by JM Guillen
Latigo took a copper tin from a breast pocket and pulled out some spicy, aromatic snuff. I recognized the blue label.
“That ol’ Doc Thane’s?” I smiled at the man. I knew that the Doc had practically been a member of the guild when he was alive. His products were popular with the Red Hands, and probably would be until they were all gone. A few years back, the Doc had come to Santiago for some assistance, and the Red Marquis had come through. Soon, Thane’s competitors seemed to dwindle, the lucky ones moving their business elsewhere. He became the largest distributor of snuff and potives in the Warrens, and the two had become fast friends.
One might say Santiago had a primary interest in the man’s business.
His shop had burned down, just within the past few days, and Thane had not survived. It seemed, however, that some of his product was still in circulation.
Latigo took a shot of it in his nose, wincing as his chocolate eyes watered. “It’s just the thing to settle my humours.” His voice was like gravel on steel. “I need to be straight when the judicar comes a’calling.”
I fixed Latigo with a stare and stood straight. “Just here on business. I’m sure Santiago will want to speak with me.”
Latigo laughed. “Yes. Senír Il Ladren loves speaking with judicars.” He spat on the old oak floor and opened the door. The entire time he kept an eye on my hands and the stave that hung at my side.
I couldn’t help but look at his hands. They were massive with tendon like iron cords. Latigo could have cracked nuts with them. He easily could have wrapped one halfway around my throat.
I said nothing. Latigo escorted Grith and I down a side set of stairs to a large double door. The scent of wood oil grew stronger, almost cloying. The door was thick, black wood with brass handles. Behind it, I could hear the faintest tune being plucked out on a guitte.
Yes. This would be Santiago.
“The Senĩr is quite busy, Judicar. Important matters.” Grith gave me that predatory grin again. “Are you certain you won’t come back another time?” He shot Latigo a glance as the large man chuckled.
I said nothing, simply fixing my grey eyes in the sternest glare I could give. Scoundrel stretched her wings.
He guffawed. “No harm in asking, now is there?” Grith opened the door.
In that moment, I lost any faint hope I might have had that Santiago didn’t know I was in the Scarlet Cellar.
No. Of course Santiago knew everything that happened in his own alehouse. He had probably arranged every person I had met, every sight I had seen. Tainted night, the man had probably made certain I had seen half-naked women with their bed-partners—just to see if I’d react.
Trickling from the room was a tune that every child in the city had learned while still young enough to be playing throw-stones in the street. Accompanying it was a soft male tenor. Santiago’s Esperan accent softly curled the edges of the words, making them smooth, poetic.
In a lost darkened alley,
when the ocean wind sings,
the judicar watches
to see what night brings.
The woman who loves him
will wait up in the night,
her heart ever praying
that he’ll come back when it’s light.
For the Blackbird is hunting,
he’s always away.
He can’t make her his,
his oaths he’ll obey,
Yet her heart will still ache,
as she sits all alone,
and ever she’ll wish
that she could be his home.
Blackbird’s Oath. It was a truly mournful song. At the end of the song, the judicar died a painful and mysterious death.
I had no doubt that the mysterious death was Santiago’s message.
I cleared my throat. “That one has a bad ending, if I remember.” Santiago looked up from his guitte, absentmindedly strumming as a smile spread across his handsome face. He gave a casual shrug as he spoke.
“That depends on the side you are looking from, I am thinking.” He set the guitte aside and pulled his feet from the top of the desk. He gave me a friendly smile, but something lurked behind it; something sharp hidden in his eyes. “Do come in, Tomás.”
I stepped into the room. It did not lack for comfort. Santiago sat behind a large mahogany desk where his cedarwood guitte was leaning. Several large candles illuminated the room and the large plush chairs for guests. An aromatic cinnamon and myrrh incense wafted in the air.
“That’s quite the toy.” I nodded behind him at the wall. Santiago looked up at it and smiled.
“She is genuine, Tomás. A true relic from the once days, yes?”
Hanging on the wall behind him was an actual pistol. It was a three-shot of Kabian make. The thing was iron and ancient wood, with a flared end to the muzzle.
It must have been five hundred years old.
“I’d wager that each shot from your relic would use enough firepowder to cost two days of my time.”
He gave that cat’s grin again. “If this is so, then the city is paying her judicars more than I’d guessed.” A smile danced around the corners of his mouth.
A woman stood at either side of the room, each with sharp and wary eyes. They wore dark leathers and had their hair tied high. Each had a long, slender blade at her hip. Each was a study in readiness.
Students of the an-Noem. I knew it from the shape of their graceful swords and the Ghalan script tattoos winding around their arms. These women were deadly practitioners of a martial art that was older than our city. Each tattoo was the mark of a year in training.
They held cool, glittering eyes on me. Beneath their gaze, I felt like a mouse. Despite my combat training, just one of these women could cripple me without breaking a sweat.
But of course they weren’t mere women. They were Santiago’s weapons.
I nodded at the lean man. “I was hoping we could have a moment to speak.”
Santiago looked at me, his fingers touching gently together in a steeple. He was all smile and grace. “Have a seat, Tomás. I give you one moment.” He grinned.
I remained standing. “I’m here in my official capacity, Santiago. I’ll have to be Tomás another time.”
“If I were in my official capacity as well, I would be Senĩr Il Ladren, not Santiago.” He chuckled. “Come now. Are things as serious as this?”
I gave him a grim nod. “They are.”
His eyes flickered. “Of course, Judicar.” His tone was smooth, eloquent. “I would be pleased if you had a seat with me, and we can discuss business.”
I nodded and sank into one of the plush seats, setting my stave to my side. Behind me, I heard Grith quietly close the door. Scoundrel hopped down to my leg and peered about. I pulled one of her training rings from my belt, giving her something to play with.
The two women watched me, watched Scoundrel. They certainly knew that with little more than a flick of the wrist, I could have my good girl shredding Santiago’s face.
They were wary.
“How can I help you tonight, Judicar?”
I peered at him a long moment, not certain what to say. I had hoped for a more private meeting than this. Santiago looked back at me, smiling. His cunning eyes glittered in the flickering light.
“It’s sensitive business. Are you certain we are free to speak of private matters just now?” I glanced at one of the women.
Santiago laughed. “Judicar, please. These ladies are my hands, my eyes and ears. They have heard things more delicate than you bring me, I think.”
I cut to it. “I have heard that you have a problem, Santiago.”
He gave that shrug again. His smile was like steel. “All men have problems. We are shaped by problems in this life.”
My head was pounding. Wisps of nausea still trickled through me.
“Where did she go?” His voice is a rising panic.
I cleared my throat. “Yes. But I have heard you have a problem that actually troubles you. A
problem with a woman who cannot be found.”
The smile faded from his face. There was a long moment of thunderous, deafening silence.
He was angry. Fury boiled in his eyes, in the clenching of one hand. But when he spoke his words were soft, almost pleasant.
“How are you hearing of such things, Thom?” He leaned back. “A man who knows of this business must have ears in every darkened corner of the street, hmm?” He reached for his guitte and lazily strummed a chord. It was still Blackbird’s Oath, a not-so subtle threat. Santiago’s eyes were steel as he tried to focus on the guitte’s eight strings.
“The Offices of the Just—”
He cut me off. “The Offices of the Just must have eyes everywhere to know about this, Tomás.” His eyes smoldered with rage, and his voice was tight. “I have been extremely quiet. A man might begin to wonder who in his guild is betraying him, if secrets like that are out on the wind. When people keep secrets from Santiago, things get… bad.”
The serum was still roiling in my mind.
A Fox. A Sword. A Spider. A Golden Coin. One by one, the mysterious man snatches them up, right in front of the king’s face. Yet, the king does not see him.
I didn’t know any of Santiago’s secrets. All I had were the whispers from the serum, murmuring secrets in my deep mind.
That was something I could never admit.
None of Teredon’s citizenry knew of the judicar’s serum or of the hazy visions that often guided us. It was an alchemical secret more than three hundred years old, and one of the greatest weapons that we judicars had.
But even without any of his secrets, I was getting the shape of things. My Jack had taken from Santiago. Had taken a woman and—
A Fox. A Sword. A Spider. A Golden Coin. One by one, the mysterious man snatches them up, right in front of the king’s face. Yet, the king does not see him.
“Are other missing folk among your secrets, Santiago? Are you missing more than just the woman?”
He stopped playing and fixed me with a gaze of stone. “You think you going to step in now, after she’s gone, and tell me how to find my sister? The judicar is going to come here and tell me how to run things, hmm?” His tone was low, shadowed.
So that’s who the woman was.
He twanged a string, and the chord fell apart. His anger was a quiet storm, a trembling fury held in check only by a thread of will. I had no idea how I had so infuriated him so quickly, but this was not what I wanted. I had to make a play and quickly.
He is a dangerous man.
I laughed in his face.
It was just a quick bark of a laugh, nothing mocking or scornful. It was a laugh of surprise.
I knew I would have a moment, just a nonce. Santiago gaped at me, incredulous that I would laugh at his rage. I waved my hands in front of myself, a gesture of negation.
“Do you think I’m a fool?” I leaned in. “The Offices couldn’t pay me enough slips to walk in here, bold as brass, and tell you how to run the Hand. You are Santiago Il Ladren.” My voice was little more than a whisper, but it cut. “You are not to be taken lightly. Men who take you lightly come to a certain kind of end.” I subtly flashed Scoundrel two small, rapid hand gestures.
Mimic. Bad.
“Bad.” My good girl piped up, just as trained. “Bad. Bad. Bad.”
His anger cooled just a touch, and he almost smiled at my girl. However, he was not mollified.
“How is it then, Judicar, that you know business that is not yours, unless you have little mice in my house?”
That was always the question.
I could never admit the existence of the judicars’ alchemical serum. Therefore, I had to be agile with excuses, especially when asked how I came by certain “unknowable” knowledge.
I shook my head. “You’ve got it all wrong, Senĩr. I only know what I hear whispered in the streets.” I leaned forward. “I was actually after a completely different rat. While I was investigating another matter, I heard of your situation.” I gave him a sly smile. “I think our interests cross. I’m here to help you.”
He still wasn’t quite convinced. “How is a judicar going to help with Red Hand business, hmm? How are you going to do what we cannot?” He cracked his knuckles. “Most important, Judicar, why?”
I shrugged. It was a casual thing, a shrug that told Santiago that it wasn’t a question that mattered. “I don’t know how, Santiago.” I shook my head, rolling my eyes just a touch. “Let me tell you what I do know.”
“This I must hear.” He looked skeptical.
I leaned forward, unfolding my hands. I held up one finger.
This part was a gamble.
“The Red Marquis, a man who is in charge of one of the most powerful guilds in the Warrens, loses his sister. She is simply gone, from beneath his nose.” I stopped, tilting my head toward him. A long moment of silence hung heavy in the air.
Santiago sighed. He gave me a small nod.
I held up a second finger. “He has lost more than just her.” When he didn’t deny it, I went on. “I suspect that he sent out men, but they vanished as well.”
A Fox. A Sword. A Spider. A Golden Coin.
“Good men, men I trusted.” Anger coiled tightly in his voice. “Men who knew what was at stake.”
I leaned even closer, my voice conspiratorial. I held out a third finger. “If she isn’t found, and soon, this man is likely to tear apart my borough to find her. The Red Marquis is a powerful man. Many, many people may die.”
I felt his anger, his fury. It was like a wash of heat. “If I don’t find her, people will die.” His voice was twisted and fierce. “That’s the way of it, Judicar.”
“Innocent people?” My tone was quiet, calming.
“You think I can let some other guildmaster or some street thugs thumb their nose at me? You think I can afford to let something like this slide?” His fury was palpable, like a living thing. “I will not be mocked, Judicar. I will not.”
“No. You won’t.” I kept my face unreadable. “I know you won’t, Santiago. I know you can’t sit on your hands about this. That’s why I came. That’s why I’m going to handle this.”
He paused then, looking at me with incredulity. I had thrown him off his stride, and his anger seemed to skip a step. He looked at one of the ladies guarding him. “That’s why the judicar came?” He shook his head, chuckling. It was an ugly, rueful thing.
I simply sat, saying nothing. Scoundrel preened and ruffled her feathers.
“Tell me then, Judicar.”
I took a deep breath. “I have a proposal. It’s not a writ from the Offices or a judicar casting judgment. It is a simple proposal, and if you don’t care for it, I’ll leave.”
He nodded, intrigued. “Go on.”
“Of course, if I leave, I leave knowing everything I know. Nothing changes, except that a judicar knows that you have cause to murder citizenry.”
He scowled, shaking his head. “Threats, Tomás?”
“I would be a fool to threaten you. Have you ever known me to be a fool?” I kept my voice as even as I could and held his gaze. “I don’t want you tearing through my borough to find your sister. It seems like someone is having a poke at you. I don’t want this to be something that spills into the streets, something that costs lives.”
“It may have already cost lives. If she is hurt—”
I leaned toward him. “Let me handle it. Tell me what you know, what you’ve found out. I can go places you can’t, and I have access to resources that you don’t.”
My head throbbed.
I shrug. “I have nothing.” I lay down a Stave.
I blinked, trying to keep my focus. “Give me one week. Share what you have with me. If I can’t bring back your sister, then do as you will. If I succeed, you both get your sister back and get to claim you worked with the law. I get to know that a guild war didn’t begin here.”
He looked at me, thoughtfully and long. The silence was thick in the room.
“A week is too long. What if I do this thing, and she dies, hmm? What then?”
I took a breath, remaining as casual as I could. “Then it will not be you who has failed. It will have been me. You can still try to take your justice from whoever did this, but unless you are quite close to finding her, a few days might not matter.”
He sighed. For the first time, he looked truly weary.
“Fine. Three days it is. Sundering. I will even give you until sixth bell, Eventide. I am a kind man.” His smile grew thin. “But Tomás, I had better never find that you spoke crooked here.” He raised his hands, palms out. “Don’t get me wrong. I respect a man who can make his tongue dance. But if I find that you have mice in my house, and that this is all some large game…” His voice trailed off. His eyes were steel and fire.
“Then we have a problem.” I nodded. “I understood before I walked through your door, Santiago.”
He is a dangerous man.
“Yes.” He gave me a long look. “You are right, Tomás. I have never known you to be a fool. Let us make certain this does not change. Yes?”
I nodded. “I understand, Senír. I’ll do my best.”
“You’ll do that and more.” He was stern. I could see the wheels spinning in his mind. “If I let you handle this, it will not be some judicar’s best, working for the Red Hand.” He gave me a shrewd look. “I want the best of Tomás Havenkin. I don’t want the word of the judicar, I want the word of the man.”
I nodded. Esperan men leaned heavily upon concepts of honor and the weight of a man’s word.
“Let’s bring her home, Santiago.”
He knocked on his desk and leaned forward.
“Yes.” He glanced at one of his guards and then back to me. “But I say nothing publicly. Not until you have your three days. I won’t claim to back you, just to watch you fail.”
I put my hand out. “Understood, Senír.”
He took my hand and shook it.