by Rob May
‘Well, even Dogwood couldn’t think of a good reason to arrest you, Moonheart, considering the state he found you in: tied-up and tortured. But what on earth were you and Witchwood doing at the Bower?’
Kal told Firehand the truth. ‘I was following a lead. I suspected Witchwood and the Peacock may have been involved in the murders. Well, Witchwood was the Peacock … and she thought that she could win me over to her side, in her own special way. But she’s not the murderer, obviously. That turned out to be—’
‘—Feron Firehand. Yes, I’ve had to listen to you shouting in your delirium for the past couple of hours.’ Felix cracked a rare smile. ‘I should probably thank my illustrious ancestor. With Witchwood dead, my odds of becoming a consul have significantly shortened. I believe myself, General Cassava and Ganzief Greatbear are the only three candidates left … and there are always two consuls elected.’
‘I’ll find the killer,’ Kal said. ‘I’ll—’
‘You’re in no fit state to do anything,’ Firehand said, interrupting her once more. ‘You need to rest and recover, young lady. We’ll just have to double the guard during the election, and give every senator round-the-clock protection.’ He rose from the chair and picked up his black leather doctor’s bag. ‘Come on, Gwyn. Time to go.’
‘I’m not doing it to save your elections,’ Kal said. ‘I’m doing it help Zeb. You promised you’d call off her trial.’
Firehand paused at the door. ‘I promised no such thing, Moonheart,’ he said. ‘But it’s too late for that now, anyway. The trial is set for tomorrow.’
Kal took a sharp breath. She couldn’t hide her shock. ‘Tomorrow?’
‘It’s the only day that the courts are in session. The Senate voted today to give General Cassava permission to hold some celebratory games in the week between the elections and the festival of Phanto.’
Kal sank back on her pillow. Ben had often complained that, what with all the various religious festivals and enforced entertainments, it was a wonder that any work got done at all in the city. Many of the conservative, aristocratic politicians actually preferred it that way.
‘Postpone the trial until after the election!’ Kal urged. ‘Give me a chance to find the killer.’
Firehand smiled again, but this time it wasn’t friendly. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said, picking up Gwyn. ‘This is my chance to prove to the voters that I am the man to clean up the city from vice and moral laxity. Zeb Zing has bled honest—but susceptible—folk dry for years, even before this supposed robbery. I want to show the people of Amaranthium how they are being swindled the moment they set foot in places like the Snake Pit.
‘And I want to see Zeb Zing hang by sunset tomorrow. The festival of Phanto will then be a celebration of all that is good and just in the world. Good day, Moonheart. I advise you to keep your head down and stay in bed. Doctor’s orders.’
And with that, he stepped out of the room.
* * *
Stay in bed? Kal thought. Like hell I will! She threw back the sheets and climbed out of bed. Her body ached all over, and she held her hand to her stomach as she limped over to where a pile of clothes had been left on top of a chest. They looked like they belonged to Zeb: a red silk shirt and black pantaloons. As she reached for the shirt, though, she jerked back in surprise as the chest opened.
‘What are you doing in there?’ she said.
Will Straightarrow climbed out of the chest and they fell into each other’s arms. ‘I climbed in through the window. Took me twenty minutes to disarm the cunning poison dart trap that someone had rigged up, though.’
‘My friend Nim has been working on some pretty elaborate defences for the whole house,’ Kal said. ‘Ben doesn’t want any more murders under his roof.’
‘Well, let’s hope the murderer isn’t as crafty as me when it comes to breaking and entering,’ Will said. ‘But anyway, how are you feeling? I was sleeping next to you all night, but you didn’t notice. I had to hide in a hurry when I heard Firehand’s voice outside this morning’
‘Did you hear that creep?’ Kal said. ‘He’s obsessed with taking Zeb down.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Will said. ‘He’s got no evidence to accuse anyone of anything. I should know, remember—we were very careful to leave no trace of the robbery.’
‘You have to help us, Will. Man of the people or not, your exploits got Zeb into this mess.’
Will held Kal at arm’s length and looked her in the eye. ‘Hey, it’s hardly my fault that Firehand is a zealous crusader who’s got it in for Zeb Zing personally. Do you think that I should take the witness stand? I’d just end up the one doing the rope dance instead of your friend. But I will help somehow, Kal, I promise. I’ll think of a way.’
Kal sat down on the foot of the bed and looked her lover up and down. Will was the master of disguise, cunning stunts and careful planning. She thought of his gang of thieves working away on tricks and weapons in their converted brewery.
‘I think I know how you can help us …’ she began.
Will raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m all ears,’ he said.
‘Alright, but first you can help me with a more immediate itch that needs scratching. Come here.’
After they had made slow, quiet and careful love, they lay in the bed discussing Kal’s idea.
‘I’ll come back tonight and we’ll go over it,’ Will said.
‘We’ll see,’ Kal told him. ‘Nim invited me to a party.’
‘You have time to party? Are you even up to it?’
‘I made a promise. And I might need Nim’s help too. Now you need to get out of here before Ben or Zeb decide to come and visit me!’
After Will had let himself back out the window, Kal dressed herself in silk. The scarlet shirt brought out the hint of red in her hair; she pulled it back into a tight ponytail, which had the effect of accentuating the severe masculinity of the clothes. Kal examined herself in the mirror by the door. She felt confident in her mind, if not in her bruised and battered body.
She drew a deep breath. Time to throw myself back into the fight.
* * *
Kal stepped out into a corridor. She didn’t know Ben’s house that well, so she decided to go snooping. She found a door that opened to a narrow staircase, which descended all the way down to a service corridor at basement level, at the end of which she discovered the kitchen.
Kal froze when she realised that a goblin was standing at the sink, washing dishes. He—or she, perhaps—turned and gave Kal a dumb, disinterested look.
‘Hello,’ Kal said. The creature just looked embarrassed, and went back to furiously scouring a copper pot. Kal shrugged. No wonder Ben had never mentioned his household staff by name to her; that was because he didn’t have any staff; he just made use of what basically amounted to slaves, seeing as the Senate didn’t offer goblins any more rights or status than it did domestic pets.
On any other week, she’d take it up with Ben, but so long as he was representing Zeb in court then she would just have to keep her mouth shut. Kal walked past the goblin and found her way into the larder. She found a plate of cold, salted cooked meats, which immediately triggered her saliva glands into action. She rounded up some bread and a big pot of mustard, and made herself a sandwich. She spied a quart jug of milk, fresh in from the ice house, and gulped it down in one go. It was the most delicious meal that Kal had tasted in weeks.
Hunger satisfied, Kal found her way out of the kitchen via a stair that led out into the sunshine around the side of the mansion. When she turned the corner to the frontage, she found Zeb talking to a group of men and women. They headed off down Arcus Hill as Kal approached.
Zeb had a tear in her eye. ‘My gang,’ she said simply. The Snake Pit crew. So Will had kept his word and set them free. ‘Oh Kal, my worst fear was that they had betrayed me. But they were captured and locked away somewhere.’ She laughed through her tears. ‘Your goddamn King of Thieves. He treated them well, though, I’ll give him that. When they had t
heir blindfolds ripped off, they found themselves sitting at a table in Hondo’s Hog House of all places. The restaurant had been told it was a surprise party, and the food had been paid for in advance.’
Kal could believe that. It sounded like the sort of thing Will might do for fun. ‘It’s probably for my benefit,’ she said. ‘I made quite an impression on him yesterday.’
‘Well don’t let him make an impression on you,’ Zeb warned. ‘He’s a thief; he stole from us, and one day soon, he’s going to pay. That’s the only reason you’re getting involved with him. So don’t get too close.’
Too late, Kal thought, but she kept a straight face.
‘How are you, anyway?’ Zeb asked ‘You look a hell of a lot better than you did last night when they dragged you in.’
‘It’s the clothes,’ Kal joked. ‘Inside I’m dead. And this heat is insufferable; let’s get back in the house.’
The atrium was cool and quiet. The open-plan space that had been the scene of the party was now neat, clean and ordered. Kal crossed the spot where she had found Senator Grey’s body, and a chill ran up her spine.
They found Ben in his office, sitting on his desk, surrounded by piles of paperwork. He looked tired and frustrated, and Kal couldn’t help but notice the hip flask that was also on the desk. Ben brightened when he saw her, though.
‘Welcome back to the land of the living, Mooney,’ he greeted her. ‘Can you take over here while I go to bed. No, don’t give me that look. I’m joking.’
‘What is all this, Ben?’ Kal asked.
‘Eye-witness statements—I managed to get them off Dogwood after some effort. Everyone who was at the Snake Pit on the night of the robbery was questioned … and nobody noticed anything that will be useful to make a case for Zeb’s defence. The Snake Pit guys I just interviewed were no help either—they had no idea where they were held, or by whom.’
‘Firehand needs evidence too, remember,’ Kal pointed out. ‘If he wants to convict Zeb, then he needs to prove she robbed her own business.’
‘Does he?’ Ben said, handing Kal a piece of paper. ‘Take a look at this.’
Kal scanned the list of names. ‘I recognise the names; they’re all senators.’
‘Yes: the jury for tomorrow’s trial. Supposedly the names are drawn at random, but almost everyone on that list is an aristocrat with some connection to Firehand. There are maybe five names who might be sympathetic to our case, but both advocates have a right to strike five names off the list, and Firehand will choose the ones that we would rather keep. It won’t make a jot of difference who I choose.’
‘Can you bribe any of them?’ Zeb asked bluntly.
Ben gave her a pained expression. ‘My bribery budget is stretched pretty tight as it is right now. Do you know how expensive it is being a senator?’
Kal slumped down on the leather sofa next to Zeb. There was one final factor that could swing the result: the man or woman who would rule the courtroom. ‘Who’s going to be magistrate?’ she asked.
‘Well, that’s one position that Firehand has no influence over,’ Ben said, reaching for a thick book. ‘The court appointments were all scheduled at the start of the year. Tomorrow, the criminal court will be presided over by …’
He showed Kal the name.
‘Ganzief Greatbear,’ she said. ‘So whose side is he on?’
Ben spread his palms. ‘Who knows. The Bear has always followed his own agenda. Or perhaps he follows the agenda of his handlers back in Zorronov, if the rumours are true. Hell, Kal, the man is as unpredictable as the weather. He’s rich, so he won’t stand for a bribe. He follows his own set of principles and logic. He only has one weakness as far as I know.’
Kal knew Greatbear quite well from the times they had faced each other across the card table. The man was a keen gambler—and a gracious winner who also always kept his humour in defeat. He enjoyed socialising and gossip, and often spouted provocative opinions just to get a rise out of his political opponents. He made and spent a great deal of money, most of it on gambling, food and drink, and women.
‘Yeah,’ Kal concurred. ‘He has a weakness, alright … his weakness is me.’
IV.ii
Born Under a Blue Sky
They spent the rest of the morning and afternoon in Ben’s study, with the blinds drawn on the windows to keep out the fearsome sun. At lunchtime, a goblin brought them sandwiches, which Ben ate standing up while he paced the floorboards, declaiming the opening statement he was rehearsing for tomorrow’s trial.
Kal sat on the floor, her legs spread out to stretch her muscles. She half-listened to Ben, while at the same time slapping cards from a deck down in rows and columns—a game of solitaire. When it wasn’t possible to play with others, Kal often liked to challenge herself.
Zeb lounged on the nearby couch and listened to Ben. With no alibi or evidence of her innocence, the owner of the Snake Pit was relying on the senator’s oratorical skills to get her out of trouble.
‘Why is he doing this, Kal?’ she asked her friend. ‘Benedict Godsword doesn’t owe me anything.’
Kal smiled. ‘It depends who you put the question to,’ she replied. ‘Ask Ben, and he’ll say that Amaranthine law is the fairest in the world, and that everyone inside the city walls is guaranteed a defence, no matter how guilty they are. Not that you’re guilty, of course!’
‘Of course. So … what if I asked, say, you?’
‘Well,’ Kal said, ‘I’d tell you that Ben’s been looking for an excuse to take on the Firehands for a long, long time now. If Ben destroys him in court, then Felix won’t be able to stand for consul … and then the Firehand dynasty’s grip on the city will be severely weakened.’
‘If,’ Zeb echoed. ‘I thought about running away, you know, Kal; leaving the city for good.’
‘And go home?’
She nodded. ‘I left the Winter Steppe over fifteen years ago now, but I sometimes think about going back. It may take some time getting used to living in the saddle again, but I bet I could still beat anyone in the tribe with a bow.’
That was true. Kal and Zeb practiced shooting down at the butts on the Field of Bones every Sunday morning until their arms were sore. Kal was a good shot, but Zeb could decorate a someone’s hat with an arrow from a hundred paces.
‘If you were going to go,’ Kal said, ‘then it would have to be tonight.’
Zeb shook her head. ‘No. I don’t want to give Firehand the satisfaction of driving me from the city. This is my home now.’
Kal’s hands idly continued with her game: the next card she drew from the deck was the Queen of Cups. She examined it wistfully for a moment. ‘You know I’d do anything to help you, Zeb,’ she said, ‘so, I think it’s time I gave Ganzief Greatbear what I know he’s always wanted from me.’
Zeb’s eyes went wide. ‘No!’ she said.
Kal gave her a tight smile. ‘If he will just show a little bit of sympathy for our cause in the trial, it will be worth it. And besides, it will cost me nothing but an hour of my time.’
* * *
When darkness fell, Kal went to work. As she crunched along Ben’s drive, she looked up at the massive visage of Ganzief Greatbear that stared out from the giant banner Ben had erected. The fat senator had made quite a name for himself since he had defected from Amaranthium’s traditional enemy, the eastern city of Zorronov, some twenty years previously. He had shaken up Senate politics with his maverick approach, and Kal could understand why Ben would support him, rather than the entrenched aristocracy, in the consular elections. But whose side was Greatbear really on?
Well, Kal didn’t care. She was going to see the senator tonight with one specific deal in mind: to give up what she knew Greatbear was after, in exchange for his support in the trial. Kal knew that he wouldn’t be able to resist: Greatbear had implored her regularly for all the years they had known each other.
The city was quiet tonight. General Cassava’s troops were on patrol everywhere, and now they were una
shamedly in full uniform: steel-banded body armour over red tunics, and skirts of steel strips for both men and women. News had reached Ben’s mansion that Cassava had passed an emergency bill in the Senate House that, in the wake of Viola Witchwood’s murder, granted the general executive powers when it came to keeping the peace.
Tonight, the only sound, apart from the footsteps of the patrols, was the noise of hammers and sawing that carried across the still night air from way over by the docks. The Amphitheatre was being prepped for General Cassava’s games: a weekend of fun and death that would precede—and probably continue right through—the elections. Kal made a mental note to steer clear of that part of town over the next few days. There would be plenty of bookmaking action, but Kal generally drew the line at gambling on people’s lives.
She avoided the soldiers, too, as she made her way around the circumference of Arcus Hill. They had been looking for her yesterday, and Kal had a suspicion that her reputation as a dragon killer had caught their general’s interest. But honestly, if Cassava wanted that title now, then let her have it. Kal would happily let it be known that the dragon Cassava had executed in the forum was much, much more fearsome than Kal’s dragon from Refuge, if that was all the general wanted to hear.
Kal’s route took her across the Forum. The vast paved public space marked the terminus of the Kingsway that ran in from the East Gate. At the western end of the Forum, a winding stair climbed the rock face to the Basilica at the very top of the Hill, and the north and south sides of the rectangular plaza were packed with civic buildings, temples and the court houses, as well as the great library and the Cut—the city’s sinister prison. The fearsome statue of Feron Firehand towered over all of this, and the long black shadow that was thrown by the moon landed, with delicious foreboding, squarely on the pale stone facade of the Senate House itself.