Thief: A Fantasy Hardboiled (Ratcatchers Book 2) (26 page)

The inn was open, nearly full. Martlyn and Caerys ran the place and without Heden needing to do anything, the inn was ticking over. It was busy, and more; it was alive. Heden liked it. He didn’t like what the girls did upstairs, but he’d work on that after Vanora was safe. Whatever else happened, he wasn’t going to close the inn, go back to the way things were before the forest, the way they’d been for three years. That would be death now.

He looked at his ale, and thought about the abbot. “It isn’t safe, being your friend,” someone had said. He couldn’t remember who. Why would Garth kill an old man? There was no way the abbot stood between anyone and Vanora.
Just take the girl
, Heden thought,
leave the old man alone
.

Another account that needed to be settled. Him and the count, him and the bishop…him and Garth.

He tried to put it out of his mind. He leaned back in his chair, focused on the success that was the Hammer & Tongs, and took a drink of ale.

When he pulled the mug away from his lips, Hapax Legomenon was standing before him.

One of the serving girls dropped her tray, and several guests spit out their food and drink.

Heden frowned. “Gonna be that kind of inn, I guess,” he said with a shrug. “People teleporting in and out.’

“Sorry,” she apologized, “but this is important.” Her normally flamboyantly fashionable, wizard-typical dress was enhanced in this case by a stylish black half-cloak with red trim. She grabbed the cloak at his shoulders and snapped it up when she sat down, so when it lay flat it lay over the chair.

“Have a seat,” Heden said to the seated wizard.

When it was obvious Heden wasn’t worried, the serving girls returned to their business and cleaned the mess made by reactions to Hapax Legomenon. More than one man in the inn was watching her speculatively.

“You owe me,” she said, incredibly pleased with herself. Heden raised his eyebrows.

She made a gesture with one hand, and there was a black marble between her fingers. She carefully placed it on the table between them.

“You know what it is,” Heden said.

The short, impossibly-built wizard nodded, unable to contain her smug joy. “What’s it worth to you?”

“Name it,” Heden said, seriously.

Hapax canted her head at Heden, a wry smile curled at her lips. She looked him up and down. “Nah,” she said. “Wouldn’t be fair. How about that Brass Man you came back with?”

“He’s downstairs. You want him, he’s yours.”

Hapax nodded. “That’ll do.”

“I could never make him work,” Heden pointed out.

Hapax shrugged. “I’m more persuasive than you,” she said.

Heden waited. Hapax leaned forward.

“It’s the blood of a star elf,” she said, “treated by alchemy.”

Heden was stunned. He looked at the ceiling. “Tam, you idiot.”

“Somewhere in this city,” Hapax said, “there’s a major power, and no one knows it.”

Heden shook his head. “There’s no way,” he said. “There’s no way the count is in league with an Astral Celestial.”

Hapax shrugged, and sat back. “Someone’s hiding a star elf,” she said. “If you can do that, you can make night dust. How the count did it, we have no idea. We’re not having a lot of luck tracking him down. He might be on water,” she added, frowning. “It messes with our divinations.”

Heden put a hand to his forehead. “Garth you dumb son of a bitch,” he said. “You of all people.”

“If I were you,” Hapax said, “I’d sit this one out. We’ll find him sooner or later. You wanted a censure,” she said, “you may get one.”

Heden was no longer listening. Someone else had entered the inn. Heden didn’t notice at first, and for good reason. The guest was only a few feet tall. And people were coming and going all the time now. But the heavy tread of footsteps spoke loudly enough.

The guests near the bar, standing between the common room and the door, parted, and Heden saw the dwarf. He was carrying something. Something wrapped in a cloth bundle. All eyes in the inn were on the dwarf. No one commented when the assassin in red silk came in, but everyone shut up when they saw the dwarf.

Zaar looked around the room, saw Heden, and approached him. He tossed the bundle on the table.

The stout creature, half flesh, half stone, gazed at Heden with glowing coal eyes, then looked at Hapax—her mouth open, her eyes unblinking—then back to Heden.

“Enh,” he said, and turned and left.

Heden watched him leave, then started breathing again. He felt…less alone than he had in years.

‘You need friends,’ Lynwen had said. ‘They’re out there.’ Maybe he and Zaar weren’t through.

He picked up the bundle.

“Probably a good idea to hang on to this one,” he said, thinking of
starkiller
.

“Is that who I think it was?” Hapax asked, looking where Zaar had gone.

“Probably,” Heden said.

“Heden,” Hapax warned, “if you’re thinking of getting the old troupe back together for this…,”

Heden started to unwrap the bundle.

“Most of them are dead,” he said. “And the rest won’t talk to me.”

He exposed the gift within. Revealed a dull metal scabbard. Seeing the hilt, Heden was already in awe. He drew the sword. His face, the table, Hapax, illuminated by warm sunlight from the blade.

Solaris
. The blade of Pentalion Sunbringer, Saint of Adun. The sword they recovered twenty years ago. The sword they became famous for.

Heden smiled. Widely, openly. He whistled low.

“I thought Stewart took this with him,” he said to himself.

“It’s beautiful,” Hapax said, also noticing Heden genuinely smiling.

It was long and thin, on edge almost a rapier. The blade was made of a metal like steel, but with a yellow tint. As though the steel were transparent, covering a layer of gold shining under it.

The hilt looked like someone had poured molten gold over a flower, then taken the flower away. Jewels glittered on the pommel.

“That’s a celestial blade,” Hapax said.

“Yep,” Heden said. “And not just a blade.”

Hapax leaned in to look at the weapon. “
Iallir
, the sun-metal.”

“It is,” Heden agreed.

“Heden, you need to be careful with that.”

He slipped his hand inside the twisted fluid-seeming metal of the hilt and grasped the grip. His hand was too large, thick and meaty compared to the hands intended to wield it.

You need me,
a voice in his head echoed. It was neither male nor female.

Yes
, Heden thought, trying to calm himself.

I cannot be commanded
, the voice said.

I know
, Heden thought.

But I can be…persuaded
.

Don’t worry
, Heden said,
you’ll get no argument from me
.

Heden put the sword back in its sheath. He was suddenly reminded of how they acquired
Solaris
.

He smiled at Hapax.

“Heden” she warned. “Do not.”

“I’m going to find the star elf,” Heden said. “And stop the count.”

Hapax’s mouth fell open. She closed it.

“You…Heden….”

She looked around the room.

“Heden, do you have any idea…you of all people!”

Heden stood up.

“This is no joke, you dumb son of a bitch…,” Hapax opened.

“Hey,” Heden said in defense as he affixed the scabbard to his belt.

“It’s a
star elf
,” Hapax said. “It’s alive and it’s here! That means every person in the city is at risk!”

“And I think I know how to find it,” Heden said.

“Tell me,” Hapax said.

Heden thought. If he did, Hapax would be obligated to act. This was, in a general sense, why each wizard order was granted a charter.

“No,” Heden said.

“Heden you
have
to tell me,” Hapax urged.

In a sense, she was right. Heden was, had been, might still be technically, an agent of the king. He took the king’s crown once upon a time and that was probably something that didn’t expire. Even if you fucked up and an entire nation was murdered as a result.

“I can’t,” he said. “If I did, you’d be obligated to act. As it stands, you’re just upset at me and it ends at that.”

Hapax stood up, almost lunged out of her chair.

“Do you have any idea what kind of risk you’re taking? You
have
to leave this to us!”

“You’re going to have to trust me,” Heden said, looking down at the younger woman.

“I don’t,” Hapax said. “Not with this. I’m going to go to Cordatus,” she said, naming the head of her order, “and he’s going to tell Ignam. And Ignam will tell the king, and then it’ll be all three orders, and probably the Hart, and probably the Mirror Circle.”

“The Circle is a week away,” Heden said.

“You’ll be dragged down to the castle and put under the fire,” Hapax said. “Heden don’t you understand what this means? Do you have any idea how many enemies you’re making? How many bridges you’re burning?”

Heden looked around the inn, then smiled at Hapax. “Only if I fail,” he said.

He walked out of the Hammer & Tongs with
Solaris
at his side. Renewed by the visit from Zaar.

It felt like he was a mile under the city. He imagined he could feel every ton of rock above, pressing down on him. His chest tightened, like he couldn’t take a deep breath, and he feared he was having another attack. He realized he was gritting his teeth, his jaw ached. He tried talking to his escort to distract himself.

“He get a lot of visitors?” No echo down here. The damp walls of the limestone tunnel took the sound of Heden’s voice and whisked it away, absorbed it, reflected it, so that it sounded like it was coming from inside his head. That didn’t help his mood.

The guard escorting him sniffed. “Some,” the guard said. “A few. Maybe a lot for all I know. The ragman doesn’t like us working regular shifts, stops our guests from getting to know us too well.”

Heden didn’t say anything. “He hears you call him ‘the ragman,’” he said, “you won’t have a problem with shifts, regular or otherwise, ‘cause you’ll be looking for another line of work.”

His escort, tall and blonde, looking more like a knight than a watchman, glanced down at him, the threat appearing to have no effect.

“You’re in a bad mood,” the watchman said. Heden frowned at the familiarity. 

They came to an iron door.

“You know the drill?" the guard said. "You go in; you hear this door lock behind you. Then the next door unlock. Then you’re on your own."

Heden nodded.

The guard hesitated.

"Someone said you were the one put him away."

"Eight of us."

"But you were there."

"Yeah."

"You know what he can do," the guard seemed concerned.

"Just let me in," Heden said.

The guard shook his head once. He took a vial of red liquid from his belt. Unstoppered the cork sealing it, and poured the fluid into a small hole at the top of the door. It was almost certainly blood, Heden knew, but the blood of what, he couldn't guess.

There were channels carved into the iron Heden hadn't noticed. As the blood flowed through them, splitting as the channels divided, it burned and sputtered, bright red and orange.

The symbol the flowing blood burned as it raced down through the channels was elaborate and unrecognizable to Heden. He tried not to stare at it. There was probably nothing to fear, but he wasn't taking any chances.

When the blood finished burning its way down the door, the guard grabbed the round metal hoop affixed to the center of the door.

He held up another vial with silver liquid in it. "This goes in once you go in," he said, nodding to the top of the door. "Pull the cord on the inside when you want out."

It was the elixir that would seal the door against its occupant. Heden nodded.

"Good luck," the guard said without much enthusiasm.

It appeared to Heden that there was no-one in the room. The cell was divided in half by a set of iron bars, but unlike normal bars these bent and twisted. No straight lines.

There was a cot on the far side of the cell, but no one was in it.

He heard a rustling like a pile of dead leaves. He looked up and saw what appeared to be a mound of dirt and leaves sticking to the ceiling above the cot.

“The guard was afraid I might overpower you,” a hollow voice whispered languorously from the mound on the ceiling.

Heden looked for a place to sit. There was none. Visitors to Saint Alithiad, the Dark Veil, the Saint of Worms, were not encouraged to stay long.

“Is that likely?” Heden asked.

“Not immediately,” the voice hissed. “I like having someone to talk to. Even a human.”

"Do you get many visitors down here?" Heden asked, trying to sound casual.

The lump on the ceiling twisted, a sound of crinkling paper.

"I'm not sure. A few," came the voice.

The rustling continued and the shape moved. Suddenly it fell to the floor with a wet thump and the smell of moss and compost. Heden watched as the mound sat up. Assumed the form of a man, hunched over. He couldn't make out its face.

"Wizards mostly, I think," the figure said. It was smooth, soft. Educated. "Scribes? Loremasters? Not many priests I don't think."

"You don’t think?" Heden asked, just to be saying something.

The lump shrugged. A very human gesture. "I have a hard time telling humans apart. I would make an analogy about you and insects," the voice said, "but you would know I was just being dramatic."

Heden walked forward. He tapped one of the bars.

"Iron?" he asked.

The creature stood. The vampire saint was only about five feet tall. Supernaturally diminished. When Heden had first met him, he was almost seven feet tall.

"Mundane but effective," the creature said. "Iron under these conditions is an acid for my people."

Saint Alithiad walked forward. Closer to Heden and now in the light, Heden could make out his form. He looked like a withered man in rags, but his skin was brown and peeling. It looked exactly like dead leaves. Black eyes stared out at Heden. When the creature blinked, the eyes flashed a sickening green color, like mucus. Some kind of membrane retreating slower than the eyelid.

He looked at Heden.

"You're older," he said.

"Sure," Heden said.

"I can see it," the vampire said. "You're losing elasticity in your skin and your hair is losing its pigment."

"Uh-huh," Heden said.

"Doesn’t happen to the elves or dwarves,” the vampire saint said.

“Or the deathless,” Heden said, raising one eyebrow.

“I am not deathless,” Saint Alithiad said with a smirk. Bits of dead skin or leaf or whatever flaked off his face and spiraled gently to the ground.

“No,” Heden said, biting a lip, thinking. “I thought you were once, but I know better now. That’s why you’re still here after Aendrim. You’re not a Man are you? You never were.”

“I am from another world,” the vampire said, and stretched his arms. Long sticks like poorly carved wood covered in moss and then desiccated.

“The World Below?” Heden asked.

A sigh slowly slipped from the thing before him. The room seemed to get colder.

“You have the blade,” Alithiad whispered.

“Not a good idea to come down here without it,” Heden said.
Solaris
had been key in defeating the Saint of Worms, all those years ago.

“How long have I been in here?” the saint asked. Heden concluded this creature was not from the World Below, might not even know what it was.

“Seven years,” Heden said.

“Mmmm,” the saint said. “That figure doesn’t mean much to me.”

“I need to know something,” Heden said.

The old man made of dead leaves tilted his head

“Why should I help you?” he asked.

“Because we didn’t kill you when we had the chance,” Heden said.

“Mmm,” the saint said. “That’s true. Still, not much motivation.”

“Because you’re bored and have nothing else to do,” Heden offered.

“Also true. Time doesn’t pass for me the way it does for you, though. Ask your question.”

“Is there a new power in the city?”

The vampire made a hollow noise Heden chose to interpret as a laugh. “In the
city?
” he said. “The city. Heh. How can you be so blind? How can you walk around with that thing,” it said, nodding at
Solaris,
“and not feel it? How did you find me, if you can’t sense it?”

“Hard work,” Heden said. “And I had help. You weren’t making it hard to follow you.”

“Mmm no. I got careless. You found my temple. Did you marvel at what you saw? At what I had done to the young boys, the animals? What I turned them in to?”

“No, I think I threw up then.” The feeling of nausea wasn’t far away at the moment, either.

“Strange reaction. Regurgitating a meal. Body reacting to the perception of poisons, toxins. The perception,” the black saint said, “not the reality. How fragile the mirror of the world you build in your mind, that an image can have the effect of a poison on you.”

“It’s because we’re fragile that we’re so tough,” Heden said.

The saint nodded.

“The elves call that
loiil
,” he said. “Truth arising from a logical contradiction.”

“I like that,” Heden said.

“I thought you would.” A moment passed. Heden waited. “Why should I answer you?” Saint Alithiad asked.

“You already answered me,” Heden said. “You forgot, you said, that I’m mortal and can’t sense it myself. That means there’s something there to sense.”

The saint smiled.

“I wondered if you were paying attention. Lynwen chose well.”

“That’s a compliment,” Heden said.

“And why not? We are not enemies,” the vampire seemed affronted.

“No,” Heden said. “I know that, now, too. You’re something else. You wore the skin of a Man because you were bored. You gave yourself to Nikros because it helped you hide. But this, all this,” Heden said gesturing to the cell, but meaning the city, “it really is beneath you. You don’t hate us, you’re just curious. I don’t think it occurred to you that we could feel pain. Dread. Fear.”

“You are more than I’d guessed,” the Saint said. “But only a little more. I didn’t think you could master me, even with that,” he said, indicating
Solaris.

“So what happens to you now that you know what we can do?”

The vampire shrugged. “I’ll forget. I’ll wait this out. A few hundred cycles, a few thousand. It doesn’t matter. Maybe I’ll be trapped down here, it won’t be the first time. Eventually another civilization will dig me out and I’ll be free again. Hopefully I’ll remember what you can do next time. Probably I’ll be a feral mindless thing and have to start all over.”

“How long has this new power been here?” Heden asked. “How close is it?”

“Time is difficult for me,” the Saint of Worms said. “Distance, too. This hive of yours, it’s large for creatures like you?”

“The city, you mean. Celkirk”

Saint Alithiad sighed. He hated when Heden couldn’t keep up.

“There are many powers here, especially after the other hive collapsed.”

“Exeder.” The capital city of Aendrim.

“The new power, a celestial perhaps.” Heden congratulated himself at getting the information out of the Black Saint without giving anything up. But the Saint of Worms wasn’t done. “And at least one power greater than me, but slumbering. I tried to wake it but reconsidered when I heard a whisper of its name.”

“A dragon,” Heden concluded. “Here? You’re trying to distract me.”

“Is it working?” An eyebrow arched in curiosity.

“A little,” Heden admitted. There was a dragon in the city?

The saint appeared to be breathing quickly. Heden frowned.

"You should leave," Alithiad said, turning and shuffling to his cot.

"Why?" Heden asked, worried.

"I can get through the bars," the vampire said casually, almost like he was exhausted. "They don't know it, but I can. It's easy. I don't have to keep this form. Please leave. I can smell it in you." Saint Alithiad sat down.

"What are you talking about?" Heden's curiosity for such things was getting the better of him. But you never knew when you were going to learn something critical to fighting whatever this creature was. Such curiosity was useless for a priest, but necessary for a ratcatcher.

"It's a...," Saint Alithiad chose his words carefully, "substance your body produces. I can smell it. In your brain. It gives my people life. Leave. Please leave. I’d like to be alone for another hundred cycles at least."

Heden backed up, turned and strode to the inner door.

Closing it behind him, he pulled on the cord in the antechamber, thinking on what Saint Alithiad had said, what had just happened. Why would the Dark Veil spare Heden, if he could kill him? His motivations were opaque.

After a few moments, the guard let him out. Stifling the urge to panic, the danger over but not forgotten, Heden raced out of the citadel. Neglecting to inform the guard of what the Saint of Worms had told him.