by Max Anthony
Realising that the tactic of throwing knives was not to be successful, and perhaps having also run out of ammunition, the second woman drew her swords. Skulks was now faced by two swordsmen, with the third still dangerous, albeit needing to take a few moments to recover from the injurious kick to his nethers. For their part, the three trained killers knew that they were facing a dangerous opponent. Though they themselves had been trained to fight at speeds that belied most ordinary soldiers or swordsmen, the man in front of them had shown he could move with an even greater speed, arms a blur as he fended off their initial attacks. They were not to know that Skulks was as yet still slightly encumbered by Y’Prout’s magic.
As a gambler, Tan Skulks tried to read the thoughts of the three in front of him and mentally bet himself five Slivers at evens that one of them would make a break for it in order to tell Y’Prout what they’d seen. He cursed himself for not giving himself longer odds as the man made a run for it, just as the second woman moved to block Skulks’ path, swords held forward at waist level.
In a beautifully choreographed display, the first woman attacked high, whilst bringing her second sword around towards Skulks’ back, to allow the second woman time to attack him blindsided as he took evasive action. Skulks ducked almost to ground level below both swords and pushed himself forwards, succeeding with a combination of speed and surprise to rise up within the guard of the first attacker. This was not a move she’d seen before, nor would she see it again. Skulks delivered a crunching head-butt, which almost caused his own eyes to water, let alone those of the unfortunate recipient. The force of it knocked her head back and Skulks took advantage of the situation to insert a dagger under her chin, into her brain and out again, pushing her away as she was dying.
Knowing she was outmatched, the second woman had dropped into a defensive stance, aiming to buy time for her colleague who was making his way back towards the jetty. Looking at her, Skulks surmised from her features that she was Rhultian. She had dark hair and eyes, meeting his own without hate. Not wishing to be delayed, Skulks attacked, daggers thrusting at speed as his opponent blocked, each parry a bone-jarring impact upon her blade and her arm. Skulks was impressed in triplicate that she showed no fear, nor did her blades break and finally that she’d been quick enough to block him at all. It was her bad luck that she was facing a Wielder, for Skulks wasn’t quite human and the fight wasn’t a fair one. After four or five increasingly desperate blocks, one of her swords did eventually snap under the impact of Skulks’ far superior weapons. Skulks didn’t enjoy killing and it was with regret that he plunged a dagger into her eye, thinking to himself that she was the sort of woman he would have liked to have met under different circumstances.
Without further pause to consider the dead, he sprinted after the man who had escaped, worried that he was already too late. Even in the dark and at speed Skulks could read the man’s path, weaving at it was, presumably from the effects of the kick he had received. The swordsman had also become disoriented and his path was slightly circuitous as it wended back to the river. Nevertheless, the man had made it back to the jetty and was stumbling across the cleared area of riverbank towards the barge. Skulks could see that the woodmen were in the process of hauling the first two trunks onto the barge. Foremen Y’Prout and Trowel were visible, waving their hands to exhort the woodmen to greater effort.
“A Wielder!” Skulks heard the man wheeze as he made it to the safety of the barge.
Chapter Fourteen
Somewhere in the middle of the following morning, Captain Tan Skulks marched into the Chamber Building, receiving a smart salute from each soldier he passed. Captain Skulks looked unusually fresh this morning and this was in fact unusual for no excess of alcohol had passed through his lips the preceding day. With his stride a little longer, he reached the office of the good Lady Spout, neglecting only his duty to knock on the door before tendering himself into her presence.
Long past surprise at the insolence of his comings and goings, Heathen Spout greeting him with a hello and offered him the trinity of seat, pastry and hotleaf. Nodding assent to all three, Skulks spoke:
“I have returned from the woodmen.”
“So I see,” responded Spout drily.
“As I thought, something big is afoot and I need to investigate further. Have there been any more murders?”
“None confirmed, but we’ve had several further reports of people missing.” She looked worried. The tally of the missing-but-not-yet-confirmed-dead was climbing. “It’s starting to create a bit of a hubbub, in spite of our best efforts.”
Skulks nodded his understanding. “Did you find out who “TL” is?” he asked, referring to the initials on the note he’d found in Incurious Spelk’s room.
“Perhaps. According to our census there are quite a few people with those initials, given that the city’s population is almost one million. However, we’ve managed to come up with three likely candidates.”
Skulks waited as Spout went to her desk and rifled through some papers. Her hand successfully grasped the sought-for paper, which she read from:
“The first name we have is Thurt Loppins. Born and bred in Hardened, he owns a successful pig farm just outside the city. The value of his pigs has climbed significantly since the bargemen strike. He’s bought three distressed bakeries since the strikes began.
Next, we have Teresa Locks. She owns a total of seven taverns and two hotels in Hardened. They all specialise in local produce, the supply of which she controls and we believe her worth has increased as a direct result of the strikes.
Finally, we have Tiopan Lunder. He’s a merchant from Rhult, but has lived here for four or five years. He imports goods from his homeland, so is likely to benefit from the strikes around Hardened.”
At the mention of ‘Rhult’, Skulks had sat upright.
“Get me some more details on this Lunder fellow. I might need to pay him a visit.”
After this, Skulks and Heathen Spout talked for a long while as the former spoke of his thoughts on what he had discovered so far and which avenues of investigation he intended to follow next.
So it came that Captain Skulks was observed to leave the office of Heathen Spout at mid-afternoon. No one thought it unusual that this coincided with the changing of shifts for the guards and certainly no one noticed that Captain Skulks left the Chamber Building just as the brothers Bren and Tybot Underman arrived to begin the long afternoon patrol shift. By the time he had left the Chamber Building gardens, Captain Skulks had shed his livery and was now nothing more than a face in the crowded streets of a warm afternoon in Hardened, his meandering feet carrying him along a reverse of the route the brothers had taken to reach their place of work. An acquaintance of Skulks would have known that he was about his business, for although he had an air of casualness about him, he walked past several inviting taverns, at least two purveyors of fine-smelling street offal and one minor charlatan trying to scam Slivers out of a cynical audience.
Skulks was relieved when he reached one of the more modest housing districts of the city, where he knew the brothers lived. It normally took little effort to convince himself that distractions such as a tavern or a bit of minor thievery were important enough to warrant a delay, when really he had plenty to be getting on with. The Underman house took hardly any finding, though it was four stories up and Skulks had to pass through a bakery in order to get there. Truly, he thought, Hardened was a wonder of patchwork building, though he was mildly curious to know how the brothers got in and out of their dwelling when the bakery was closed for the night.
At their front door he knocked. Skulks was aware that they lived alone, but had a story prepared in case a cleaner answered the door, or perhaps a lady or gentleman of ill-repute from the previous evening. He was slightly disappointed to be denied the opportunity to deliver his cock-and-bull story involving the escape of a rabid monkey, for the door remained stubbornly unanswered. He knocked again before succumbing to the obvious: the house wa
s empty.
It didn’t remain empty for long, for soon it became possessed of a single occupant - a Wielder by the name of Tan Skulks. Inside it was dark, since the two hallway doors had been conscientiously closed, shutting out the light from afternoon. Skulks listened carefully and could hear no sounds from within the house itself. He opened and peered around the first door: a kitchen, furnished with a table, two chairs, two cupboards, a fireplace and a sink stacked high with unwashed dishes. The next door graciously revealed its secret: a sitting room with a battered-looking settee, a wooden chair and a low table cluttered with cups. Thus far the abode displayed every indication of its provenance: a house lived in by two single men.
There was a set of stone steps leading upwards from the sitting room. These steps were crooked and would have caused palpitations in any structural engineer viewing their construction. In fact, legend had it that at least seven structural engineers visiting from other cities had died horrible and sudden deaths from natural causes prompted by the shock of Hardened’s catastrophic approach to building. Whether or not it was entirely true, it had almost become a matter of civic pride. Skulks had no time for loads and forces and mounted the steps with abandon, ensuring he placed his full weight upon each tread.
The steps carried him up and onto a small landing with three wooden doors. The first door led to a dirty toilet, wherein Skulks took the opportunity to relieve himself of the four cups of hotleaf he’d consumed in Heathen Spout’s office, as well as the morning’s accumulation of flatulence he’d deemed it inappropriate to expel in Spout’s company.
The other doors were, of course, bedrooms and both unoccupied. The rooms were nigh identically furnished. Undressed wooden floors, cheap, yet sturdy beds, wardrobes, chairs and a single window in each. Nothing so far to indicate an involvement in several murders throughout the city. Picking the first room at random, Skulks entered. It smelled musty and the sheets didn’t look like they’d been changed in weeks. With only two places to search, Skulks looked under the bed first. As he’d thought: nothing. Then he considered the wardrobe: as square and boring as one could imagine a wardrobe to be, with folding doors and three drawers at the bottom.
He wasn’t quite sure what made him stop. Maybe it was because he’d been caught out by Y’Prout’s magic the night before, or maybe it was because he had a few hundred years of experience under his belt. It was quite obvious when he stopped to look and he almost kicked himself at the thought that he might have fallen for it. The wardrobe had a magic ward placed on it; invisible to the naked eye, but certainly not invisible to Skulks when he took the time to look for it. He studied it closely. It contained both a lock and a trigger. The first to prevent opening without the correct key, and a trigger to perform an action of some sort when the trigger was activated.
Locks he was good at, however they were made and it took him just a few seconds to disable this one, peeling the magic away from the wardrobe easily. It appeared to be either a minor ward or a ward placed by a minor wizard. At this point Skulks realised the mistake he’d made. He’d expected the lock and trigger to be separate and for the trigger to produce an unpleasant result if the wardrobe was forced open with the lock active. However, it seemed that the trigger event was simply for the lock to be disabled. Skulks resolved to mete out to himself a good kick at the earliest opportunity.
He heard a cackling sound and spun around to see that a creature had been conjured into being in the room behind him. It was about a foot high and in the shape of a demon, with dark green skin, horned head and tiny mouth containing sharp pointed teeth. It had hairy legs and clawed feet. All the archetypal tick boxes were ticked. It was partially translucent, leaving Skulks to believe it was shifted out of physical existence and therefore immune to being struck. It turned around and Skulks could see a long tail which the demon flicked upwards to reveal its anus, at which it pointed before waggling it provocatively.
Skulks was inflamed and lunged for the creature, which cackled again and darted out of the room. Skulks followed as it ran down the stairs – it was obviously a messenger summoned to report on whoever had attempted entry to the wardrobe. Since it was small and fast, Skulks couldn’t permit it to escape onto the streets, where he would struggle to follow it. He clattered through the living room into the hallway, where the creature was standing next to the front door which was already partially opened to facilitate its escape. Emboldened by its non-corporeality and being a creature of mischief, it couldn’t resist turning for one final presentation of its back passage for Skulks’ visual delectation.
Its last thought was one of regret as Skulks hurled one of his daggers with a sidearm cast, skewering the creature and pinning it to the front door. It popped out of existence, returning to whichever plane of existence it had been summoned from. Skulks was pleased that he had taught the creature a lesson for its cheek, and again gave thanks to the daggers for which he had paid so handsomely and also for the enscorcellations with which they were imbued.
Returning to the bedroom, Skulks’ curiosity was now greatly piqued by the thoughts of what the wardrobe might contain. All trace of magic was now gone. He checked and double checked. Then he checked for mundane devices or trickery, none of which were present. Before tugging open the doors, he fulfilled his promise to himself and commanded one leg to firmly kick the other. Skulks believed in punishing himself where his lapses were attributable to avoidable carelessness.
With a sore leg, he opened the doors on the wardrobe. There were no jewels inside, nor bars of precious metal. Treasure maps were also conspicuous by their absence; instead there were clothes hanging up. Skulks riffled through them – there were a couple of fashionable velvet-effect tavern-suits, some undershirts and several pairs of trousers.
The top drawer proved more interesting, though only inasmuch as it contained seven pairs of women’s underwear. From the lack of male underwear, Skulks was able to ascertain that at least one of the brothers Underman regularly turned up to work whilst hiding a guilty secret from his fellow guards.
The third drawer was considerably more interesting even than the second. There was a small wooden box and in that box there were papers and a book containing a few thick pages. The book was titled Juniper the Two Headed God and Skulks leafed through it. The prose was fairly standard amongst its ‘gods cometh’ brethren, though slightly gorier than most. He spotted a couple of passages that proved worthy of a closer read:
And the Two Headed God of Murderers will make himself known, for his disciples will bring fear upon the non-believers and they will sow much discord until neighbour kills neighbour and friend kills friend, lest their neighbour or friend kills them first
Further through the book he also read:
The Two Headed God of Murderers will send forth minions in his own image to inspire those of his believers who most please him and these minions will kill one hundred and one times before they return to the realm of Juniper
Skulks returned the book to the box and pulled forth a sheaf of papers. He read through a few of them. “Well, well,” he said to himself. “You think everything looks fine and when you scratch away at the gold leaf you find that underneath it’s just a big, fat turd.” The papers revealed names and details of an underground cult, claiming to follow the aforesaid Juniper the Two Headed God of Murderers. The list contained almost one hundred names. Certainly enough to cause a degree of consternation in the Chamber Council if these names were all murderously intent. He had no idea what such incriminating evidence was doing in this wardrobe, but he pocketed the book and the papers and made his way into the second bedroom.
He searched this one much more cautiously than the first, testing for traps both expected and unexpected. It was to all intents and purposes the same as the other bedroom, excepting the absence of magical wards, women’s underwear and books describing the cult of a murderous god. In other words, entirely lacking the excitement Skulks was hoping to find. Thusly, he tidied away the obvious signs of his visit and m
ade his exit via the front door, back through the bakery and out onto the street, now carrying a freshly-bought loaf.
Once he’d put distance between himself and the Chamber Council-approved crime he’d just committed he stopped, only slightly aware of the human traffic diverting around him. He found himself scratching his head, an action he was unaccustomed to for it was an indication that he was troubled. He was troubled because every loose end he followed appeared to produce more loose ends and though he was sure they would intertwine eventually he was concerned that the number of branching paths might overwhelm him. The problem for Skulks was that the only person he trusted to pursue them was himself. On the plus side, he’d managed to get Spout to authorise a significant increase in his fee this morning, though it was with the understanding that it was to pay for some assistance he’d requested. Assistance that was not likely to arrive for the next few days.
An introspective Skulks would have worked matters through logically in his head, balancing known fact versus assumed probability, weighing up each option to decide where his resource would produce the greatest result in the shortest time. The Tan Skulks of this tale instead bought a yard of sausage and a mug of ale from a street stall to accompany his loaf and walked off towards the Chamber Building, happily munching and quaffing. Once there he found a clerk and gave instruction that the brothers Underman were to be given a double shift today. The notes he’d purloined from the wardrobe at the Underman house gave repeated mention of a lady by the name of Lisan Flamuscrax and Skulks thought it best that he pay her a visit before the Undermans’ unexpected double shift ended and they discovered that their wardrobe had been cleaned out.