Ioth, City of Lights

by D P Woolliscroft

  “We’ve heard of them,” mused Trypp. “But it doesn’t fit. They’re supposed to be a group of extra-pious church goers, not soldiers on suicide missions.”

  Morris shrugged. “I’ve got no idea. But it’s them who’s being blamed. If they’ve got nothing to do with it then I wouldn’t like to be them right now.” Morris looked to Alana. “Assembly members died tonight.”

  “What about the Saint?” she asked tremulously.

  “I think it would be even worse out on the streets if something had happened to the golden boy. I’m not sure anything can hurt him either, so I’m sure he’s fine. Probably was already at home with a glass of milk.” Motega chuckled at Morris’ joke, but turned it into a cough when he didn’t see anyone else laughing.

  “In the morning we’ll go back to our inn and get our stuff. We’ll move in to make sure you’re safe, Alana,” said Motega.

  “No need for that, lad,” said Morris. “The Ravens have got it covered. You guys find out what is going.”

  “I’m not a lad,” snapped Motega rising to his feet. He pointed his finger at the old soldier across the room. “And you’re not my sergeant. You’re not even Florian’s fucking sergeant anymore. Stop calling him by that stupid name.” Motega ignored the eye roll that he saw Florian give him. Yes, he was mad. Yes, it wasn’t supposed to be his job to keep Alana safe, but it didn’t seem like anyone else was doing it.

  Alana slapped her open palm on the carved wooden arm of her chair, drawing everyone’s attention. “Motega. Sit down.” She said it with such force that Motega was already back on his arse before he knew what he was doing. “Thank you for the offer,” she said, her voice kinder. “But I agree with the sergeant. We need you three on the streets. Now more than ever. We need to know what is happening here if we are to be successful. Maybe there is an opportunity. If we can find out what is going on, if these Devoted are to blame, and we find out where they are, then we can gain favor with the Speaker. The negotiations have not been going well.”

  “I still don’t think it’s the Devoted—” began Trypp, before Alana cut him off.

  “And if it’s not, we’ll work out what is going on and how we’re going to make it work for us!”

  Everyone nodded and mumbled their agreement like scolded children.

  “It also seems like I have someone else protecting me,” said Alana, shifting in her chair to face the silent girl sitting in the corner. “Jill? Who are you?”

  Jill continued to stare at her hands as she picked at the quicks of her fingers. Her leg jostled with nervous energy. Alana had to repeat her question before she would answer.

  “The Lord Protector hired me to look out for you,” she said.

  “Hired from where?” asked Crews.

  “I’m a partner in the Hollow Syndicate.”

  Trypp whistled in surprise. Motega had not seen that one coming either. Jill lifted her head proudly to look each of them in the eye. “My name is Finabria Bracaccia.”

  “Sounds like a local name to me,” grunted Dolph.

  “I am from Ioth. That’s one of the reasons why I was chosen by Lady Chalice. But my family is the syndicate now.”

  “I don’t get it,” said Trypp as he glared at her. If anyone in that room knew the syndicate, it was him. He’d spent a couple of years in the Hollow school before he’d taken a dislike to their line of business. “Assassins are not guards.”

  “You will have to ask your Lord Protector why he made that decision. I simply have a contract.”

  “Bullshit,” barked Motega. Chalice had been with Jyuth when he saved him and his sister, but that didn’t mean he trusted the syndicate. And this girl might be a good fighter, but she wasn’t a good liar.

  “I swear it,” she said. “I have a letter to prove it.”

  “Finabria, can you fetch it, please,” asked Alana. “Dolph, can you accompany her?”

  The new-found assassin in their midst nodded and left, Dolph her shadow. Motega got up, pacing the room to take his mind off things. Trypp was still muttering something about it not making sense, and Alana impatiently asked him to wait and see—probably in the hopes of shutting him up. Motega walked past the landscape paintings of Edland that hung on the walls. Green fields and farmers in one. Hills and deep forest in another. Ships departing the port of Kingshold in a third.

  Something to make the inhabitants less homesick, he thought, as he found himself in front of a framed map. And then something came back to him. Something that he had wracked his brains to try and remember, but now seeing this framed map here on the wall, it reminded him of where he had seen a very different map in a house back in Kingshold. One that had piqued his interest then.

  Finabria walked back into the room. A sealed envelope in hand which she gave to Alana. Alana opened it and unfolded the paper inside before reading out loud.

  “‘Alana. Finabria Bracaccia is in my employment. I am sorry I did not tell you but it was important to have a back-up plan. Think of her as an insurance policy’” Alana looked up before finishing her reading. “‘You can trust her’. It’s definitely his signature here, and his seal on the envelope.” She got up and walked over to Finabria, taking her hand in her own. “Thank you, for tonight. I think we all owe you a debt.”

  Motega grunted his agreement along with the others, while still processing what Mareth had done. That was one hell of an insurance policy.

  “Now,” said Alana. “I am tired. I think we all are tired so we should get some rest. Motega, Florian, Trypp. I’m sorry, but you should go. Once it’s morning you’ll be seen leaving the residence and your cover will be shot. But let’s meet again on the evening of the Blessing of the Swords and we can see where we are.”

  Alana turned and left, pulling Finabria the assassin after her. Motega and his friends said their goodbyes and silently snuck out a side exit directly into the canal. A brief swim and a short climb later and they were back on the skyway and walking back to their beds. Trypp pulled out a bottle of something he had lifted from the kitchens and passed it around.

  Motega took a swig of what turned out to be a sherry, probably for cooking, its sweet warmth welcome after the cold water.

  “You remember that odd map? The one I said must have been copied by agents from Pyrfew? Well, back there, I remembered where I got it from. It was Hoxteth’s house.”

  “Hoxteth?” said Florian. “Are you saying he worked for Llewdon?”

  “I’m fucked if I know. Maybe he bought it from somewhere. Maybe he just took money from them. But if he was working with them, what do you think that means about his wife?”

  “Fuck…” said Florian and Trypp in unison.

  “Yep. We’re going to need to tell Mareth when we all get back.”

  Trypp blew out his cheeks and shook his head as he took the bottle back. “Funny how things are always messed up. Remind me again why we’re doing this.”

  “Friendship,” said Florian. “The same reason we put up with you.”

  Trypp snorted on the slug of booze. “Good one.”

  Chapter 34

  Advice

  Alana slept late.

  Her eyes opened to the sun slanting through the curtains in her room. Her head ached. Her body was stiff and she winced as she sat up; the bruises from last night greeting her good morning. She rose and slipped on a simple dress, one of the ones that she would typically wear at home and didn’t require restrictive under garments. The corset was hung over a nearby chair, on top of the remains of the beautiful gown she had worn last night, the bands of metal peeking out through the fabric like the bones on a picked chicken carcass.

  She tottered toward the door with the intention of heading to the kitchens to see if breakfast could be prepared, her stomach crying out for food, when the door to her bedroom opened. Jill, or Finabria—whoever she was—walked in with a tray laden with breads, cheese and cold slices of meat. She set it down on the table, closed the door and waited for a moment.

  “Finabria, you
don’t have to do this. I know you’re not supposed to be here to serve me. Why keep up the charade, when you know I wasn’t comfortable with it anyway.”

  “You can call me Fin. Most people do. But only in private. You should still call me Jill everywhere else.” She swallowed and took a deep breath. “I still have a job to do, and that doesn’t end until we’re back in Kingshold.”

  Alana was confused. But she was also hungry and so she sat in front of the food and gestured for Fin to join her. “How can we do that? Everyone saw you last night.”

  “Maybe,” said Fin.

  “There’s no ‘maybe’ about it. There were hundreds of people there.”

  “Alana, have you ever known people who aren’t remembered, even though they were in plain sight?”

  Alana nodded, knowing all too well what she meant. Alana had spent most of her life going unnoticed. As a child she was always in the shadow of her older, more out-going, sister. And staying out of notice was practically in her job description at the palace. It had only been the past six moons that she’d been struggling to get used to being somebody that people paid attention to.

  “Then you know that people will only believe what their eyes tell them when it matches their view of the world. I was there as a servant. Not a single guest spoke to me, or even saw me at the ball. When the killing started, they were too busy begging for their lives or running to hide. I’m used to going unnoticed. And I’m good at it.”

  Alana shook her head in disbelief but her brain was telling her that Fin was probably right.

  “Look,” continued Fin. “If anyone did see a girl fighting, I’ll bet you that by now everyone thinks it was you.” Alana laughed, but from the look on her face she could tell Fin was being serious. “I mean it. And would it be a bad thing if some rumors start spreading about Ambassador Narring and her skill with a sword?” Now Fin smiled, and Alana realized she was seeing her real smile for the first time. “Maybe you should even start wearing a sword around the city.”

  It sounded bizarre, but Alana was taken with the idea of walking around armed. Being seen as a warrior politician from the stories of old. She shook her head, trying to banish the thoughts. “Let’s say I go along with this. What are you going to do?”

  “Exactly what I was doing before. I’ll help you with what you need to do. I’ll tell you what I know about Ioth. And I’ll be there to fulfill my contract.” Fin furrowed her brow and clasped her fingers together imploringly. “Please, this is my first contract for the Syndicate. I can’t mess this up.”

  Alana drummed her fingers on the table top, looking at the earnest girl sitting across from her. Just for a fleeting second, Fin looked worried, her air of confidence dissolving before the wall was rebuilt again. Who was she? Alana popped a piece of cheese into her mouth as she thought.

  “I need to know more about you first. How do you know about Ioth? Is that part of your training?”

  “I’ll tell you the basics, alright? I’m not going to bare my soul to you,” said Fin, lifting her chin to meet Alana’s gaze. “That’s not professional.” Alana nodded her agreement as a fatty slice of the local ham disappeared down to her grateful stomach. “It was the truth when I told you I was born in Ioth. I lived here until I was twelve. My father is a rich merchant here in the city. Not one of the Assembly before you ask, but influential nonetheless. He got me into the Hollow House School. But it was all me who wanted to be there and I was the one who worked hard to make it. I’m the youngest syndicate partner in nearly twenty years,” she said, with a note of pride in her voice. “My knowledge may be a little out of date, but I listened to my father when he talked about his competition and Ioth changes very slowly. One person moves on, another looking just like him comes in to take his place. At least until recently anyway”

  Alana believed Fin was telling the truth. The matter-of-fact manner of her delivery had changed her life story into something as mundane as a grocer’s list of wares. She was certain that this wasn’t the whole truth, but then again who ever tells the person they work for all their story? “Do you promise this is the truth?”

  “I swear, Alana.”

  “Good. Then we need to get busy with what little of the day remains.”

  “You know the doctor said you should rest today.”

  “Are you going to tell me I should be taking it easy?” asked Alana incredulously.

  “No, definitely not. I like that you want to seize the day. Sergeant Morris may have a different opinion though…”

  “Well, let’s just see about that.”

  It turned out that Fin had it right. Morris was not happy when Alana asked him to get the Ravens ready to leave. The grizzled old soldier argued that she should be in bed. That she needed to rest. Not to mention that the city was a stranger place under present circumstances. For one moment she thought that he was about to take her by the arm and drag her back to her room, but thankfully he restrained himself. She wondered if Morris would have resisted as strongly if Admiral Crews had been going with her, but he wasn’t. Apparently, he had still gone to his appointment to tour the Armory.

  Alana was quite relieved not to see him; the only thing that troubled her more than the attack last night was what might have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted. The Admiral might be back soon, especially if the drunken promise to show him around was reneged on, and she didn’t want to be there waiting for him to return and have to confront the embarrassing situation. So she was not going to take the Sergeant’s ‘no’ for an answer.

  Eventually, Morris relented.

  Alana, Jill (she couldn’t quite get used to calling her Fin, and besides, they needed to maintain the illusion in front of the staff), Morris, and three members of the Ravens, boarded the narrow longboat and set off out into the grand canal to go and pay some visits.

  Her first planned stop was to see Actassi Sanfratello, the Assembly member she had met the night before. Alana hoped that the man’s openness and commercial connections to Edland could make him a friendly voice in the meetings of the governing body. Maybe he would have some advice as to how she could appeal to the Speaker and have him listen, or even have some sway himself. The punter of the boat knew the Sanfratello villa, situated not too far down the grand canal—where all the wealthy citizens of Ioth made their home.

  Morris was right, it was a strange day in Ioth. Almost lunchtime, and the streets and canals were noticeably quieter than usual. The city guard marched the streets in squads, and Alana noticed more than one similar group in green and gold in the foreign quarter. It was as if Ioth had given up the foreign quarter to Pyrfew to police.

  “Here we are,” called the punter from the rear of the boat. “We are here but, my Lady, there is a funerary boat moored at the villa.”

  Alana noticed the ebony-black boat moored outside what she could only assume was the Sanfratello residence. It was built directly onto the canal, no street passed before it, just a private pier and steps from the house heading straight down into the green water. The boat had a long black-covered roof, and men dressed in long black frock coats were in the process of lifting a gleaming coffin from its floating berth. On the steps of the villa was a young woman, her belly large with child, and she mopped at her eyes with a handkerchief. Pulling at her dress was a young boy, dressed in coat and trousers. No one came to comfort her.

  “That is not a good sign,” murmured Fin.

  Alana shook her head, hands on her hips as she stood to get a better view of the procession into the house. “Of all the Assembly members to be killed, why did it have to be this one?” she said to no one in particular.

  “What now, Ambassador?” asked Morris. She turned to look at him, and chose to ignore the unspoken expectation in his words that he would have them turn around and return to the residence. Alana thought for a moment. She had decided to do something today, and so she must go onward.

  “Silka Nie,” she said to the punter. “Do you know where she lives?” The punter nodded. “
There then, please.”

  Alana resumed her seat and refused to crane her neck to see what was happening at the Sanfratello villa. The poor woman deserved her privacy.

  They passed calmly and serenely down the grand canal to where it took a bend to the right, passing under one of the bridges that crossed over to the Brass Isle. She reflected on how peaceful it was to travel by boat. Much more so than the horse and carriage which Mareth forced her to use back home for official business. Alana much preferred to get around on foot, but at least these boats were a smoother ride, much less noisy, and didn’t have a beast in front that had the habit of frightening her.

  As they approached their destination, Fin squirmed awkwardly in her seat, looking concerned. Alana raised her eyebrows. “What’s wrong?” she asked in expectation.

  Fin’s eyes darted at the others in the boat with them “I found something out last night from the other attendants that you should probably know.” She leaned across the seat to mutter. “About Silka Nie.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I heard she has been involved in the slave trade.”

  Alana raised her hand to stifle her gasp. Slaves? Silka had seemed like such a nice person, and an Edlander too. Being involved in the buying and selling of people was not something that was tolerated by anyone who operated out of Kingshold or Redpool. Maybe that was the real reason she had moved to Ioth, where people cared more about profit than what they were profiteering from.

  “I’m afraid that’s not the worst part. It’s slaves from the Wild Continent, taking them to Andovia. I don’t believe she is personally responsible, but she is investing in the companies involved.”

  “Alfjarun…” said Alana, wrestling with this new information. She was thankful at least that Motega was not there.

  “Do you still want to meet with her?”