“I think she’s being held against her will somewhere in the city,” Kay said. She didn’t like the idea of Mina overhearing this conversation but she wasn’t about to expose the eavesdropper, which left Kay with little choice. “I think if she had left voluntarily she would have sent word by now. I think if she were dead we would have found the body. Someone is holding her and I don’t know why. If ransom was their motive, we would have heard long ago.”
“Prostitution?” It clearly pained Bola to voice the word. It was an undignified word, a word that didn’t belong in a noble household.
Kay inwardly grimaced at the thought of Mina hearing this. “I think that’s a real possibility, but we’ve got eyes on every known brothel in the city. They usually advertise newcomers, especially pretty and well-cared-for ones. It’s a real advantage that we have such good pictures of Jenna. Every operative I’ve got working for me has seen them. I’ve also shown them to my network of competitors and the Home Guard. Everyone knows good things will come their way if they help turn her up.”
Jenna, the missing daughter of seventeen years old, was a painter. She’d done several recent self-portraits with what her family reported was lifelike accuracy. It was vastly superior to what Kay usually found. Most common was a single family portrait, several years old, done with such an eye for flattery that she rarely recognized a child on recovery. More than once she’d dragged an unwilling teenage girl into a family home only to realize she’d nabbed the wrong runaway.
“If you are so confident, why hasn’t she turned up? There are only so many places one can hide in Celest.”
“No offense, but you’re showing your class. You’re thinking about your neighborhood, where each house is maintained and watched over. Where everyone is responsible to their family and neighbors. Where people don’t lie, cheat, and steal for fear of tarnishing a family name. We won’t find Jenna in a neighborhood like this. Not after all this time. We’ll find her in the Shallows, the Lagoons, Goen Square. There are thousands of places to hide in those parts of Celest. And I don’t think we’re dealing with an ordinary abduction. I think Ewan stumbled onto something tied to this case. And he’s dead because of it.”
“Ewan?” Mylor asked, exchanging a look with his wife. “He was the Farrow you had working for you?”
Kay’s fists were clenched in her lap. It was always the same with this pair. Whenever she brought up Ewan, they immediately verified that he was a Farrow and then disregarded his import. They had expressed no remorse over his murder. Ewan had worked tirelessly for Kay, reuniting the missing with their families, never once treating any person as lesser than any other, even those who made him wait outside as Kay was allowed in.
To the Gol’s noble families like the Weiss, all Farrow were the same. Outsiders, lowborn and undeserving of respect. Not to be trusted. Kay was painfully aware she sat only one rung higher in their esteem, and that was largely due to the fact that her golden skin tone masked much of her own foreign heritage. It took a closer look at her sharp features to see her Farrow blood. Wetbloods, as Mylor and Bola undoubtedly referred to her in her absence, may be acceptable as servants under rare conditions. Though Kay imagined she was the first to have been offered tea. Or made it into this family’s sitting room for that matter.
In her mind she could see the scene again. Joah waiting quietly for Kay with his hands folded, outline framed by the bright light of the street corner. The Home Guard scurrying around the body. Ewan on the ground, looking every bit of his age, which would advance no further. Dried blood on his right hand where his knuckles had split. A dark puddle where his life had spilled, drawn out by a series of knife wounds, most in his back. The Home Guard had counted seven. “Yes, he was a Farrow.”
The Weiss could sense the hostility in her voice and they drew back. But anger flared in Mylor’s eyes. He was not one to be pressed in his own home, by a mixed-blood no less. He spread his hands and leaned forward again.
Kay cut the interview short by standing. “We are doing everything we can.”
Mylor rose as well. “And we’re just supposed to take your word for that? And continue funding this farce?”
“Yes,” Kay said, “that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do. That’s what you need to do.” She turned and left the room, ignoring the noises of offense directed to her back by the couple.
Kay exhaled as she reached the main hall. Her departure may have been rash, but even the brief mention of Ewan’s murder had left her in no mood to placate her clients, no matter how worthy their distress was. No servant materialized to escort her out, to her relief. Dedo, the thick bull of a butler, always spoke respectfully even as he eyed Kay as though he itched for a reason to throw her through a window. He must be tied up elsewhere in the manor. The lack of an escort enabled Kay to head straight to Jenna’s room, where she knew Mina would be waiting for her.
The child was seated on her older sister’s bed, absently playing with a small porcelain doll. Kay sat beside her. As she gently stroked Mina’s back, Kay looked around the room, marveling as she always did. Every conceivable space held an easel, and every easel held one or more paintings in different states of completion. Kay struggled to imagine and connect with the girl who had created them, filled with such a relentless zeal that she’d flown from painting to painting with the attention span of a three-year-old. Kay herself had never taken to art. It would have been an unimaginable luxury at the orphanage and had never lured her in as an adult.
Jenna’s style had flare, even Kay could see. She brought vivid color and bright, bold strokes to ordinary life. Skies, trees, buildings, even the routine were mesmerizing when treated by her brush.
“What’s prostitution?” Mina asked, rubbing the doll’s head as though fixing her painted hair.
Kay’s hand faltered on the child’s back as she fought a wave of almost overbearing sadness. For a moment, the world seemed like a truly awful and unfair place. She wrestled it to the ground and kept her voice calm as she answered. “It’s when people, usually women, exchange their body for money.”
“How does that work?”
“That’s not for any child to know.”
“Is Jenna doing that?”
“I don’t think so. I hope not. But she is out there, exposed to many dangers.” There was a window above the bed and Kay could see stray lanterns floating by. The night sky was a vibrant orange. “Have you heard from her?” A small shake of the head was the only response Kay got. Mina pulled the doll in close to her chin. “But you’ll tell me the moment you do? Even if she swore you to secrecy?”
Mina gave a small nod. Kay stood to leave, it would be unwise to be found here by Mina’s parents after the abrupt ending to their meeting, but Mina stalled her by grabbing her hand. “What if you find her and she doesn’t want to come home?”
“It’s happened before,” Kay replied. “My job becomes very difficult then. The most important thing is that I would make sure she is safe.”
“Would you tell me? Even if she said she never wanted to see me again?”
“Yes, darling, I don’t think there’s any way I could hide it from you. But that isn’t the case, and I think you know that.”
“If you find her, could you give her a message for me?”
“Of course.”
“Remind her that we haven’t finished our special painting.” She gestured with her eyes towards a canvas across the room. “Tell her to come home. We haven’t finished the trees.”
Kay walked over to it. The painting was of a grove of trees, at least the start of one. Thick lines of a brown so dark it was nearly black crawled up the white canvas, branching off to wrap around the top of the painting. An explosion of color, blues and purples mixed with the more traditional greens and browns of a forest, speckled the landscape. Like many of the other paintings, it was little more than half-finished, which somehow added to the intrigue of the piece.
“You were doing this together?”
“I did the
trunks and she was doing the leaves. My part just looked like a little kid painting before she started in on it, but she seemed excited about how the pieces were coming together.” Mina’s face fell. “She said I had talent.”
“You do, kid,” Kay said, looking at the painting. She gave Mina’s arm a squeeze before heading to the door. “I’ll give her your message when I find her.”
Kay made her way through the quiet house to the servants’ entrance. Before she stepped outside into the dimly lit alley, she checked to the left and right. She’d been exercising more caution since learning someone put out a contract on her head, though she’d yet to receive any credible threats. Halfway down the alley, she saw a man waiting for her, making no attempt to hide. His back was towards her, the lights of the streets framing him. For a moment, she recalled Joah’s stance as he waited patiently to show her Ewan’s body. But this was not Joah. Taller, wearing a fine cloak of deep brown. It was Yamar.
Yamar Advoco worked for the Wrang, the elite guard of the Dynasty which ruled Celest. Kay had first met him as they’d worked together defending one of the Melor Dynasty’s youngest from a threat on his life four years ago. She’d grown to know Yamar well in the intervening years. Kay had fallen into a role as a liaison for the Farrow, the refugees from her home country which had been destroyed by war, and the Dynasty, uncontested rulers of Celest. Yamar had fallen into the other side of that role, creating a chain through which information could be exchanged without the Dynasty stooping to direct engagements with their newly initiated lower class.
He turned slightly at her approach, a smile in his dark eyes, and Kay could see he held two unlit paper lanterns before him. “You missed the Opening.”
“What have I done to earn a visit from the Wrang?”
“Lanterns first.” Yamar used a match to light the candles and gently shook each of the lanterns, spreading the heat through them. “What will you wish for?” He handed her one.
Kay didn’t answer. This was not a good spot to observe the Opening. The high houses blocked the view and the branches from a row of trees stretched out over the alley. She could see the Fire Eye through the branches, but it brought no calm. Not this year. She slowly released her lantern. Yamar did the same beside her. His quickly caught on the branches. Hers made it through and continued climbing, until an unexpected cold wind rose and tossed it to the side and out of their view. She shivered, not certain if it was due to the night’s chill or something else.
“Are you here on a case?” Yamar asked.
“Yes. The Weiss girl has been missing for three months.” She was staring at Yamar’s lantern, still struggling to free itself from the branches.
“Three months and you’re still working it?”
“This is the one Ewan was on.”
Yamar nodded. “I haven’t heard anything from the Home Guard. I remind them that his case is of interest to the Dynasty whenever I cross paths with them.”
“Appreciated.” She still had her eyes up. The wind was whipping a blur of lanterns across the sky above the alley. “The Weiss girl is only one of four open cases. And that’s not counting another three I dropped. Something’s not right.” She turned to Yamar. “So why are you here?”
“I’m here to take you to the fight.”
Kay stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment, then groaned. “That’s tonight?”
“Of course it’s tonight. It’s always been tonight. In each of the ten invitations he’s sent you and the three personal calls he’s had me make to your office, it’s been tonight.”
“I just told you, I have four open cases.”
“Well, they’ll have to wait. At least long enough for you to walk there with me, watch a wildly lopsided fight, and hang around a few minutes to congratulate our mutual acquaintance.”
“Enos needs to back off.”
Yamar sighed impatiently. “You don’t think I’ve told him that? He’s ten, Kay, and a member of the Dynasty. He’s hardly ever heard the word no in his life. He’s certainly never heard back off, not to his face.”
Enos Melor was the youngest member of the Dynasty. When Kay had saved his life four years ago, he had developed a sort of fascination with her. What might have been cute in other circumstances had become frustrating and uncomfortable. As a member of the Dynasty, Enos was raised to a position which granted unchallenged dominance over Celest and everything in it, his only limits that he share that power with the few others who bore his surname. And as a ten-year-old, he’d become more demanding as he began asserting himself and taking on the early rungs of leadership. Not surprisingly, he was inexperienced at courtship, prone to temper, and totally uninterested in understanding the pointlessness of his pursuit of a fully grown mixed-blood woman.
Kay put one hand to her forehead. “I’m not getting out of this, am I?”
Yamar shook his head firmly. “You are not. You have no idea what I would have to deal with if you didn’t show up. I was courteous enough to wait for your client call to end. Now we go.” He started walking and Kay fell in with him. He glanced at her sideways. “It’s not like there aren’t better things for a Wrang Captain to do on the night of the Opening aside from collecting Enos Melor’s crush and escorting her to a fight.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been reduced to someone’s crush as a description before.” She sighed. “I had to save his life.”
“Kay, I can’t even joke about that. I’m sorry this was your reward.” They turned west, headed towards the city gates. “I mean, if we’re assigning blame, you’re the one who pulled his neck from a noose and climbed down a burning tree with him on your back. All while looking beautiful.”
“Are you flirting with me?”
“I’m pretty sure flirting with you has been declared treason.”
“That’s probably just one of the many reasons I can’t get a date.”
Chapter 2. The Fight
The second Kay stepped into the crowded fight venue she was beset by an uncomfortable deluge of memories. It was four years ago exactly she’d come here to collect information about a missing Farrow girl. One who’d turned out to not be real, just a false lead placed to set Kay on the trail of a woman among the Farrow refugees. Four years since she’d first seen Amos Farr in the ring. He’d thrown his fight that night on the instructions of his Pathfinder boss to help set up a deal with a Gol gang known as the Bosun. Kay had not felt shivers or trembles or anything like that when she’d first laid eyes on him. But she’d gone on to love him. And now he was just gone.
This place was much finer than the one Amos had first fought in. The crowd was a mix of Farrow and Gol of all social classes, one of the rare places where strict and self-sorted stratification wasn’t the social norm. Though far nicer, lined with heavy stone benches and with an elevated ring, the building was still just outside the city gates. The Celest authorities frowned upon bareknuckle boxing but would turn a blind eye if it wasn’t within the walls.
The crowd was roaring with excitement as Kay and Yamar entered, the previous match having just ended, the victor’s arms raised in the center of the ring. Yamar led her to a pair of reserved seats in the front row. Kay could feel eyes falling upon them, curiosity about the cloak clasp Yamar prominently displayed with the Wrang triangle symbol and the mixed-blood woman he led to the front of the crowd. They took a seat as the loser was dragged out of the ring, leaving a trail of blood. They never fought to the death here, but that was no guarantee of safety. There were no referees.
Kay looked at the blood, shifting uncomfortably in her seat, then leaned in close to Yamar. “How is this going to work? You’re not really letting him fight, are you? He could get hurt.”
“It’s a real fight. We’ll stop it if it gets out of hand. He’s good though. He takes his training seriously.” Yamar rubbed at the side of his face. Kay could see his stress. “Just smile and look approving. You can’t imagine the amount of work he’s put in to make this happen.” Yamar gave a wave to one of the rin
g minders and the master of ceremonies stepped into the center.
Kay grunted. “None of it welcomed,” she muttered.
“Gentlemen and ladies,” the MC said, his strong voice reaching all corners of the room, “we have a special bout before our top card. The next generation of great fighters is rising as we speak, and we’re giving a special opportunity for two of our most promising young men to showcase their skills. Tonight’s winner will be titled as the under-13 citywide champion.”
Kay couldn’t tell if the crowd was aware that one of the fighters was nobleborn and not to be disrespected or was just curious at the turn of events. Otherwise a fight featuring boys this late in the evening would have been roundly booed. As it was, there a were a handful, but they were quickly hushed.
“From the Eagle Talon Gym, with a record of five and one in the under-13 class, Devon Doshi.”
Devon stepped in from just outside the ring. A couple large men wearing sleeveless shirts with an Eagle Talon Gym logo on them cheered and patted him on the shoulders and head. The boy was significantly older than Enos with a light fuzz of facial hair. He was well muscled and bulky and his practice swings appeared swift and coordinated. His eyes, though, betrayed an uncertainty, as if he wasn’t quite sure what he was getting into.
“And from the Red Crest Training Halls, a newcomer by the name of Soni Malcom.”
An entourage emerged from the far doors. Uniformly tall, well-muscled, with hard faces, they wore matching robes of Dynasty red and black. Enos strode in the center. He was small amongst the huge men, but carried himself as though he were a headline fighter rather than a child. He wore oversized trunks of black and red which tapered to his thin waist. He’d clearly been spending a lot of time at the weight set. Every inch of him was leanly muscled, the light of the torches dancing off his greased skin. His hair was spiked up with some sort of lotion. He looked to Kay like a small demon, one who’d put serious time and energy into upping his intimidation factor to offset his youth and small stature. With a fair degree of success.
The Fire Eye Chosen_Sequel to The Fire Eye Refugee Page 3