Roza didn’t have an answer for that and shook her head. “Keeping them in sight will actually be very easy. Once they sit down for dinner they can’t go anywhere for hours. And if they leave the table midway, it will be easy to follow them.”
Katja was starting to feel like she was drowning. They had the names of some of the people involved, and knew a little more about them, but were still no closer to their purpose.
“Faith?”
“As far as I know she has no reason to be there,” said Roza with a frown. “My contacts actually found out very little about her.”
“Then what about the first group?” said Katja, trying not to let her frustration show. “I saw Rodann talking to other people before he approached me.”
“We have people throughout the palace,” said Roza, dodging the question. “Queen Talandra will be surrounded by her royal guards and has been briefed about everything. It was up to her and she decided to go ahead as normal.”
“We’re out of time. We should just take Rodann off the street,” said Katja. “It’s too risky to let this continue. We can make him talk.”
“He’s been very cautious since the start,” said Roza. “There will be contingencies if he disappears. Then there’s Teigan to deal with as well.”
“Then we could make both of them disappear,” said Katja, feeling the onset of hysteria.
“What do you think would happen?” asked Roza.
“The others would continue with their individual tasks. They’re zealots and they believe what they’re doing is for the greater good.”
A knock at the front door ended their conversation. Katja finished the last of her breakfast while Gankle went to answer the door.
“Don’t hesitate if you see an opportunity to turn any part of this to our advantage,” said Roza. “Use whatever means are necessary.”
“Meaning what?”
“I can surround the Queen with a ring of swords, but all it takes for them to succeed is one person who’s willing to die for their beliefs. If you see anything that will give us an advantage, take it.”
Gankle returned from the front room. “A carriage is waiting outside.”
Katja checked her weapons, pulled on her bulky grey robe and went out the front door. A rat-faced man with short red hair and a crooked nose waited for her inside the carriage.
“Rodann sent me. Get in,” he said in a nasal whine. She sat down opposite and kept one hand resting on the dagger at her waist. As soon as the carriage pulled away he reached under his seat and started to pull on a loose white robe with a deep hood.
“I’m Mallanc,” he said, rearranging the robe until it covered his plain and rather worn clothing. There were brown stains around the wrists and something brown had trickled onto one of his boots. If Katja had to guess she would have said Mallanc was a cutpurse or a thief, not someone Rodann would normally deal with.
“So what’s the job?” she asked.
Mallanc gave her a lop-sided grin. “You hear about those two rich kids that went missing?”
“No, what happened?”
“A few nights ago the sons of some nobles went for a few drinks down on the docks. To show the little people that we’re all the same. Two of them never made it home.” Katja remembered hearing something about the Guardians searching the river for a missing boy.
“Rodann grabbed them,” said Katja, taking a guess.
“Just one, the son of Lord Mullbrook. The other washed up in the river a couple of days back. Fell in drunk and drowned. Terrible accident,” said Mallanc with a nasty grin.
“So who are we going to see?”
“Lord Mullbrook. We need something from him for tonight. If he doesn’t agree, his son will end up like the other one.”
At least the other family had some sort of closure. Not knowing would be worse. With no body a sliver of hope would always remain, tormenting grieving relatives with the possibility of good news. Getting to see Lord Mullbrook would normally be difficult, but Mallanc’s white robe for one of the Faithful, and Katja’s reputation in the city for dealing with the bereaved, would get them in the front door.
“What’s the favour?” asked Katja.
“He’s got an invite for the big party but said he isn’t going. We need him to get you inside.”
“He’ll want proof we have his son,” said Katja.
Mallanc gave her a feral grin. “Don’t worry. I’ve got that covered.”
Twenty minutes later the carriage stopped outside a fairly large estate. A servant in sky blue livery trimmed with silver met them at the front door and at the promise of news about Lord Mullbrook’s son he let them inside. They only had to wait a few minutes in a plush front room before Lord Mullbrook marched in. Somewhere in his fifties, with wavy brown hair going white over the ears, he was a lean man with craggy features and pale blue eyes. A drooping grey moustache gave him a permanent scowl and his stiff posture told Katja he’d served in the army at some point.
“I was told you have news,” he said, his manner abrupt and his lack of protocol suggesting a no-nonsense attitude.
“If we might speak in private, my Lord,” said Mallanc, glancing at the lingering servant by the open door. Lord Mullbrook flicked his hand and the servant stepped outside and closed the door.
“Should your wife be here to hear the news?” asked Katja, ignoring Mallanc’s frown at her interruption.
“I’m a widower. What’s the news?” demanded Lord Mullbrook.
“You son is alive,” said Mallanc.
“Praise the Blessed Mother,” said Lord Mullbrook, letting out a long slow breath. He turned his back for a minute and crossed the room to look out the window. When he returned his eyes were a little red but there were no tears.
“Is he well? Is he on his way here?”
“He’s well for now, but he will only stay that way if you cooperate.” Mallanc threw off his hood and sat down without being asked. He gestured at the chair opposite but Lord Mullbrook didn’t sit down.
“You’re not one of the Faithful,” he sneered. “Who are you? What have you done with my son?”
“Sit down, old man,” snapped Mallanc, pointing at the chair.
Katja saw Lord Mullbrook’s hands ball up into fists but he took a deep breath and slowly relaxed before sitting down as instructed.
“What do you want? Money?”
“That’s more like it,” said Mallanc, grinning at Katja. “Now we can have a nice conversation.”
“Just get on with it,” she said, taking a seat beside Mallanc. “It’s very simple. Tonight is the big banquet at the palace. You’re going to attend.”
Lord Mullbrook raised an eyebrow. “And? What else?”
“You got two invites. You’re going to take my friend here with you,” said Mallanc, gesturing at Katja.
Lord Mullbrook thought about it for a moment while Mallanc eyed an expensive jade statue with envy. She saw his fingers twitch and knew he desperately wanted to stuff it into a pocket.
“I want proof that you have my son, and that he’s alive,” said Lord Mullbrook. “Only then will I agree to your terms.”
“No problem,” said Mallanc, reaching inside his robes for something. “Your son wears a big ring on his finger. Gold with a symbol on it.”
“That’s the family crest, and that’s not proof. You could have stolen the ring.”
Mallanc dramatically slapped his forehead. “You’re right. If only there was another way to prove it.” He pulled out a bundle of cloth from inside his clothes and dropped it on the table between them.
Lord Mullbrook looked at the bundle and carefully unwrapped the material. When his eyes fell on the contents he sat back with a grimace.
“I will kill you for this,” he promised.
Katja leaned forward to take a look. Nestled in the middle of the cloth was a severed finger with a ring still attached bearing the Mullbrook crest.
Mallanc ignored the threat. “Tonight you’ll get all dressed up and
go to the banquet. You’ll smile and pretend that everything is good because your son is home. If anyone asks about your new friend, you tell them a convincing story. If nothing goes wrong then tomorrow we’ll release your son.”
Lord Mullbrook didn’t ask what would happen if he failed to cooperate. Katja could also see him struggling with the idea of trusting Mallanc to be true to his word. His son could still end up being cut into chunks no matter how well he performed.
“Did you cut off the finger?” Katja asked Mallanc.
“What?” The question caught him off guard. “Did you do it, or someone else?” she asked, while putting her hand in her pocket.
“I did it. So what?”
“So if he doesn’t play nice, you’ll cut off the rest.”
Mallanc relaxed and grinned again. “That’s right.”
Katja drew the long blade strapped to her thigh and stabbed Mallanc in the leg, pinning him to the chair. He screamed as she drew a dagger from her boot and straddled his hips, pressing the steel to his neck. Forcing his throat back over the back of the chair she pressed a little more until blood began to run down his neck.
“What are you doing?”
“Where is he?” she asked.
“Who?” Mallanc managed to gasp, his eyes wide with terror and pain.
Katja shuffled her legs backwards, nudging the blade buried in Mallanc’s leg and he howled. His eyes started to roll up in his head but she slapped him and shook him until he refocused. A second later he started to drift off again.
“If you want to see your son, get me some water,” she said to Lord Mullbrook. He only hesitated for a second before hurrying to the side table, coming back a moment later with a pitcher of water. Katja stood up and dumped the whole jug over Mallanc’s head.
He came awake sputtering and immediately looked down at the handle of the blade buried in his leg. It had gone straight through the meat of his thigh into the wood underneath. She rested one hand against the hilt and started to waggle the knife from side to side.
“Don’t,” pleaded Mallanc, suddenly less smug.
“Last time. Where is he being held?”
“At the Kallan estate,” gasped Mallanc. “In the back room of their house.”
“Do you know where they live?” Katja asked Lord Mullbrook, who stared at Mallanc’s injured leg with grim satisfaction.
“Yes. They’re black penny nobles. They were given their title by the Queen a few years ago.”
Black penny nobles had little money and usually nothing more than a title to their status. Katja doubted they were interested in helping Rodann’s cause. They only wanted to further their own status and wealth.
“Who are you?” asked Lord Mullbrook.
“I’m an agent for the Crown,” said Katja, which technically was true, just not the Queen of Yerskania.
“You lying sow,” snarled Mallanc.
Katja lunged at his chest with her dagger.
“Wait!” said Lord Mullbrook, but it was already too late. She’d aimed for his heart and hit it right in the centre, burying the dagger to the hilt. Mallanc’s eyes widened in surprise and then drooped. She yanked both blades out of Mallanc’s corpse and cleaned them on his clothes before sheathing them.
“We could have questioned him,” lamented Lord Mullbrook.
“There’s no time. I will send someone to the Kallan estate to retrieve your son, but I still need you to take me to the palace as your guest.”
“Why?”
“Because there are others players involved in this conspiracy.”
“If you can prove to me that he’s alive, I’ll do as you ask,” said Lord Mullbrook. “But I’m not letting you out of my sight until then. I don’t trust you.”
Katja asked for paper and wrote a coded note to Roza, which a servant raced off to deliver. She spent the next two hours helping Lord Mullbrook dispose of Mallanc’s body and then trying to find one of his late wife’s dresses that would fit her comfortably. Most were too baggy and they gaped at the chest, but eventually she found a few old-fashioned dresses from when Lady Mullbrook had been younger and slimmer.
Two armed guards kept an eye on Katja at all times and she could see several more stood outside in the gardens beneath the window. Lord Mullbrook wasn’t leaving anything to chance. He changed into more formal clothing as well, but seemed less confident that he’d be leaving the house. Katja busied herself trying different hairstyles and eventually managed to pin it up with the assistance of a servant, who cooed over her slender figure. She even went so far as to allow the woman to put some make-up on her face, covering up the purple smudges and adding a touch of colour to her skin and lips.
Finally the front doors flew open downstairs and a dishevelled young man came in alongside Roza. One of his hands had been wrapped in bandages, but apart from a few bruises and a scrape over one eye, he seemed in good health. While father and son were reunited, Katja had a little time to talk with Roza.
“Four men were guarding him,” whispered Roza. “I’ve left a couple of our people inside, just in case anyone returns, but I don’t think they will. The banquet is only a couple of hours away and the house looked abandoned.”
Roza fell silent as Lord Mullbrook approached. “I’m a man of my word. I’ll get you into the palace,” he promised. “But I’d like you to do one thing for me.”
“Which is?”
“You can’t take any weapons into the palace, but I think you should wear this,” he said, producing a gold necklace with a long rectangular pendant decorated with a symbol for the Blessed Mother. He held up the pendant between his fingers and then twisted the bottom half. Something clicked and he pulled it in half, revealing a hidden blade. “I thought you might need it,” said Lord Mullbrook with a vicious grin.
CHAPTER 34
Walking through the streets of Perizzi without his Guardian uniform was a surreal experience for Fray. He’d just started getting used to people looking in his direction or acknowledging him to the point where he could ignore it.
Even without using his magic, part of him could feel their benign attention, like a faint prickling on his skin. Now it felt as if he had stepped back in time, as no one looked at him. In fact more people stared at his hulking, battered, companion and rarely noticed he was even there.
From what little the big man had said, and from what Fray knew from living in Perizzi for so long, Choss was quite the local hero. Born in Seveldrom, he’d come to the city as a young boy and dragged himself up from the streets using his skill in the ring to earn a fearsome reputation. Unlike others who had gone on to become enforcers for one of the Families, Choss had gone into business running the arena with Vinny.
Most remarkable was a story he’d heard about Choss fighting and beating a Vorga. Apparently it was the same Vorga who’d torn apart the other fighter when the Flesh Mage had struck at the arena. Something niggled at the back of Fray’s mind about what had happened at the arena but he still couldn’t bring it into focus.
As they made their way towards the meat district and Don Kal’s territory, some of the looks Choss received were not related to his status. His injuries worried people and their eyes were drawn to him because he moved with a stiff gait. Despite the bruises Fray was glad to have Choss as a guide as they went deeper into Don Kal’s territory.
Fray had dabbled a little in the underworld, but it had never been through choice. Living in a rundown area meant catering to a variety of clients that often included those connected to violence in some way. Inevitably people connected to a Family, or sometimes an unfortunate victim, would come into his shop seeking closure. It had taught him a little about how their world worked, but this was completely different and without Choss he would’ve been lost.
Fray felt something brush against the skin on his arms but the air around him was still. He touched Choss on the arm and the big man stopped, one hand reaching for the sword at his waist.
“What is it?”
“Can you feel tha
t?” asked Fray, holding up a hand and moving it one way and then the other in front of him. Further up the street he felt a thickening in the air and a wispy presence like a cloud of fog, but there was nothing to see. Something nipped Fray on the arm and he jumped. He pulled up his sleeve, expecting to see a red welt from a biting fly. The skin on his arm was unmarked.
“Keep an eye out. I need to look at the street using my magic,” said Fray. He’d explained to Choss what he could do and had even given a warning about how his eyes changed colour so that the big man didn’t react badly.
They ducked into a side road while Choss watched for anyone coming their way. It wasn’t that late and yet the further they’d gone towards the meat district, the quieter the streets had become. A lot of shops had closed up early and their shutters were down. Even without being told, people in the area knew something was in the air and they were doing their best to avoid being caught in the middle.
Reaching out towards the waves at the edge of his hearing, Fray focused his magic and the world changed around him. Keeping his breathing slow and regular he glanced up the street towards the meat district. A gasp of surprise lodged in his throat and he spluttered and almost choked.
“What is it?” asked Choss.
At the end of the street a thick swarm of sparrow-sized motes of energy danced in the air. And beyond them Fray could see hundreds maybe thousands more, spread out across the city like a living net that ebbed and flowed, constantly moving with the tide. One of the energy motes drifted towards Fray, brushed against him and burst. A tiny spark of energy ran across his skin and it felt as if someone had pinched him.
It had to be the work of the Flesh Mage but Fray could only speculate about its purpose. Whatever the cause, the build-up of energy in the air wasn’t a good sign. The Flesh Mage’s plans were escalating and it looked as if they would happen soon, maybe tonight. Perhaps the energy motes represented a build-up of the emotions in the area.
Fray withdrew his magic and they set off again with Choss leading the way. Someone connected to one of the Families was working with the Flesh Mage. It made sense when Choss had explained they start with the person acting the most out of character. Don Kal, an old Morrin and perhaps the oldest head of a Family in Perizzi. He should have been calm, bided his time and waited for his moment to get revenge. Instead someone had manipulated or pressured him into starting a war. It seemed likely that the Flesh Mage was involved since he would benefit the most from such widespread violence.
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