera’s face flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment. “I am done discussing my work, what I eat, what I’m becoming, and especially my ass!” She pulled Wesley up by the arm and pushed him toward the door.

  “Wesley,” Conner called after them. “Should anyone ask, you came here seeking employment, which I still offer should you change your mind.”

  “Thanks, and my offer stands as well,” he shouted back as he slapped at Kiera’s goading hands.

  She guided Wesley through the house and shoved him out through a side door that opened onto a narrow, unused egress. “Is your curiosity satisfied now?”

  Wesley straightened his jacket in an attempt to look dignified. “I still don’t understand what you do or why.”

  “What I do is my business. I do it because it’s the only thing I can think of to keep you and Russel safe.”

  A look of real concern flashed across his face. “But are you safe?”

  Kiera sighed and shook her head. “I’m in no more danger than some of my other jobs, only now I’m being paid and getting some training.”

  “Just be careful. Rich people can make powerful enemies, and he’s putting you in the middle of them.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  Wesley gave her a slow nod. “I know. Watch your back, and trust no one.” He turned and began walking away. “See you later…at the party.”

  “What?” Kiera exclaimed.

  Wesley looked over his shoulder and winked.

  Kiera went back inside. Surely Wesley could not get into the most exclusive and guarded party in the city. Could he? She found Conner and Cleary still in the sitting room, awaiting her return.

  “Is your friend satisfied with your situation?” Conner asked.

  Kiera shrugged. “He’s fine. He was just worried about me.”

  “He’s an interesting young fellow.”

  “Not really.” Kiera snorted and shook her head. “Let me guess, he told you about his secret mage glass mine, or was it void steel, just outside the city and needed an investor to buy equipment and secure the deed.”

  “It was an inheritance from a wealthy, disavowed father.”

  Kiera bobbed her head. “Ah, that one. It’s been a while since he’s tried it. How much?”

  “Five hundred staters.”

  “He really went for the big money this time.”

  “I assume I was right in thinking that his father was not a wealthy textile industrialist?”

  “No, hi
s father was an abusive, drunken mason.”

  “How did you meet him?”

  “We grew up in Wayward House. He was around nine, which made Russel five. They showed up after their father fell to his death while repairing some tower stonework. Their mother had died of dust lung a couple of years prior.”

  Conner grimaced. “Quite a run of bad luck for them.”

  Kiera rolled her eyes and looked doubtful. “Yeah, maybe, maybe not.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Wesley told me that a few nights ago, his father had been in a particularly violent mood and, as usual, took it out on Russel.”

  “Why did he have animus towards such a young boy?”

  “Russel is a little…different. He doesn’t talk except in sign. I don’t know if he even can. Their father thought he was defective, and so he took out his anger on him. He probably thought Russel’s problems were a reflection of him or something.”

  Conner nodded, agreeing with her assessment. “And you think it was good luck that he died and them being sent to Wayward House, him being so violent?”

  “I’m not sure it was luck at all.”

  “You believe his death was by design? Whose?”

  Kiera shrugged. “All I know is that he nearly beat Wesley to death when he tried to protect Russel, and a couple of days later he was dead. His scaffold collapsed, his safety harness snapped, and the net they had strung below to catch falling stone or workers ripped.”

  “You think Wesley sabotaged all of his father’s equipment?”

  Kiera laughed. “Wesley? Not a chance. I mean Russel.”

  Conner’s eyebrows knitted together, creasing his forehead. “You said Russel was just five years old.”

  “Yeah, and he also made my grapnel gun and talks about stuff that would fly over the gods’ heads. Russel operates on a level I can’t even begin to understand. I still don’t know if he’s a genius or madman.”

  “It is often a fine line,” Conner replied. “Go back downstairs. Surri should be waiting for you.”

  Kiera looked in the direction of the training room and scowled. “I think she likes seeing me fall off those balance posts way too much.”

  “Nonsense. She only wants to drive you to achieve your best.”

  As the two men watched Kiera return to her training Cleary said, “She does like knocking the girl on her butt.”