by C. M. Lind
“Yeah!” smugly interjected Randolph.
Her words cut like acidic steel. “So please hear us on our concerns so that this lady may leave all the faster,” she added, ignoring Randolph’s encouragement.
Randolph couldn’t help himself; it turned him on when Soli got pissed.
Balfour was utterly reprimanded, and his posture turned from aggressive to ashamed. “I apologize, madam. I was unaware that Randolph had brought a guest, and, I assure you, I meant no rudeness from my refusal to meet you under better accommodations. If I knew you accompanied him, I would have never let you step foot into such a charnel house.” He offered his hand to Soli. “I am Sir Aaron Balfour, second only to High Justicar Astier.”
Soli took his hand. As he attempted to bring it to his lips, she instead tightened her grip, and forced him to shake her hand as if she was a man. “I am Soli, a bard of the north, second to no man.”
The left corner of Balfour’s lip curled. “No, madam. You are second to no one.” He paused. “I have heard that about you,” he said in the Northern tongue as he returned the handshake with fervor.
Randolph began to feel uncomfortable, as if something of importance transpired that he had no hope of deciphering.
“Have you?” She smiled at him and broke the handshake.
“Yes. My mother had a contract with you. But, Lord Etienne offered her too fine of a deal to pass on. From what I have heard of you though, I feel that perhaps she was swindled.”
“Please send my apologies to your mother. I had no idea that Etienne was purchasing my contracts. It is so unprofessional!”
Balfour managed a slight chuckle. “I will be sure to pass it on to her. I must confess that I was far more distressed than her about the deal. I have heard that you are quite talented.”
“Then I must extend my apologies to you as well, sir.” She nodded her head. “It is good to hear my tongue spoken so well. But, I am told it is rude to converse in a language that others cannot speak when they are so near.”
Balfour nodded. “Indeed it is, madam,” he said in the common tongue.
Randolph’s eyebrows had furrowed as far as they possibly could. He darted his eyes between Balfour and Soli. He had heard the Northern tongue before, but he had never learned it beyond a yes, no, and more drink. “Right,” he muttered, distressed over their locked eyes. “So, are you ready to hear us out?”
“Of course, Micah,” Balfour cordially said to Randolph with a smile as he broke eye contact with Soli.
As soon as Randolph heard his abhorrent first name, his face felt hot. Even his ears must have been red he determined. Twat, he thought, and he stuttered for what seemed like minutes. “I…We….This morning…We….” He continued blustering until Soli interrupted him with a raised brow.
“We were attacked this morning by three men. We defended ourselves, and two are dead. We apologize for leaving them without coming to you sooner, but uncontrollable circumstances made that impossible.” She bowed her head modestly.
“I see. I am sorry you were assaulted in the city, madam.” He looked to Randolph. “Good thing you were with her.”
Randolph managed to nod.
“Some of my men found two people this morning. One with a large chest wound, the other a collapsed throat and a superficial slash. Sound like yours?” Balfour gave the descriptions as if he was listing qualities of delectable tea.
“Yes, sir,” said Soli.
“Yes, those two. I heard they like to make trouble for people. They did not even attempt to hide their involvement with the Southern Knives gang. Do not worry about it at all, madam; they will be taken care of. But that was a dangerous place to be—even with a bodyguard.” Balfour nodded toward Randolph. “Please be careful in the future.”
“Thank you, sir. It won’t be an issue again. I’ve recently moved.”
“You were living over there?” asked Balfour. He was appalled.
“No, sir. It was merely a shortcut.” Soli smiled despite the stench. Randolph had to give her credit; she was great at faking serenity. “I live at the Reinout estate now-”
Balfour’s head jerked back, and he gasped.
“-to work for Lord Etienne. He is a lover of music and stories, and he is an educated historian.”
“Of course. I have heard Etienne is a scholar of sorts—and a gentleman. I’m glad he is your patron.” Balfour smiled at her.
Randolph was suddenly reminded how much he hated how bright the man’s teeth were. “Yeah, she is pretty busy there. Every night—even breakfast—she is singing and talking. It’s pretty great,” said Randolph.
“I suppose I am busy. I’ve even been told I’ll be attending the upcoming Jubilee,” said Soli.
“What?” Randolph practically stuttered. “You are?”
“That is lovely, madam. I have never been, but I hear it is quite an extraordinary event,” said Balfour, ignoring Randolph.
“Why don’t you come then?” Soli blurted.
“Uhhh….” said Randolph.
Balfour’s eyes went wide. “Oh, I do not really know the Reinouts.”
“No, you should go. I will hardly know anyone there, and I feel terrible about your stolen contract,” said Soli. “It will give me an opportunity to talk to someone in my tongue again.” She smiled, beaming with her great idea.
Balfour looked to Randolph, and Randolph looked to Balfour. Neither was sure how to proceed. “I suppose,” said Randolph hesitantly. “That I could add you as security. Having a Justicar around should make people happy.”
“Of course,” said Balfour. “If you both insist.”
Randolph rolled his eyes, and quietly threw his hand up flippantly. Soli didn’t notice, just as Randolph planned. “If it’s what the lady wants, then yeah. Come on over.”
“It isn’t an inconvenience, is it?” she asked Randolph.
“It’s nothing, sweetheart,” he replied.
“Thank... you?” Balfour said to Randolph. He swallowed a loud, dry gulp. “If that is everything—”
“Yep! That’s it. We’re going to leave now,” said Randolph. He was already turning to the door behind him.
“I was going to say: if that is everything, could you spare a moment, Micah?” asked Balfour, emphasizing the name.
Randolph gave a frightening grin. “For someone like you, Baly? Sure.”
“Madam, feel free to wait outside,” said Balfour.
“No, sir. I am alright.” She stood her ground next to Randolph, and he couldn’t help but be happy that she stayed with him.
Balfour nodded. “Of course, madam. I meant no disrespect.” He cleared his throat. “We discovered a peculiar body early this morning. He was put on display for us to find. Please take a look.”
“I’m not an expert on corpses, Baly,” countered Randolph.
“No, but you know a lot of scum. You can at least take a look at him since you are here.” Balfour pointed to the table he was at earlier. The ragged man was still examining the body.
“Sure.” Randolph sighed. It was true; he knew a lot of scumbags. He couldn’t argue that point.
Balfour returned to the table, and Soli and Randolph followed. The ragged man looked old. His skin was a mess of saggy, pox-marked wrinkles. His eyes were slightly clouded, and he spoke in a booming voice, as if he couldn’t tell how loud he was speaking. “Don’t see a lot of strangers here, at least live ones.” He chuckled to himself, and Randolph was sure he saw dust shake loose from the man’s flesh. “Name’s Vic. You?” He pointy his strangely long finger at Soli.
“I’m Soli. This is Randolph.” She pointed to Randolph.
“Don’t know why you’re here, but it’s a pleasure to know you both. Especially you, young lady.” He winked at her.
“Show him the corpse,” Balfour said to Vic.
“No problem. Look, touch, whatever.” Vic gestured to the body.
Randolph stepped up to the table to examine the body. Luckily, the cold of the room had done its job,
and the corpse wasn’t anywhere near as repulsive as the others in the room. Randolph figured the man would have been handsome in life. He had a strong, muscled back, with a lean, trim build. He was lying on his stomach, his face protruding to the left towards Randolph. The body looked to be Northern-born, and suddenly he thought of Soli. He looked at her, but she didn’t look alarmed. Randolph couldn’t get a good look at the man’s face though—it was obscured by long blonde strands. He pushed the hair to the side, and the skin beneath was ghoulishly cold and it had the consistency of mashed squash. It was more of a cavern than a face, but one loose eye hung to the side—a large, familiar eye. The mouth was open, and Randolph was made uneasy by the sheer stillness of the body. While he had seen death many times before, he had never examined it in such a way. He would kill, and then he would walk away—he never stuck around to see and touch what he had wrought on others.
“Eyewitnesses say it was a single person who hauled the dead, naked victim from the inn. Outside the assailant slit off the victim’s genitals and then disemboweled him,” Balfour casually stated.
Randolph jumped back at the word genitals. Soli put her hand on his shoulder to steady him, and he returned to the body. He had heard of such things happening—usually as a form of punishment or trophy taking—but never in Queensport. He placed a hand on the dead man and rolled the body from his belly to his back. It was stiff, and Randolph found it awkward to handle.
“The genitals were left at the scene. It seems religious in nature.” Balfour was talking solely to Randolph. “So tell me, is this something you or the Reinouts are involved in? Is this a Disciple? Is this one of your men that The Disciples took out in revenge?” Balfour grilled him.
“No, he isn’t mine, and I didn’t kill him.” What should have been a man’s pride and joy was nothing but a cold stub coated in dry, rusty blood. Randolph felt nauseous, as if all the liquids in his body were trembling. A lightheadedness struck him, and he looked away from the body. “This guy has nothing to do with what is happening with Jae. This isn’t his style. Trust me; I would know if he was involved in this.” The thought crossed Randolph’s mind that perhaps Saemund might have been involved, but quickly let it pass. Saemund was subtlety and tact—Randolph never thought he’d do something so unnecessarily public.
“The boy we pulled in months ago would not give us anything either. He kept claiming that he had never met the man—but this is also the same boy who refuses to admit he is an assassin,” said Balfour.
“It’s like I told you, sir,” said Vic. “This isn’t those who follow Nox. This is an Anker thing.” He pulled out a silver medallion that was tucked into his shirt. He flashed the two headed crow that hung from the chain and then tucked it back in. “It’s like from that old tale about traitors.” He pointed to the body’s abdomen, and then the missing genitals. “The wounds are the same as the story. Even why someone would risk getting caught posing the body. It’s not a traitor’s death without witnesses.”
“It is not like the Ankerites to do anything so draconic. At least not here,” countered Balfour.
“Draconic?” interjected Soli, looking straight into Balfour’s dark green eyes. “I saw three children hanging on the way in—anything is possible in Aveline.”
Balfour sighed and crossed his arms. He shouted, and the guard from the hallway entered the room.
Randolph touched the body in front of him, oblivious to the conversation around him. He remembered that eye because they were so unusual. Usually only Venari had amber, golden, or even orange eyes. But somehow, this Northern man hit the genetic jackpot. He was tall, attractive, and somehow exotic. Randolph brought his fingers to the man’s hand and pried open the stiff fingers. A large scar covered his left palm.
“The girl is right,” said Vic. “Can’t discount facts just cause you don’t like them. This isn’t Noxites. It’s Ankerites.”
Balfour walked over to the guard and leaned in close to whisper something in his ear. He dismissed the guard with a wave of his hand and returned to the group. “Fine. It may be some Ankerite radical, but that does not help me figure out who he is,” said Balfour nodding his head to the corpse.
“I remember him. That eye. This scar.” Randolph let go of the hand. “I placed a fat purse of petals in that hand.”
“His name?” pressed Balfour.
“I don’t remember.” Randolph shrugged his shoulders. “It was years ago. It was for that auction house heist—the one where Jae lost a lot of money. He told me to imprison who was responsible. I made the trade, but you are the ones who brought the person in.” He pointed at Balfour, wanting to cast away any responsibility for the mutilated man in front of him.
“A few years ago? I can find out more about it,” said Balfour.
“His room at the inn contained a bit of a treasure trove. Do you think he made it last all those years,” asked Vic, to no one in particular.
“His room contained thirty-two golden petals, five silver, and three copper. A small fortune, but I would be surprised if it was the same money considering the note we found,” said Balfour. His arms were still crossed.
“A note?” inquired Randolph.
“Yep. Someone who wished to remain anonymous told him to go to the Iron’s Rest Inn, and told him to ‘lay low’ until he was sent for,” said Vic.
“Did you find anything else?” asked Randolph.
“Nothing that will help us,” said Balfour. Randolph could tell he was tense. His shoulders looked stiff and scrunched even through the steel plate armor. “Common, light weaponry, clothing, food, drink, and toiletries. We also found a few papers that identify him as several different people. All names are common and obviously fake.”
“Do me a favor and keep me in the loop on it,” said Randolph. “I’ve had too much déjà vu as of late. I’d like to remember who he was.”
“I will visit once I have found something. It might be a while. The records here are not the easiest to navigate,” said Balfour.
“Well, sir, now that we know it wasn’t Disciples related, someone else can handle all that. There is no need to waste your time,” said Vic.
“No. I will handle it. We believe it is unrelated. I want to make sure it is unrelated. Besides, I already started. I might as well finish,” said Balfour.
Vic shrugged. “Very well. We’ll keep this one here then.” Vic removed a blue ribbon from the pouch at his waist and tied it around the body’s big toe. “Blue stays true; black gets packed,” he sang to himself while tying the ribbon.
“Let’s get out of here,” Randolph whispered to Soli, while inferring that Vic was crazy with a twirl of his finger at his temple.
She nodded at both of his points.
“It’s been fun, Baly.” Randolph made an overly flowery bow. The slightest push would have knocked him over face first.
Balfour ignored Randolph. He turned his attention to Soli. “It was a pleasure making your acquaintance.” He bowed his head, and switched to the Northern tongue. “If you run into any problems and you are required to use lethal force, do not trouble yourself with the travel here. Please send me a message, and I will personally attend to it.”
Soli returned in kind, “It was a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to speaking with you again.” She offered her hand, and they briskly shook farewell.
“And be careful. The Southern Knives will not tolerate this bruise to their ego. Word among them travels fast and far, but, hopefully, they cannot harass you if you stay at the Reinout estate,” Balfour added as an afterthought.
“I will be cautious,” said Soli. Her smile seemed to dismiss his overly cautious warning.
Randolph was the first to turn away, and he had already opened the door for their escape while Soli finished her conversation with Balfour. He gestured to the door. “Sweetness before strength, sweetheart.”
Soli turned and was at the door in a couple steps. She must have been eagerly anticipating the sweet, ocean air above as much as him.
Randolph tightened his lips. He made sure to slam the door behind them.
Soli was ahead of him, practically leaping up the steps to flee the morgue. Randolph, likewise, followed. The sooner he was away from Balfour and his league of idiots, the better, he thought.
The two didn’t speak to each other until they the main doors were opened, and the battering ocean winds hit them. He heard Soli take a deep breath, and he followed suit. He blinked a few times, allowing his eyes to return to daylight.
“They’re gone,” said Soli.
Randolph turned towards her, blinking. “What?”
“The children are gone.”
Randolph looked to the gallows, and the bodies from before were gone. “Good.”
“He had them taken down, didn’t he?” asked Soli.
“Yeah. He did. Glad to see he did something decent,” said Randolph. For once in his life, he added silently.
“He didn’t have too, but he did. I’m glad.” Soli took another deep breath, and she looked rejuvenated in that moment. “That was who you hate going to see?”
“Yeah,” Randolph grumbled.
“I was expecting.” She paused. “Worse?”
Randolph shrugged.
“Thank you for your help with everything. I will return the favor someday,” she stated.
Randolph motioned for them to leave. “Let’s get out of here, sweetheart.”
“Of course.” A small smile crept onto her face. “Micah.”
Chapter 16
It had been two weeks since the body was found: the disfigured corpse of a man. Such a display was rare in the city, and rumors about a man hauled into the streets to be mutilated and gutted spread quickly. As soon as Ulrich heard the whispers, he knew. He absolutely knew it was Vitoria’s doing.