Moon's Artifice

by Tom Lloyd

  ‘You think she can find out what the goshe are up to just by asking sailors ?’

  Enchei shook his head. ‘No, but she might be able to provide another piece of the puzzle. We know some, might be we can guess enough o’ the rest.’

  ‘What do you mean ?’

  ‘Well, we know they stole something from the fox-spirits somehow, whether it was a secret or an object. We know Irato’s memories got scrubbed away by this Moon’s Artifice, we know he and others like him were probably dosing babies with the same stuff – so they were doing something similar to their memories. It doesn’t affect basic things like how to walk, stuff anyone needs to be useful, but it does clear out space in their heads. Could mean they’re ready to be controlled by magic, could be they’re ready to have some demon hide inside their heads, or most likely a dozen other things too. Point is – we don’t know yet, and we can’t guess with what we have.’

  ‘So we need to know why people are being taken to this island,’ Narin continued. ‘Whether it’s a ruse for something else, whether they need the people – whether the sick will wake up with no memories either. Oh Gods !’

  Enchei looked grim. ‘Aye, could be a thousand or more folk as good as dead to their families already. I ain’t happy about letting Irato near his former comrades in case they can exert some power over him, some magic I’ve never seen before. If this came from demons it might be different to anything any Astaren has seen before !’

  Narin shook his head and reached for his clothes. It was a struggle, but after a moment Enchei went to help him dress in the clean clothes and ease on his boots. The more Narin moved the more he felt the bruises deep in his flesh – some of the fainter patches of discoloration overlaying an echo of pain that seemed to radiate out from the bone. By contrast, his largest and darkest bruise, the one over his ribs that surrounded a burn, was no more than tender. Narin didn’t want to know what it would be like after Enchei’s efforts wore off, however.

  ‘You ever been to the goshe island ?’ Enchei asked as he pulled Narin’s jacket on over his shoulders.

  Narin shook his head. ‘I doubt any Lawbringer has in years, why bother ? It’s a misshapen lump a mile or two across. I’ve seen it from a boat – the leper colony at one end, in the shadow of the hill, and the goshe sanatorium at the other. Maybe a few hundred people live there in total and that’s including the patients of both.’

  ‘So a nice, private space for them to get up to anything they fancy ? And probably cliffs around most of the edges making it easy to defend.’

  ‘Close enough.’

  ‘That’ll be fun, then.’

  Chapter 23

  The Imperial City is comprised of eleven self-governing districts – one for each of the Great Houses plus the Imperial Island – and another nine are administrated warrants. When dividing up what was left after the Ten Day War, the Great Houses ignored the ruined sections within the old city boundary and disputes prevented any correction of the oversight. As a result, some conquered territory fell back under Imperial control. It seems lawyers can succeed where the Imperial Army failed.

  From A History by Ayel Sorote

  A sunset of outrageous glory crowned the western horizon as Kesh left the tavern. Huge layers of cloud were stacked across the sky, bands of red, orange and pink overlaying a golden haze where the sea boiled into the sky. The whole street was bathed in an orange twilight and for a moment Kesh was dazzled by the low light, unable to make out the shapes of the shadows behind it. Her fingers closed around the hilt of her dagger, but then she saw the street was almost empty and relaxed again.

  The sickness had taken a firm grip on the eastern flank of the warrant, she now knew. Whole streets were near-silent as most of their inhabitants lay abed, wracked with the fever. Some had died, according to tavern gossip. Rumour said the Lawbringers were poised to close down sections of the city, or order every eatery and tavern shut to limit infections, but Kesh had her doubts. The clusters of infected streets were spread across the city with no pattern she could see, but clearly it was too wide-ranging for any efforts at containment to work.

  Stars in Heaven – even this goshe quarantine idea is better, Kesh realised glumly as she set off into the sunset, head bowed against the glare of evening.

  She was on a wide avenue set behind the warehouses that overlooked the harbour wharves. On her left were gated yards and workrooms while down the right-hand side was as varied a display of eateries, shops and taverns as could be seen across the city. She was not far from her home but resisted the urge to turn and crane her neck around these squat buildings for the outcrop it sat on.

  Just a glimpse earlier had been enough. Without lamps to illuminate it, the boarding house had been a dead silhouette against the deep blue sky. Kesh had dragged her gaze away before she had a chance to see what state it was in – whether it was shuttered-up or ransacked, whole or a burnt-out husk.

  ‘Eyes on the water ahead,’ she muttered as she walked down the centre of the near-deserted street, ‘nothing pretty in the wake.’

  She couldn’t remember where she’d first heard those words, but now they echoed in her father’s voice at the back of Kesh’s mind. Before she could get lost in her memories of the lost, however, a flash of movement in the shadows caught her eye.

  Kesh stopped, half-drawing her knife before she remembered she was in the middle of an open street and trying not to attract attention. Unusually empty it might be, the avenue was a much-used one and it was unlikely she’d be alone there for long. She checked behind her, back down the street, but aside from a handful of figures loitering outside a card-house, there was no one there.

  Again she caught a flicker of something pale in the dark and this time she followed the movement to a stack of barrels outside a high-fenced yard. Kesh took a step closer, ready to draw her knife. As though in response to the threat, a scuffle of movement came from behind the barrel and a bone-white tail swept briefly through the air.

  Kesh relaxed a touch and took another step forward. A dart-shaped head peered around the barrel at her, eyes completely black. A russet streak ran from between the fox’s eyes and back over its pale head. Quite different to the rusty-red foxes she’d seen before, Kesh was momentarily transfixed by the sight. In the twilight the pale fox seemed to shine with an ominous light. Though she could see no ghost-spirit around it, Kesh was certain this was no chance sighting.

  ‘Hello demon,’ Kesh whispered as the creature stared at her, unblinking. ‘Have you been watching over me all this time ?’

  The fox-demon tensed fractionally, lowering its head but never breaking eye contact. Whether it was a response to her words or something else, Kesh did not know, but she found herself holding her breath as she waited. The fox took a delicate step out from behind the barrel, affording Kesh sight of a greyish ruff of fur around its throat, but then it turned and vanished from view. When she went to follow it, Kesh saw only a blank space in the shadows and felt a slight shiver run down her neck. As before, when she’d seen one in the street in Moon District, the fox had simply disappeared from sight with an ease that seemed far from natural.

  Remember, Kesh warned herself, they’re demons. Whether or not they saved you once, they’re not of our world.

  She looked around, trying to see any possible paths of escape, before realising a pair of men were advancing up the street towards her. Keen to be moving before they came close, Kesh gave the barrels a final look and continued on her way.

  The street began to taper as she left the more prosperous parts behind and neared the furthest point of the Harbour Warrant. All remained quiet – fear of the sickness had ensured that – but Kesh realised she hadn’t seen plague-symbols in a while. She hesitated and checked around, casting her mind back to the last time she’d seen them. Enchei had pointed out it was the poorer districts taking the brunt of the illness, as was the usual form, but here she saw nothing of the sort.

  Most of the houses in this part were single-storey building
s, huddled close in the lee of the rocky outcrop that deflected the waves of the Inner Sea. A few taller, much older structures punctuated the view and it was below the great sweeping roof of one of those that Kesh spied the tavern that was her final destination. The steep slate roof bowed with age in the centre, the tired walls held up only by a ramshackle collection of buildings that had been tacked onto the sides over the years. Named the Black Bat, it didn’t keep the same regular hours as its namesake, but welcomed the daylight as little.

  She’d visited it twice in her life ; just enough to know you didn’t do so lightly and that the interior was a confusing warren where privacy was the order of the day. It was only a childhood friend that had taken her anywhere near the place, but now she found herself hoping he’d been successful in his less-than-legal life.

  The windows at the front were shuttered, dim light spilling around the edges and illuminating a crudely-cut bat shape at the centre of the shutter. She pushed open the door and found herself in a cramped hallway a few paces long. A man sat at a counter, shadowed from the candles above her head by a wooden partition she knew contained an improvised portcullis.

  ‘Need something ?’ the man said with a local drawl, looking her up and down.

  ‘A drink’d be a start,’ Kesh replied, determined not to show any fear now.

  ‘You sure, love ?’ The man was not quite what she’d expected from this place, being clean-shaved and dressed more like a travelling merchant than local thug. He was large, there was no doubt about it, but hardly the sort who’d run to fat after years of hanging around a bar. ‘Sure you ain’t lost ?’

  ‘I’m sure – just after a drink with a friend of mine.’

  ‘And who’s that ?’

  Kesh nodded toward the door facing her. ‘Well, two actually. One’s waiting here to meet me, a stranger to you, but I’m hoping to find Hirl Jastar.’

  That seemed to surprise the man. ‘You a friend of Hirl’s ? How come I’ve not seen you around here then ? Bugger spends more time here than me.’

  ‘I’m not in his line of work.’

  The guard chuckled to himself. ‘Shame,’ he said at last, ‘most o’ his girls are on the skinny side for my tastes.’

  At that Kesh gave a cough of surprise. The last time she’d seen Hirl the man had been a thief, among many other things, but running girls ? Maybe it has been too long. Maybe this was a mistake.

  ‘He’s a pimp now ?’

  ‘Must’ve been a few years since you’ve seen the boy,’ the guard laughed. ‘Aye, he’s been running girls a year or two now, couple o’ boys too I think. Must do well out of it, given he’s still allowed to drink here.’

  ‘Well ?’

  The guard nodded. ‘Boss fucking hates pimps,’ he explained. ‘Most weaselly bunch o’ cowards you ever met, I promise, but Hirl pays his money and don’t mess up his girls, which sets him apart and keeps him a place at the card tables. Most pimps got a bad fucking temper on ’em – like their discipline a bit too much – but Hirl I never heard gave out anything more than he really needed to.’

  Kesh nodded, suppressing the slightly sickened feeling in her gut. Hirl had always been a cocky young man, ready enough with his fists should a challenge present itself, but she hadn’t expected this of him.

  ‘Am I getting in then ?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘Sure, just you be careful in there. Most ain’t so friendly as me.’

  ‘I know.’

  The guard tilted his body to one side and pressed a pedal hidden behind the counter. Kesh heard a scrape from the other side of the door and nodded her thanks, pushing it open to reveal the dim, smoke-laden main room of the tavern. It occupied much of the original building ; an oval bar jutting into the centre of the room with four enclosed booths flanking the door and a spiral stair leading up to a gallery where tables lined the outer wall.

  A few faces turned her way, but Kesh knew enough to not show any interest in the patrons. Instead she approached the bar and asked for Hirl as she ordered a drink.

  ‘Never heard of him,’ the greasy-haired barman said automatically.

  ‘He’s a friend of mine,’ Kesh persisted, ‘and I know he spends most of his time here.’

  The man scowled at her as he pulled a clay bottle from under the counter and poured Kesh a cup of wine.

  ‘You don’t look like a friend o’ Hirl’s.’ As he pushed the cup towards her, the man leaned forward. ‘This ain’t a good place for a scene, girly, you hear me ?’

  ‘I hear you,’ Kesh replied, determinedly not reacting in any way, despite conflicting urges to flee and punch the man right in his gap-toothed mouth.

  A low whistle broke her train of thought and the two of them turned towards one of the booths. In the shadows sat a large man dressed in black – it took Kesh a moment to recognise Irato with a shaved head and brown skin, but when she did she gave him a companionable nod.

  ‘I’m not here for a scene,’ she repeated, ‘but either way I’m guessing no one wants a stranger wandering through your rooms looking for Hirl, am I right ?’

  The barman grunted. It wasn’t his job to pass messages, but she was right all the same.

  ‘Your name ?’

  ‘Kesh.’

  ‘Chane,’ he called behind him towards a young woman barely out of childhood. ‘Find Hirl – tell him there’s a woman called Kesh here to see him.’

  The girl, a Wyvern with coffee skin and long flowing hair, bobbed her head and slipped away. Kesh paid for her wine and went to join Irato in his wooden-walled booth.

  ‘Any trouble ?’ she asked.

  He shook his head. ‘Just a job offer. They all reckon I’m some hired knife, new to the city and looking for work.’

  ‘Better than thinking you’re an easy mark.’ Kesh paused for a while and watched Irato stare down at his beer. If she didn’t know better she’d have thought he’d been drinking for hours and was planning on finishing the night in the same pose.

  ‘We really need to work on your head, don’t we ?’ Kesh commented.

  ‘What ? Why ?’

  ‘We’re having a conversation, but you just forgot that.’

  ‘You asked me if I’d had any trouble. I didn’t.’

  Kesh sighed. ‘You’ve been waiting for me here for an hour or more, waiting while I looked up dockers and sailors in four different pubs.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Pity’s sake,’ Kesh breathed. ‘Don’t you want to know what I’ve learned ?’

  That seemed to wake Irato up a bit, a tangle of confusion and realisation crossing his face before he nodded. ‘Anything useful ?’

  ‘Not as much as I’d hoped,’ Kesh admitted, taking a long swallow of wine. ‘The Lawbringers have chartered every ship they can, drafting them all into service to carry the sick out to Confessor’s Island. It’s hard to tell whether the goshe’ve been up to anything else round here, but supplies to the island haven’t increased. There’s a ship that does the run most ascendancies – a local fisherman. They took supplies yesterday, same amount as before, so if they’re planning anything it’s to be lost in the chaos of tomorrow.’

  ‘Nothing more ?’

  ‘I’m hoping Hirl will know if there’s anything more.’

  ‘You’re friends with a local criminal ? Doesn’t seem like you.’

  ‘We grew up neighbours ; I’ve known him my whole life. Can’t say we’re really friends these days, been living different lives, but it might be he’ll do us a favour for old times’ sake. This bar’s owned by a major player in the warrant, this is where the important people drink and talk. Anything Hirl doesn’t hear during the day on the wharves, he’ll hear at the card tables.’

  From across the main room a voice broke the furtive hush. ‘Well bugger me sideways with a Stone Dragon’s lance !’

  Kesh jumped, reaching for her knife on instinct. Irato was standing by the time she regathered her wits and put a hand on his arm. She turned to see a familiar face bearing down upon her, smiling br
oadly even as he kept a weather eye on Kesh’s companion.

  ‘Hirl,’ she said, slipping from her seat to greet the newcomer. ‘Good to see you again.’

  He was bigger than she’d remembered – not much taller than she but significantly broader. Though he was local stock with pale skin and brown hair, Hirl had the build of a House Dragon warrior. He was dressed well, wearing a dark, patterned doublet that had been cut to suit his large frame. In one ear was a trio of diamond studs, the significance of which was lost on Kesh, while on his belt was an ornate dagger. It all added up to a man doing well out of life.

  Hirl’s massive arms reached out to embrace her, but Irato edged forward and there was a tense moment as the two men faced each other down.

  ‘Easy there, chief,’ Hirl murmured, far from intimidated by the taller man. ‘This ain’t the place to settle whatever business we got, hear me ?’

  ‘Hey,’ Kesh said, doing her best to push the big goshe back. ‘What are you doing ?’

  ‘I …’ Irato turned to look at her and retreated from her expression. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Well let’s sit and be a bit more friendly, eh ?’

  Hirl waved to the barman. ‘Aye, put on your friendly face round here,’ he added, sliding onto the bench alongside Kesh. ‘Owner tends to do somethin’ about faces that don’t look so nice.’

  A drink was brought over for him and Hirl took a moment to look between Kesh and Irato as he drank.

  ‘So,’ he began at last, ‘it’s been a while, Kesh. How you been keepin’ ?’

  She scowled. ‘Not good of late.’

  ‘That why you brought a bodyguard to see an old friend ? Some exiled Wyvern warrior to watch your back ?’

  Kesh gave a start. ‘No, that’s not it. Hirl – I need your help, but, ah, but I can’t tell you too much. I don’t mean any disrespect—’

  ‘Disrespect ?’ Hirl echoed. ‘Who do you think I am, Kesh ? Some crime-lord you bow and scrape in front of ? You’re still the girl who kicked me off the harbour wall an’ had ta drag me out the water again after.’