by Max Anthony
“I MOST CERTAINLY AM. ONLY FIVE MINUTES AGO I STOLE THIS FINE POCKET WATCH FROM THE VERY MAN WHO’D PAID ME TWENTY SLIVERS FOR IT.” Skulks showed off Henry the Cheese’s watch that he’d re-stolen almost before Henry had put it back into his pocket. Recognizing the watch, Jerry nodded, whilst Henry’s heart sank as he mentally estimated how many Slivers he would have to find to buy his watch back for the second time. Jerry waved Scrimulous Frank and Henry the Cheese out of his office.
“We need to talk,” he said.
With his room empty, apart from Jinky the Jink, Jerry the Ratchet got up from his chair. He was about to prove himself somewhat verbose and slightly more eloquent than his men.
“If you want to work for me and you’re as good at finding things as you say you are, I want you to find something. Something that was stolen from me.”
“WHAT IS IT?”
“Twenty-five years ago I could hear as well as any man. Back then I was known as Jerry the Ears on account of the fact that I could hear a mouse tiptoe behind a brick wall. I was part of a gang at the Upriver Docks, learning my trade.” Skulks knew that ‘trade’ in this context meant ‘learning how to steal, rob or extort.’
“Then one night, there were three of us in a warehouse, looking to make off with two bales of hotleaf tips that had come in on barge that same day. We thought we’d got away with it, but the next day Doris came knocking on Justin’s door where I was staying. I was big and cocky back then. Knew that I could take on any woman. How wrong I was.” He looked rueful. “Counted myself lucky to escape with the loss of my hearing in the end. Grumps must have taken pity on me.”
“DOCKMASTER GRUMPS IS A FORMIDABLE WOMAN.”
“Yes she is.” Skulks could read the respect in Jerry’s tones. It wasn’t even grudging.
“SO WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO FIND?”
“After I lost my hearing I spent some years building myself back up, saving every coin I could. Eventually I was able to buy what I wanted, a silver hearing trumpet. I hired a wizard to cast a bit of mumbo jumbo on it and then whenever I had the trumpet with me I could hear perfectly. Even if it was in my pocket.” Skulks had a feeling he knew where this was going.
“But it’s been stolen! Thieved from my very home it was, while I was asleep.”
“WHO HAS STOLEN IT?”
“There’s only one person who would dare to steal it from me. Sally Glum’s taken it, mark my words! She’s been looking to get in on my patch for years. She’s the only one who’d have the gumption to steal from The Ratchet.” By referring to himself in the third person, Jerry the Ratchet gave a brief glimpse of the self-delusion that he’d possessed as a younger man.
“I WILL RECOVER YOUR HEARING TRUMPET. WHERE IS THIS SALLY GLUM TO BE FOUND?”
Jerry looked relieved. In the same way Skulks could pick out the competence of a thief by sight, so could Jerry. Skulks had that certain something which suggested he could steal an old man’s last tooth without being caught. For his part, Skulks was starting to piece things together and he believed that Jerry the Ratchet was a victim of the same burglar who had pilfered Skulks’ dagger-swords. He hadn’t heard of Sally Glum before. Perhaps she was to blame, or at least knew who was.
Having been provided with details of the area in which Sally Glum claimed sway, Skulks left Jerry’s office and headed out into the city.
Five
It was fully dark now, which was just how Tan Skulks liked it. He didn’t really have a plan to find Sally Glum, other than he’d just show up in the general area and hope for the best. Her gang of ruffians worked their charms in another seedy district of Hardened. Realising that these were all small-time crooks, Skulks was starting to despair that he’d ever find someone with the information he needed. For now, he was walking along the rooftops in order to get a bit of fresh air. Most of the roofs were flat and interconnected by sturdy walkways or an occasional plank, so travel was fairly comfortable and swift. Hardened’s citizens tended to stick to the streets below for their passage, as the streets were known to be properly laid and firm underfoot. On the rooftops, it was fairly likely that one might find oneself dropping unexpectedly downwards with scarcely the time to utter a surprised ‘Wah!’ or an appropriate expletive. If one was especially lucky one might land on the single empty chair at a dining room table and join the family for dinner. More likely one could expect to break an arm, leg or neck.
Skulks was being followed. He didn’t know how he knew he was being followed, he just did. Every once in a while, he paused casually at a roof edge and looked over, stooped to examine something of interest on the ground or paused to check the firmness of an interconnecting plank. He was still unable to spot who or what was following him, which was damned unreasonable, given how much he preferred to be the follower rather than the followed. Skulks’ Wielding power gave him a sight which allowed him to see things that other men could not, so he looked for stealthily concealed or invisible figures. Sure enough, there it was. Craven, snivelling and cowardly it must have been, for it was using wizardry to conceal itself. This was most unwise, thought Skulks. He would never consider telling a wizard how to summon a flying pig, so why should a wizard think to teach a thief how to remain hidden?
Picking up a half-brick, Skulks turned and threw it in one fluid motion, watching as it connected with the poorly-hidden poltroon, who was on a separate rooftop thirty feet away. Expecting to hear the human voice of a wizard bleating in despair, Skulks was perturbed to note that the figure emitted a guttural growl, more demonic than human. With its surprise plucked away by a half-brick in the throat, it waved a black-clawed hand and cast an invisible net at Skulks which wrapped itself about him, restricting his movement.
Though the net was of some potency it had been cast at too great a distance to have maximum efficacy. Additionally, Skulks was in fine form against such nets as he’d recently been entrapped by one in the Million Trees Forest and had learned how best to deal with them. Consequently, he managed to sidestep most of the ill-effects, though part of it entwined his left foot for a total of two seconds until Skulks managed to neutralise its enfeeblements. By now, his Wielder’s sight had managed to entirely puncture the disguise adopted by his opponent. It wasn’t a human at all, but a demon of the Xgatl ilk. It was human-sized and human-shaped, but a dark green in colour. Clawed hands and clawed feet were eminently capable of hurling an unpleasant array of spells, though not best suited for picking its nose.
“Why am I being attacked by a demon on the rooftops of Hardened when I’m trying to locate a minor criminal gang leader?” thought Skulks. He resolved that he would find out who had marked him for death at the next available opportunity and would visit upon them the death which they intended for Skulks.
He would worry about that later. For the nonce, the demon had seen that its net had failed and had reached into its bag of tricks to pull forth a bevy of scaly black arachnids, which appeared on the roof nearby and skittered in the direction of Skulks, obviously intending to suck him dry of his innards. Though they were less than a foot tall, they had a leg span of four and were a dozen in number.
The fastest arachnid was also the unluckiest, for Skulks trod firmly upon it and felt its body pop under the weight of his boot. Another arachnid sprang at Skulks, showing that this particular demonic breed was not pavement-bound like most of its Ko-Chak brethren. Though its eight legs had propelled it at a great velocity towards Skulks’ shoulder, it was met by the thick end of a plank travelling at even greater velocity. It burst messily, scattering a small cloud of tubes, lungs and intestines onto the head of a man in the street below who was playing the spoons for the entertainment of the scant street traffic.
Looking up, this man who was known by the locals as Spoon Man shook his fist at the night sky, before glancing furtively around. When he realised that his misfortune had gone unwitnessed, he wiped the guts from his hair and continued with his enthusiastic spoon playing. As it happens, there was a grand total of five individuals known as Spoon Man in Harde
ned, three in High Domes and two in Corpus. Every major city in Ko-Chak had at least one Spoon Man. When darkness fell, a Spoon Man would appear outside a tavern. When daylight arrived, each Spoon Man across the continent would disappear, seemingly without a trace.
Meanwhile above, Skulks was only faintly aware of the tuneless clacking of spoon against spoon, for he was up to his eyeballs in demonic spiders. He had burst two more with his plank and pulled the legs off another. The sixth was trying to force itself up his trouser leg while the seventh had been momentarily distracted by a fat fly drawn to the smell of entrails. Spiders eight and nine sprang at Skulks from the side, one finding itself in receipt of a crunching volley which sent it over the edge of the rooftop. It lacked the weight to die from the fall alone, but provided a meal for three enterprising rats which were not averse to eating a spider or two. The second leaping spider, mandibles open in anticipation of sinking its fangs into warm Wielder flesh was a little off-aim tonight, missing Skulks by a whisker as he twisted aside.
On the other rooftop, the Xgatl demon had been trying to give voice to its array of spells in order to turn Skulks into glop. With its throat crushed by a flying brick it was only able to manage a series of croaking gurgles, significantly reducing its magic prowess, for most of its spells required an utterance to accompany the movement of arms and fingers.
Skulks was pleased for the delay, since one spider was now halfway up his trouser leg, while another was chewing on his shoulder, making slurping noises as it attempted to suck up as many of his tasty juices as it could. Two other arachnids had felt the heavy end of the makeshift club and chunks of their bodies could be seen dotting nearby walls and rooftops.
Although badly distracted by spiders, Skulks could still hear the Xgatl slowly forming the words required to produce spellcraft likely to result in his downfall. Once more the demon found itself thwarted, this time by its very own spider which had been grabbed by two spindly legs, whirled twice about Skulks’ head and hurled into the demonic caster, tangling spell-casting arms and interrupting its wicked ploy. It gurgled a demonic curse through its crushed throat as it batted the creature off the rooftop in order to begin anew.
The tumult resulting from the hurled spider allowed Skulks the time he needed to snatch the spider from his shoulder and stick five of his fingers into its eyes. Seeing three eyes still looking at him with menace, he poked again, popping the remainder and using the spider’s body to club its colleague which was wriggling up his leg. It didn’t make the best of bashing implements so Skulks was forced to grab the bulge in his trouser leg with both hands and squeeze, feeling something warm and runny spill down his leg.
In the heat of combat, Skulks failed to notice that the final spider had vanished. The last demon was no more cowardly than its brethren, but while in mid-leap it had caught sight of an open window two stories down and across the street. Through this open window it had seen the biggest and most comfortable-looking pillow it had ever cast its eight eyes upon. Even as Skulks was preparing to engage the Xgatl, the demon spider was already tucked under this pillow, four feet leg span pulled in close, waiting to surprise the owner of the bed who was recovering arachnophobe called Inky Goodlife.
As Inky Goodlife checked her plug holes for eight-legged interlopers before making her way to bed, Skulks was leaping and rolling, concealing himself behind a wall at the far reaches of the rooftop on which he’d fought the spiders. By now, the fierce demonic constitution of the Xgatl had healed its throat and it showed the depths of its fury and extent of its yellow-bellied magical proficiency by unleashing a roaring flame across the intervening forty yards. While not as mighty as many of their kin, the Xgatl were not to be dismissed flippantly. The flames it unleashed were not a thin, reedy little spout that one might witness from a human adept. These flames were angry and tore at the wall behind which Skulks had vanished, lighting up the sky above for a moment before they were sucked away to nothingness.
Having had his distaste for wizardry reinforced, Skulks was no longer behind the wall as the flames smashed against and around it. As soon as his line of sight with the Xgatl had been broken, he had shadowed himself, using his Wielding to cycle rapidly through a broad miscellany of concealments which he knew would confuse even a powerful spell of seeing. With a speed that would astound the eye, he sprinted and leapt to the adjoining rooftop in utter silence. The Xgatl had indeed utilised a powerful spell of seeing and thus could see Skulks’ outline flicker, appearing here and there as he sped towards it. It clapped its hands together and a percussive wave boomed out, thumping towards the scarcely-seen Wielder. Having seen this trick too many times recently, Skulks performed a powerful jump which carried him over the blast and projected the business end of his forehead into the nose of the Xgatl.
Showing itself to be not scared of a bit of close-quarters, it grappled with Skulks, though he could see that it had not enjoyed the experience of his head-butt. It proved to be strong - very strong. It was also fast and hardy. Even without his dagger-swords and even with a few minor spider-gnawings to his shoulder, Skulks found himself to be stronger, faster and hardier. He crooked his elbow across the neck of the Xgatl, leaned back and twisted. Since he was not averse to a bit of the underhand himself, Skulks also bit a chunk off the closest ear and stuck two of his spare fingers firmly up the demon’s nose.
Eventually the Xgatl stopped flailing and started flopping. Then it lay still. Just to be sure it wasn’t playing dead, Skulks meted out a few kicks to its prone body with his steel toe-caps before remembering it had cast spells at him, leading him to give it a few more kicks besides.
With his dripping shoulder wound forcing itself closed, Skulks pondered his next move. He was in a foul mood now. There he’d been, minding his own business and walking across the rooftops of Hardened as was his right and then finding himself attacked by a demon looking to be paid in blood or sacrifice in return for his death. It was really somewhat less than sporting, especially when his opponent hid away like a coward from his sight! He stopped that line of thought rapidly, his internal mental shutters slamming closed and distracting him with thoughts of food.
“Gods, I’m hungry!” he said aloud.
On the street below, the sausage vendor heard nothing as Skulks dropped to the pavement behind him. He remained unaware as Skulks closed the distance between them, hand raised towards this unsuspecting purveyor of fine-quality meat by-products. The sausage vendor wasn’t sure what made him turn. Perhaps it was the shiver he’d felt as if something powerful and unknown were passing close by, the innate instinct of the living to realise danger is close at hand. Or perhaps it was the tapping on his shoulder.
“Five sausages, please!” said Skulks.
“That’ll be five Slivers, sir. Super-duper.”
Skulks thought of himself as the best thief in the whole of Ko-Chak, Rhult and Treads. Kine Runner was perhaps his equal, though they had never sought to test it through competition. Skulks could hide almost anywhere and steal almost anything. He could bluff and brazen his way out of almost any situation. He could make people who didn’t know he was there fail to see him as they passed. In extremis he could force people who did know he was there into not seeing him, though it took a monumental effort. However, what he couldn’t do was hide in the middle of a crowd of people. For that, you needed a sausage vendor. Almost every tavern, street or square had a sausage vendor. They’d stand there, hawking their wares, Slivers would be exchanged and people would move on, meaty sticks in hand that they could hardly remember purchasing. If Hardened was flattened by an unexpected disaster, the first people to emerge blinking in the daylight of this new world wouldn’t be a Wielder like Tan Skulks, it would be a sausage vendor.
“So, then,” asked Skulks, “got any idea where Sally Glum lives?”
“Yeah, mate. Third left down there, Number 72.”
“Give us another couple of them sausages will you?”
“Two more Slivers, sir. Thanks a bunch.”
&
nbsp; With the taste of seasoned offal still caressing his tongue and his memory, Skulks hammered on the door of Number 72 Chump Chop Chare, unmindful of the unsocial hour. A second round of battering followed the first.
“Shut up with the knocking you twat!” was heard to be shouted from across the street and above, before the anonymous door on Chump Chop Chare opened a crack. An eye peeped out.
“Whaddya want?”
“I’m here to see Sally Glum.”
“She ain’t here. And I’ve never heard of her. Whoever she is.”
“Jerry the Ratchet’s sent me. He wants a pow-wow.”
The door opened, revealing the owner of the peeping eye to be enormous. He was pushing forty and had probably been a bargeman at some point, Skulks thought, for his shoulders and back were huge, making his stout legs seem almost diminutive and out of proportion. He was squinting suspiciously at Skulks, evidently wondering whether he should either punch him, punch him or possibly even punch him. Jerry the Ratchet probably wasn’t well liked around here.
In the end, his host felt it best to pass the decision on whether or not to punch Skulks along the chain of command.
“Wait here. I’ll see if Lady Glum is available.”
Although the hour was late, Skulks knew that people such as Sally Glum tended to keep different hours to people in more honest lines of work. It was easier to thieve if it was dark and it was easier to steal if one wasn’t tired from being up past one’s bedtime. As such, the thieving types tended to sleep in the day and get up at night. He was correct and within minutes the large gentleman had returned, enquiring politely if Skulks wished to follow him into the parlour.
Number 72 Chump Chop Chare was a mirror of Jerry the Ratchet’s hideout. There was the same mish-mash of furniture, pictures, ornaments and decorations. Most of it was tasteless rubbish they’d not been able to move on for profit, while some of the rest might have been worth a few Slivers to the right man or woman. Skulks’ suspicion that this was all small-time stuff was confirmed as he was ushered into Glum’s office, finding it to be almost the same as Jerry the Ratchet’s. They were small-time thieves pretending to be big-time thieves.