by Toby Frost
That’s smart, Giulia thought. She’s the way to control Edwin – and Hugh. And therefore me. Clever little fellow, aren’t you?
“Understand?”
“We understand,” Edwin said.
“Yes,” Hugh said darkly, “I see.”
The Watchman turned to Giulia. “I’m giving you a lot here,” he said.
“Don’t worry,” she replied. “I’ll make sure you get something back.”
THREE
Outside, the city was groggily coming to life. Along the streets and bridges people and goods passed back and forth; the first boats slid lazily down the canals. A statue of a saint stood in the back of a boat. Its arm was extended, as if it were waving Averrio goodbye.
Lucky bastard.
Five Watch guards with crossbows accompanied them to the inn, hanging back and talking while their captives walked ahead. One of the guards was Cafaro: he carried a sack containing their knives and swords. Giulia stopped to adjust her boot and found him staring at her when she glanced back. When he wasn’t smirking, Cafaro looked as friendly as a robber’s dog.
Hugh waited for Giulia to stand. “Damn it, Giulia. This is a bloody mess. You know,” he said quietly, “we should have just stormed the place. I could have had that crooked Falsi fellow.”
“With a bullet in you?” Giulia asked.
“Better me than you, or Elayne,” Hugh said. “He’d have just given up, anyway. People like that are all mouth.”
“I’m not sure,” Edwin said. “He was pretty serious – for a Watchman. Damn,” he added, “I wish we’d got taken by the Customs people instead. They’ve got a brain between them.”
“Well, we’re out for now,” Elayne said, and she slipped her hand into Edwin’s. “I’ve got a rotten headache. Pushing him was hard.”
“Pushing?” Giulia said. “You mean you did magic on him?”
Behind them one of Falsi’s men laughed, coarse and loud. I could run, she thought. I could tear away down a sidestreet, creep out of this city and— no.
“Absolutely.” Elayne was sweating again, a fine line of water across her brow. Her breath was high and fast. “Sometimes you can help make someone’s mind up for them. But it doesn’t work on everyone. I tried to make him let us go at first, but he was too set against it. Goodness, I’m tired. I could do with a week asleep. Lieutenant Falsi might not have looked very proper, but his mind was strong. If he hadn’t wanted to let us go, we’d still be there, I suppose.”
“Wanted to?”
“A little bit.”
“Guilt, I suppose,” Edwin said.
“Watchmen don’t do guilt,” Giulia replied. “Not that I’ve ever seen.”
They approached the rear of the Old Arms. The canal lay before them, innocuous in the light of day.
Giulia looked at the place where the body had lain, and a memory from last night arose as clearly as the remembered image in Elayne’s magic glass: that fat Watch captain bending down and taking something from the body, some wrapped parcel that didn’t look like a money bag. What was that thing? Something Falsi wanted? He didn’t mention it. Was it something the captain wanted for himself, to keep from his men?
Edwin put his arm around Elayne’s shoulders and she leaned in to him. As they walked he reached up and stroked her hair. Giulia glanced at Hugh. His face showed no emotion. “Not to worry,” Edwin said. “We’ll be back soon.”
The guards tipped up their sack on a table, and Hugh’s sword clattered onto the wood amidst a shower of knives. One of the men spoke to the landlord, and Cafaro sauntered over to bid the travellers farewell.
“I don’t know what in God’s name the boss is playing at,” he said, “but make no bloody mistake, I’ll be watching you. You may not see me, or my men, but we’ll be looking out for you, don’t you worry. We have our people, you know.”
Giulia looked at the landlord, still quietly conferring with Cafaro’s friend.
“Not just him. Men on the street, all over the place. So when I catch you, don’t say you weren’t warned. And you, you old whoreson,” he added, “I’ll be watching you especially.”
Hugh did not so much ignore him as seem not to have noticed him from the start.
Cafaro gathered his men and they walked to the door. Giulia heard them muttering: “… that idiot must be half-crazy… lieutenant must be losing his wits…”
The door slammed behind them. Giulia followed the others upstairs.
She locked the door to her room and sat down on the bed.
Giulia looked down at her hands. There was a pressure building behind her forehead, like the beginning of a headache. Her body felt weak, deflated, leaving her a little less alive.
It shouldn’t be like this.
It was the Melancholia, of course. Giulia had known she couldn’t escape it, but she’d thought it was under control when she left Pagalia, that settling her scores there would somehow capture it for good. She grimaced and rubbed her temples.
It wasn’t supposed to end up this way. I was supposed to get away from this – away from cheating Watchmen and dirty inns and false witnesses. I should be riding across the plains, having adventures, like people in stories do. And what do I get instead?
A knock on the door. “Giulia? Are you all right in there?”
She glanced up, relieved. “Yes – yes, I’m fine.” She stood up and opened the door.
“You look sick,” said Hugh.
“Just a headache, that’s all. I’ve had better days.” She looked past him, down the corridor. “I’m going to check on my things.”
He nodded. “I’d offer to assist, but this house arrest and all… I’m not sure if I can go to the stables.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t be a minute.”
The landlord, a fat, strong-looking man, watched her resentfully as he swept up. He moved slowly, heavily, as if someone was riding on his shoulders.
“Just need some air,” she said. “You know I’m allowed to go outside, right?”
“Uh,” he replied.
She slipped up the side of the inn, to the little stable. Giulia didn’t much like horses, and suspected that they knew it. Her own horse ignored her, as it tended to.
She jumped up, caught hold of a low beam and pulled herself up. A grey blanket was wedged between the ceiling and one of the lower beams. Giulia knocked it off, dropped down and caught the bundle as it fell. She opened it up.
Her crossbow took up most of the bundle. A set of lockpicks, a stiletto and a black-bladed fighting knife lay beside it, along with a pair of leather arm-bracers. She took the knives, the picks and the bracers, and pushed the bow back in place.
The door to Hugh’s room was ajar. He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on knees, hands clasped. He looked too big for the little room, as if trapped inside a nursery. The knight raised his head. “Giulia.”
She stepped inside and closed the door. “What a shitty deal,” she said.
“At least we’re not still in that cell,” he said. He sounded unconvinced. “When you said about finding a name to give the Watch back there, was that just a bluff to get us out?”
Giulia leaned against the wall. The room felt oppressively small. “No. At least, not entirely. I’ll see what I can do, but no guarantees. Frankly, a lot of it was bluff.” She sighed. “This is just what we bloody need.”
“Don’t worry,” Hugh said, “I’ve been working on a plan. First, we knock out the innkeep. Then we get our gear on and head to the gate. And on the way, we teach a damned good lesson to any foreigner who thinks he can frame two Anglian knights.” He was angry, she saw, winding himself up for righteous violence. “Then we break through the guardposts before they know what’s happening and take off north.” He sighed. “You know, being stuck here would be a damn sight easier if there weren’t any women involved. No offence.”
“Elayne can’t. I don’t mean to be rude, but she’s not tough like you. She’s… delicate. She always has been. Needs to be looked after.”
“I expect Edwin will take care of her.”
“I suppose.”
Giulia said, “Look, why don’t you go downstairs and have a drink, eh?”
“Look like I need it, do I?” He smiled.
“No more than any of us. I’m going out for a while,” she said. “I’ll find someone who can testify for us, then we can get the hell out of here.” She forced a smile. “You know, I never thought wyvern hunting would seem such a good idea.”
Hugh looked straight at her. “If you need any help, you know I’ll muck in. Just say.”
“Thanks. I’ll let you know. But in the meantime, just keep calm, all right? Don’t go doing anything wild. I won’t be long, and we’ll have some wine when I get back.”
“I’ll be fine. Where are you going, anyway?”
“To find out what really happened last night. I’ve got an idea of where to start. I don’t think I was the only person to see that priest alive.”
“Be careful, Giulia. Damned shame I can’t come along. It could be dangerous out there.”
“Don’t worry – I’m prepared.” She pulled up her skirt and he turned away, as if dazzled by the sun.
“Dammit, woman, I don’t want to see that!” Hugh lowered his hand, saw that she had britches on under her dress, and looked at the knife handle protruding from the top of her boot.
“Got another one up my sleeve.” Giulia grinned. “See you later, Hugh.”
She headed downstairs. The innkeeper watched her leave, his eyes narrow and shrewd. He looked at her as if she were money he planned to steal. In a way, she was: no doubt the innkeep was being paid to keep a very close eye on them all. Bastards, she thought. Nobody pins me down.
The street looked different in daylight. Across the road, muffled sounds of a hammer came from a cobbler’s shop. A boot dangled from a jig above the door, along with the stamp that indicated guild membership. The boot was shiny with frost.
Giulia walked carefully, her breath forming in a cloud before her face. She wondered why that happened when it was cold, and a face appeared in her mind – Marcellus van Auer, savant and engineer. He’d have known why. She put the image aside before she could start feeling bad. There wasn’t time to think about that.
Last night, while she had left the Old Arms to get some fresh air, she’d glimpsed a dryad near the spot where the dead man had been found. The dryad might have seen something, might be able to help – provided that Giulia could track it down. The fey people had a knack of making themselves scarce, especially in the hostile territory of a human city.
Just before Giulia had encountered Father Sebastian, she’d heard the owner of an inn shouting about the salacious dancing of the fey. Giulia knew of such shows from back in Pagalia; they almost never included a real dryad, usually just some skinny dancer, hair down and face painted. But maybe this was real. Other than the Watch captain that she’d seen stealing something from the dead man, it was the only real lead she had. She quickened her pace, following the canal towards the place from which the sound had come.
Fifty yards down, she found an inn on the canalside. It had no name. The sign outside showed a barrel, and had not someone dropped a tankard and puked on the doorstep, it could have been a cooper’s shop.
Giulia bashed on the door with her fist, stepped back and waited.
She struck again and tried to peer through the windows. They were a patchwork of tiny bits of glass. Half the window seemed to be lead, and the other half glass too filthy to allow her a decent view of the room beyond.
The shutters opened above her and a balding man poked his head out. He had a dented face that made Giulia think of boiled meat.
“Is the building on fire?” said the man.
“No, I—”
“Then piss off.” He slammed the shutters closed.
Giulia picked up the tankard and threw it at the window. It clattered against the frame, and the shutters snapped open like the reflex kicking of a struck knee.
“What?” the man demanded.
“I’m looking for someone. Also, you’ve got a tankard under your window.”
“Your man’s not here. We throw ’em all out come sunrise.”
“It’s not a man I’m looking for. I want to talk to you.”
“We’re already talking, and I don’t like it.”
The cold pinched the end of Giulia’s nose. “I’m looking for a dryad, a female one. I heard you calling in the street last night—”
“Yes – last night. Today I want to sleep. Come back later with the rest of ’em.”
“I’ve got money,” Giulia said.
The window closed. Sounds came from within. She folded her arms and slipped her hand into her left sleeve. The knife there felt like a friend.
A bolt scraped behind the front door, then another. The door opened a few inches and the man stood behind it, ready to slam it shut. He wore a loose white shirt which showed that his neck and upper chest were in the same condition as his face.
“So what do you want?” His left hand was on the door handle. She could not see his right.
“I’d like to see the dryad who dances for you,” Giulia said. “Just to talk to her, of course.”
A smile pulled the corner of his mouth upward, as though it had got caught on a hook. “Oh yes?” he said.
He stepped back, and she followed him into a wide, low-ceilinged room like the hold of an old ship. It reeked of beer and stale smoke.
The landlord held out his hand. “Five saviours,” he said, “and don’t try anything. I’ll tell you when you’re done.”
She counted out five coins. He stepped over to a door at the rear of the room and rapped on it. “Visitor!” he called. “A young lady to talk to you. Here,” he said. “You have a good time now, just talking.”
Go fuck yourself, Giulia thought, and she opened the door.
It was a small, mediocre room, neither cramped nor squalid, but little better than that. There was a narrow bed, a small table and two chairs. A battered screen hid the back of the room. A plant was growing up the wall, a type of vine she didn’t recognise.
The dryad sat on one of the chairs. The clothes indicated that it was female. The dryad’s face was long and refined, with a small, delicate mouth above a pointed chin. The eyes were enormous and almond-shaped, twice the size of a human’s. Her hair was straight and blonde, so lightly coloured that it seemed almost silver.
Giulia pulled the door shut behind her. She felt nervous in the presence of this thing. Stay calm, she told herself. You’re the one who’s asking the questions. And don’t call her a pixie to her face. They don’t like that.
“Hello,” said Giulia.
“Hello,” the dryad said. She spoke carefully, as though afraid it would hurt her to talk. “Would you like to sit down?”
“Please.” Giulia sat. She had never been this close to a dryad before, and it stirred her emotions into an uneasy mix. Something twisted in her gut.
“What’s your name?”
“Anasharallishomai,” she said.
“Anna? Can I call you that?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Giulia.” She put out her hand. The dryad hesitated and reached out. Her fingers were long to the point of abnormality. Giulia felt them slip around her own hand, and she shuddered; the dryad glanced up. Giulia tightened her grip and they shook. She felt relieved to have her hand back, but guilty for shivering at Anna’s touch.
“What do you do here?” Giulia asked.
“I dance, and sing. People come and watch me.”
I’m sure they do, Giulia thought. “Are you happy here?
” she said, and as soon as she had, she wondered why she’d asked.
“There are worse places.”
“Better ones, too. How come you’re not in the forest or something? They don’t keep you here, locked up, do they?”
“I have debts to pay. It is difficult to explain, but I am not a prisoner in that way. I should not go back until they are paid.”
“I see. So you dance here, and they pay you for it?”
“The man you met outside does.”
“Does he pay you much?” she asked. She hadn’t meant to ask that, either.
The dryad frowned. “Yes, I think so. We don’t have money where I come from. Sometimes it is hard to tell.”
Giulia pinched her brow. God almighty, there’s worse things than being a thief with a cut-up face. “You know how to fight?”
“Of course. We all do, after the War of Faith.”
“Why don’t you become a mercenary, then? Hire out? Shit, you’re good as selling yourself here.”
Anna shook her head. “I would rather not take life.”
Giulia shrugged. “Well, your choice. If you ask me, there’s worse ways to make coins than fighting.” She leaned forward. “Look, I didn’t come here about that. I need to ask you something about last night.”
Anna pulled her legs up onto the chair. She had a gymnast’s body, boyish and slim. Her feet were bare and long, the big toes markedly separate from the others. “What would you like to know?”
“I think I saw you last night, outside. Near a place called the Old Arms.”
The dryad tilted her head, a birdlike, twitchy movement. “Are you sure it was me and not another? You people find it hard to tell.”
“I think so. You were heading in this direction.”
“Oh.” The dryad’s expression hardly changed, but Giulia knew that she was afraid. “Are you from the Church?”