Between Worlds: the Collected Ile-Rien and Cineth Stories (7 page)

Nicholas raised his voice a little. “What do you want?”

The man said, “I am sent by Master Idilane.”

“Then we’re in the right place. I was afraid we had
stumbled into the wrong assignation.” Nicholas made a slight gesture behind his
back, telling Belina to stay where she was. Then he stepped forward. “What are
you?”

“He wants the payment.”

Nicholas stepped forward again. Belina didn’t move,
watching with frowning anxiety. Nicholas said, “Are you capable of answering
questions? Or has he enslaved you with magic? If you’re here against your will,
we can help you.”

Reynard thought he detected a minute hesitation before
the response, “He wants the payment.”

Nicholas was silent a moment, studying the man --
creature -- whatever it was. “We will need some guarantees, of course. Did he
trap you?”

Something brushed past Reynard’s legs and he jerked
away, barely suppressing a curse. He twisted around and found himself staring
at a young woman. His first thought was that she was a member of the chorus,
and he started to whisper, “Ah, you must be wondering what we’re--” And then
realized he could see light through her.

Below, the creature repeated, “Guarantees,” as if it
had no notion what the word meant. As if Idilane had given it no instructions
beyond obtaining the money.

Reynard stared. It was an apparition, obviously. The
faded red gown he had taken for a costume was wispy and insubstantial, but he
could see tears and stains. The girl was young, Belina’s age, and her hair had
once been carefully arranged but now hung disheveled and ragged.
Not a
prostitute
, Reynard thought, noticing the cameo broach and the lack of
décolletage. Not a chorus member or an actress but not a young noble lady,
either. A girl of some respectable circumstances, if not wealth, dressed up for
the opera. He whispered, “What happened?”

Below, Nicholas was stalling, explaining the etymology
of the word “guarantees.” The girl moved around the trapdoor, silently,
stirring no dust. From this angle there was better light and Reynard saw her
hollow eyes, sunken cheeks, and darkly bruised throat. Her expression was
anxious, her gaze fixed on him as if willing him to understand. Apparitions
didn’t appear at random, for no reason. If she was appearing now, it was
because some event had triggered it. Reynard was betting it wasn’t the
millionth pat performance of
Life of the Good Duke
.

The creature below said, “The girl will deliver the
payment.” Reynard turned back to the trap door and said, “Nic, it’s not
blackmail, it’s murder!”

The apparition’s expression transformed into fierce
joy, and then she winked out of existence. Reynard threw himself down through
the trap door.

The creature surged forward and Nicholas slapped its
face. It jerked back, staggering, and red fire blossomed from its cheek. “It’s
a fay,” Nicholas reported, clinically. He must have had an iron needle in his
hand. Yes, Reynard had known he hadn’t been joking about the poison darts.

Reynard swung off the drop stairs and landed on the
floor. He drew his dress sword. The fay fell back a few steps. It grew taller,
its skin turning a scaly gray, white clumps of hair sprouting from a head that
was suddenly bulbous and distorted. This thing couldn’t be here; fay of this
size had been dying out in Ile-Rien for generations, driven away by the railroads.
They were seen in rural areas occasionally, but never in the city. Idilane must
be far stronger than he seemed to have control over this thing. Reynard said, “I
think Idilane’s done this before, but took the money and killed the victim.”

“And how did you form this theory?” Nicholas stepped
sideways, bracketing the creature. It darted at Reynard, then at Nicholas,
testing them.

Reynard didn’t move, refusing to be tested. “Because
her ghost just appeared to me in the understage.”

“Not conclusive, but one must admit the circumstantial
evidence is compelling,” Nicholas admitted.

Behind them, an admirably calm Belina said, “Should I
throw the glass ball?”

“No,” Nicholas told her. “It will only work on human
sorcerers.”

“Then should I go for help?” The creature had fixed
its yellow gaze on her. She was clearly its real target.

“There won’t be time.” Reynard stepped closer. Fay
couldn’t touch iron or steel without great pain. The fact that this creature
hadn’t fled from his sword meant it had something up its sleeve. But Reynard
doubted those darts were the only weapon Nicholas had on him, and all he needed
to do was distract the creature long enough.

Its head tilted toward Reynard, the pale eyes empty of
emotion. Then it flicked a long wooden club out of its coat and lunged for him.
Reynard ducked the first blow and smashed his hilt into the creature’s hand. He
was reluctant to engage with his blade; he suspected the club had been designed
to break human-forged swords. The creature fell back and he slashed it across
the chest. It snarled and lurched toward him, just as Nicholas leapt on it from
behind and whipped a chain around its throat.

It clawed at the links burning into its skin, and
Reynard stabbed it in the chest. The creature tore away, sending Nicholas
staggering, but then collapsed onto the carpet.

Reynard stepped forward, then cautiously kicked it
over onto its back. It lay there, gasping, the gray color leaching out of its
skin. Its whole body seemed to be shrinking, turning in on itself.

Nicholas crouched over it. “We can kill you or free
you. Did Idilane send you to kill Belina Shankir-Clare?”

It choked and managed, “Yes. Do not ask me why, I don’t
know. He kills human women who displease him.”

“He has you under his control? With spells?”

“I was given to him as a familiar, as payment by a
more powerful sorcerer.”

Belina, who had edged forward to stand by Reynard’s
elbow, demanded, “As payment for what? More blackmail? Who was the sorcerer?”

The fay said, “I only know it was payment.”

“It was probably blackmail.” Nicholas nodded to
himself. “If we could find out who...”

“How many women?” Reynard said. He had the terrible
feeling that Idilane was not new to this game, that the apparition above hadn’t
been the first, either.

The fay said, “Seven.”

Reynard swore. Belina made a noise of dismay.

Ever practical, Nicholas asked, “What do you do with
the bodies?”

It bared its teeth. “I eat them.”

“Shit,” Belina muttered.

“Always at the opera?” Nicholas asked.

“No, other places as well as here.”

“How does--”

“Nicholas,” Reynard interrupted. For someone as
obsessed as he was, Nicholas could be easily sidetracked. “You’re not writing a
monograph on it, do we really need to know?”

“Very well.” Nicholas asked the fay, “How do we free
you?”

It said, “You cannot free me, his spells are woven
through the substance of my body. I beg you to kill me.”

Nicholas frowned, then looked up at Reynard. Reynard
said, “I don’t have a problem with that,” and stabbed the creature in the
heart.

Its body collapsed in on itself, and turned to dust,
leaving only the clothing and club behind. Nicholas whipped a small bag and a
brush out of his pocket, and began to sweep up the dust.

Belina stared. “Does this happen a lot? To you, I
mean?”

“Off and on,” Reynard admitted.

Nicholas tucked the bag of dust away, stood, and took
Belina’s arm. “Let’s go to the restaurant and talk this over. I think after
that we deserve to miss the fifth and sixth acts of
Life of the Good Duke
.”

“At the very least,” Reynard agreed, taking out his
handkerchief to wipe his sword.

* * *

The restaurant was in a pavilion built on the east
side of the opera, and was more than half empty. Reynard was a friend of the
host and so was able to secure a booth that was isolated enough for a private
conversation but still in full view of the few other diners and the waiters,
for propriety’s sake. There they ordered wine and a cream and berry tart for
Belina.

Once they were served and the waiter withdrawn,
Reynard told Belina, “There’s a decision to be made.”

Her brows drawn down in serious thought, she ate a
couple of forkfuls of the tart. “About the photographs. And whether to tell the
magistrates.”

“Obviously--” Nicholas began.

Reynard cleared his throat and gazed significantly at
him. He knew more than he cared to about being pilloried by the opinions of
both acquaintances and strangers. If Belina wanted to take that risk, it was a
choice she should make herself.

Nicholas sighed and poured another glass of wine.

Belina stirred the cream on her tart. “If he has the
photographs with him, we can take them.”

“He may have other copies,” Reynard said. He wanted to
make certain she saw every aspect of the situation. “He won’t have the chance
to make more, if the magistrates take him, but we found nothing in his flat and
can make no guarantees.”

“But if we don’t turn him in, no one will learn what
happened to those other girls. If the magistrates take him and the story is in
the penny sheets, the missing girls’ families will realize what happened and
come forward and perhaps there’s even more evidence against him.” She looked
up, worried. “But how will we prove that he was using a fay to...get rid of the
bodies?”

Nicholas smiled. “That’s why I took the dust.”        

Belina narrowed her eyes at him. “You already have a
plan, don’t you.”

Reynard sighed. “He always has a plan. That’s why we
have him.”

Belina considered a moment more, then nodded firmly. “Let’s
get Idilane.”

* * *

When the opera was nearly over and the restaurant
would shortly be flooded with weary patrons, they took up their posts in a
private room. Belina was seated at the room’s dining table, with Reynard and
Nicholas behind the curtains on the balcony, which looked out on the promenade
that led around the side of the building back to the carriage circle in front. A
steward was sent to summon Idilane from the box he was sharing with a Captain
Benre and companions, who were presumably meant to be Idilane’s alibi.

Belina waited, tapping her fingers impatiently against
the table, more angry than nervous. Reynard approved. Her mother would
undoubtedly not be happy about a public trial, but it would have to be done. Belina
was both young and noble enough to be treated gently by the magistrates with
regard to her testimony. If enough evidence was assembled from other sources,
she might not have to appear in court.

Nicholas twitched his curtain aside to whisper, “Remember
to let him get close, but not too close.”

“I know,” Belina said, annoyed. “You’ve told me three
times already.”

“She knows, Nic.” Reynard reached around and pulled
Nicholas’ curtain back into place.

A few moments later, the door opened and Idilane
stepped in.

Idilane was what Reynard would have considered a
fairly unassuming specimen. He was of middling height with dark hair, and
features that were unobjectionable. It was obvious he could look affable and
probably used that quality with the unwary. He would have little difficulty
blending into crowds, being unmemorable. He did not look pleased to see Belina.
The message from her would have alerted him that she had failed to fall into
the trap, and he must have been considering the situation the entire time.

He opened his mouth to speak and Belina seized the
moment. “Surprised to see me?” she said dryly.

Idilane rallied, obviously assuming Belina had never
encountered his familiar. “Yes, I wondered why you didn’t meet me as arranged--”

“I did go to your meeting. But you weren’t there.”

Idilane hesitated. “You’re lying.”

“Because if I went, I’d be dead?” Belina’s gaze was
direct. “Tell me, why do you do it? What benefit do you get? Do you do
something disgusting with the dead bodies before your familiar eats them? We
can discuss it, before the magistrates arrive.”

Reynard controlled the urge to sigh, Nicholas rolled
his eyes. Yes, Belina was off the script. They had felt there was no point in
ascertaining Idilane’s motives, as the magistrates would take care of that, but
Belina obviously felt differently. The girl did have a passion for asking
questions, Reynard thought.

Idilane’s face worked. Then he smiled in a predatory
fashion and took a step closer, almost within arm’s reach of Belina. “You
wouldn’t call a magistrate. You can’t risk them hearing about your exploits.”

Belina was unmoved. “I don’t have any exploits. And
the magistrates and the penny sheets will be too distracted by all your murders
to listen to your lies.”

Idilane leaned closer and lifted a hand. Reynard
thought he meant to touch Belina’s face, but spell light flickered from his
fingers. He said, “You’re very confident. But I don’t believe you’ve already
summoned the magistrates.”