Dead Letter (27 page)

“
You won’t dampen my spirit, Cook. Tonight will be the biggest
night we’ve had since last surrender moon. I can feel it burning
inside me.”

“
Then you’d best see a healer about it,” returned Cook with a
chuckle.

“
That’s the reason you are kept out back in the kitchen. If
you worked the front of the house our guests would be driven to
tears with your sour humour.”

As much
as Rimple was in high spirits, Cook was more sensible. “Cook, I
have to give the Inspector a message. Do you think she is up in the
Fort?”

“
Nonsense, lad. The guards’ll not let you in, unless you want
to get locked up for running nameless. Stay here and help me get
ready for the night. Rimple’s head floats in the clouds, so the
dishes will be stacked further still.”

“
How odd!” announced the innkeep. “Cook my friend, we are
agreed. Elrin, you must stay. There’ll be extra shine in it for you
of course and I’ll give you a break to see our guest receives the
message as soon as she comes through our doors.”

Even if
he ran up to the fortress, he would likely miss her. The Inspector
might take a different route down the hill. In all likelihood she
would walk the High Street, but Elrin could not run a message the
length of the main thoroughfare without being caught by a guilded
runner and served a beating. At least he knew she was staying at
the Cog and Wheel. “Promise you’ll call for me as soon as she
arrives. This is very important.”

“
Of course I will!” announced Rimple. “Now, fill you stomach
and set to work. Chelle, serve Elrin a bowl of stew and
roll.”

Rimple
ushered Elrin to a table in the public room, in the corner mind,
but a table nonetheless. Elrin had only ever been allowed to eat
his meals on an upturned crate out the back door of the kitchen,
sharing company with chickens, not customers. Chickens kept better
conversation than most men and always welcomed Elrin’s arrival.
There was something grand about being served with the public; the
recognition of his humanity felt as good to him as the smile of
Chelle’s face when she returned with a tray just for
him.

“
Good eve, guilderman,” greeted Chelle with a wink, addressing
Elrin as if he were a proper guest. “Here is you meal, Cook’s fine
fish stew. And here’s your mead, from the innkeep’s reserve batch.”
The stew smelt of lemons and the sea. Not that Elrin had ever smelt
an ocean breeze, but his father always said a good fish stew
reminded him of the Salroc Sea. He took a draught of the mead and
grinned. It was as sweet as the smile Chelle had for
him.

“
You know,” said Chelle, pulling up a stool beside him and
grabbing his knee. “You’ve got time to steam that message and have
a peek before she gets here.”

“
No, Chelle,” he replied, devouring a delicious spoon of stew.
“I couldn’t.”

“
Why not?” Chelle’s hand moved up to his thigh and she
whispered in his ear. “You can double your money, once for delivery
and then again on gossip.”

“
But it’s wrong to do that. No runner can open the
mail.”

“
You’re no runner,” she said, rubbing his thigh and making
swallowing difficult. “So it’s fine. People expect it to be
so.”

“
Who would trust me if they found out? No. I won’t do
it.”

Chelle
lifted her hand from his thigh in protest. “They don’t give you
messages cause they trust you. It’s cause you’re cheap.”

Elrin
savoured the warm stew in his belly and took a draught of his mead
with satisfaction. “I got a silver for this message. That’s not
cheap.”

Chelle
opened her eyes wide. “A whole silver? My, my, it must be
important. I’ll loan it from you for two silver.”

“
No, Chelle.”

“
Just leave it on the table and look away. I’ll have it back
by the time you’re done with your dinner.”

“
I can’t, Chelle. It’s plain wrong. Besides, if we were
caught, we’d both be in terrible strife. This is mail for the
Inspector … who is a mage. Nothing is worth messing with that kind
of power. The gallows would be the lighter option, compared to a
sorcerer’s curse.”

Chelle
bit her bottom lip and pressed her soft bosom close. Elrin’s heart
thumped hard with her breath warm and heavy in his ear. “I want
you, Elrin … I want you to give it to me. Anyway you
like.”

The
temptation was as heady as the sweet mead, but he battled his
passions, refusing to give up on his morals. “Sorry, Chelle. I
won’t do it.”

Like an
enraged succubus, Chelle lashed out, slapping Elrin and spilling
mead on his trousers. “What is wrong with you?” she screamed,
stealing away his half finished soup and throwing the bread roll at
his face. “You’re impossible, Elrin!” she screamed before stomping
into the kegroom.

Elrin
picked up the roll from the ground and sat in his wet pants,
awkwardly aroused and terrified at the same time. Chelle would
avenge his refusal tenfold, but would warm to him again when she
needed a favour. Surviving the beauty’s wiles and intrigues was
more exhausting than running up High Street. He questioned if he
was a fool for refusing her delicious offer. Only the words of his
father assured him.

It isn’t what you do, it’s the things you don’t do that make
you a hero.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The Welcome Stranger

Inspector
Kettna enjoyed a late lunch of roasted peppers, olives, relish and
goat’s cheese rolled in a warm flatbread as she walked down the
hill toward the Silk Gate district and The Outpost Inn. Lanuille’s
choice of street food was a delectable relief for Kettna’s empty
stomach. She didn’t realise how hungry she was until the wrap was
all gone and she ached for another. Her lunch was so late the
afternoon sun had already painted Calimska in gold.

The
Outpost Inn held a perfect location for travelling merchants with
access to the Silk Gate Markets and Lower Ring Road, which fed to
each of Calimska’s gates and market squares. Kettna gathered her
resolve and entered the seedy looking establishment. It was dimly
lit with most of the wall candles unlit and the others spitting
soot and stinking of cheap tallow. A staircase wound up to rooms
above. The taproom had two types of guests: drinking foreigners and
foreigners asleep with their drinks. Those who were awake stared at
the procession of mages. A table of drovers, each wearing a broad
brimmed hat, chuckled. ‘Two sorcerers walk into a bar’ was the
beginning of a common joke, and here stood four. How could they do
anything but look and wonder what so many mages were doing in their
watering hole?

“
Wait at the door, guildermen,” instructed Kettna. “See that
our Jandan guests don’t sneak out.” If the twins projected their
illusion like they did on the bandits earlier, they’d serve as a
perfect pair of bouncers.

A wild
haired Reik woman sat at the bar, comforting a tankard while she
conversed with the innkeep. She acknowledged Kettna with a dip of
her head and a curious smile, ready to eavesdrop on any interesting
gossip.

“
What do you lot want in my place?” called the Innkeep, so all
could hear. “Cog and Wheel’s piss too weak?” His brazen question
drew a great deal of laughter.

“
No,” replied Kettna, coming to the realisation that the
activities of her caravan of sorcerers had become the talk of the
city. How else would he know they stayed at the Cog and Wheel? “I
was told The Outpost Inn accommodated the criminally inclined. Is
that so?”

“
None of my business,” the innkeep replied, not worrying to
deny it was so. “If I see somethin’ out of order, I’ll be sure to
let you know.”

The
innkeep wore only a sweaty vest, loose trousers and sandals. Once
he must have been a warrior, given the strength of his arms and the
many blacked out tattoos. He must have started a new life with the
Brewers Guild, considering his position at the inn and the unmarred
ink displaying a still, a barrel, hops and barley. His life story
was written on his body. He had the muscle of his youth layered
beneath the dressings of a routine drink. A strongman with the
posture of someone who could handle any unruly behaviour, because
once he was the cause of it. A middle-aged man on his second
chance.

“
We’re here for the Jandans,” said Kettna, making it clear to
the innkeep she was not here to prosecute him.

“
Good luck with that. How about a drink?”

If only
it would lubricate the flow of information. “Cider?” asked the
Inspector.

“
Hells to that!” he announced with a laugh. “Only ale or
spirits here.”

“
That’s all?” Kettna wasn’t going to be judged by a simpleton
on what she drank. There was nothing wrong with a decent
cider.

“
Don’t mind her, bring over a bottle of rum, we’ll take that
table. And here is something extra.” Lanuille dropped a silver from
her sleeve. “You can have the change if you help us
out.”

“
The Jandans ain’t here,” said the innkeep, happy to talk if
shine was offered.

“
So, do you have a contingent of Jandan traders staying here?”
asked Kettna.

“
If that’s what you want to call them. Sure. They are more
like debtors than traders. If you are here to evict ‘em, who’s
gonna pay their tab?”

“
What happened?” asked Kettna.

“
Ran out of shine, obviously. Came in flush with silver and
now they are down to shell. I told ‘em if they put a bone down on
my table they’ll be out on their arse. I can move a bit of shell,
but I ain’t puttin’ up with dogs.”

“
When do you think they’ll be back?” asked Kettna.

“
I ain’t their Ma,” said the innkeep. “Pull up at a table and
wait.”

No
sooner had they done so, the Reik woman approached, grinning like a
child who discovered where her mother hid the sweets.

“
It’s not often I find myself in a room with so many
sorcerers. Mind if I join you while you wait? We’ve got quite a few
things in common.”

“
Your accent is not one of them,” replied Lanuille, dropping a
shot of rum. “You’re from across the Divide.”

“
Don’t hold that against me. Our mutual concerns are more
important than our differences.”

“
Such as?” asked Kettna.

“
We are all beautiful women, waiting for the wrong kind of
men.”

“
What is your business with the Jandans?” asked Kettna,
smiling, yet not sure how to take the rogue.

“
Shine, information and vengeance. Though, I’m flexible on
which comes first.”

“
What have they done to upset you?” asked Lanuille.

“
Like you said, I’m from over the Great Divide. What haven’t
they done to upset me? Reik aren’t loved and women even less so.
You’ll find these Jandans see you two with equal
disregard.”

“
How they see me is of the smallest concern,” said Kettna.
“How I see them is what will decide their fate.”

“
Fate! If you are the decider of that, then tell me what
becomes of their debts, should you lock them up. I was first in
line to meet them tonight, but I have a tendency of scaring
men
away
. That
would be no good for you.”

The Reik
was the very thing men were interested in. She was the cake and the
honey, with gorgeous curled locks the colour of autumn’s finest
hour, intelligent dark eyes and a figure fit for distraction.
Kettna had a hard time imagining the rogue’s appearance dissuaded
any man’s desire. “What do you propose?” asked Kettna.

“
I’ll let you greet the Jandans first, only if you let me pass
the time waiting for those dogs in your good company.”

“
That is a suitable idea,“ replied Kettna. “First, let me
introduce my colleague, Adept Lanuille.”

“
You can call me Minni,” she said with a practiced Calimskan
bow. “I must confess I have already guessed who you are, Inspector
Kettna. Your exploits are already the talk of Calimska.”

“
You trade information?” asked the Inspector.

“
I do, amongst other things. Talk of Calimska’s new Inspector
is a fire in the mouth of every gossip. They can’t keep their
mouths shut about you.”

“
Do they say what I am investigating?”

“
Word is that you are after Bloody Agnus. And if I know that,
she knows that.”

“
Do you work for her?” asked Lanuille, suspicious as
always.

“
Do I look like a criminal?”

“
Do I look like a sorceress?” rebutted the adept.

“
You do, but for all I know the Inspector could be Bloody
Agnus. Hells, that drooling drunkard in the corner could be her.
She is a master of disguise, a master of the shadows and to be
honest, I don’t care who she is. She is so intangible that I wonder
if she has any power other than to scare politicians and
children.”