Tan Skulks (A Wielders Novel Book 1)

by Max Anthony

  The second man took another swipe with his stick, catching Skulks upon the arm. This adversary had only a small amount of time to notice how much quicker Skulks was than he, for a fist made contact with his right eye and another uprooted his four front teeth, which he spat out in horror.

  “My beautiful smile!” lisped the fellow, for he was known amongst his acquaintances as Gleaming Jolson on account of his wonderfully straight and bright teeth. In future he would be referred to as Gummy Jolson, or simply ‘Gums’.

  Fleeing the scene like the stick-brandishing cowards that they were, Gums and his partner in crime Turtleneck Tommo ran off with the hare-like pace often associated with such men. Skulks let them go, rubbing the back of his head which was throbbing moderately from the weight of the blows which had been forced upon it.

  At that point he looked up and saw it. A shabby-looking building not twenty paces from where he was standing. A faded sign above the door advised it to be the Filigreed Whore, with rooms for rent.

  “Perfect!” said Skulks, pushing the door open.

  Chapter Two

  The following morning, his head slightly heavy and tongue thick with the taste of Cow’s Piss, Tan Skulks made his meandering way to the Chamber Building he’d been asked to attend in haste. The back streets of Hardened were often gloomy, surrounded as they were on all sides by tall buildings, with many overhanging the street. The streets themselves were always well-paved though, one of the benefits of having a comprehensive civil programme. The Chamber Building was one of the few unsullied by excessive over-construction, looking pristine in its original glory. Whenever an adventurous building looked likely to encroach, an edict would be passed instructing its demolition. After a time, people learned and the buildings nearby stayed nearby, but coming no closer. The seat of power in Hardened, it was four stories tall, fronted by pillars with large-arched windows looking out on four sides of well-tended gardens. The populace was free to come and go in these gardens and many did, though most hawkers and pickpockets were well known to the guards and not tolerated.

  Skulks walked up the two dozen steps and through the open front door, where a sign welcomed him to the busy reception area. Four clerks were sitting at a long desk looking harried, as they attempted to filter out the time wasters and habitual plaintiffs from those with genuine business. After fifteen minutes, Skulks found himself at the front of the queue, where he handed over a crumpled letter. The clerk perused it quickly, one eyebrow raised.

  “This letter is from Heathen Spout! Why didn’t you announce yourself when you arrived?”

  Skulks looked around at the people queuing, each believing their visit to be of vital importance. The clerk took the hint.

  “Chamber Member Spout will see you immediately,” he said, getting up and beckoning Skulks across the floor, the clerk’s leather shoes making a crisp sound on the smooth stone. He accompanied Skulks to a corridor flanked by two guards. The guards wore swords and leather armour, the latter reinforced by metal shoulder plates. They were allowed to pass unhindered into the workings of the Chamber Building. There were more guards – Hardened was currently enjoying one of the longest times of peace in recorded memory, so it seemed strange for security to be so tight. After some distance, they stopped at a door, beautifully polished and in a light wood. A metal plate was bolted firmly to the wood, advising the occupant to be “Chamber Member H Spout”. Stony-faced guards were positioned one to either side, trying to look menacing. They recognized the clerk and let him approach.

  The clerk knocked, waited three seconds and then opened the door, walking in ahead of Skulks.

  “Chamber Member Spout, there’s a gentleman here to see you. A Mr Skulks.”

  A low chuckle followed this sentence, Skulks fancying that it followed the clerk’s use of the words ‘gentleman’ and ‘Skulks’ in the same breath.

  “Very well, let him in Clerk Souter and that will be all.”

  The clerk backed out of the room and ushered Skulks inside, before retreating down the corridor, heels clack-clacking as he went.

  The room of Chamber Member H Spout was large and well-appointed. Marble-tiled walls were hung with pictures depicting famous scenes or persons from Hardened’s illustrious past. Plants, flowers and ornaments festooned the room, making it seem almost crowded, yet still arranged tastefully and elegantly. A grand hardwood table was standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by chairs as though meant for a council of war. As Skulks looked, the table was empty except for a tray of pastries, with gaps where there had once been other, unluckier pastries.

  The owner of the chuckle was sitting in a comfortable-looking padded leather chair in front of a low, round stone table. She didn’t bother to stand up.

  “Tan Skulks. It’s been a long time. Please, have a seat.”

  Skulks sat down opposite Heathen Spout, in the twin of her chair. It was as comfortable as it looked, creaking slightly as it took his weight. Heathen Spout was a striking woman. Long past fifty, she had silver hair and fine features. Her skin was lined but only faintly and she looked distinctly well for her years. She was also as sharp as one of Skulks’ dagger-swords and not to be taken lightly. Skulks liked her.

  Continuing the small talk, she said, “It’s been a long time and you haven’t aged a bit.” She raised a hand. “I know, I know, you Wielders don’t age.” This last bit wasn’t quite true. They did age, it just didn’t happen very quickly.

  She continued. “Where’re my manners? Would you like a pastry? A drink of Ko-Chak hotleaf?”

  While Tan Skulks was comfortable with small talk, he knew when he was getting buttered up. Soon she’d be asking if he needed a foot massage.

  “Spout, what have you called me here for?”

  Heathen Spout stopped the banalities. “We’ve got a problem.” Without waiting for an acknowledgement, she continued, “People have been getting killed. Murdered. Quite a lot of people.”

  “That’s what the city guard is for?” he asked.

  “Normally, yes. Except they’re not very good at detective work. They can ask a few questions, pound down a door or two and drag a suspect off to the cells. Up until now, that’s been enough.”

  “So what’s different this time? Get them out on the streets, harass a couple of known thugs until they talk and arrest the culprit.” He spoke the truth; Hardened was a city that needed little in the way of formal policing.

  “We’ve tried that. This time, no one’s talking and those who do talk don’t know anything. The trouble is that the number of deaths is unusual. Several more are reported missing, though without bodies to prove anything yet.”

  “I made a couple of minor stops on the way here and there was no talk. A bit of grumbling about this and that.”

  Even in a city the size of Hardened a few deaths would have the city humming with a mixture of fear and excitement. Everyone liked a good murder once in a while - it gave them something to talk about. Claiming to have the latest information on a crime made people feel they had value, in a small and ghoulish way. Some scholars of the subject had even suggested that a murder every now and then brought the city closer together. This, of course, sparked conspiracy theories suggesting that the Chamber Council might not be averse to giving the go-ahead to the odd murder themselves in order to keep people happy - particularly if there hadn’t been a death in a few months. As far as Skulks was aware, it was all nonsense. The Chamber Council was hard-working and dedicated to the wellbeing of Hardened and its people.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Spout told him. “We’ve been doing everything we can to keep it quiet.”

  Skulks was surprised. In a city of nearly a million people it was hard to keep secrets; successfully at least. People got to know things eventually – be it an off duty guard in a drinking house letting his tongue slip, or a relative of the victim telling friends. It always got out.

  “This is why you’ve asked for me, then?” he asked.

  “Indeed,” Spout confirmed. “We n
eed some subtlety at the moment. Something you don’t get with Headcracker or Ten Hands running about the place, smashing things or setting neighbourhoods alight.”

  Tan Skulks was inclined to agree. Jake the Headcracker had his place if you wanted a huge number of things broken indiscriminately as did Ten Hands if you wanted to risk torrents of flaming embers burning down your city, or shards of lightning destroying your ancient architecture. “What about Kine Runner?” he asked Spout. Kine Runner was another Wielder like Skulks, who preferred to work unseen.

  “We did consider him,” she admitted. “But we don’t know where he is. You?”

  Skulks shook his head. “Last I heard he was in Qol-Wert with Lucy Amber. That must have been five, maybe ten years ago. So tell me about these deaths.”

  Heathen Spout didn’t respond immediately, instead making her way to the tray of pastries. Picking one up, she smiled and shrugged at her vulnerability in the face of buttered turnovers, though her body showed no signs of excess. Turning to face him she said, “It’s been quite unpleasant. There are seven known murders so far over the course of the last few weeks. More are missing as I mentioned.”

  Skulks let out a low whistle. “Anything in common between them?”

  “Yes and no,” she replied cryptically. “They’ve been found all over the city. One in a bin, another one down by the docks. Then there was the body found atop the Hogarth Steeple. About one a week. The last one was found in the Chamber Building gardens.”

  “Aha!” he said. “No wonder there’re all the extra guards!”

  “Yes,” she replied. “So far we’ve managed the gossip quite well. We send a few of the off-duty guards to trawl the local taverns telling anyone who’ll listen that the deaths are accidents or natural causes.” Skulks nodded approvingly at this.

  “So what ties them all together?” he asked.

  “All the deaths have been quite nasty. Usually, we’d expect to find a dead body with a bruised face outside a tavern and smelling of ale. These ones have all been killed quite savagely. Arms lopped off, organs removed, heads scalped and so forth. We don’t know what we’re going to do when the good people of Hardened start realising that so many have gone missing and in such a gruesome fashion.”

  Skulks was now sitting upright. “Ok, I’m interested. What’re you paying?” He was indeed interested. This one was intriguing.

  Spout grimaced slightly as if she felt he should be offering his services for free. He was familiar with the look, but felt no guilt. The city was rich; it could afford him.

  “Twenty thousand newly-minted Solids,” she told him. “If you want more we’ll look for another Wielder.”

  Skulks was almost shocked that the Chamber Council had come in so high. She’d given the currency its official name, but the important bit was the words ‘newly-minted’. They’d be full weight coins, unclipped and likely worth two or three times the equivalent number of Slivers. He believed her when she said they’d look for another Wielder if he asked for more, not that they’d be able to get another one here soon.

  “Ok,” he told her. “I accept. With a few conditions.”

  Spout’s face seemed to crumple and she suddenly looked closer to her age. He realised that this must have been weighing down heavily on her for some time; she was a good person and a good member of the Chamber Council. His acceptance had already taken some of the responsibility away from her.

  “What conditions do you have?”

  “I need to be able to come and go as I please. Therefore, I require to be made a captain of the guard, with all paperwork and suchlike to prove it. I probably won’t need any of it, but it’s best to be prepared.”

  “Yes that will be fine. I’ll get someone to draw up your commission documents and get you the accoutrements.”

  “Secondly, you know I work alone. I don’t need the Chamber Council breathing down my neck every hour of the day.”

  “That will be fine as well. As long as you keep us apprised every couple of days. When can you start?”

  “Let me know next time a body turns up. I need to know immediately. I’m staying at The Filigreed Whore in the East District. Send over my documents later.”

  “I’ll get them to you tonight,” said Spout. She looked tired and distracted. Skulks picked up on it.

  “What else is wrong?” he asked. Spout waved a hand in dismissal.

  “Oh nothing for you to concern yourself with really. Chamber Council business, you know? The woodmen and bargemen have gone on strike and are stubbornly holding out for a completely unacceptable settlement. It’s starting to have an effect on our commerce and food is becoming more expensive across the city.”

  “I see,” said Skulks getting up to leave. “That might explain why two gentlemen tried to rob me yesterday. In broad daylight too!”

  As he headed for the door, Spout had some last words for him:

  “And Skulks? The Chamber Council would be most grateful if you could keep your thieving to a minimum. We are paying you very well, after all.”

  Chapter Three

  Heading back towards the Filigreed Whore, Skulks decided to take a small detour. He needed something to clear out the lingering taste of Cow’s Piss from the night before and decided that a tiny mug or two wouldn’t do any harm. Having paid up-front for his room, his pocket was down to its last half-dozen Slivers. Berating himself that he’d not asked for an advance payment from the Chamber Council, Skulks headed along an unfamiliar street in the hope of finding unworthy owners of the coin he needed.

  In this, one of the poorer areas of Hardened, it wasn’t long before he found himself accosted by the local urchins, their hands grasping at his clothing, grubby faces eager as they begged him for spare change, whilst trying to locate his purse. Seeing a younger version of himself in their faces, Skulks chuckled to himself as he rapped their knuckles with a speed that defied their own dextrous assault about his person. Whilst fending them off with pushes and shoves, he let them steal three of his precious Slivers, yet leaving them none the wiser to the fact that their intended mark was far greater in the arts of pilfery than they were.

  Having driven them away, with hands bruised and three stolen Slivers, Skulks paused, an unusually sentimental tear rolling down one cheek as he remembered the clouts and bruises he’d suffered when he was a young urchin all those hundreds of years ago. Still, the odd clout, bruise or kick up the retreating backside had made him learn fast. This was all long before he’d discovered he was a Wielder who didn’t need to pick pockets in order to earn a meagre living. As he’d grown older he’d found that if he really didn’t want to be seen, he could steal more or less with impunity, even from right under the noses of his victims. As time went by he found he had talents with locks, as well as being faster and stronger than the people in the gangs he grew up with. And there were other skills besides.

  While the urchins ran off to buy themselves their first food in two days, Skulks become slightly rueful at his generosity. He knew his last three Slivers weren’t going to buy him anything more than a couple of broiled rats and a cup of strong ale. He was a Wielder, and Wielders didn’t eat rats, he informed himself, knowing full well that he’d eaten more than his fair share of them in the past. In fact, he remembered, The Headcracker was well-known for his Blackened Rat Supreme, which Skulks had developed something of a taste for when they had once been stranded on a remote island in Treads.

  Another few hundred paces were accomplished before he saw an opportunity. A man was standing in front of a low, wooden bench, with a pack of cards. He shuffled them furiously, with the skill of one long-practised in fraud. A small crowd had gathered to watch the show. Skulks also watched as the man dealt out a row of five cards.

  “One Sliver a go!” the card-sharp said. “Guess higher or lower correctly all the way along and I’ll give you five back. You even get the first card free!” he continued, turning the first card over to show a Two of Pigeons. The people of Hardened were naturally cynical, parti
cularly when it came to money and doubly so in the poorer areas where it was harder to come by. There were no suckers here and they were all studying the dealer closely, watching for any funny business.

  Skulks was also looking carefully. He liked to see if there were any new tricks afoot that he should know about. The dealer was good. He paid out five for every six he gained, with his wins being subtly distributed. But, cheating he was, using minor prestidigitations to swap out the cards on the fly. It was magic, but very poor magic. If he’d been good, he’d be a rich man, rather than standing at a bench cheating the poor in Hardened.

  Having made his way in front of the dealer, Skulks allowed his mouth to open as if in awe at the enormous sums being exchanged and he let his eyes droop to seem like he was a man of small learning. When an opening presented itself, he eagerly exclaimed “Me! Me!” and carefully placed down two half-Slivers as if he were divesting himself of his life savings.

  “Good luck to you citizen!” said the man cheerily as he flipped over the first card. It was a Fourteen of Cakes.

  “Lower!” commanded Skulks as if the loudness of his voice could influence the result. The next card was turned over: A Six of Scales.

  “Higher!” yelled Skulks, with a vein popping out on his forehead. The next was a Lord of the Twelve Walls.

  “Higher!” bellowed Skulks again, almost apoplectic with excitement.

  “Bad luck, citizen,” the man was primed to say, as he turned over a Thirteen the Giant Cock, before realising the excited Skulks had gone against the expected odds.