Decimus Fate and the Butcher of Guile: (Decimus Fate - Book 2)

by Peter A Flannery

  ‘I don’t care what your high priest says,’ she told the young priest. ‘I am going to see my friend and I am going to see him now!’

  Dressed in a long black cassock, the priest appeared supremely confident, but then he made the mistake of trying to put a hand on Sienna who quickly grabbed his arm and threw him over her shoulder. The priest gave a grunting cry as he hit the stone-flagged floor, but Sienna ignored him as she strode towards the cells.

  ‘Isaac!’ she called out. ‘Isaac! Are you there?’

  ‘Sienna?’ came a voice from around the corner of the stone-lined corridor. ‘Sienna, here!’

  Sienna increased her pace and Amos gave the priest an apologetic grimace as he moved to follow her.

  ‘Amos, he’s here,’ said Sienna as she approached the cell at the end of the corridor.

  When Amos arrived he found her looking through the barred window of a steel-bound door.

  ‘What the hell have you been doing?’ said Sienna in an angry tone that betrayed her anxiety.

  ‘Hello Amos,’ said Isaac as the big man came into view.

  ‘Hello Isaac,’ said Amos. ‘More trouble, I see.’

  Isaac’s shoulders sagged as if he had let the stable master down. He was a slender youth with shoulder-length sandy hair that was now dirty and unkempt. He had bold features with a square jaw and green eyes that were shot through with streaks of gold.

  ‘It wasn’t my fault,’ said Isaac, and Sienna arched a doubtful brow. Things were never Isaac’s fault. ‘All right, I did lose control for a minute,’ he admitted, ‘but my flames barely touched the building. Somehow it just ignited.’

  ‘Just like that,’ said Sienna, and Isaac gave a sigh.

  ‘Can you get me out?’ he asked.

  ‘Can’t you get yourself out?’ challenged Sienna, but Isaac held up his arms, the wrists of which were encircled by silver-grey cuffs. The cuffs were not chained together, but they were engraved with Puritan symbols that inhibited the use of magic.

  ‘Please,’ said Isaac gesturing towards the barred window of his cell. ‘That window is level with the street and when it rains all the mud and horse-dung just comes pouring in.’

  ‘We’ll try,’ said Sienna who had to admit that the stench from the cell was overpowering.

  ‘Stand away from the door,’ said a voice of authority and Sienna turned to see a more senior priest standing in the corridor. The man had adopted a fighting stance. His elbows were raised to shoulder height while between his hands there burned a pure white ball of flame.

  ‘My name is Divine Servant Arden,’ said the priest. ‘Now, move away from the accused.’

  Stepping away from the door, Sienna adopted her own stance, one hand drifting to a throwing dagger hidden in her belt.

  ‘I thought Puritans didn’t use magic,’ she said as she raised her chin.

  ‘This isn’t magic,’ said Arden. ‘This is the holy power of the Divine. It burns only the faithless, so if you don’t want to test the purity of your soul then I suggest you leave this place immediately.’

  ‘And those shackles,’ said Sienna, nodding towards Isaac’s cell. ‘I suppose they’re not magic either.’

  ‘Imbued with Divine power,’ said the priest.

  ‘Of course they are,’ said Sienna and the tension in the corridor increased as two more priests came striding around the corner.

  ‘I think we should go,’ said Amos stepping forward to place himself between Sienna and the priest.

  ‘A man of wisdom,’ said Arden. He did not dismiss the writhing sphere of energy, but it shrank down to become a ball of white fire in the palm of one hand.

  ‘I assume Isaac will be given a fair trial,’ said Amos.

  ‘Of course.’ said Arden. ‘We are not tyrants. The accused will go to trial before he is transferred to the capital.’

  ‘The capital?’ said Sienna with a distinct note of concern.

  ‘Yes,’ said Arden. ‘A unit of demon hunters will be arriving soon to escort the prisoner to the capital.’

  ‘And why would demon hunters be required for a local case of arson?’ asked Amos.

  ‘It’s no longer just arson,’ said Arden. ‘Now the Emperor’s Divine Servant Bohr has shown an interest in the case.’

  ‘Bohr?’ said Sienna. ‘Oruthian Bohr has shown an interest in Isaac?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Arden. ‘Your friend is a feral mage and such people are a danger to us all.’

  ‘But Bohr is a sorcerer,’ said Sienna. ‘He uses magic.’

  ‘He did,’ said the priest. ‘But now he wields the pure power of the Divine.’

  Sienna shook her head at this blatant hypocrisy.

  ‘So, Isaac’s guilt has already been decided,’ she said.

  ‘Not at all,’ said Arden. ‘His trial will take place a few days from now. If he is found innocent, he will be set free. If not, he will be sent to the capital for cleansing.’

  ‘Cleansing?’ queried Amos.

  ‘Divine Servant Bohr has a chamber that can relieve criminals of their blasphemous powers,’ said the priest. ‘If your friend survives the cleansing, he will be set free.’

  ‘This is bullshi…’ began Sienna, but Amos quickly grabbed her elbow and steered her towards the exit as he asked a final question.

  ‘The trial’s in a few days?’

  ‘Correct,’ said Arden.

  ‘Then we’ll return when we have a lawyer,’ said Amos as he propelled Sienna up the stairs and out onto the street.

  ‘Trial, my arse!’ cursed Sienna as she shook herself free of Amos’s grip ‘Do you even know any lawyers?’

  ‘As it happens, I do,’ said Amos, ignoring her anger. ‘I tend the horses of a man who specialises in magical law.’

  ‘Well, I hope he’s good,’ said Sienna. ‘Because if he’s not, then Isaac’s as good as dead.’

  13

  The Storm Drain

  Fate and the Tutor were barely half a mile from the Medici mansion when a man emerged onto the street ahead of them. Sitting astride a beautiful black stallion, the man was exquisitely dressed in a green velvet doublet with a double row of gold buttons, and even the metal fittings of his horse’s tack appeared to be made from gold. The man was flanked by four armed guards wearing blue shirts and black leather waistcoats.

  It was Master Veleno, one of Guile’s most powerful crime lords. Silver-haired and with a goatee beard, the aristocratic crime boss was colloquially known as ‘the Lord of the City’.

  ‘Lord Fate!’ said Veleno in a tone of mock surprise. ‘We don’t often see you in the finer parts of the city.’

  ‘Veleno,’ replied Fate in a weary tone.

  ‘And our new friend the demon hunter,’ said Veleno turning to look at the Tutor. ‘Good morning Alexander.’

  The Tutor merely dipped his head.

  ‘So what brings our intrepid duo to the First Quarter?’ asked Veleno. ‘I would hate to think you’d started working for a wealthy client when you turned down the opportunity to work for me.’

  Fate gave a small laugh. ‘Have you been following me, Veleno?’

  Veleno suddenly found a point of interest in the leather of his fine black gloves.

  ‘I’m flattered,’ said Fate. ‘But no. I am not working for a wealthy client.’

  ‘Not even a client as wealthy as the Medicis?’ said Veleno and Fate’s smile grew broader still.

  ‘Not even them.’

  ‘Well then,’ said Veleno with a dazzling smile. ‘The world can settle back on its axis, and I can proceed to discipline a troublesome landlord who refuses to pay his bill.’

  ‘Goodbye, Veleno,’ said Fate.

  ‘Good day, Lord Fate,’ replied Veleno. ‘And you really must call on me some time,’ he added as he led his small retinue off the main street. ‘That ‘statue’ you acquired for me really does look splendid in my house.’

  ‘I think he’s obsessed with you,’ said the Tutor with a teasing smile as they continued on their way.

/>   ‘Don’t be fooled by his garrulous charm,’ said Fate. ‘Veleno still hopes I will go to work for him, but he would happily kill me if he thought I was pledging my services to someone else.’

  The Tutor pursed his lips in thought.

  ‘And don’t think he’s forgotten about your tattoo either.’ Fate nodded towards the Tutor’s chest, where the enchanted tattoo of a demon hunter offered the bearer some protection from magical harm. ‘Veleno might smile and wish you good morning but, if it suited his purpose, he would still skin you alive by the afternoon.’

  The Tutor accepted the cautionary note with a nod. Together they turned onto the main road heading back towards Blackfell House. They had not gone much further when a young girl ran into the street. Her name was Daisy, and she was one of Weasel’s wayfinder friends. Seeing them walking towards her, she put two fingers into her mouth and gave a surprisingly loud whistle.

  ‘Weasel!’ she cried in a high pitched voice. ‘He’s here.’

  A few seconds later the wayfinder called Weasel skidded onto the street. He caught his balance and ran up the street to meet them.

  ‘You have news?’ asked Fate and Weasel nodded, taking a minute to catch his breath.

  ‘The kids on the east gate say a posh toff was beaten up in Flesh Market Close.’

  ‘You think it was Fidanza?’ said Fate.

  ‘It sounds like him,’ replied Weasel.

  ‘Is he badly hurt?’ asked the Tutor.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Weasel. ‘The eastgaters say he was beat up pretty bad, but then some women helped him... women dressed in green.’

  ‘We should check it out,’ said the Tutor, but Fate narrowed his eyes in thought.

  ‘It’s all right,’ he said after a moment. ‘I think I know where he’ll be.’ He turned his attention back to Weasel. ‘And the other man, Luca de Lorni… any news on him.’

  ‘Possibly,’ said Weasel. ‘Apparently, a street girl saw someone hiding in a storm drain near the river.’

  Fate and the Tutor exchanged a look… Alonso Medici had mentioned something about a storm drain when he entered the room.

  ‘Take us to it,’ said Fate.

  They followed Weasel and Daisy for about twenty minutes before climbing down an embankment and crossing an area of grass before picking their way through a thicket of blackthorn bushes that grew along the river.

  ‘It’s just along here,’ said Weasel as they eased their way through the thorny bushes. ‘The street girl was picking sloe berries when she saw someone hiding. Just there,’ he added as he pointed to the cave-like mouth of a storm drain.

  ‘Wait here,’ said the Tutor as he moved out from the cover of the bushes.

  He advanced slowly. If there was someone hiding here then they might be dangerous, and if it was Luca then he did not want to scare him. The storm drains of Guile formed a warren of tunnels large enough for a man to walk down. He did not want a frightened young man fleeing into the dark maze that ran beneath the city.

  ‘Hello,’ he said as he moved a little closer. ‘Is anyone there?’

  No answer came and the Tutor advanced until he could see into the shadowed mouth of the drain.

  ‘I think it’s clear,’ he called back. ‘But someone’s definitely been here.’

  Fate and Weasel came to join him, while Daisy held back.

  ‘Yes,’ said Fate as he studied the overlapping footprints in the layer of muddy silt that covered the floor of the drain, ‘and recently too.’

  The footprints were too muddled to make much sense, but he did notice a double set of drag marks leading back into the cave.

  ‘We need light,’ said Fate. He reached to the charm bracelet on his wrist, but then Weasel spoke up.

  ‘Here,’ he said as he lit a small lamp that all wayfinders carried in a sling draped over their shoulders.

  ‘Looks like someone was dragged here,’ said the Tutor as Weasel held the small lantern aloft.

  They followed the drag marks a little way in and were surprised to see that the storm drain opened into a small cave of natural stone. The cave was about ten feet high and twenty feet across with a pool of clear water lying against the right-hand wall. To the left, a brick-lined drainage tunnel led away into darkness, while to the right there was a hole in the natural wall of the cave.

  Putting his hand on the smooth stone wall, the Tutor looked into the hole which was barely a foot in diameter. ‘It goes through to another chamber,’ he said.

  ‘How can you tell?’ asked Fate.

  ‘Because there’s something glowing on the walls.’

  Fate motioned for Weasel to bring his light closer as he moved to stand beside the Tutor. The hole was actually a narrow crawl space about two feet long.

  ‘Too small for a man to get through,’ said the Tutor, but Fate was not listening.

  He was looking at the faint glow of light that seemed to be coming from a silvery white fungus growing on the walls of the adjoining cave.

  ‘If these drag marks are Luca’s,’ continued the Tutor, ‘then he might have been dragged into the sewers.’

  Still lost in thought, Fate drew his attention away from the glowing fungus. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘Look here… the drag marks lead to the water.’

  In the light of Weasel’s lantern, they could see that Fate was right. The drag marks ended at the edge of the clear, still pool. As the Tutor looked for more clues, Fate returned to the hole in the wall. He was just reaching for the charm bracelet on his wrist when Daisy shouted from outside the cave.

  ‘Weasel!’ she shouted and Fate and the Tutor followed as Weasel dashed out of the cave.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Fate as he and the Tutor emerged.

  ‘They’ve found another body,’ said Weasel. ‘Chopped up… and dumped… in the river.’

  ‘The Butcher,’ said Daisy in a voice filled with fear.

  ‘Do you think it’s Luca?’ asked the Tutor.

  ‘It could be,’ said Fate. ‘But we won’t know until we see the body. Fortunately, I know the man who’s likely to have it.’

  ‘Of course you do,’ said the Tutor.

  They began to walk away from the storm drain then they stopped as Weasel moved to follow them.

  ‘No,’ said Fate. ‘Where we’re going is no place for children.’

  And of course, this made Weasel even more curious.

  ‘You wait here,’ Fate told him. ‘If Luca was hiding here then there’s a chance he might return, and we need to know if he does.’

  Weasel looked a bit put out. He gave a little humph, but he made no further move to follow them.

  ‘But make sure you stay hidden,’ said Fate.

  ‘And stay away from that storm drain,’ said the Tutor.

  ‘Of course,’ said Weasel with a disdainful scowl. ‘I’m not bloomin’ stupid!’

  Fate and the Tutor exchanged a dubious look as they went to speak with a person who spent his life in the company of the dead.

  Unfortunately, they had not spent much time searching the mouth of the storm drain. If they had they might have noticed a folded letter trodden into the muddy silt on the floor.

  It was the letter that Luca had dropped when he was dragged back into darkness. That letter could prove that Alonso Medici was guilty of murder. And even now, as Weasel and Daisy waited in the nearby bushes, the pale figure of a troglodyte was coming back to retrieve it.

  ‘Can we go?’ asked Daisy who was getting bored with waiting. ‘It’ll be getting dark soon.’

  ‘No,’ said Weasel. ‘We’ve been given a job to do and we’re going to…’

  ‘What was that?’ hissed Daisy and the two wayfinders watched as a pale and broad-shouldered figure appeared in the mouth of the storm drain.

  14

  Curiosity Killed the Cat

  It took Fate and the Tutor about fifteen minutes to reach their destination. Coming to the end of a blind alley, they approached two armed men who were guarding a set of stone steps th
at curved down into the ground.

  ‘He’s in the cutting room,’ said one of the guards, and Fate gave the man a nod of thanks.

  ‘What is this place?’ asked the Tutor as they started down the steps.

  ‘This,’ said Fate, ‘is one of the most fascinating places in the city.’

  The Tutor‘s expression made it clear that he was yet to be convinced. Fate was clearly well known to the guards, but the Tutor’s misgivings only increased as they passed through a room lined with shelves of large glass jars containing the pickled remains of various body parts and malformed organisms.

  The room was illuminated by several white gems set into the walls and the air was filled with the acrid smell of embalming fluids. There were doors leading off to either side of the room, but Fate walked straight across to an archway where another set of steps led down to another wooden door. He lifted the latch and the door opened onto a vaulted cellar lit by more of the white crystals set into the walls and ceiling.

  In the centre of the room, a round-shouldered man in a leather apron was leaning over a white marble slab on which were laid out the dismembered parts of a man’s body. The man continued studying the body as Fate and the Tutor entered the room.

  ‘I wondered how long it would take you to get here,’ he said without looking up.

  ‘Vivienne,’ said Fate, by way of a greeting.

  Somewhere in his late fifties, Vivienne was tall with a narrow mouth and long grey hair tied back from his face. Finally, he stood up from the body on the slab. Turning towards them, he cast a keen eye over the Tutor, taking in the dark skin, the blue eyes, the physical bearing and the exotic sword.

  ‘A Vantu assassin?’

  ‘A demon hunter,’ replied Fate and Vivienne pursed his lips before giving the Tutor a quick nod of greeting.

  ‘So, what’s the latest news from the world of the dead?’ asked Fate.

  ‘Well, another body has disappeared from Aldo’s morgue in the second quarter,’ replied Vivienne. ‘Maybe we do have a necromancer at work in the city.’