The Limbs of the Dead (A Wielders Novel Book 3)

by Max Anthony

  With enough evidence of the apothecary’s involvement, Skulks descended the stairs, whereupon he emerged, bold as brass into the shop through a doorway behind the counter. The apothecary looked up from a jar he was studying when he became aware of the movement.

  “What are you doing here?” he spluttered. “How did you get in?” At that point the apothecary recognized Skulks from his attendance during the efforts to rouse the slumbering Heathen Spout. “It’s you,” finished the apothecary lamely.

  “Yes, it is me,” said Skulks, giving no further clue as to his nature. “I have been inspecting your shop after a reported breach of hygiene and it has come to my attention that you have a mound of illicit dung in one of your back rooms. Not only that, but it is not sufficiently separated from areas where food is prepared!”

  “I’ve paid my taxes on that dung!” exclaimed the apothecary indignantly.

  “But have you paid your taxes on the severed limbs I also found?” asked Skulks, confronting him. “There is also mention of a potion on this sheet of paper,” he continued, waving said sheet in the air. “Could this be the same potion that has put several of our upstanding citizens into a state of unwanted slumber?”

  Turgos, that being his name, spluttered some more as his brain sought adequate words to deflect the issue. “My good sir, can you allow me time to finish serving this sweet lady? Then we can take our discussion into the back office.”

  “I’m afraid I am not able to accept your kind offer,” said Skulks. “And the sweet lady in your company is captain of Hardened’s army and daughter of Doris Grumps, who is under the influence of this malign potion.”

  “Oh Mr Rumps,” said Captain Honey most sweetly. “We must perforce have words on this matter.”

  Turgos Rumps looked down at his lady customer. She was smiling still, but the smile was no longer of the comely and innocent kind. This smile was suggestive of pain, misery and, if one didn’t play one’s cards exactly right, possibly death. Rumps first gulped and then yelped as a hand shot up. The hand took a firm hold of his ear, twisting it until it was within a hair’s breadth of being torn away from his face. It was as if the owner of the hand had practised this move on many occasions previously. Rumps screamed.

  “Tell us about the potion and quickly,” said Captain Honey, with an unwavering grip on his ear. “This is the least painful thing I can do to you.”

  “It’s nothing compared to what the people I work for can do!” exclaimed a recalcitrant Rumps.

  “The people you work for are not here,” Honey told him. “But I am here and I become very impatient when I am worried about my mother.” Rumps screamed once more as two extended fingers jabbed him in the side of his stomach.

  “Oops,” said Captain Honey.

  “I would listen to her,” advised Skulks solicitously. “She was born in Flense. Apparently, they never lose the taste.” Flense was a pariah city in Treads, wherein cannibalism was still practised amongst the citizens, though it was legally required to have two consenting adults. In fact, Captain Jives Honey had been born in a comfortable house in Hardened twenty-nine years ago, but she was quick to cotton on to Skulks’ methods.

  She adopted a faraway stare. “Uncle Johab’s knuckles were so sweet and crunchy,” she said wistfully, as if remembering the most wonderful feast imaginable. She brought herself back to the present and made a show of studying Turgos Rumps’ forearm, making a sucking noise as she did so. “Marrow,” she muttered under her breath. “Very juicy.”

  Rumps did his best to lean away, but didn’t manage to get far with his ear still clamped firmly in Captain Honey’s surprisingly strong grip. “What do you want to know?” he squeaked.

  Ignoring him, Captain Honey looked at Skulks. “Aunty Hirith used to make this wonderful blood sausage. I once asked her what gave it such a firm texture and she told me that the flesh had to be beaten for three days, until the blood congealed under the living skin.”

  “That sounds like a much finer sausage than the mushy ones you get here in Hardened. I’ve had a hankering for a proper bunch of sausages for a while. Is the taste really that much better?”

  “Much, much better,” said Captain Honey. “You’re really not comparing like with like.”

  “Do we have three days to spare, do you think?”

  “We can probably get him into the Chamber Building basement without being seen. No one’s been down there for years.”

  “I’m so hungry,” said Skulks to himself.

  Rumps looked on in horror as the conversation unfolded. “I said I’d talk, didn’t I?”

  At Rumps’ last words, Skulks glanced over as if only now remembering that the apothecary was involved in the conversation. “Talk? What were we talking about?”

  “The potion!” said Rumps. “Please ask me about the potion!”

  With a look of disappointment on his face, Skulks sighed as if duty had denied him something he’d have far rather partaken of. “Tell me about this potion,” he said. “And don’t hold back, for I am sorely tempted to try some of Captain Honey’s home cooking.”

  “The potion isn’t mine. A lady came to visit me some weeks ago, looking for ingredients to make a special elixir she was working on. I was only too glad to help - business is poor and the price of baboon droppings has increased by thirty-five percent over the last year. Before I knew it, I was up to my eyeballs in dead bodies, which I had to bring back to the shop to be preserved. All for a few Slivers.”

  Skulks nodded in acknowledgement at the mention of Slivers, having already stolen a further ninety-five coins from the till. “Who is this lady?” he asked.

  “She’s called Zera Graves. She comes from Bu’Jo but works for King Meugh, though I don’t know why. Can you let go of my ear now?” he asked. “It’s really hurting.” Honey shook her head, face grim.

  “King Meugh! Will we ever hear the end of this blasted swine?” exclaimed Skulks. “If only my dagger-swords had cut deeper when I found him retching into his toilet bowl!”

  Captain Honey still had questions and lots of them. Before she could ask anything further, there was a tinkling sound at the door and an elderly gentleman shuffled into the shop. He examined the contents of one or two shelves, clearly in embarrassment and oblivious to the tableau near the counter. When he was unable to find what he was searching for, he raised his head, seeking the shop keeper. Skulks stepped forward, curious to know how it would feel to be in charge of a shop, rather than stealing from one.

  “How may I help you, sir?” Skulks asked the elderly gentleman. The old man looked over. He saw an attractive young lady holding an older man by the ear. She was smiling so sweetly that he convinced himself it was nothing out of the ordinary. He assumed that the third man, dressed all in black, must be the shop owner and it was to him that he spoke.

  “It’s about my bum,” said the elderly gentleman. “I haven’t gone for a you know what in over a week.” He chose his words carefully, knowing that there was a lady present.

  “Hmmm,” said Skulks, appearing to be deep in thought. “A man should normally have a you know what every day in my experience.”

  “Precisely,” said the customer. “I think it’s all the garlic my wife puts in the mince. She tells me it’s good for my heart. Well what about my bum, I asked her? What’s the point in having a healthy heart if it stops me going for a you know what?”

  “What you need is a wiping unguent,” said Skulks, reaching at random for a jar. “Put some of this on your finger and smear it over the affected area twice a day. If it doesn’t work, come back in four days and we’ll try something different. And remember to wash your hands after application.”

  “Oh I shouldn’t need to wash my hands,” said the old man. “I’ve not had a shit in days, so me arse hole’s as clean as a whistle.” He’d evidently forgotten about there being a lady within hearing.

  “It’s not your posterior that is dirty,” Skulks told him. “This ointment is made from baboon excrement, so I woul
dn’t go sticking your fingers straight in your mouth.”

  “A little of what hurts you does you good,” replied the old man, fishing in his pocket for the five Slivers Skulks had asked him for. “Good day sir and thank you for the advice.” As the customer left the shop, the door-bell tinkling, Skulks used his Wielding powers to force the door locked, so there would be no more disturbances.

  “That was an eighty Sliver anti-ageing cream!” exclaimed Rumps. “That man will have the bum of a twenty-year-old by tomorrow night!”

  “Where is Zera Graves?” Honey asked, ignoring Rumps’ concerns about his stock.

  “She’s gone to Bu’Jo to find some more ingredients for the potion. It has some very rare components that she can’t get hold of in Hardened. She brought some with her, but she exhausted them making the first potion.”

  Skulks pulled the potion from his pocket and gave it an experimental shake. “And it just puts people to sleep, does it?”

  Rumps looked alarmed at the sight of Skulks shaking the vial. “Don’t do that! I don’t know how stable it is!” Rebellious to the core, Skulks gave it another little shake before returning it to his pocket.

  “So what’s it for?” asked Captain Honey, wiggling Turgos Rumps by the ear and bringing a tear to his eye.

  “I don’t know!” exclaimed Rumps. “I am but a small wheel in the machine, drawn in by the money, yet without having any secrets divulged to me!” When he saw that his argument was failing to convince, he expanded. “I think it’s part of a plot to take over the city! I heard Graves muttering to herself about it, but I don’t know any more!”

  “I want you to tell us when this Graves woman is coming back to Hardened.” Skulks told him. “How will we know who we’re looking for?”

  “She left on the Blackened Crumpet a few weeks ago. She should be due back at any time. I don’t know any more than that!” Captain Honey gave Rumps’ ear a further experimental twist, splitting the skin where it joined his head. The apothecary shrieked. “It’s all I know, I promise!” he cried.

  “It had better be,” Honey promised him. “Now tell us how to cure the people afflicted by this potion!”

  Rumps looked relieved, as if finding himself on safer ground. “Yes, well. I may be able to assist you with that. I helped make the potion, so I’m sure I can cure those affected by it.”

  “Why didn’t you do so in the Chamber Building?” asked Skulks.

  “Because in the Chamber Building, there was no-one tearing my ear off! I recognized the cause of the sleep immediately, but if I’d cured it there would have been difficult questions to answer about what it was and before you know it I could have been implicated!”

  “What do you need to remedy it?” asked Captain Honey. “And I don’t want any tricks!”

  “All of the ingredients are in my shop,” said Rumps haughtily. “It is well-known that I stock the finest array of the rare and the wonderful!”

  “Your cream failed to cure my itchy hand!” said Skulks, allowing himself to get side-tracked. He still carried a chip on his shoulder about handing over twenty-five Slivers for a tiny pot of baboon excrement. The fact that he’d already stolen ninety-eight Slivers from the shop was not lost on him, but he felt his theft was justified in the face of the crimes that Turgos Rumps was involved in. It was hardly theft at all to steal from a man so neck-deep in criminality, particularly whilst the apothecary continued to sell his inefficacious medicines at twenty-five Slivers a pop.

  Turgos Rumps did not indulge Skulks by trying to justify his prices. Nor did he talk about costs, overheads and the value of paying a professional apothecary for his expertise. Instead, he scuttled here and there along his shelves, lifting down jars and pots as he went. Though Captain Honey no longer had him by the ear, she was keeping an extremely watchful eye on him, leaving Rumps in no doubt that he would be turned into sausages if he should attempt to hoodwink his captors.

  “A clove of Pigeon’s Bane, two ground roots of Clench Weed, a dash of hat powder…” he said to himself, evidently in his element.

  “Hat powder?” asked Captain Honey.

  “Hmmm?” asked Rumps in a distracted tone. “Yes. Hat powder. Grated from the hat of an exhumed corpse. It’s very rare and a very important ingredient! Four hundred Slivers for a tiny pinch! Fortunately, I shan’t be needing more than a fraction of a pinch for this.”

  With his arms loaded with jars, Rumps made his way back to the counter. He used a pestle and mortar to grind together the ingredients, humming a merry tune to himself as he went. Skulks found his foot tapping in time to the music, but Captain Honey was watching the apothecary no less closely than she had been throughout.

  “Here we go!” said Rumps at last. “This paste should cure the sleeping of their ailment. The little amount in here should be good for at least a dozen cures!” He cackled. “Let me show you!” With that, he sprinkled a final powder into the mortar with one hand, whilst he used his other hand to push something into his mouth that had been secreted up his sleeve. There was a low fump sound as the powder contacted the paste in the mortar and a thick, white smoke billowed upwards, gaining volume at an incredible speed.

  “It might sting a bit,” came a taunting voice through the dense clouds. “By which I mean it might kill you painfully!” The voice become more distant as the apothecary attempted to make good his escape. Skulks’ first thoughts were not to give chase, but to ensure that Captain Honey was not overcome. He hadn’t recognized the ingredients being added to the mortar, but had seen this smoke before. It was a gas which poisoned anyone who breathed it in, slowly burning their lungs from the inside. It tingled where it touched his skin, but his Wielder’s constitution healed his body quicker than the smoke could harm it.

  “Captain Honey?” he called. His eyes could see in the dark, but they couldn’t see through smoke. He heard footsteps heading away and followed them, barking his shin on a low stool as he tracked his way through the shop to the counter. “Balls!” he exclaimed, kicking petulantly at the stool and limping for a few paces.

  He heard Honey’s voice from up ahead, “I’m over here,” she said.

  By the time he reached the shop counter, the smoke was already thinning. This particular poison dispersed rapidly into a harmless vapour which left everything it settled on smelling of ham salad sandwiches. With his stomach rumbling, Skulks ran through the doorway and up the stairs he’d descended earlier. He could hear Captain Honey up ahead. Once upon the landing, he stopped next to her. She was breathing hard and seemed to be listening out for something.

  “He’s here somewhere,” she said.

  Skulks listened carefully; the only sound he could hear was a low fizzing from the shop below as the contents of the mortar slowly consumed themselves. He hadn’t fully explored the upper floor of the shop, being content to confront the apothecary when it became evident that the man’s involvement was irrefutable. Without quite knowing why he did it, Skulks used his Wielder’s sight to check for the hidden. There, further along the corridor was Turgos Rumps. A sheen of sweat was pronounced on his forehead and Skulks saw that spider-legs were starting to sprout from the apothecary’s torso. Somehow the shop owner had become invisible and had managed to suppress the sounds of his footsteps too.

  Without pausing to wonder how Rumps had accomplished this, Skulks started to walk down the corridor. Hoping to catch the man unawares, Skulks maintained a look of puzzlement, as if he had no idea where his foe could be. He was too slow and Captain Honey pushed past. Without hesitation, she plunged a short dagger into the apothecary’s throat. He made a gurgling sound and lashed out with an invisible arm which Captain Honey ducked beneath. She plunged the dagger into his eye and the apothecary fell forwards to the wooden floor, dead. His cloak of invisibility faded and Skulks watched as the half-sprouted spider legs twitched a few times before they lay still.

  Captain Honey left Skulks with no time to ask questions. She left the apothecary where he lay and went down the stairs. “It looks
like we’ll need to find Zera Graves for the antidote,” she called.

  Eleven

  Less than one hour later, Captains Skulks and Honey were in the dockmaster’s office. Though Doris Grumps was out of action, clerk Ferty Slipper had been drafted in to perform the routine record keeping which Grumps normally undertook herself. Two of Grumps’ assistants provided the muscle, visiting the docked ships and checking off the cargo, giving the excuse that the dockmaster had been summoned to a three-day meeting in the Chamber Building. If it was known that Grumps was incapacitated it wouldn’t be long until someone tried their luck at smuggling, extortion or outright murder.

  “Ah, Tan!” said Slipper, happy to see Skulks again. The clerk was sitting at a table in a back room, record book in front of him and writing stick in hand. “How are you doing? Terrible thing with the hand.”

  “I’m doing much better now, Ferty. The hand itches like buggery though!”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I know a splendid apothecary if you’re interested. A bit pricy but his ointment did wonders for my knee.”

  “Did his ointment smell a bit unusual?” asked Skulks, walking over to the bookcase of shipping records.

  “Why yes it did as a matter of fact,” said Slipper, frowning at the memory. “It smelled a bit like droppings, now you come to mention it.”

  “He’s dead,” said Captain Honey, patting Slipper on the shoulder. Ignoring his surprised look, she asked him, “What can you tell us about a Blackened Crumpet?”

  “Blackened Crumpet? I normally don’t toast them long enough for them to burn,” he replied, looking unsure as to what he was expected to tell them.

  “It’s a ship,” Captain Honey told him. “It left for Bu’Jo a few weeks ago.”

  “A ship, is it?” asked Slipper, pushing his spectacles further up his nose so that he could see Captain Honey more clearly. “Ah, yes. How could I forget the Blackened Crumpet?” he said absent-mindedly. “It came in this morning, very early. It’s on the dockside now, waiting for clearance to unload.” He took his spectacles off and used them to point out of the window. “I took a walk past it just an hour or two ago. Something looks a bit fishy with it if you ask me, but I’m sure the dockmaster would know better.”