Without warning, Dax grabbed Calder and lifted him up in his seat. “You don’t get to issue orders here, you shit,” he hissed. “Lydia. I want to know why. Why!”
“Dax,” Alys said, and the sound of her voice seemed to cut through his rage. He blinked once, and then released Calder, letting the man fall heavily back down into his chair.
Alys moved in close. “I own your marker. I now own you. So, the Inspector wants the sordid tale, and I mean for him to have it. So, you speak. Did she wise up to your grift? Is that what happened?”
Calder blinked once. “I ain’t never had anything good in my life. I ain’t saying that to make excuses. It’s just… just bad luck. Bad damned luck.” He seemed to catch himself then, stopping his words and looking past Dax to the few other customers sitting in the dark corners of the Sportsman’s. “She was just a mark,” Calder said. “I was trying to make some easy coin, and I played her for a while but she wised up, and I…”
He stopped looking at the other customers and returned his attention first to Alys and then to Dax. “I’ll make a full confession. Anything you want. But at the station. Not here. Out of Lowside. There ain’t anything left for me here now,” he said before beginning to weep.
Dax was quiet for a long moment before he stood up and headed to the bar.
Alys sat down beside him as he ordered a drink from Magda and drained it silently. “That’s it then. It’s over. As simple as that.” He looked at her. “You going to say I told you so?”
“Thought it would be tacky.”
Dax offered a weak smile, but it faded as his eyes went back to Calder. “Just didn’t think it’d actually turn out like this. It’s so simple. Girl meets the wrong guy and gets killed for it.”
“Almost. Girl falls in love with the wrong guy and gets killed for it.”
There was a long pause until, finally, Alys couldn’t take it. “Why are you looking so glum. It’s not like you killed the girl.” She caught Dax’s eye. “You did good. Your chief magistrate will be thrilled. You found the killer. Got your precious justice.”
Dax’s brow remained furrowed and she saw the tension in his clenched jaw. “I didn’t kill her,” he said, his eyes closed tightly, “but maybe I could’ve saved her.”
Alys was quiet, unsure what to say, and unwilling to interrupt him now that he was finally bringing out into the open whatever had been cutting at him all day.
He drew in a long, shuddering breath. “Three months ago, when Kara Ashdown came to me and asked me to look for her sister, I looked. And fairly quickly, everything in Highside was coming up empty. Not just the usual quiet of discretion and secrecy to protect delicate reputations. There was nothing of Lydia up there. And I knew, knew in my gut, that she had gone Lowside.”
He looked at her then, and she saw the pain and shame and disappointment in his eyes, and she remembered the last time he had looked like that. Only this time, those feelings were directed at himself instead of at her.
“I didn’t look,” Dax said. “Not even a single inquiry. I didn’t want to get near Lowside. I couldn’t.” Dax shook his head. “At first, I thought it was because of you. Because I was afraid to see you. Even this morning on the dock, it was all I could think of. Seeing you again. But just now, with Calder… I realized it was really something more.”
Suddenly, it clicked for Alys. “You wanted to believe the fairy tale,” she said softly. “You wanted them to have been in love and run off together and be living somewhere happier ever after.”
Dax’s silence showed that she had hit the target.
“Then you’re just as big an idiot today as you were then.”
“Maybe I am,” Dax muttered before downing the rest of his drink in a quick, savage gulp. “Come on. I’ve got a prisoner to transport, and the sooner I’m out of Lowside the better.”
***
Alys noticed their first tail as soon as they left the Sportsman’s.
He was good. Not great, but not an amateur. Alys picked him up anyway, almost right away. The second one was not nearly as talented. She spotted him even before he committed to moving after them.
Dax had Calder a half step in front of him, but he leaned his head toward her. “We’re being followed.”
“I know.”
“How many?”
As three men stepped out from the corner ahead, Alys sighed. “Enough.”
Three to the front, and three to the back. Not good. Alys recognized the man who led the trio at the front: Festa. A Razor for hire around Lowside and lead dog in a wolf-pack known as the Leather Aprons. Worst of the worst.
Calder caught sight of the men ahead and began whimpering.
“Six of them,” Dax said in a low voice.
“Five and the Razor,” she said, pointing to the big man walking in the lead.
Dax blew out a low breath. “If he gets his power—”
“Then we don’t let him get a chance,” she said, cutting Dax off. “Worry not, darling Dax. I will take care of the big bad Razor.”
The six men closed in. “We were just coming for the boy,” Festa said. “Had no direct mention of you, Alys, nor your friend. But now…” He shrugged.
Alys nodded. “We play the dice as they roll, yeah?”
The Razor slowly advanced across the cobblestones of the street. The men behind them spread out, ensuring there was no way past them.
“Try not to get yourself killed before you pay me, Dax,” Alys said.
Then, without warning, she whipped a blade through the air aimed directly at the face of the Razor and followed immediately by a small sack. With both airborne, Alys charged.
The Razor’s face shifted into a confident smile, and she felt the tell-tale pressure against her chest as the big man touched the strange power that made Razors so formidable. In a blinding flash, he swept his blade from its sheath and deflected her thrown blade. Knocking away the weapon with an almost nonchalant motion, he reversed his blade to block the small sack.
Now, it was Alys’s turn to grin. As Festa struck the bag, it exploded in a cloud of flour, pepper, and ground glass, covering the man’s face. That was the great thing about Razors. They were so used to being so much better than everyone else that they forgot how to cheat.
Immediately, she felt the pressure from the build-up of his power falter and fade as he clutched at his eyes. Closing the distance, Alys struck him across the jaw with the knuckle dusters on her left hand. She felt the jaw shatter under the blow.
Following up the strike, she pounced, her weight bearing him down to the street. He thrashed as they hit the ground, but she had already pulled one of her blades. She thrust it into his side over and over as he spasmed.
Leaving the big Razor on the ground to bleed out, she came up and threw her blood-stained blade into the chest of one of the toughs approaching her, knocking him from his feet.
Dax traded blows with two more of the fighters, swinging his sword and a metal truncheon. He seemed to be holding his own.
From the corner of her eye, Alys saw one of the Leather Aprons coming up behind Dax. She darted over and slipped the garrote around his neck, holding him close as he kicked and struggled. Over his shoulder, she caught sight of one of the men dragging Calder down a side alley as he screamed.
As she let the man’s body fall to the ground, Alys saw Dax standing over the bodies of the two he had engaged with. He was breathing a bit hard, and had a few small cuts across his arms.
Looking around, his eyes grew wild. “Where’s Calder?”
Alys gestured in the direction of the alley. “Gone. Taken.”
“Taken?” Dax said. “Why the hell take him?” He sprinted over to the alley and cursed, leaning against the wall to catch his breath. “Money? Keyburn said there were others that he owed.”
Alys stared down at the body at her feet. “That Razor knew me. He should have known we had the Blacktide’s blessing, yet he was willing to cross me and Harry both, without hesitation.”
“You know who they are?”
“Recognized the Razor at the front. They’re Leather Aprons.” She spat onto one of the bodies at her feet. “Bad people.”
“You know where to find them?”
Alys started walking. “I know where they are and they’re not going to see me coming.”
Act 5
Slaughterhouse Confessional
Dax followed Alys over the Prionside rooftops.
He made an incautious step and the old building’s crumbling stone moved under his foot. Dax lurched forward, dropping to his knees hard and clinging to the roof’s thatch. It was far enough down that he did not want to consider what would happen if he fell from this height.
Alys stood over him, shaking her head. She raised a single finger to her lips.
Dax felt the heat of embarrassment on his cheeks, but worked his way to his feet. Alys was moving on, her steps light and sure as she nimbly made her way across the long roof. Dax followed as best he could.
Lifting himself to peer over the edge, Dax saw a huge corral filled with hogs before a large, run-down stone building. Parts of the furthest wall had crumbled into the river long ago. The sharp wind shifted and the full stench of the hog pens hit him. It was a choking, noxious odor. A reek of shit and fear and blood. He put his forearm over his face to keep from breathing it in.
Alys nodded. “The Leather Aprons are butchers,” she said. “Pig or person, makes not a whit of difference to them. Long as they get to cut.”
Dax took slow breaths through his mouth. “Calder?”
“If they wanted him dead, they would have gutted him back outside the Sportsman’s. The fact that they didn’t means he’s likely alive. So there is that. The other thing we have going for us is that they won’t expect us to come after him.”
She pulled out a small iron hook and wedged it tightly between two large stone pieces, then handed him a piece of leather with copper teeth sewn into it. “Wrap that around your hand, leaving the teeth exposed on the outside. They should be right across the center of your palm. Grip tight to slow yourself.” She pulled out a thin coil of rope, attached one end to the iron hook, and went over the side.
She gracefully made her way down the tall stone face of the building, the thin rope unspooling behind her. Then, she ducked into the shadows across from the Leather Aprons’s slaughterhouse.
Before he could lose more of his nerve, Dax wrapped the leather strap around his right hand and dropped over the edge. The rope slipped against the copper teeth as he plummeted the first few feet, but then he gripped hard and the teeth caught. Smoke from the friction seemed to rise from his palm as he descended, but it slowed him enough so he hit the ground with barely more than a slap of his boots on the causeway. He slipped into the hiding place beside Alys.
Her eyes were focused on the entrance to the slaughterhouse, but she held out her hand to him. For a brief moment, Dax almost took it with his own, but then he remembered the leather strap and passed that back to her.
“Still no movement over there. Usually there’s be a few coming and going,” she whispered.
“What is your plan?”
Alys bit her lip and pointed to the crumbling part of the building where the river lapped against the wreckage. “There. We go in that way, and we should be fairly blocked from sight until we’re actually inside.”
Slowly, they made their way down to the water’s edge and Alys motioned him into the cold, murky water. As Dax slipped in and followed her along the docks, he did his best to keep his face above the waterline. The thought of the oily, brackish, black water going into his mouth kept his lips sealed tight.
Despite his discomfort, they crossed the remaining distance quickly, scrambling over the stones into the ramshackle rear of the building. The smell of the hogs was almost overpowering now, and yet above that, the unmistakable iron tang of blood filled the air.
He followed Alys cautiously, careful to place his feet exactly where she stepped as they made their way over rubble and into the building.
Alys froze.
Dax stopped where he was. The sound of his breathing seemed as loud as a shout, but over it he heard what caused Alys to stop: voices.
“I told you! I told you you’se cuttin too deep. Now he done nodded out again. What if we can’t wake him up again? You wanna tell Lord Razorback we found him, but he ain’t talkin no more?”
A second voice responded. It was full of bravado, but Dax caught the edge of uncertain fear. “Inkman ain’t dead. Not yet, no way. Besides, we agreed. We find his rich twist before the rest of the skins, and we got it made. We bring her to Lord Razorback, we top cutters. Especially now that Festa is dirted.”
In the shadows, Alys frowned. He responded in kind.
Suddenly, he heard one of the voices curse, and Dax tensed. His hand dropped to his blade, sure that they had been discovered, but Alys held a hand up, urging him to remain still.
“Shit! It’s Gobber’s pack. Back early and empty-handed, lazy sots,” the first voice said urgently.
“Run out and meet him. Talk ‘em and stall ‘em like. I’ll wake the inkman and get what we need before them others see what we got.”
“Don’t you kill him!”
“Tsh. If he tells me where the twist is, then we don’t needs him no more. Now move!”
There was a sound of hurried footsteps from ahead of them, but Dax could not see anything to match with the sound. Alys slowly pulled out the garrote from within her sleeve and stretched it between her hands. “Wait here,” she mouthed silently as she headed into the building’s main area.
The moments passed like hours as Dax waited, his ears straining. He heard a slight shuffling noise, like boots sliding on the floor, then a soft thud. He held his breath.
“Dax!” he heard her whisper. “Get out here, now.”
Dax broke from his hiding place and moved around the blind corridors. All around, the bodies of slaughtered hogs hung from iron hooks, dressed and open. The white of ribs shone against the bloody red of flesh.
In the center of the large room, tied fast to a chair, was Calder. Pooled around the young man’s chair was a bright red puddle of blood.
Alys shook her head. “He is barely here. There is no way we can get him out of here. Just trying to lift him out of that chair and pieces of him are going to start falling off. Whatever you need from him, I suggest you get it now.”
Dax frowned as he moved over to Calder. Kneeling in the sticky puddle of blood, he gently tried to rouse the young man. Blood covered Calder’s face, and the dark red on the side of his head marked where his right ear had once been. His shirt was torn open, and his chest was streaked with blood. As Dax shook him, Calder’s eyes began to flutter. Then, he came awake and began screaming.
Trying to quiet him, Dax held onto Calder’s wrist, but the young man was hurt badly and his eyes rolled white with shock and fear. Before Dax could calm him, he heard a commotion toward the entrance.
Alys’s voice cracked out to him, “On your feet, Dax.” She wasn’t whispering, and there was a sharp edge to her words that got his attention immediately. At the far end of the building, coming through the main entrance, were five rough-looking Leather Aprons.
“What the hell is this shit?” one of them said.
Alys reached behind her back and pulled the long scythe from its holder. She rapped the butt of the staff onto the ground and the long curving blade snapped into position with a menacing thrum. “This is doing things the hard way,” she said, hoisting the scythe in her hands. “You with me, Inspector?”
Dax stood up from the puddle of Calder’s blood and drew his long blade with a rasping sound of steel against leather. “Always,” Dax said.
He charged forward, but Alys was already in motion, crossing the distance to the Leather Aprons in quick, darting steps. She reared back with the scythe as she ran and brought it around in a whistling arc. One of the toughs jumped back to avoid the huge curving blade, but another was not so lucky.
He took the full force of the blow and it almost cut him in two. Even as she hit, Alys pulled a dagger and threw it into the face of the man she had missed.
Dax caught one of the men as he brought his sword up to defend himself. Dax allowed his blade to strike against the Leather Apron’s sword, but then kept charging forward, lowering his shoulder and sending him reeling. Dax took a step forward and kicked the man in the jaw. He felt bones give way under the blow.
The remaining two Leather Aprons turned and ran out the front entrance, scrambling in a frantic panic until they were gone from sight and Dax and Alys were alone with nothing but corpses.
“They’re going to get reinforcements,” Alys said, breathing hard.
As she spoke, Dax returned to the bloodied Calder. “Easy, boy,” Dax said. “We’re not going to let them hurt you anymore.”
Calder’s eyes flew open, wide with panic. He thrashed for a moment, but Dax felt how weak the man was. Alys was right; he wasn’t going to make it out.
“Magistrate. You—you came for me?” the young man managed to stammer. His eyes grew wide and he gripped Dax’s coat. “Lydia!” Calder gasped. “I love her. She deserves better. Better than me. Didn’t tell them anything.” Calder’s eyes rolled wildly in his head as he began to fade once more.
Something clawed at Dax’s awareness. He shook the dying boy, trying to get him to focus one last time. “What, Calder? What didn’t you tell them?”
“Lydia’s alive. You have to tell her. Tell her about me. Tell her I loved her.” Blood welled up in from Calder’s mouth and he choked on it. His eyes grew dimmer. “Better off without me,” he whispered, and then the light went out in his eyes and Calder was gone.
“Lydia’s alive? Calder?” Dax said, shaking the body. “Calder.”
“He’s gone,” Alys said.
“Damn it,” Dax said, sitting back. “He said Lydia’s alive. But how? Where?”
Alys knelt in front of Calder’s still form and pulled open his shirt. With the palm of her hand, she wiped away blood to expose a tattoo over his heart.
A tattoo in the shape of a sparrow.
Best Left in the Shadows Page 4