A blackmail note? Intriguing, but not surprising considering its recipient. The nobility tended to have the most sordid appetites—and plenty of money to cover up any transgressions.
The Hunter tapped his lip in thought. Lady Chasteyn had explained how the boy came to have such a message. But who would kill the messenger: the one who hired him, or the intended recipient?
It seemed unlikely that either would have murdered the boy, but he couldn’t rule out either party.
He strode from Lady Chasteyn’s office and scanned the House of Mercy. He stopped one of the caretakers heading past.
“A moment of your time, fair lady,” he said, still in the Lord Anglion persona.
She was young and pretty, even in her plain clothing, and colored beneath his compliment. “Of course, my lord.”
“If I was to have one of your delightful children deliver a message for me, would there be a record of its provenance?”
Her face twisted in confusion. “Sir?”
The Hunter tried again. “Would there be any way to know that the message came from me? For the purpose of ensuring its safe delivery, of course.”
“Sorry, my lord.” The caretaker shook her head. “Lady Chasteyn said no records were to be kept.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Some of the messages that get sent are of a sensitive nature, if you get my meaning.”
“I certainly do.” The Hunter winked at her. “Thank you, fair lady, you have been most helpful.”
“Of course, my lord.” The young women curtsied. “Is it true what I hear? That you intend to contribute to keeping the House of Mercy running?”
The Hunter inclined his head. “Perhaps.”
“Mistress smile on you then, sir.” She beamed up at him. “There are always more children in need, though there seem to be far fewer of them about these days. And now with the child found in the marketplace…” She shook her head. “A true shame, sir.”
“Indeed.” With a nod, the Hunter took his leave. He tapped his gilded cane on the cobblestones as he strode from the orphanage and, with a nod to Rayf, climbed into the carriage without a word. The coachmen knew where he needed to go—he’d received instructions on how to reach Lord Anglion’s mansion in The Gardens before departing Voramis.
The Hunter leaned back in the cloth-stuffed, leather-covered carriage seat and pulled out the note again. “Young Lady Riandra’s blood is on your hands, Baronet Wyvern,” it read. “What is it worth to keep her death a secret?”
He couldn’t find the one who’d sent the note, but he knew its intended recipient. That, at least, was a place to start his search.
Time to pay this Baronet Wyvern a visit. The question was: should he go as Lord Harrenth Anglion the haughty nobleman, or as the Hunter of Voramis?
Chapter Five
Ilanna almost felt ashamed at the relief that flooded her when she saw the corpse lying on the steel table in Journeyman Rilmine’s charnel room. The apprentice was one of hers, a small lad who wore the muted “streets” of the Night Guild.
But it wasn’t Kodyn.
She could finally breathe now that she knew her son hadn’t been the one murdered. Try as she might to shut off her mother’s instincts, she couldn’t help worrying about Kodyn. After everything that had happened—the horror that had led to his conception, the secrecy of his birth and infancy, the terror of watching her house consumed by alchemical fire, the joy of finding him once more—she could allow herself a moment of bliss to know her son was alive.
Or, at least, not the corpse on Journeyman Rilmine’s table.
“Who is he?” Ilanna asked.
“Name’s Arashi,” Eden, Master Fox, said with a sad shake of her head. “A Red Fox, in his fourth year of apprenticeship.”
Ilanna’s gut twisted again. Fourth year. That would make him barely eleven or twelve. Too young to have died, even worse to end up like this.
The stink of embalming chemicals and the metallic tang of old, dried blood only added to her nausea. She forced herself not to think about where Journeyman Rilmine had obtained the organs that sat in the liquid-filled jars occupying the shelves around the room’s periphery.
Her eyes traced the smooth, featureless outline of the plaster that engulfed his head and neck. The mask gave him the appearance of a milliner’s head dummy, more of a porcelain doll than a real, living child. Or a child that had been living until yesterday.
Blood stained the boy’s emaciated, filthy chest, forming a grisly halo around the strange symbol etched into his skin. The sight of it struck Ilanna a blow to the gut—until now, it had been nothing more than lines on King Ohilmos’ parchment. She felt a nauseating rage, a desire to carve whoever had done this to bloody pieces, just as she had the Bloodbear that had tormented her throughout her apprenticeship.
“Guild Massster.” Journeyman Rilmine’s strange voice drifted in from the doorway. “I did not expect you ssso sssoon.”
Journeyman Rilmine was unique even among the odd characters that made up House Scorpion. A strange disease had taken every hair from his head, eyebrows, face, and body. He stood nearly a head taller than Ilanna, yet his shoulders had grown stooped from too many hours hunched over corpses. Too many hours spent in the Guild tunnels had turned his skin parchment-thin and eerily pale. Years ago, he’d suffered a stroke that deadened the right half of his face. When he spoke, he slurred his words and hissed on all the hard “s” sounds.
“I got here as soon as I received the news,” Ilanna said.
Journeyman Tyman, now Master of House Scorpion, had once been the Night Guild’s foremost healers. He had even begun training others of his House in the healing arts. But where Tyman ministered to the living, Rilmine cared for the dead. He dissected human bodies to study their innards—not only to further Tyman’s medical studies, but simply out of a fascination to see death in every form. Just being around the Journeyman sent a shiver of disgust down Ilanna’s spine.
“I have not yet had time to ssstudy the body.” Rilmine placed a leather bundle on the steel table beside the corpse and unrolled it, revealing an assortment of scalpels, clamps, pincers, and other physicker’s tools. “You mussst return when I am done.”
“Can you tell me anything at all about what killed him?” Ilanna asked. “Was it the plaster mask, those marks carved into his flesh?”
“I cannot sssay yet.” Journeyman Rilmine shook one long finger in her face. “Give me time.”
“You have three hours,” Ilanna said.
Rilmine bowed. “Asss you sssay, Massster Gold.”
Ilanna departed without a backward glance, glad to be free of the overpowering stink of the alchemical embalming chemicals Rilmine used to preserve his corpses. Eden followed at her side, her long legs easily matching Ilanna’s stride.
“Where did they find him?” Ilanna asked.
“The sewers, not far from Old Town Market.” Eden’s face creased into a scowl. “Discarded like shite.”
Ilanna’s gut clenched. “Have your Foxes scour the sewers for anything that could point us at his killer.”
“Already doing so,” Master Fox replied.
“Good.” Ilanna nodded. “If whoever did it returns, I want your Foxes to report back here at once.” She stopped and grabbed Eden by her huge bicep. “Under no circumstances are your Foxes to take action. They are to watch, nothing more.”
“You expect me to tell them that?” Fury flashed in the Eden’s dull brown eyes. “Every one of my Foxes knows what happened to Arashi by now. If they find whoever’s responsible, they’re going to gut the bastard first and let the Long Keeper ask the questions.”
“Which is exactly why I’m telling you.” Ilanna met the Fox’s anger with icy calm. “The last thing we need is for more people to end up dead. This murderer has already killed four men, not just children.” She drew a finger across her neck. “Slashed their throats, bled them like pigs. Your Foxes are clever and quick, but they’re not fighters. Your orders are to have them repor
t back to House Serpent.”
Master Fox’s eyes narrowed. “The Serpents?”
“They’ll handle it,” Ilanna insisted. “Errik’s got most of his Serpents out hunting, but the moment you get a location on the killer, he’ll get them back and send them after the bastard.” She gripped Eden’s huge arm again. “Trust me, whoever did this won’t get off easy.”
After a tense moment, Master Fox nodded. “As you say, Guild Master.” She spun on her heel and hurried in the direction of her House.
Ilanna was on her way back to her office when she heard someone calling her name. A young Hawk raced up to her.
“Uhh, Master Gold.” The boy—Mayk, wasn’t it?—no older than ten or eleven, looked nervous to be speaking with her, but his expression was that of a man on a mission. He held out a folded parchment. “This is for you.”
Ilanna took the parchment and read. “Another child found in Old Town Market this morning. The deaths must stop.” The note had no signature, but she recognized the handwriting. It had come from Duke Phonnis.
“How did you get this?” Ilanna demanded.
Mayk reddened. “I…er…I was grabbed by a Praamian Guard in the Ward of Refuge, right beside the Coin Counter’s Temple. But instead of hauling me off to the hangman’s noose, he gave me this and told me to get it to you at once.” Tears slipped from his eyes. “I-I’m sorry, Master Gold. I didn’t mean to get caught.”
“Mayk.” She spoke in a voice at once firm and kind. “You did good. You have nothing to fear.”
The Hawk apprentice scrubbed at his cheeks. “Thank you, Master Gold.”
“Thank you, young Hawk.” With a nod, Ilanna turned and strode in the direction of House Hound.
A long, straight tunnel led to the double doors that opened into the Kennel, the main chamber of House Hound. Twin amber-colored gemstones twinkled in the eyes of the hound etched into the door’s face, and long curving canines served as the door handles.
Ilanna marched up to the doors and pounded on it until, a few seconds later, one of the doors opened.
A Hound apprentice, perhaps twelve or thirteen, stood framed in the doorway. “Yes?” His eyes flew wide at sight of Ilanna and panic creased his face. “Er, Master Gold! Forgive me, I—”
“Tell Master Hound that I have a job for him. He’s to locate the body found in Old Town Market this morning, snatch it, and bring it to Journeyman Rilmine for examination. Can you remember that?”
“Yes, Master Gold, of course!” The youth nodded eagerly.
“Good.” Ilanna stalked down the bare earthen halls that led away from House Hound.
Her mind raced. Two deaths on the same day. That can’t be good.
She had to find and stop the killer before the body count grew too high. Duke Phonnis wouldn’t hesitate to lay blame at the Night Guild’s feet, and his efforts to convince the King to eliminate them might actually pay off.
No, we’re going to deal with this quickly and ruthlessly, the Night Guild way.
She couldn’t find out anything about the two new victims yet, not until Journeyman Rilmine finished his examination. But if Ria had found information on the dead prostitute, Chantelle, maybe it could point her in the right direction.
* * *
Ilanna sucked in a gulp of fresh riverside air as she stepped from the hidden doorway into the Night Guild.
I’ve been spending too much time in those stuffy tunnels, she thought. It had been nearly two weeks since her last run on the Hawk’s Highway with Kodyn. Her excursion to the palace last night had been her first time leaving the Guild’s corridors in ten days. I’ve got to get out more.
She drew in another deep breath, adjusted her nondescript clothing, and set off in the direction of The Gilded Chateau. Though she kept a steady pace, fifteen years as a thief made her cautious, wary. Her eyes wandered into every alley, watched every window, looked through every open door. She didn’t take a step without calculating three avenues of flight should she find herself confronted by an enemy.
She knew it was an unnecessary precaution. Few outside the Night Guild even knew who Ilanna truly was, and fewer still could recognize her on sight. She had cut her black hair and dyed it a shade of light brown, and her face had aged in the last eleven years since she’d led the Praamian Guards and Arbitors on a raid into the Guild tunnels. In truth, only King Ohilmos and Duke Phonnis knew what she looked like now.
Eleven years of tenuous peace with the Crown hadn’t erased the memory of all the Guild members hanging in the Watcher’s Square, but Ilanna had fought to maintain the ceasefire as long as Duke Phonnis kept his men in line. Despite his hatred of her and the Night Guild, the Duke had proven obedient to the King’s command to leave them alone. He wouldn’t send his Arbitors, his private paramilitary force, or the Praamian Guards to hunt her down, provided Ilanna didn’t go pissing in the wrong nobleman’s porridge.
It was personal for the Duke. He saw the Guild as a stain not only on his city, but on his family’s name. After all, it had been his ancestors that founded the Guild—a fact he’d done everything in his power to conceal. Their very existence insulted his honor, and Ilanna had learned that honor meant everything to Duke Elodon Phonnis, trumped only by his loyalty to his brother, the King.
Ilanna’s instincts warned her of danger as a troop of Praamian Guards marched past, but she forced herself to smile and nod at the olive-clad soldiers. They actually returned her greeting, and she felt a smug sense of satisfaction warm in her belly. She had nothing to fear now that she was no longer a thief.
To be fair, being Master Gold carries its own burdens. Not the least of which is the knowledge of what will happen if we don’t find the killer and stop the murders.
Hopefully, she’d find her first lead here in The Gilded Chateau.
The Gilded Chateau was a towering, four-story white stone building in the heart of Mercantile Square, a ten-block section of Praamis dedicated to the more affluent vendors: jewelers, watchmakers, and purveyors of whatever other luxuries the nobility desired. The location of the pleasure house made it one of the Guild’s most lucrative sources of income—after all, merchants with fat purses and fatter wives always sought the company of beautiful, willing women.
Red glass was set in every window, and the lamps shining within the rooms filled the air with a soft crimson glow that screamed temptation to passersby. Two women clad in feather boas, elegant top hats, and dresses made of more lace and jewelry than actual fabric sat on an upper-story balcony—a sampling of the offerings within.
A solid oak door barred entry to The Gilded Chateau, but it stood slightly ajar to allow the sound of laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses to waft out onto the street. The sweet scent of desire-inducing incense—a special concoction crafted by House Scorpion—hung in a pleasant miasma around the entrance.
Ilanna nodded to the young woman standing at the door. The bouncer, a dark-skinned Issai named Celesa, was Ilanna’s height, her build just on the solid side of lean, but she watched the street with a quiet confidence that marked her as dangerous. The truncheon on her belt had sharp metal studs that could tear through flesh and clothing even as the club itself shattered bone. Fearsome weapons in the right hands.
The bouncer inclined her head without taking her eyes off the street, her attention never wavering from her duty. She had to be good to have been awarded this position at the upscale brothel.
Ilanna pushed through the doors and stepped into a paradise of the flesh.
Colorful paintings hung on the wall, each displaying images at once suggestive, erotic, yet highly artistic. Wood carvings of a visibly phallic nature adorned every corner of the room, every tabletop, and every shelf. The sweet smell of incense hung thick enough to be noticeable, yet never truly overwhelmed the senses. Red-glass lamps bathed the room in a soft glow that only added to the sensuality within The Gilded Chateau.
Plush couches, comfortable settees, and fur-covered love seats occupied the main chamber. Men and wome
n—guests of both sexes enjoyed the pleasures offered by the women of The Gilded Chateau—in various states of undress lounged around the room, sipping drinks and enjoying canapes. Three tray-carrying young women, more dark-skinned Issai, moved among the guests, their dresses somehow straddling the line between chaste and tastefully scant.
Ilanna glanced around, but saw no sign of Ria. She stepped up to the marble-topped bar that ran along the east side of the room, where bottles of every shape, size, and color sat on alchemical lantern-lit shelves. Wines and liquors from Nysl, Voramis, and even faraway Vothmot and Fehl sat beside enormous caskets of Praamian-brewed ale. Stronger, less legal spirits and opiates remained locked away in the brothel’s strongroom, available only upon request.
She waited until the young, pretty Issai girl behind the bar glanced her way, then signaled for her to come over.
“Yes?” The girl, Afia, had the same kaffe-colored skin as the bouncer and the serving girls, but her clothes were a bit more modest, with less flesh showing. Yet the dozens of silver, gold, brass, and bronze bangles adorning her wrists and throat—with matching ear, nose, and lip rings—made her seem somehow more exotic and intriguing than the others.
“Ria, where is she?” Ilanna asked.
“Not here.” The girl shrugged her strong shoulders, a motion that set her ornaments jingling.
“I’ll wait.” Ilanna slid onto a stool beside the bar. “Snowblossom wine, chilled.”
“Coming right up.” Afia pushed through a hanging bead curtain and disappeared through the doorway behind the bar.
Ilanna turned on her stool, chosen specifically for its proximity to the exits and its unobstructed line of sight, and studied the room. More accurately, she studied the men and women filling the room. Most were too drunk, happy, or randy to care what went on around them. They only cared about whatever feminine object of desire sat across from, beside, or astride them.
Ilanna’s gut twisted at the thought of what the girls working here had to endure. She hated the idea of any woman having to sell her body to earn a living, yet for many of them, it counted among the best of a long list of terrible choices. At least they now had House Phoenix to keep an eye out for them.
Darkblade Justice: An Epic Fantasy Murder Mystery (Hero of Darkness Book 7) Page 4