by JM Guillen
It was all the time that the second man needed.
He turned and ran.
I heard my small study’s window shatter open.
The big man on my floor made a loud grunt as my sweet doe kicked him in the side. His grip on my ankle slackened. I realized she had caught him on the same side I had struck with my stave and grinned. I pulled my foot loose and scrambled up.
These were desperate men who could not afford to be caught. These were men who had been sent by someone who was dangerous.
Failure was just as frightening to them as the hand of the law.
The man tried to push himself up again. I shook my head.
“You are hereby detained.” I gave the side of his head my boot, and the man slumped down.
“Thom.” My sweetling looked at me, her eyes wide. She was trembling. “These men—”
“Have been dealt with,” I stated firmly.
My mind was still swimming, more than a little from the drink. If anything, my form with these men had been clumsy, though still effective. I blinked and stepped to my lady.
“Are you well?” I asked.
She was quavering but only half from fear. As I drew close, she threw her arms around me and almost stumbled. She looked at me for a long moment. In the dim light, I could see her eyes were shining.
She kissed me. She kissed me like I had never been kissed in life.
Long moments drifted by as we enjoyed each other. The rain sang in the sky, and occasionally there was still thunder.
Eventually, I sharpened up and pulled away from her. I kissed her forehead and looked into her eyes.
“I’m going to get some fetters on my undesirable, here.” I nudged at the man with my boot. “Then, I’ll secure that window.”
She nibbled at my neck. “I’d rather those things wait.”
I sighed. “They can’t.”
I pointed into my vanity room. “If you need to freshen up, you might step in there. Or I have a collection of spirits waiting in the salon. I’ll be back after I escort my new friend here to the stocks a block over.”
She grumbled. “That sounds like something that will take a long time.”
I kissed her again and let my hands wander down her sides to curve over her hips, feeling just a touch bold. “Are you saying that you won’t wait?”
She sighed and pouted. “No. I’ll wait.”
I nodded deeper into the flat. “I’ll be quick. Why don’t you find something refreshing in my salon?”
She giggled. “Oh, I’ll be all refreshed when you get back.”
I watched her step to my foyer and sighed.
Then, I got to work.
The Waning Dreams
Striving, Fourth Bell, Dawning
There were stocks every few blocks in Teredon; it was the single most common way for judicars to detain an undesirable.
“Come now. Let’s not dally.” I shoved the man forward. The fetters kept his hands nicely bound. “There’s a long cold night ahead of you. I’d hate for you to miss it.”
In no way was the stout man cooperating. He hadn’t stood until I had made it clear that I would give him my boot if I had to, and now moving him along was like driving a herd of boulders, surly, injured boulders with no mind to listen to reason.
Fortunately for me, he had little choice.
The moment we stepped outside, we were battered with sheets of rain. The man slipped just a touch on the wet cobbles, but I caught him.
“Careful, sir, I’d hate to see you get hurt.”
He grunted and swore under his breath, his only reply.
“I’d love to chat with you about what we were discussing earlier.” I pushed him along, not kindly. “In particular, I’d love to know who my betters are, and why I should be keeping out of their business.”
“Fecking judicar.”
“Things could be worse.” I pushed him again. “I could leave you in fetters and let you take my beating. I could leave you bleeding and toothless on the street, and no one would cry foul. You know that’s true.”
He glanced at me over his shoulder but said nothing.
I didn’t want to be in the rain any more than he did, but I had warmth and sweetness awaiting me at my flat. That thought made everything better. I cleared my throat and decided to try again.
“I just want to know who sent you, chum. I need to know who to take up this business with.”
The man spat again. I noticed he was still spitting blood. “I ain’t got nothing to say, Judicar. You know how it is.”
I did. The man likely belonged to some guild or association and had probably been commanded to wait in my flat. Being caught presented him a problem. Which was worse: punishment by the hand of the law or his entire guild knowing he had given names?
It wasn’t an easy choice.
“You say you didn’t know I was a judicar. Seems like whoever you’re protecting wasn’t much of a friend.” I pushed him forward again as the thunder grumbled. “A friend would have told you who you were threatening. Would have given a man a chance to know what he was doing.”
The man again gave me a sullen glare over his shoulder but still said nothing.
“Fine enough with me.” We were to the block now. I jangled the proper key into the large lock. “We’ll see how you feel after a day or two on this street corner.”
I lowered the man’s head in. He didn’t fight me, exactly, but he didn’t make things simple.
When I was done with his head, I secured his hands and retrieved my fetters.
“Last chance.” I stood in front of him, looking down. “If not, I hope you enjoy the weather.”
He tried craning his head, giving me a defiant look. “You can go tup your mother, for all I care, Judicar. I ain’t saying a thing.”
I sighed. “Suit yerself, sir. I hope you have a pleasant morningtide.” I tipped my hat.
The man spat at my feet.
I walked into the rain.
The Misplaced Man
Shrouded Week, Striving,
First Bell, Morningtide
The next day came far too soon. It dawned misty and cool, as days in Teredon often did. It was the kind of day where it’s best to lay in bed as long as you can and let the day drift by.
Assuming you aren’t a judicar.
“Thom!” The voice was far too eager for this time of day.
“No.” I groaned, burying my head deeper in the feather pillow. “Absolutely not.”
The bed bounced right by my head. I rolled away, muttering a maxim about the evils of a judicar’s bird.
“Thom.” It wasn’t questioning or even particularly insistent. I felt a weight on my back as she hopped onto me. My shoulder throbbed. It was as if every heartbeat was accompanied by a large man’s fist.
“No.” I shifted so she slipped to the side. It could not be morning.
“Good girl. Good bird.” Scoundrel took a short hop up, and I rolled back onto my side, feeling vindictive. The raven did not care. She hopped off me, landing next to my head.
One of my eyes opened, but was terribly unhappy about it. It closed for a moment in rebellion against the light. Using every ounce of will that I had, I forced them both open.
Oh. There was nothing good about this.
It was morning. The sun stabbed its way through my window, seeking vengeance on my poor, alcohol-besotted mind. I blinked and tried to focus on anything that wasn’t searing, eyeball-burning light.
No. Everything was brilliant. Brilliant and shining and out to ruin my morning.
Scoundrel hopped in front of my face and cooed at me. “Good bird. Pretty bird.”
I scowled at her and sighed. “Not yet. I’ll feed you soon.” Speaking was difficult. My tongue felt like a bolt of cotton, and my mouth was a dry as sand. Irritated, I rolled over and then, for the first time that morning, smiled.
“Hello, little sweet.” A cascade of honey-brown hair covered my other pillow. My grin grew wider.
Now I r
emembered exactly why I had gone out.
She lay unawakened by my raven’s rude interruptions, snoring prettily, the way only a woman can. She had my bedsheets wrapped around her side.
I looked at Scoundrel. “My late night was far better than my morning.” My mind reached for the young woman’s name, but my headache and throbbing shoulder promptly slapped it down. I thought for a moment. Did I know her name at all? I slid closer to her and winced.
Moving wasn’t pleasant. It had been a long time since I’d had a hangover, but apparently now I was making up for lost days.
I reached for her under my sheets. Her skin was like velvet, like soft satin. When I traced my fingers down her side and along her breast, she murmured in her sleep. I could smell her now, vanilla and cinnamon and something deeper, tangier.
I nosed my way down the back of her neck, as if I could inhale everything she was. I traced my way down her shoulder and toward her breasts. She murmured and smiled sleepily.
In a nonce, I was waking up all over.
“Thom.”
There was a sudden jerk, right atop my head. Ow. I bit my lip, trying not to yelp in a pretty, little ear. I looked at Scoundrel. She tilted her head quizzically, looking me straight in the face. In the bird’s fecking beak there were a few long, brown hairs.
Moments before, they had been on my head.
“I’m going to eat crow for breakfast if you keep at it.” My voice was a hiss.
“Pretty bird. Pretty, pretty bird.”
I sighed, feeling delicious curves next to me. There was no fighting against it; I had work to do.
I was going to have to get up.
I eased myself away from soft sweetness and into the chill of morning. In my imagination, my mystery girl sighed, bereft of me.
Unfair.
I swung my legs off the side of my bed and found the carpet at my feet. Scoundrel hopped down to my feet, looking at me with brilliant black eyes. She cocked her head as if asking a question.
“Thom.”
I sighed. My head was bleary. It was just too early for this. “I know. We’ll get going. I just need to—” I blinked. “I just need to get the building to stop spinning for a moment.”
“Thom. Thom.” Scoundrel scratched at my foot with hers.
“I should not have gone to the revel last night.”
She looked up at me sagely, as if she understood what I said. “Good bird.”
It seemed cold in my flat. Slowly, my mind tumbled through the events of the night before.
“Did I board up a window last night?” Even as I mused, I remembered I had.
I’d have to bill the city.
I groaned as I got up, stumbling my way to the washroom. Scoundrel, my most loyal friend, hopped after me, cooing and cawing.
I ignored her. It was petty, yes, but I thought the bloody bird could wait for a nonce.
My washbasin was full; the water still warm. That meant that Alia had already been in. My domestic was always quiet, never intrusive. I always wondered what she thought when she slipped in while I lay tangled up with some young beauty. Alia was old enough to be my mother but never seemed to scold me or reflect poorly upon my lifestyle. She just came in, did her job well enough to repay her time, and quietly left.
“Thom.” I was actively ignoring Scoundrel now. I dipped my hands into the warm water, inwardly thanking Alia’s radiant soul. I pulled it up over my unshaven face, looking in the mirror as I did.
I looked like grim death. Grim death with a hangover.
My mirror was not silver and glass—I’m not that well off. No, it was classic polished steel, rubbed smooth until my reflection was clear. The brown-haired man in the mirror glared at me, obviously annoyed at being out of bed. In my imagination, I saw him tilt his head back toward the bed. His grey eyes led me toward the slumbering girl. He seemed incredulous at my idiocy.
“I hear ya, friend.” My voice was dry, cracked. I looked down at Scoundrel, who, ever hopeful, cawed again.
“Cheese?” She was practically trembling with excitement.
“Fine. You win. I’ll feed you.” Distractedly, I walked into the front hall where Alia had left me a platter of cheese, fruits, and cold goat’s milk under a glass dome. As I tossed the raven some fruit, my head thrummed.
The king doesn’t notice that the man took the card. His eyes are on me. Then he glances down.
“Where did she go?” His voice is a rising panic. He is looking at his cards, as if she will be there. He quickly lays down four others: 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.
The vision was a touch weaker today and still seemed a bit warbled from the alcohol. Usually, the serum only remained strong in my veins for three days, maybe four, before its effects were gone. After that, I would have only my memories of the dream-wisps to help me along—they would no longer force themselves on me at important moments.
I needed to quit caper-fooling.
I popped a piece of cheese in my mouth, realizing as I did that I could still smell something on my face and hands. It was like vanilla and cinnamon and something tangier.
“Tainted night.” I sighed. There was one matter to attend to.
The girl would have to go.
2
“You can’t be serious.” My pretty doe sat up, keeping my sheets wrapped around her. She sighed and stretched and pouted. “It’s not even mid-morning, Thom.”
“Doesn’t change what has to happen, sweetling.” I leaned against the wall, staying well out of her reach. “No sloth for the righteous.”
She gave me a sideward grin. “I don’t want to be righteous. Come back to bed.”
Her arguments were so routine that I didn’t even remember her words, just the basic thread. It perhaps says too much that I had heard all of these lines, dozens of times.
“I could stay, you know. Get some sleep while you work. Then, I’d be rested for you later.” She gave me that grin again, letting me know exactly what she was resting up for.
“No.” I shook my head sadly. “I’ll be on official duty directly. I don’t know when I’ll be home.”
“Thom.” She was practically chiding me. “I won’t take anything. Don’t you trust me?”
I shook my head, ruefully grinning. “Of course I trust you.”
She leaned forward eagerly. “I’ll make you dinner and be here when you get back.” She had smiled coyly. “We can pick up where we left off.”
It was always the same thing. She wanted me to want her, to stay here. She wanted me to be warm and smelling like something tangy.
Truth was I wanted that too. I honestly did. That wasn’t the point. Trusting her to stay in my flat was one thing. That wasn’t the issue.
“The problem is, sweet, that I am on duty.” I sat on the edge of the bed. “Someone out there dropped a masonry block on me after all. Someone sent men to my home.”
She frowned, a small pretty frown. She hadn’t considered that.
I continued, “These things can easily continue happening—happen while I’m not around. What would those men have done if they had found you sleeping in my bed?”
“Oh.” Her brow furrowed. That had her attention. Danger always did. Now, I was not just some wolf who had fed and wanted her on her way.
Well, in her eyes.
I leaned over and kissed her furrowed brow. She giggled at me, and I’ll admit, the kiss went a little further than I intended.
After a long moment, she spoke again, slightly breathless. “Are you certain?” She bit her lip. “You can’t dally for—”
“I’ve dallied too long.” I pulled away. “I need to be on.”
She sighed, more than a touch irritated. “Fine, Thom Havenkin. We’ll play this your way.” She stood, keeping my sheets around her as she did.
“If I remember correctly, some of your clothing was in my study. I’ll fetch it for you.” I step
ped away, thankful this had gone as well as it had. I called from the other room. “I have some fruit in here, if you need a quick bite.”
“No, apparently I need to step along.”
I chose to ignore the tone in her voice.
A few moments later, she was dressed and ready to move along. The dance went on until we were finally at my door.
“At least I know where to find you now.” As she kissed me goodbye, she pressed something round into my hand. I looked at the token when she pulled away. It was cedarwood, smooth and shining. Tiny golden script decorated one side.
Sefra Eldreborn, Oaken House. Wending Way, Guildquarter
Sefra. Her name was Sefra. Not Sapphire or Saffron or—
She nibbled my neck. “No excuses now, Judicar. You can easily find me as well. Don’t wait too long; I have a surprise for you.” She ran her fingers up the inside of my leg. When she found what she was looking for, she grinned.
I raised my eyebrows teasingly. “Perhaps you should leave your surprise with me now.”
“I’d love to.” She seemed to purr and then pouted again. “Alas, you say there is no time.” She looked me up and down once more as she turned to leave. A trace of that pretty pout was still on her lips as she turned away. “It’s a pity.”
She walked away.
I sighed, muttering under my breath.
“Guess who else is disappointed, Sefra.”
Scoundrel hopped onto my foot, cawing. “Thom. Thom.”
I shot the raven a glare. “This is your fault, you know.”
She had no response.
I shut the door.
It was time to get to work.
3
Half a bell later, the girl was gone, and I was on my way.
I lived in Uphill, a well-tended borough full of small, fragrant gardens, statuaries, and cascades of blooming erris. The streets were well cleaned, and there were gaslights on every corner. Most of the buildings here were old brick or well-cut stone, and the citizens were typically guildmen or businessowners, people of means.