Halcyon The Complete Trilogy (6 page)

“Five of them, Enzo,” she said. “We’re surrounded.”

Atoq growled.

“Yes, we are.” Lorenzo called out to the men in Mazigh, “What do you want?”

One of them yelled back over the hiss of the rain, “Everything you have. On the ground. Now. Or we kill you.”

Qhora barely understood the man over the noise. The Mazigh language was not difficult, but after mastering four tongues of the Incan Empire and then Espani, she was finding it harder and harder to learn new ones. And she hadn’t even tried Hellan or Persian yet.

“We have nothing to give you,” Lorenzo answered. “No money. No jewelry.”

The men didn’t answer. Qhora moved to stand back to back with Lorenzo. Atoq paced forward and the two men on the high side of the street hesitated, glancing at each other. Without turning her head, Qhora said Lorenzo, “Can you fight three men at once?”

“Yes.” There was no pride in his voice, only certainty. In España, the young hidalgo was counted among the finest diestros of his generation, a fencing prodigy. She had seen him duel and acknowledged his skill with the tiny espada, but this was no duel and an espada could be snapped by a man with the courage to grab it. For a moment, Qhora wished that Xiuhcoatl had been the one to follow her to train station. Even after two years together, and despite everything else she felt for him, she still hesitated to trust Enzo’s skill over other men’s strength.

Lorenzo dashed from her side down the street but she didn’t dare look back. The two men above her raced forward, both angling toward Atoq with their clubs raised. The beast crouched, snarling, and then he leapt. The man on the right vanished under eight hundred pounds of wet fur and fangs. The man on the left stumbled around the cat and swung his broken board at Qhora’s head. With practiced grace, she whirled her soaking feathered cloak at his face to blind him with a sudden spray of water, then whirled back in the opposite direction, ducking under the club and burying her dagger in his throat as he stumbled past. He collapsed to the ground, choking and clawing at his neck. A moment later he lay still and Qhora yanked her dagger free, unable to tell the blood from the black puddles of filthy street water in the darkness. She looked up to see Atoq padding away from his kill with blood dripping from his fangs and she glanced at the remains of the other man, his shredded belly and intestines spilled across the cobblestones. Atoq sat down and began licking his drenched paw to wash his face.

Turning, she saw the dark figure of Lorenzo standing beside three bodies, his sword already sheathed and hidden in the folds of his greatcoat. The rain fell harder and colder, drumming on her bare head. Qhora slipped her dagger back into her belt and pulled her feathered cloak tight around her shoulders as she walked over to him to look at the men. Clad in patched trousers and stained shirts, armed only with scrap wood and rusted pig iron rods, they lay in a neat pile at the side of the road. Briefly, she wondered if Lorenzo had moved the bodies or somehow contrived to kill them in such a way that they all fell on top of each other. Both seemed equally likely as she knew how much Lorenzo valued cleanliness. She asked, “Are you hurt?”

“No. Are you?”

“No. Who are they?”

He paused before saying, “Desperados. Men who can’t find work, I suppose. It’s not uncommon here. We should not be out so late. It isn’t safe.”

Qhora nodded slowly. “I had noticed that.”

They resumed their unhurried walk through the rain to the hotel. Atoq followed behind them, sniffing about in the gutters and puddles along the way.

“Enzo, I owe you an apology,” she said.

Lorenzo stopped abruptly and snatched the wide-brimmed hat from his head. He stared at her, eyes wide with a strange mixture of horror and confusion. She studied his thin, pale face as the rainwater ran down over his sharp nose and cheeks. Once he had worn a tanned skin and a ready smile, and he was as likely to be laughing as singing when she found him. But now he was merely this, merely a thin figure, dark and quiet, anxious and uncertain. The lines around his eyes had deepened so much in the last few months, aging him beyond what had once been a youthful twenty-five. The rough stubble on his cheeks added a few years of their own.

She said, “I’ve been unkind to you, my love. Over the last year, you’ve done nothing but serve me with great skill and greater patience. And I’ve done nothing but complain. I complain about your boring priests and your bland food, your ghost stories, and even the weather.”

He nodded slowly, his face a blank. “It is very cold in España, my lady.”

“But what good does it do to complain about it?” Qhora shivered as a trickle of freezing rain snaked down from her hair along the curve of her spine. “I realize that I’ve been comparing España to Jisquntin Suyu, which is unfair. España is a strange place, but it is beautiful too in its own way. And your people have many fine qualities. Loyalty, devotion, discipline. Beyond that of my own people, I admit.”

“No, my love.” Lorenzo wiped his gloved hand across his face to push his soaked hair back. “We’re only people, no better or worse than any other.”

“Of course you’re better than others.” Qhora tried not to snap too sharply at him.
Sometimes his humility goes too far
. “You’re better than these Mazighs. You’ve sung their praises to me for the last two weeks, and here I find a filthy city full of vagrants and killers. No. I’m sorry, Enzo. The Espani are a fine and noble people and I am grateful that you took me in when I had no place to go. And I will be just as grateful to be done with this errand and back in Tartessos, listening to your hymns and ghost stories again. And with a much more grateful heart.”

“I know it’s been difficult for you. Maybe, after we go home, we can find a way to make things more comfortable for you.” He smiled faintly as he replaced his hat and they continued walking, the saber-toothed cat always just a few paces away. “Tonight may count as a ghost story, you know. If Ariel hadn’t warned me, we might have been unprepared. We might have been hurt.”

Qhora pressed her lips for a moment before answering. “Yes, Enzo. But the next time your little ghost friend warns us about something, please have her be more specific about where the enemy is hiding.”

He said, “I will do that.”

They rounded the corner and saw the dark windows of their hotel reflecting the light of the oil lamps hanging across the street.

“Have your horses ready at dawn,” Qhora said. “I want to be on the road as soon as possible. And be certain they give Wayra fresh meat. I don’t trust these Mazighs to keep their filth out of our food.”

“Yes, my love.”

She saw his hand resting on his chest, on the medallion hanging around his neck beneath his shirt, as he stared up at the moon.
He isn’t even here, is he? He’s off with his god and his ghosts, hating this life and dreaming of the next one. Enzo, when did I lose you?

Chapter 5. Sade

The porter brought the telegram just as Lady Sade began thinking that it was time to go to bed. She took the envelope, dismissed the man, and went to sit at her desk in the corner of her study. The message was from a certain young woman who worked in the customs office in Tingis, a young woman with the good fortune to receive a second paycheck in return for sending daily reports to her benefactor in Arafez.

Lady Sade sighed as she unlocked the bottom desk drawer and pulled out the translation key. It took half an hour to decipher the telegram’s handful of words and she spent most of that time wondering if this elaborate means of security was really worth the effort and trouble.

Of course it is. The stakes are too high.

The translated message read, “Morning. Copper prices still rising. Storms reported to west. Persian steamer seen in Strait. Afternoon. Chaou met envoys. Brought two fanged cats. Chaou upset. Evening. Train explosion. Airship explosion. Many dead. Hamuy arrested. Chaou missing.”

Lady Sade frowned at those last words. Arrested. Missing.

Damn it, Barika.

She rang a small bell on her desk and a moment later her secretary entered. “Yes, madam?”

“I need a cat, Izza. Two would be ideal, but one will do.”

“Any particular type, madam?”

“Something with large fangs, if possible. Something Espani would be best. At the very least, it must be foreign and about this large.” She held up her hands two feet apart.

“Yes, madam,” Izza said. “I’m not sure how long it will take to secure an exotic animal. When do you need it?” 

“Noon tomorrow.” Lady Sade watched the young woman hesitate, swallow, and wet her lips. “Have the cage loaded on my steam carriage, out of sight.”

Izza nodded. “Of course, madam. I’ll see to it immediately. Will this impact your meeting with the police detective? You have that scheduled at noon as well.”

I forgot. I never forget. I’m relying too much on Izza these days.
Lady Sade paused. “No, that’s fine. I’ll just bring the detective with me. Two birds with one stone. She doesn’t speak Espani, does she? No, I can’t imagine she does, so that won’t be a problem.”

Lady Sade picked up her translation of the telegram again.

Train explosion. That could mean anything. Damn it, Barika
.

“And Izza, we will need to pay a quick visit to the North Station first thing after breakfast tomorrow. I need to see about a train.”

“Of course, madam.”

“Thank you, Izza.” 

Izza curtsied and left. Lady Sade leaned back in her chair, idly wondering what lengths the poor girl would go to in finding the animal.
I really should get her a gift, or maybe give her an afternoon off sometime. She’s been looking a little tired lately.

Chapter 6. Syfax

“I can’t wait for your captain all night.” Syfax paced the length of the front desk of the Port Chellah central police station. It was a short walk. “I’ve got a prisoner I need to get off the airfield into a cell, and a murderer about to enter the city on foot. You.” He pointed at the young woman at the desk. “Get up. You’re coming with me. Now.”

“Sorry, sir. But I’m the only one here and I can’t go anywhere without Captain Aknin’s order.” The sergeant in gray folded her hands on the desk.

Are you kidding me, kid?
Syfax pointed at the bars on his shoulder. “I outrank your captain.”

“And I appreciate that, but you’re outside my chain of command, sir. You’re Security Section Two, we’re Section Five.” The sergeant swallowed, her thumbs fidgeting. “It’s protocol. My hands are tied until my captain gets here.”

“And when will that be? You sent for her over half an hour ago.”

She shrugged and dropped her gaze to her hands. “I assume she’ll be here soon, sir. You know as much as I do. All I can tell you is that the captain was definitely home earlier tonight when I brought her the evening mail.”

Syfax thumbed his nose and crossed his arms. “The mail?”

“Yes, the late correspondence. We usually get a few messages after the day shift has left. There were a couple of telegrams from Tingis tonight.”

“That’s probably my general telling your captain that I’m coming,” Syfax said. “You said a
couple
of telegrams? What was the other one?”

The sergeant flipped through the papers on her desk. “Here’s the receipt I have from the telegraph office. Two messages, both from Tingis. One from the marshals’ office. One from Lady Damya’s estate.”

“Lady Damya?” Syfax snatched the receipt to read it, but it offered no more information. “What would the governor of Tingis want with a police captain in Port Chellah?”

“I don’t know. It was sealed, of course. I just delivered them.” The sergeant blinked and sat up a little straighter. “Why? What do you think it means, sir?”

Anyone in the house could have sent that telegram, including a certain dinner guest
. “I think it means we need to see your captain right now. Let’s go.
Now
.” Syfax pointed at the door. This time, the sergeant leapt up and led the way out into the night. Striding side by side, their boots clacked on the cobblestones and the sound echoed down the empty streets beneath the silent gaze of dark windows and locked doors. Streetlamps hung only at the intersections, leaving the avenues in between drenched in shadows, and the dim haze that hovered over the city obscured all but the brightest stars.

“It’s just one more block this way.” The sergeant pointed to the left.

Turning the corner they saw a strange shape on the ground, and they sprinted toward the body half hidden in the shadows of a narrow alley. Only one hand lay out upon the street, its outstretched fingers clawing feebly at the circle of lamplight just out of reach. The sergeant knelt at the man’s side and Syfax saw his face, the face of the young officer they had sent out to find the captain half an hour ago. His breathing was faint and ragged and watery. Blood trickled from his lip. When the sergeant took his hand, he showed no sign that he noticed.

The major squatted down to study him. A single gunshot wound in the stomach, a wide pool of blood on the ground already beginning to congeal. Syfax leaned in closer to speak into the young man’s ear, “Hey kid, looks like you tried to take on the whole Songhai army by yourself. You bucking for an early promotion?”

The officer’s lip twitched. “Guess I should have…called for backup, sir.”

“Yeah, looks like,” Syfax said. “What happened?”

“…caught her…leaving…” He mouthed the words as much as whispered them, his eyes already vacant and dull.

“Who?” The sergeant squeezed his hand. “Who did this?”

“Captain Aknin.”

Why am I not surprised?
Syfax squinted at the man’s mouth to make sure he caught every word clearly. “Why?”

“…said…mess… clean…” The officer whimpered and gasped. “It hurts.”

“I know, kid.” Syfax grabbed the woman’s arm and tugged her away from her partner. “Have you seen a wound like that before?”

She nodded as the tears spilled down her cheeks.

“Then you know he’s only got a little time left. We can’t save him.”