Best Left in the Shadows

by Gelineau, Mark

  Even from across the room, Alys saw Dax’s face grow pale, and he froze in place. Alys shook her head, trying to break the old madam’s control of the room. “You going to waste time with history, Tigress? When there is business to be done?”

  The Tigress locked eyes with her. “But it is so fascinating a history, my dear girl. You cannot deny my little darlings their entertainment.” Her eyes gleamed behind the garish make-up and skewered Alys with her gaze. “You must let them fawn and have some small amount of fun with him, dear. They will likely never get to be so near such a bright star as this again. And don’t you worry. Thanks to you, they already know what happens if they get too close.”

  Alys glared back, but as angry as she was, Dax seemed more furious. His jaw was clenched hard enough that the muscles in his neck stood out. And she was not the only one who had picked up on it. Squinting Raff was easing behind Dax, a hand already on his blade in the event there was to be trouble.

  She wasn’t happy about it but she choked back her anger. The Tigress would get hers one day. Just not today.

  “Fair cop, Tigress. You’ve made your point.”

  “What point is that, dear?”

  Alys ducked her chin. “Your house. Your rules.”

  “Indeed,” the Tigress replied, sauntering to one of the couches to distractedly stroke the hair of one of the young men, before pushing him away. “So, perhaps you can explain what brings you and the dear magistrate inspector to my house at this unholy hour,” she said to Alys as she walked over.

  Alys’s nose filled with the scent of her, cloying and overpowering. Rosewater and lavender and spice-chew. It made the bile rise in the back of Alys’s throat. “There was a dead girl found down at the docks. Highborn. She came here before that.”

  The Tigress looked at Alys with her heavy-lidded eyes and an expression of utter boredom. “And?”

  “What can you tell us about her then?” Dax asked, seemingly recovered enough from his shock and anger to speak out.

  “Well, that of course depends on what you are willing to pay. Tell me, Magistrate Inspector, what is the little slattern worth to you?”

  Dax drew himself tall and straight. “That girl was a Lady of a noble house and family.”

  The Tigress laughed, a sound that ranged uncomfortably between sultry and mocking. “Oh, believe me, Inspector. I am quite familiar with Lydia Ashdown.”

  Dax stepped forcefully toward the Tigress, closing the distance till he was staring into her face. Immediately, Alys had a blade near her hand. Behind her, she felt Squinting Raff step into the room with a heavy menacing tread.

  The Tigress held out a hand in the direction of her bouncer as the whores held their collective breath.

  “Tell me what you know,” Dax said, his voice low.

  The older woman seemed unfazed by his aggressive posturing, though. A pink tongue darted out and licked the crimson of her red lips as the Tigress made a low noise in her throat. “Ooh, Inspector. Forceful and menacing. Your father would approve.”

  She raised her painted nails, studied them for a moment, and put her hand against his chest once more. This time, the Tigress slowly pushed Dax away. “But it is a pointless display. Surely she has told you the rules. There is nothing for free in Lowside. Not even for you, young Lord Ellis.”

  Alys reached into an inner pocket and pulled out two pressed gold sovereigns. She held them up and then made them dance across her knuckles. “Two,” she said.

  “Four,” the Tigress countered. She rolled her eyes at Dax. “You know he can afford it, dear.”

  Gritting her teeth hard enough to feel them grinding in to dust, Alys pulled out two more of the valuable coins. The Tigress extended her hand and Alys dropped them into her palm. She was careful not to let her skin touch the Tigress’s. The river water and ocean smell of the Sumpworks would wash off, but the taint of the Tigress was more than Alys was willing to deal with tonight.

  Adjusting her fur robe, the Tigress sighed heavily. “Young Lydia came to my door looking for employment, actually. She claimed she needed money. Desperately and urgently.” She shook her head with an almost-convincing air of sympathy. “She must have been running from something dark, the poor girl.”

  “Dark enough to turn to whoring?” Alys asked.

  The Tigress regarded her with heavily lined eyes. “It is not an uncommon tale.”

  “What was she running from?” Dax asked.

  “I am sure I do not know, but I am not the person you should be directing your questions to regarding young Lydia’s dilemmas. You would be best served finding a young man named Calder. He is an inkman in this district.”

  “Inkman?” Dax asked. “A tattooist? Who is he? Where can we find him?”

  Inwardly, Alys groaned. Too eager. Much too eager.

  “The district is so busy these days, my lovely man. So many names and faces to be expected to keep track of one individual.”

  Even before the Tigress had finished her words, Dax pulled forth a stack of gleaming coins. “I want to know about Calder,” he said, his voice hard.

  A wrinkled hand snatched the coins and made them into the folds of the Tigress’s dressing gown with such smooth ease that even Alys had a hard time following the motion.

  The Tigress sighed theatrically. “Alas, poor Calder’s talent was not as great as his capacity for misfortune. A degenerate gambler from what I have known. His predilection has cost him a place in a number of crews. It is this young man who Lydia has been sharing time with for the last few months.” The Tigress shook her head. “Such a naive little girl, falling for such a one as him. Calder owed many things to many people. Find him, and perhaps he will have your answers.”

  Alys had a sour taste in her mouth, though whether it was from her proximity to the Tigress or from the picture beginning to form she did not know. Calder the inkman seemed like one of a thousand Lowside shits and he had likely seen Little Miss Highside coming like a torch in the night.

  Dax spoke again. “Where is he?”

  The Tigress slowly opened her dressing gown and one of the gold coins appeared back in her hand. She slid the gold coin down across the wrinkled skin of her cleavage till it was out of sight. Then, she cast her eyes in Dax’s direction. “My part is done, Inspector. Finding him is your task.”

  Alys moved over to Dax’s side and took his arm in a firm grip. “We should go. Miserable experience as always, Tigress,” she said, nodding in the older woman’s direction.

  The Tigress drew her fur mantle closer around her. “Truly,” she said back. “It is so memorable when you show up at my door. It is like a dose of the pox.” She batted her eyes at Dax, and let a bit of the mantle fall, exposing a bare shoulder. “Best of luck to you, Inspector,” she said. “And should you see your father, send him my regards.”

  Squinting Raff escorted them back onto the street. Alys could still smell the sickly sweet scent of the Tigress’s perfume on her clothes and in her hair. It made her want to jump into the Prion’s dark waters. She glanced over to Dax. His brow was creased with thought.

  When they were out of sight of the Tigress’s domain, Dax frowned, but in his eyes gleamed renewed determination. “Well,” he said. “We have some progress.”

  Surprised, Alys stopped walking and turned toward him. “We almost had a lot worse. What was the righteous, angry magistrate act in there?” she said. “You know Squinting Raff could have had you in a moment.”

  Dax shrugged. “I assumed you had me covered on that front.”

  “Awfully big assumption.”

  “It didn’t used to be,” she thought she heard him say, but before she could be sure Dax was already moving on. “So we know who she was seeing. Now we just have to find him. Where would he be?”

  “Probably far away from here.”

  “Do you know any way to track down somebody like that?”

  Alys crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you think I can just mine some connections and find any degenerate that
happens to be Lowside?”

  “Can you?”

  “Of course I can, but what’s the point, Dax?” she said. Seeing that the light was not fading from his eyes, she shook her head. “Look, the guy is likely a clipper looking for an easy score. As soon as his pigeon wound up dead, he likely went underground to lay low.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She was a mark. This Calder went after her, got what he needed, and then either got her involved in something that got her killed or killed her himself.”

  “Ever the cynic, Alys. How can you assume he was just using her? What if he did love her? And she, him?”

  Alys scoffed, but frustration gave an edge to her words. “You always did love a good fairy tale, Dax. You just could never let it go.”

  He opened his mouth as if to retort, but then seemingly thought better of it. “Either way,” he said, the words sharp and clipped, “this investigation is not over until we find Calder. If you think you can do it.”

  Alys laughed at that. Trying to goad her into it. It was so clumsy it was almost endearing. “You want the inkman, Inspector? I’ll get you your inkman.”

  Act 4

  The Course of True Love

  It wasn’t even dark by the time Alys had tracked him down.

  The more that Alys asked around, the more she was able to get a picture of her quarry. In addition to being a fairly skilled hand with a tapping needle and ink, Master Calder was also a degenerate gambler.

  He was in deep to a number of folks all over the district. Supposedly, some of Keyburn’s boys out of the Olde Sportsman’s Hall had stumbled across him sometime last night. No one had seen him on the street since then, which meant he’d still be at the Sportsman’s. If he was still alive, of course.

  It had been a few months since she had had occasion to visit the place, but things had not changed. At this point in the afternoon, things were quiet, with just a few men and women sitting at the tables dealing King’s Cross, or rolling dice.

  Most noticeably though, the rat pit was empty and silent. In the center of the room were rows of wooden benches set in an amphitheater-style around a low circular wall. Inside the wall, sawdust lined the wooden floor to make clean-up easier, but the room still smelled like old blood and animal fear.

  Behind the bar, Magda was there, as always, wiping down the polished wood with a rag. She pushed back her blonde curls from her face and reached for two small jacks. She poured them each a dram from the jug of punch on the counter.

  “Ta, Magda,” Alys said in thanks, knocking back the drink and feeling the burn down her throat. Dax followed suit.

  “Not at all, Alys,” Magda said. “Heard you been to see the Tigress of late. Figured you could use a dose of stability.” She glanced down over at Dax. “Especially given your escort.”

  “Business has its strange demands some days, Magda. Keyburn here?”

  “Out round the back. Dealing with a delinquent collection. But go on with you. He’ll be glad to see you, busy or not.”

  “Cheers, Magda,” Alys said, motioning for Dax to follow.

  “Glad for the sight of you, Alys,” Magda called after them.

  Alys stepped out into the late afternoon daylight. The smell coming from the small sty of pigs kept behind the building was sharp and pungent, and the animals themselves were loud. Even over the sound of pigs, Alys heard the heavy slapping sounds of someone getting the worst of a beating.

  Dax’s hand went to the hilt of his sword, but her hand shot out and caught his wrist tightly. Her eyes met his, and she shook her head. He frowned, but released his grip.

  Alys walked around the side of the big building. There, behind the pig pen, two men were taking turns methodically beating a third man. A tall man with thick, dark sideburns and a long face leaned against the wall. He looked decidedly bored with the proceedings.

  “Running a successful business can be so tedious, can’t it, Keyburn?” Alys called out.

  The tall man’s eyes widened. “Alys!” he said jovially, leaping off the wall and coming toward them. He wrapped Alys in a tight embrace and grinned at Dax. “And you bring a guest as well.” He bowed low. “Keyburn the Sportsman. You must be the Magistrate Inspector. The Blacktide sent word you’d be out and about the district.”

  A heavy smacking sound came from behind Keyburn, followed by a groan of pain. Alys peered around Keyburn’s shoulder. “Sorry to interrupt you, Key, but I was hoping you might have a line on someone I’m trying to track down.”

  “Please. You are never an interruption, Alys. The boys could do with a bit of a break.” He whistled once, sharply, and the two large men let the beaten man fall heavily to the ground, where he lay panting and bleeding.

  Keyburn turned back to Alys. “Now, what is it I can do for you, fair cousin?”

  Alys smiled. “I’m looking for a Lowside slummer. Inkman. Between crews, likely. Gambler and grafter named Calder.”

  There was a muffled moan from the man on the ground.

  “Why young master Calder is right here,” Keyburn said, stepping back and gesturing to the man on the ground. “We were just discussing the negatives inherent in not only being delinquent in repaying a debt, but also dishonesty.”

  Keyburn walked over to Calder and gave the man a quick sharp kick to the ribs. “He assured me he would have my money as of two days ago. And yet, when the lads came across him last night, he was empty-handed. Tsk tsk.”

  At his feet, Calder moaned and rolled over onto his back, breathing hard.

  Alys looked over to Dax. His lips were set in a tight line. He had not taken his eyes off Calder since Keyburn had confirmed his identity. She could practically hear his teeth grinding together.

  She sighed.

  “How deep is he in to you, Key?” she asked.

  “Including the juice on his original borrow?” he said. “Twelve stacks.”

  Alys’s mouth fell open. “Twelve stacks?” she said, shooting a look at the man on the ground. “You must be a complete degenerate to rack up numbers like that.” Alys rubbed a hand over her forehead in frustration and sighed once more. “Look, Key. I got need for him. You willing to sell me his marker?”

  Keyburn seemed a bit surprised, but he slowly nodded his head. “I would be, but I gotta warn you, cousin. He likely owes at least one other house besides mine. A few toughs came asking for him early this morning. I had to remind them that I had found him first, so I had first claim.” Keyburn shrugged. “If you buy up his marker, you won’t be the only one with a claim on him.” He smiled at her with stained teeth. “Never let it be said I entered into a deal without giving full disclosure.”

  “I am obliged, Key, and I’ll take my chances.” She looked down at the form slumped on the ground. “I do need him to talk, though. You started work on his teeth yet?”

  “Not at all,” Key said. “Just a bit of the body for today. Was thinking ear tomorrow, then perhaps teeth, but not my problem anymore. Provided you have something worth his twelve stacks, Alys.”

  “I know the names of the Razors that three of the schools are putting up to fight in the tournament next month. Not the bloodsport down by the gate, mind you. The big, sanctioned fights up near Crucis. That worth something to you?”

  Keyburn’s eyes lit up. “Why yes, that would be a fine start on the marker.”

  “Then we’ll call it that, and two more pieces of substance, if and when they cross my path.” She pressed her hand against her heart and then held her hand out toward Keyburn.

  Looking at her outstretched hand for a moment, Keyburn sighed and pressed his own palm against his heart and took her by the forearm. “I always did have a soft spot for you, Alys.” He smiled though. “Well, at least I know that unlike with Master Calder here, you are good for your promised payment.”

  “Of course. Your Razors are Coraxon Nox, a Vertigo, Vestan, an Aegis, and from Faith, new face named Gideon. The Faith is a lock to win it all. Trust me.”

  “Your word has alway
s been good enough,” Keyburn said. “My thanks, Alys.” He glanced back to Calder. “I fear I may have gotten the better of you on this deal, cousin,” he said. “Feel free to take your new friend inside the Olde Sport. Drinks on me, and a place for you to talk.”

  “Ta, Key. Much gratitude.”

  “Come!” Keyburn said. “Enough sun and dust. Time for healthy darkness and drink.” With that, he headed back toward the Hall.

  Alys followed Keyburn, leaving Dax to bear the burden of the beaten Calder.

  Inside, she selected a comfortable booth in the rear corner of the building. Dax dropped Calder unceremoniously onto the carved wooden bench, and the young man slumped down in the seat. He tried to raise his head and look at the two of them, but both his eyes had started to swell shut. His exposed skin was a colorful mixture of red blood and dark ink from the designs that covered him.

  The knuckles of his fingers were marked, and Alys recognized a few of the designs there. A rose blooming from the hilt of a dagger. He had come of age in a crew. This one started young. On the back of the hand was a crown wrapped in chains. She counted four links. Imprisoned four times. It was a wonder Dax didn’t recognize him, the little idiot had been down in the depths of the House of Law enough times.

  Alys shook her head. She had just purchased a very expensive piece of shit.

  Dax cleared his throat. “I am Magistrate Inspector Daxton Ellis. I was told you knew Lydia Ashdown. She was found dead on the docks here in Prionside early this—”

  “I done it,” Calder said, staring with ravaged, swollen eyes. “I killed her. Take me in.”

  Dax stopped dead in his words. “What did you say?” he said quietly.

  “Ah, a Lowside love story,” Alys said. “She surely fell for the right man. A few words, a couple of lovely promises, and then murdered and left on a Prionside dock.”

  “Just… just take me in,” Calder said.