Black Cross

by J. P. Ashman

  ‘That one of the murdered ones?’ Starks asked, whilst half looking at, half looking away from the wrapped corpse.

  ‘No, no,’ the second undertaker said, ‘those stains are from burst boils while she’s been in transit.’

  Starks turned round and threw up. The undertakers shook their heads and laughed before heading off to the cargo lift to take the body up to the tower’s trade entrance.

  Fal turned and placed a hand on the young crossbowman’s shoulder.

  ‘You alright, lad?’

  ‘Ye… yeah, sorry Sarge, don’t know what came over me.’

  I do, Fal thought. ‘First sighting of a body, I’m guessing? Doesn’t matter that it’s wrapped up either, it’s the smell, and that one hasn’t even been dead that long.’

  ‘No Sarge, I’ve seen bodies before, just never a woman. Makes me think of my kid sister is all, scared me more than normal. Don’t matter where you live at the moment does it? Murders and sickness all over Wesson, all stemming from that weird storm. All sorts of stories flying around at the moment about ghosts and such.’ Starks wiped his mouth on his sleeve above his boiled leather vambrace, and headed back off to the tower’s lift to escort the undertakers up and into Tyndurris.

  Yeah, all since the night of the storm… Shaking his head back to the present, Fal turned and followed Starks to the lift, thinking all the way about the night he’d told himself to forget.

  ***

  Biviano stared across at the gently swaying masts of the carrack moored up in front of him and his companion. He scanned from fore- to aft-castle and saw no one, nor anyone on the jetty. Sessio seemed abandoned.

  Hah, not likely. Biviano turned to Sears. ‘Well, that’s that ain’t it, big guy? No one here, might as well leave it at that,’ he said, whilst scratching under his kettle-helm with one hand and down the front of his braes with the other.

  ‘Cut it out will ye,’ Sears said, ‘and stop trying to skive off working. We ain’t even been aboard her yet.’

  ‘Go on then, I’ll wait here, guard the ramp, ye see.’

  Sears shoved his smaller companion onto the ramp with a growl.

  ‘Request understood, on I go then,’ Biviano said, before spitting at his feet.

  ‘Not on this ship, shit for brains!’ someone shouted from Sessio’s main deck.

  Try saying that fast when pissed, Biviano thought as he hopped back off the ramp. ‘My apologies, captain, need words with ye is all,’ he shouted, once firmly on the wooden jetty.

  ‘I ain’t the cap’n and I ain’t talking to no law about nothing, so on yer way,’ the voice said again, still no person visible.

  ‘See Sears, not gonna get anywhere here, so off we go.’

  Sears grabbed Biviano by his maille mantle and held him firm.

  ‘Well where’s yer captain then, sailor?’ the large guardsman shouted, Biviano still tight in his grip. ‘We needs words with him. Didn’t say nothing about him being in trouble with the magistrates, just need to know about an agent sailed on yer ship is all. A Master Joinson we believe him to have been called, according to the Merchant Guild.’

  A middle-aged sailor with a pock marked face popped up from behind the bulwark of the main deck. ‘The cap’n ain’t available for talking, so best be off.’

  ‘Then maybe we can talk with you?’ Sears’ voice took on a serious tone and Biviano groaned audibly, before receiving a short but vigorous shake from Sears.

  The sailor laughed and disappeared again behind the bulwark.

  ‘That went well,’ Biviano said, pulling his feet up and hanging from his companion’s grip.

  Straining with the weight, Sears dropped the smaller man – who grunted upon hitting the wooden jetty – and strode onto the gangplank, Biviano suddenly scrambling to his feet and following close behind.

  The grisly sailor popped up again, a grin splitting his face. ‘Got balls ain’t ye?’

  ‘Aye,’ Sears said, upon reaching the main deck and turning to face the lone sailor, Biviano at his back, ‘and you won’t have if ye don’t answer me damned questions, now!’

  The sailor laughed again before whistling through the gap in his teeth.

  ‘Err… Sears,’ Biviano said, pulling on his partner’s maille sleeve.

  ‘I see ’em,’ Sears said, as half a dozen sailors emerged from the open hatch in the centre of the main deck. ‘All we wanna know is who Master Joinson were working for when aboard this ship?’ Sears voiced the question whilst looking around at the crew who were slowly surrounding him and Biviano.

  ‘We don’t give out info ye see, so there ain’t no point this going no further is there, Master Sears?’ the pock-marked sailor said.

  ‘Listen,’ Biviano said in a pleading voice, a scratching hand under his kettle-helm once more, ‘the agent were murdered, so we just wanna find out the name of his employer, to work out who done it. Clearly weren’t you, so we’ll be off as soon as ye tell us, no problems at all.’

  ‘Unless they did do it,’ Sears said, still looking around, ‘then we’ll have to take ’em in and hand ’em over to the magistrates after all.’

  ʼMorl’s balls, Sears, shut yer face afore we’re fish food.

  ‘Ha… ye got guts, Master Sears, I’ll give ye that,’ the sailor said, ‘but it ain’t enough. We ain’t giving names and that’s that. I’ll give ye a count of three to leave the deck, or ye’re going over it in that heavy chain armour ye’re wearing!’

  A lean, muscular sailor, his tanned skin tattooed with black spirals reaching from his waist to his neck, stepped up to Sears as if to show him the way off the ship.

  The sailor’s nose crunched as the large guardsman’s knuckles spread it across his tanned face. Several sailors’ eyes widened briefly as the bearded man struck their shipmate, and the first mate, who’d been addressing the duo, let out an appreciative whistle as his sailor hit the deck hard. Before Sears could react further, the first mate nodded slightly before stepping back. The rest of the sailors launched themselves at the two guardsmen.

  Swiftly pulling free a wooden cudgel, Biviano ducked low, narrowly avoiding an incoming fist, before swinging the cudgel which connected with his attacker’s closest knee. The man went down hard and Biviano wasted no time in leaping over the downed figure to thrust the cudgel at the next sailor’s groin, who managed to spin to the side to avoid the contact. Biviano dived right, barely missing Sears who wrestled two sailors.

  The tattooed and bloody-faced sailor who’d made the first move now climbed to his feet, ready to jump in.

  Rolling once before coming to his feet, Biviano fended off two bare footed kicks from a female – or so he thought, but there wasn’t much difference in appearance to any of the other sailors so he couldn’t be sure – before striking her with a sideways blow to the head, which sent her down hard and cold.

  Turning swiftly to take in the scene behind him, Biviano saw Sears throw clear one of the sailors, physically lifting the man and launching him at the first mate, who seemed to be watching the fight with an amused look on his marked face. The tattooed sailor started pounding on Sears’ side with both fists, whilst Sears threw the other over the bulwark where he clearly hit the water after a loud splash.

  Launching himself towards the first mate with a howl, Biviano passed a toppling tattooed sailor as Sears kneed him in the groin. As the smaller guardsman reached the first mate, his cudgel held up high, the gleaming blade of a cutlass appeared in front of him, stopping dangerously close to his face.

  Teetering on the edge of an unbalanced foot, Biviano chose to fall backwards as he halted, rather than onto the deadly point in front of him, a point which followed him down and hovered in front of his left eye. He followed the length of the blade up to an ornate basket hilt, then further up a burgundy velvet dressed arm to the face of a well-groomed man, quite the opposite to any of the sailors on board so far.

  ‘Enough,’ the man said, his commanding voice carrying across the main deck with ease.

 
Biviano heard the renewed fighting behind him stop as the words left his mouth. ‘I don’t see I have a choice… Captain Mannino,’ Biviano said, the sword point still his main focus.

  The captain smiled, before handing his cutlass to his first mate and reaching down to haul Biviano to his feet.

  ‘Err… thanks,’ the wiry guardsman said, clearly confused.

  ‘Impressive performance, gentlemen,’ Captain Mannino said, flashing his smile again at both Biviano and Sears. ‘Would you both care to join me in my quarters and I’ll see if I can be of any assistance to your investigation?’

  The two guardsmen looked at each other, frowning, before Sears grunted and nodded, and so they both, warily, followed the richly dressed captain to a door at the base of Sessio’s aft-castle, before following him through into the dark passageway beyond.

  Chapter 9: Trust

  ‘Take a seat, gentlemen,’ Captain Mannino said, as he took three crystal tumblers from a large cabinet.

  ‘We’ll stand if it’s all the same, captain, and no drink neither, we’re on duty,’ Sears said, his eyes never leaving the first mate, who stood to the captain’s right hand side.

  Biviano licked his dry lips and nudged his large companion in annoyance.

  ‘As you wish, gentlemen, but I will, if you don’t mind?’

  ‘Not at all captain, this is yer ship, after all,’ Sears said.

  ‘Aye, she is,’ the first mate said, with a wink at the two guardsmen. Biviano bristled, but Sears placed a painfully strong hand on his partner’s shoulder and the smaller man winced, but said nothing.

  The finely dressed captain took a seat behind his desk before taking a quick sip of brandy. A pause in the cabin and Biviano, if no one else, felt more than a little awkward, so he decided to speak.

  ‘We have questions and want answers, so don’t be making this hard for yerself, alright, Mannino? We knows yer reputation!’

  Sears rolled his eyes and moved his hands to his weapons in anticipation of whatever Biviano’s words might bring, especially when the first mate’s leering grin faltered.

  ‘Of course, gentlemen,’ the captain said, taking another sip of brandy.

  ‘Well,’ Biviano said, ‘that were easy.’

  ‘Will ye shut yer pock-marked face for two seconds and let me do the talking, gods below!’

  ‘Alright, alright, calm down big guy, they’re all yours. I’ll take that seat after all, captain, cheers,’ Biviano said. He slid out the nearest chair and dropped down onto it, one hand firmly wedged under his kettle-helm, fingers digging away at his scalp.

  ‘By all means, now, what questions do you have for me? I’ll answer what I can as fast as I can. I’m sure you’re both busy men and I’d hate to keep you longer than needs be.’

  Sears bowed his head slightly. ‘Thank ye captain, most kind of ye. Our questioning relates to a murder we’re investigating.’

  ‘Wasn’t us none, no sirs,’ the first mate said, whilst packing tobacco into a short, ivory pipe.

  ‘I’m sure that’s not what the gentlemen are implying, are you?’ Captain Mannino said, the slightest hint of annoyance crossing his relaxed features.

  ‘No captain,’ Sears said, ‘we just needs to know about Master Joinson, who we believe travelled on yer ship recently?’

  The captain’s eyes widened and he put down the brandy, before leaning forward, both arms resting on his desk. ‘Master Joinson is the victim?’

  ‘How’d ye know that then, eh?’ Biviano asked, before continuing, ‘Never mind, we mentioned that didn’t we? I remember now. Carry on.’

  ‘Dick,’ Sears said to his partner, before looking back to the captain. ‘Yes, captain, he’s the one alright, or so we’ve been informed, however, we ain’t for knowing who he were working for ye see? His guild won’t give much information out.’

  ‘And ye think the cap’n will help wi’ that do ye?’ the first mate said, chewing on his unlit pipe all the while.

  ‘Yes they do and yes I will,’ Mannino said, much to everyone’s surprise, especially the first mate’s, who’s pipe almost fell from his sagging bottom lip.

  ‘That’d be appreciated, captain,’ Sears said. ‘Then we can be on our way ye see and leave ye to yer business.’

  ‘Well, first of all gentlemen, let me say how sorry I am to hear of Master Joinson’s demise. He was a quiet but polite fellow and I wish you all the luck in catching his killer, or killers, but all I know really is who he worked for. As for cargo, it’s not our place to ask, so we don’t, and so I can’t elaborate, alas!’

  Really, Sears thought. Then why’d yer first mate just glance sidelong at ye when ye said the latter?

  ‘If you would be so kind as to enlighten us as to the employer’s name and, perchance, abode then Captain Mannino?’ Biviano said, who for some reason and unknown ability, had suddenly switched to a well-spoken, higher district accent.

  The room fell silent and when Biviano looked up from picking at the hobnails on the sole of his left boot, he realised everyone looked at him. ‘What?’

  Shaking his head and muttering something under his breath, Sears continued. ‘I stand by me partner’s question, captain, if ye would?’

  ‘Of course,’ Mannino said, brows furrowed and eyes still locked on Biviano, who'd resumed his sole picking. ‘I wouldn’t normally, you understand, but since it is for a murder investigation…’ He opened a worn ledger his first mate had reluctantly passed to him, and flicked to the last entry, crossed through in parts and blacked out all together in others. ‘Ah yes, Master Peneur Ineson—’

  ‘The importer?’ Sears cut in.

  Mannino nodded. ‘The very same! He employed Master Joinson for the journey, who in turn employed us on Master Ineson’s request and behalf.’

  Sears and Biviano looked to one another, before Biviano spoke.

  ‘He just got some big gaff didn’t he, right near the scene of the murder?’

  ‘Aye, that he did,’ Sears said, and he turned back to the captain and bowed low. ‘Captain Mannino, ye been of great service to both us and the city of Wesson. I thank you sir.’

  Mannino flipped the ledger shut, swiftly finished his brandy and stood, as did Biviano. ‘Thank you, gentlemen, for allowing me to help with your enquiries and for helping in our crew recruitment process.’ The captain smiled and his first mate grinned and winked at the two guardsmen following his captain’s comment.

  Sears looked at a loss, but Biviano grinned knowingly in return, before bowing himself, albeit clumsily. ‘Aye, they didn’t quite cut the mark, eh?

  ‘Right then big guy, off we go to that swanky gaff to do us some more detectivin’ stuff.’

  ‘Aye,’ Sears said, rolling his eyes at Biviano, ‘right ye are. Thanks again, captain. We’ll see ourselves off the ship.’

  ‘Take care lads, now off ye tot,’ the first mate said, throwing a wink and a twist of the head their way.

  ‘Keep us informed, gentlemen,’ Mannino said, as the two guardsmen left the room.

  ‘Will do, captain,’ came Sears’ reply from just outside the doorway, and then the guardsmen were gone.

  Mannino sat back down and leaned back in his chair, looking across at his first mate, who'd now lit his pipe and moved across to the door to ensure the guardsmen really had gone.

  ‘Did ye know he were dead, cap’n?’

  ‘No I did not. Now have those two followed from now until I say otherwise. I want to know what in the depths is going on. Especially after the cargo Peneur Ineson had us bring up here.’

  ‘Aye cap’n,’ the first mate replied. He disappeared out onto the deck.

  So, Master Joinson is dead; murdered, poor bastard. I liked him too. Never a bad word for anyone, not many like that around. Killed in the place he spent the whole damned journey wanting to get back to as well. The fool felt safer in Wesson than on our ship. He’d have been better staying aboard.

  He wasn’t right on the way back though. Something had him spooked, something he’d bough
t for Peneur Ineson and now he winds up dead. I don’t like it, not one bit… especially if whatever shite Ineson has got himself into winds up back here…

  Mannino laughed.

  Already has! Those two guardsmen… not as dumb as they make out, especially the smaller one, and the switch in accent? Dropping an act? No… didn’t seem like that. Taking the piss out of me? Possibly, but it didn’t feel like that either and again, I don’t think he’s that stupid. Something strange with them two though, but damn me I like them. I just hope they’re good enough not to wind up dead themselves with whatever the hell is going on. Damn your soul Peneur Ineson, you old fool, and damn whatever was in that blasted cargo!

  ***

  Fal collapsed onto his bed and fell asleep fully clothed. After a long shift of escorting undertakers carrying bodies in and out of Tyndurris, Fal had promised himself a good night’s sleep as soon as he reached home. He would wake a couple of hours later to undress, wash and eat, but now he wanted to clear his mind of speculations and worries, and to grab a couple of hours shut-eye.

  Three loud knocks on Fal’s front door startled him after just nodding off.

  What now?

  He rolled out of bed and to his feet in one fluid motion, before reluctantly walking through to his sitting room and across to the front door.

  Peering through the slightly distorted glass spy hole he’d had installed in the door, Fal could make out two tall figures on the other side.

  ‘Who goes there?’ He took extra care of late, due to the increased murders all over the city.

  ‘It’s me mate, let me in, I brought someone to meet you.’

  Fal recognised Sav’s voice immediately, unlocked the door and opened it to let Sav and his companion in. Both men entered the room. Sav found a comfy chair and took a seat while the second, hooded man, stood by the unlit fireplace. Fal closed the door and moved about the room lighting oil lamps and candles. The freshly lit room enabled Fal to take a good look at Sav’s companion. As he did so, the man took down his hood revealing long, fair hair and slender porcelain features. Fal didn’t need to see the man’s ears to realise he was an elf.