The Sin in the Steel

by Ryan Van Loan

  “They gave me a knife,” I said, unable to keep the hint of a smile from my lips.

  “That hurt,” Eld growled.

  “Did it?” I asked, shaking my head.

  Salina sniffed.

  “In close quarters and outnumbered, you can either curl up in a ball and wait for their knives—or you can attack.”

  “Wait, wait,” Judge Cokren said. “You were unarmed and outnumbered and you attacked?”

  “Recall I had a knife by then,” I said.

  “From my shoulder,” Eld said.

  I shrugged. “Like I said, I hate failure, so I attacked. Put one of the shorter bastards up against the wall before he could blink. He tried to scream—”

  “Tried?” The captain’s brow furrowed.

  “It’s hard to scream with a blade buried in your throat,” I told her. Salina made a choking sound and looked as if she were going to sick up. I could feel the dried blood on my face crack and my smile made her turn another shade of green. “I think that was number five.”

  “And then what?” the captain asked.

  “Then Buc reminded Salazar what happened when the Montays tried to double-cross us,” Eld said.

  “The Montays?” Salina asked. “From the Foreign Quarto by way of Colgna? Didn’t the younger brother go missing last winter?”

  “I’m not sure,” I lied. Eld grunted from my elbow in his ribs. “I’m not familiar with any of that name within Servenza’s jurisdiction. To continue,” I said in a louder tone, “it was about then that Salazar started running away at the mouth with excuses.”

  “Which was when his mage reached for something in his coat,” Eld added.

  “Ah, this is where the mage comes into the picture?” Judge Cokren asked.

  “Sort of,” Eld said. “He was the one who ordered the goons to rough us up—hence the three I’d put down before they started trying to kill us.”

  “You went face-to-face with a mage?” Salina asked, disbelief written boldly across her features.

  “We were about to,” I said. “I was still trying to work the knife loose from that skinny bastard’s throat when the mage’s eyes rolled to the back of his head.”

  “His eyes rolled?” the captain asked in her low voice. “Like he had a fit?”

  “Was he using his magic?” Salina asked.

  “No,” I said. “Maybe?” I shook my dark curls. “All I know is, he froze suddenly, as if some puppeteer pulled his strings taut, as if every muscle had suddenly seized.”

  “He didn’t stay frozen,” Eld said. He shivered. “He pulled a pistole out from his coat before I could blink and I thought I was dead.”

  “Mages were ever poor shots,” the captain said. The plumes in her helm shook with her head. “Comes of relying too much on their magic.”

  “Oh, he didn’t miss,” I said.

  “We told you we didn’t kill Salazar,” Eld added.

  “And we didn’t. Salazar’s lips were just starting to move when the mage blew his head off in a plume of smoke and blood and brains.” I closed my eyes and could smell the gunpowder sharp in my nostrils.

  “In the middle of this murderous maelstrom, the mage decides to blow his employer’s brains out?” Judge Cokren asked.

  “Never trust a mage,” I said. Something I’d known as a child on the streets even before I’d learned to read. Something Salazar would have done well not to forget.

  “Wise words,” Judge Cokren said, avoiding Salina’s sudden gaze as if just remembering she employed mages by the score. “And your story does contain elements of self-defense.…” He tapped his fingers on the table. “What happened to the mage after he murdered Salazar?”

  “Salazar’s body hit the floor…,” I began. Eld caught up a sword off one of the lackeys and buried it in his neck. I could still see the blood squirting like a fountain around the bright steel. “The mage reached into his coat with his other hand. I thought he was going for another pistole and I…” I took a breath and shook my head. “I screamed,” I whispered.

  “So there is some fragment of rational thought in you after all,” Salina murmured.

  I glared at the other woman, but Eld saved me from replying.

  “I thought the mage had done something to Buc with his magic,” he said. “She doesn’t scream. Ever. So I stabbed him with a sword, I’d, um, borrowed. And he died.”

  “Mortal after all,” Judge Cokren said.

  “He died hard,” I told him. “I looked for any clues about where he’d been before we met, but he was clean, save for powder marks.” I shook my head. “Too clean, really, given the heat and the dust-filled streets outside. He’d bathed not long before our meeting.

  “That’s when I plucked up the pistole, hoping to find some clue there,” I explained. “And that’s about when the honorable captain”—I nodded toward the armored woman—“and her guards burst in.” With me holding the still-smoking pistole. Never trust a motherfucking mage.

  “It’s an intriguing story,” Salina said.

  “It is,” the Imperial officer admitted. Her lips twisted. “But the mage murdering Salazar makes no sense.”

  “‘As easy to understand the sun as a mage’s mind,’” Salina quoted.

  This was the crucial moment, where Eld and I either walked free or went to our deaths. Looking at Judge Cokren’s expression, I could practically read his thoughts. What was the mage’s motive?

  “The tiny chunk of rock we stand upon rotates around the sun,” I said, drawing every gaze to me. “The sun is large in our skies, but were you standing on the surface of the sun and not incinerated from the heat, our chunk of rock would be a pinprick of light, indistinguishable from all the other pinpricks. Read Felcher’s Discourse on Planetary Bodies.”

  I shot Eld a look as I shifted my feet. I started to cross my arms, but the dark leather bands around my wrists prevented me. They were a shade darker than my skin, and padded, so they restrained without biting, unlike the cold iron I was used to. I’d nearly forgotten I was wearing them. “If I can understand somewhat the sun’s purpose, then I think I can understand the mage’s.”

  “What number book was that?” Eld asked beside me.

  “Thirty-seven. I should have read Ducasse first though, as a primer. That was fifty-two.”

  “What’s thirty-seven? Fifty-two?” Salina asked.

  Eld smirked as he inclined his head. I wasn’t sure if he’d picked up my signal or not, but I knew I could count on him for a distraction when I needed it. The less said about the mage’s motives the better, because I knew fuck all why the mage had chosen that moment to betray Salazar, but given what followed—our arrest—it was damned convenient. Even if the bastard died for it. Why? Too many questions and not enough clues to sink my teeth into.

  “So at the end of it all,” Judge Cokren said, speaking slowly, his off-white teeth too even not to be fake, “you two are the only ones left drawing breath. There are none to gainsay your claims of self-defense. You also”—he touched the pistole lying on the desk before him—“possess the murder weapon.”

  “Only Salazar died by musketry,” Eld reminded him.

  “Did you think we’d dump that motley collection of cutlery we found at the scene atop such a fine desk?” the captain asked. She snorted and removed her helm to reveal shorn hair that barely covered her scalp and would need months before they could form proper curls again. “Your Honor, the girl tells a pretty story, but it’s just that: a story. Pronounce your sentence and let me take them out back to the midden heap. It’ll be but the work of a moment.”

  “The captain … colonel? Whatever”—Judge Cokren waved a hand—“does make a point.” The officer shrugged as if it were of no consequence. And perhaps for her it wasn’t; she was just following the law. The judge sighed and adjusted his crimson robes before turning toward Salina. “Well, signora? I could be persuaded either way.”

  “Why don’t you go for a walk, Your Honor?” Salina said finally. “Have you seen our gear-
work arboretum? I assure you it’s worth a visit.”

  “Aye?” The old man pushed himself to his feet. “How much?”

  Salina eyed the officer standing beside her, whose eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her head at the bribery going on in front of her, and grinned. “The same as last? I’ll send for you when your services are needed in here.”

  “Perfect.” He glanced at my dress and shook his powdered wig. “Bloody perfect,” Judge Cokren said as he strode past us, his robes swishing softly against the marble floor. “Send for some wine while you’re at it, won’t you?” Then he was out the door, leaving only the faintest whiff of powder in his wake.

  3

  “Before we get off on the wrong step entirely, let’s start again,” Salina said.

  “Before?” Eld choked. “You’ve threatened us with execution by firing squad!”

  “Eld’s a little put out,” I explained. I took a deep breath, letting the last few minutes distill in my mind. An image was starting to form, but it was still hazy. “And I’m not too thrilled myself.”

  “Ah yes, an amends?” Salina asked. She gestured toward the stacks. “By all means, help yourself. As many as you like.” I held my hands up to show my leather restraints, and Salina’s smile was replaced with a hard line that made her lips disappear.

  “Colonel, release our young friend. These aren’t violent prisoners.”

  “No?” She raised an eyebrow and touched the pistole on the table. “Were you listening to the same story I was?”

  “Colonel.”

  The older woman sighed, but she moved to my side, produced a stiletto, and cut the leather from my wrists. Her dark eyes never left mine as she moved. “It is done.”

  I twisted away before she could confirm the sheath tied to my left wrist beneath the tight silk of my riding dress. It was empty, but she didn’t need to know either piece of information. I strode past her and stopped in front of the nearest shelf. The newer system. Numbers ran in gilded script across the bottom of the shelf, much more preferable than the older systems, which sorted books alphabetically, by titles or subject or some strange combination of the two.

  Disciple of the Body. I plucked the book from the shelf without thinking and someone exhaled behind me, but my mind was in a time nearly two years ago. Book number twenty-four, a disheveled copy lacking a cover that kept me distracted from the pulling of the oar that ferried us from Servenza to Frilituo, toward a pair of murders carried out by a nobleman’s distraught maid with eyes above her station. Verner had a way of writing that opened the mind the same way his book opened the body for all to see. I closed Verner and reached for another.

  With my hands free, it was the work of but an instant to collect half a dozen books. When they filled my arms, I set them carefully down upon the marble floor and reached for another. I had never calculated the number of books needed to sink a barge, but if I kept going, I might have to.

  “Buc?” Eld’s voice was soft, but I heard the edge. There was that streak of politeness again. I didn’t knock him for his fault, but imposing it on me was tiresome. And burdensome. And a whole host of other ’somes as well.

  Salina laughed. “No, it’s all right. Your friend is free to choose as many as she likes. Well,” she said, her laugh deepening, “perhaps as many as the pair of you can carry. Now then.” Salina’s heels clicked loudly on the floor as she moved around the table behind me. “You’re probably wondering why you were brought here.”

  “Either you’ve lost something or you’re baffled by a mystery. Or you really had a soft spot for old Salazar,” I said, pausing to add Robesier’s Soliloquies to the pile. I’ve never had an ear for verse, but enough nobles had quoted him to me while deep in their cups to warrant a reading. “Forewarned is forearmed,” as they say. “You didn’t find us by accident, not with how fast we were arrested, which means you were following us. The Imperial Guard answers your commands, but they don’t like it.” I heard the officer snort.

  “I’m told they can’t be bought and if they could be, they wouldn’t be used in so simple a manner, so clearly you’ve the backing of the Empire in this matter, whatever it is. And you brought along a judge who can be bought, so I don’t think you’re weeping over Salazar’s losing his head. A mystery, then? And one that involves the most powerful trading company in the world and the Empire—which means it must involve commerce and commodities.”

  I turned around to gauge their reaction and saw Salina staring at me. “My only real question is, why now? I’d almost believe you paid Salazar to renege on our deal, but we were nearly killed and your soldiers too far away to prevent it.” I frowned. “Unless that was the final test, to prove if we were worthy of your time?”

  “You ascribe too much reason to fate,” Salina said quickly, “thereby displaying your ignorance in the matter.”

  She would have been right, save I hadn’t really believed the last, just wanted to make sure Eld and I didn’t have an expiration date waiting for us at the end of whatever contract she was about to propose. Yet, her attitude rankled; for hiring someone to help her accomplish something she was unable or unwilling to do, she seemed to take a perverse amount of pleasure in seeing me fail. You’re not like the others. It’s the white dog that’s chased out of the pack. You’re different and that will scare some and threaten others. One of the first things that Eld told me when I let him save me from the streets. Some of the tension loosened in my shoulders now that I had the read of her.

  “Perhaps, but there is a mystery, no? And you need us to demystify it for you.”

  “You are as astoundingly apt as advertised,” Salina said. She turned back to Eld. “I have a special case I’d like you to consider, sirrah.”

  “Then you’d best address the girl,” I said. I willed my voice to be light, but I couldn’t judge how successful I was over the sound of my teeth grinding together. Gods, but I can’t wait until I have grey hair. Or breasts. “I hold the keys to ‘aye’ or ‘nay.’”

  She stared at me, then her gaze flitted back to Eld. He shrugged, wrists still bound. “I can’t complain; it has worked out so far.”

  Salina eyed his shoulder, bloody from the knife, and his torn vest, but said nothing before taking a very deep breath and turning back to me. “I have a special case,” she said again.

  “So you said.”

  Her nostrils flared. “I can send for Judge Cokren at any moment and have him pronounce your sentence. She”—Salina gestured toward the officer—“wouldn’t hesitate carrying it out.”

  “I wouldn’t,” the captain agreed. Her pink lips, bright against her skin, crept up, finally changing toward something approaching a satisfied smile. “Not when it comes to murderers.”

  “I wondered if it was going to be bribery or blackmail,” I said. “You know, to sweeten the deal, for us? So you didn’t pay off Salazar. The guard was waiting to arrest us on some trumped-up charge for aiding him off the books, but you got lucky and caught something that can be spun to seem much worse.”

  “So we understand each other.”

  “No, we don’t.” I touched my chest. “I understand you; you don’t understand me. Blackmail won’t work.”

  “I’ve found the firing squad to be a convincing argument,” she countered.

  “Generally, you’d be right,” I agreed, “but I’m not like everyone else. How many times have you been threatened with death in your life? Perhaps once? Every breath I ever took, growing up, carried the threat of death with it.”

  “And you’d let her condemn you to this fate?” Salina asked, turning back to Eld.

  “If it were up to me?” He snorted. “No, signora.”

  “That’s why I call the shots,” I snapped, pulling her attention back to me.

  “Because you grew up with death? On the streets?” She glanced down at the table, at a sheaf of papers beside the pistole. “Sambuciña Alhurra. Aged seventeen or so years. Mother, Southeast Islander. Father unknown, likely of Imperial desc
ent. First mention was seven years ago in the Painted Rock Quarto, detained by the Watch on suspicion of pickpocketing. Next appearance was with your sturdy friend here, preventing the attempted heist of the Gilderlocks’ formerly impregnable vault.” She looked up from the papers. “Formerly, as you emptied the safe yourselves. Without telling Gilderlock.”

  “‘To catch a thief,’” I quoted. “Your information is most impressive, but only to the truly infantile.” Eld’s groan just reached my ears. “My skin is the color of your library’s shelves, which means one of my parents was either Southeast Islander or from the Burning Lands. We know how many of the last find their way to our shores, so Southeast Islander it is. Skin color is passed on the mother’s side. I was never detained by the Watch on suspicion of anything.” I left unsaid that that was because my marks never knew their pockets were lighter until I was streets away. “That was my sister. And everyone who knows of us knows about Gilderlock.”

  I snorted and nodded back toward where I’d seen the muddy prints as we were dragged in. “Next time you have someone race to get you information before we arrive, you might want to go to the trouble of cleaning up their boot prints, so the ones you’re trying to impress can’t figure out how you know what you do. The judge was a nice touch, I’ll grant you that.” The woman’s face had grown steadily darker and flits of color danced along her cheeks as she opened her mouth.

  “Wait!” Her face managed to gain another shade. I dug in my coat pocket and pulled out a rolled paper that was almost too crumpled to be of use. Kan is a funny leaf. Quite literally. Smoke too much and you’ll find yourself laughing at every passing breeze. Smoke enough of it and your eyes will develop the haze, the world will turn strange colors, and you’ll die because you’ve forgotten to eat. One paper takes the edge off, slows down most, but I’ve found what it does for me is slow my brain down enough so I can speak to the slower types … everyone else.

  Right then my mind burned with the intensity of a thousand suns, connecting the guard to Salina to the judge and everything else in between—but none of that was useful if I couldn’t push Salina to where I wanted—no, needed her to be. My first toss of the dice had failed, but I’d been handed the cup again. Double or nothing. I dug a match out and struck it with my thumb.