The Incomparable Treasure
Rob Howell
His face had been ravaged, like a thousand ravens had pecked at his eyes…and missed. That face stopped every conversation when it entered the Frank Faerie Inn.
The owner of the Faerie, Ragnar Longtongue, played the dumb Northerner in the cosmopolitan Empire of Makhaira, but he’d been a hecatontarch in the elite Imperial Guard. He didn’t recognize the ravaged man, but he recognized his sort. Ragnar had his hand under the bar where the spatha he’d once wielded in the Guard waited.
Zoe, Ragnar’s wife, stepped to the kitchen door. She was slight with long hair going gray pulled back. Flour smudged her cheek and her apron, but she was more beautiful for the signs of her work, not less. Inside the kitchen, next to where she stood, leaned the same spear she’d used fighting alongside Ragnar against Qafric nomads on the empire’s borders.
Melia, the gray tabby who ruled the Faerie, usually demanded pets and scraps in equal measure. She turned her green eyes at the interloper and arched her back. Fat and lazy she might be, but she earned her keep, and she recognized a pest when she saw one.
I’d recognized the ravaged man immediately. I was the only reason he could have for coming to the Faerie, so it was no surprise when he came to my table. I motioned at a seat.
“Not here, Edward of the Seven Kingdoms,” he said.
“They have private rooms,” I answered.
“I said, not here, Sevener.”
I sighed. “Not staying for Ragnar’s ale probably isn’t the worst mistake you’ve ever made, but it’s certainly one of them.”
He shrugged.
“Fine.” I went to the age-smoothed oak bar where Ragnar poured ale and barely intelligible long-winded speeches in equal measure. “I need the key.”
He rambled off one of those speeches while filling four mugs, getting me the key, pulling out a charged lightstone, and smiling the whole time. The smile didn’t, quite, meet his eyes, which hadn’t stopped staring at the ravaged man.
I ignored Ragnar, keeping my own focus on the interloper as well. I took the key without a word and gestured the ravaged man outside. We walked across the street to a dark, ill-kept house. I unlocked the door and ushered him inside.
Once inside, the lightstone provided the only illumination. It showed one bare wooden table, two rickety chairs that had been young in the time of a previous dynasty, and three piles of detritus from a life so poorly lived no one dared scavenge its remains.
The lightstone also turned his ravaged face into something that would frighten the Great Wolf. Even the ghosts who lived here turned away.
“What’s this place?” he asked.
“Ragnar wants me to buy it. No one else will.”
“Why?”
“A woman got murdered here. Everyone hated Grozdana. She hated them back and people figure she’d be worse dead than alive.”
He nodded. “Ragnar keeps an eye on things around here.”
“Much like you do at Gibroz’s gambling den.”
“Sure.” He looked around. He saw dust and rat droppings. “Place needs a cat.”
“Probably, but unless you have a stray tabby to fix the obvious problem, I don’t particularly care to stay here in this half-light, even if it does wonders for your looks. What does your boss want from me?”
He took a breath. “Gibroz doesn’t want anything from you.”
“Then why are you here? As far as I knew, you only did whatever he told you to do.” Gibroz ran a kral, what in the Seven Kingdoms we’d call a band of criminals.
He said, “That’s about right.”
I said, “So either tell me or get out. You’re keeping me from Zoe’s roasted goat.”
“I’m roasted either way.” He pulled out a scrap of parchment. “People pay in a variety of ways at the den.”
“Gibroz always gets what’s owed to him.”
“Yes, and last night we got this.” He opened the parchment to show a crude drawing of a knife. Its proportions seemed wrong, like it expected its wielder to have an especially large hand. It had a slight curve with a gemstone on the pommel.
I said, “That doesn’t look quite Periaslavlan, but close. At least, the curve of the blade is similar.”
“It’s not Periaslavlan. I’ve never seen anything like it and I’ve seen the empire’s share. No one comes into the gambling den without some steel and I watch every one. This one’s amazing, incredibly sharp. The blade is darkest night. The pommel is a black star sapphire or I’m a priest. I don’t know who made it, but it’s a knife ready to slay the gods.”
“That explains why you accepted it, not what you want from me.”
He tapped on the table, still not ready to tell me. Finally, he said, “The knife disappeared last night and I want you to find it.”
“Last I recall, I’d done Gibroz favors, he’d done me favors, and we were even. I also recall he wanted a reason to send me to the bottom of the lake.”
A strange look crossed his face. “You’re doing this for me. If Gibroz finds out this happened, I’m dead. For that matter, he might want you dead too. Just for knowing.”
I shook my head. “Then go somewhere else, and leave me alone.”
“Who else do you suggest, Sevener? Katarina? The quaesitors? The zupans?
He was right. Katarina controlled the half of Achrida’s underworld Gibroz didn’t. The quaesitors, mostly a corrupt shadow of a corrupt empire, would simply demand their cut and do nothing. Two tribes, the Enchelei and the Dassaretae, dominated Achrida. Their governors, called zupans, wouldn’t care about his problems at all.
I said, “Fair point, though I admit I’d enjoy seeing the look on Katarina’s face if you asked her to help her biggest rival.”
He snorted. “I heard you helped find things.” He put a pouch on the table. It clinked with the joyful sound of many coins. “I heard you charge a silver dinar a day.”
I leaned back and studied the pile of trash opposite me. Rotted pillows, broken chairs, dirty scraps of clothing. I couldn’t see a reason to help, but this is what I’d become. A guy who finds things, just like he’d said.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Why?”
“Never needed to know it before, now I do. You think I’d risk my life solely for the pleasure of seeing your face?”
He rubbed his chin and said, “Vardimir.”
“Enchelei or Dassaretae?”
“I’m from Basilopolis. I got no more relationship to them than you do.” He snorted again. “Besides, we don’t pick sides, whether it’s imperial politics or tribal bickering, though we do take advantage of their squabbling.”
“So you got this knife and you did what with it?”
Vardimir gauged his answer. “I put it in the chest that gets each evening’s winnings, locked it, and put it in the vault we have.”
“Who else has access to the vault?”
“Gibroz. The others.”
“The others being Andreyev, Suzana, and Vladan?”
“Who else? It’s not Markov or Gabrijela, after all.” He shook his head. “Come to think of it, this is all your fault.”
I said, “I didn’t steal any knife.”
“You didn’t, but Gibroz has been on edge ever since you found out about Markov and Gabrijela. If you’d have just let him kill her it would have been like every other time someone tried to betray him. He’d have been grouchy for a month or so and then we’d have gotten back to business as usual. But no, you had to have feelings for her. Had to protect her. So he thinks about Gabrijela every day and keeps taking out his frustrations on the rest of us.”
I looked at the floor. I thought about Gabrijela every day too, but for my own reasons. They had worked for the emperor behind Gibroz’s back, and I’d exposed their treachery. I’d killed Markov, but I couldn’t kill Gabrijela, so I’d sent her back to Basilopolis.
I focused on Vardimir again. “So, only you, Gibroz, and those three. No one else?”
“Gibroz don’t trust many. Even less since Markov and Gabrijela.”
“You put the knife in the chest. You locked it in the vault. And then it wasn’t there?”
“Yes. I went to look for it this morning.”
“Could one of the others have taken it?” I asked.
“Each of us has own our chest to store whatever we’re responsible for. Gibroz is the only one with keys to all of the chests.”
“Your chest’s lock wasn’t picked.”
He shook his head. “Not that I could see.”
“Gibroz didn’t take the knife out?”
“You’ve not seen it, Sevener. It’s truly incomparable. If he had, we’d all know. He’d have shown it off. Couldn’t not.”
I considered things, then asked, “What else was in your chest?”
“No need for you to know.”
“I need to know if it was worth something.” I raised a hand. “Not specifically what was in there, just that there were valuables they could have taken as well as the knife.”
His lips twisted. Then he nodded. “Yes.”
“Was anything else taken besides the knife?”
He said, “Not that I saw.”
“So they came for the knife in particular. Who gave it to you?”
Again, he gauged what he could say. “A merchant from out of town. He’s already on the road.”
“Which way?”
“Does it matter?”
“It might,” I said. “Who else knows you took it as payment?”
“The merchant and I are the only ones who know he gave me this knife, but Gibroz knew he paid with some sort of item.”
“If it’s as valuable as you say, he owed you a great deal. How much?”
He shook his head. “All you need to know is that I have to show Gibroz the knife tomorrow or I’m dead.”
“Can’t you just tell him the truth? It might surprise him so much, he’d believe you.”
“Not after you messed everything up.”
I asked, “How do you know no one else saw you take it?”
“You think I don’t know how to do my job?”
I pointed at his face. “You weren’t born looking like that.”
He crunched the sketch in his hand. “Sevener, you keep asking the wrong questions. That’s going to put you into the lake one of these days.”
“Probably so. You didn’t answer me.”
“Jebi se! I do my job. That’s all you need to know.”
“By the hungry wolf, it isn’t.” I waved at the crumpled drawing. “I’m going to need a place to start. This sketch isn’t enough. If you don’t have any ideas, then relaxing with Ragnar’s ale starts sounding better and better.”
He snarled, “This is getting us nowhere.”
“It’s getting you nowhere. I got dinner waiting.”
He stomped around the room, his hands flexing as if he wanted to wrap them around something. My neck preferably. I knew what he wanted to do and suddenly I was tired of it all.
I tossed the pouch back at him. He caught it.
I said, “I’m a guy who finds things, but not for the likes of you. I don’t care how many silver dinars are in there, there’s not enough. Leave me be.”
He threw the crumpled drawing to the side and snarled, “Then you’ll never get anything out of Gibroz again. I’ll make sure of that.”
“Get out of here. I’m hungry.”
He glared at me, but he got out of there.
* * *
I didn’t leave Grozdana’s house immediately. I needed to think and I’d get no thinking done with Zoe’s goat on a plate in front of me.
However, I’d barely started working through the problem when three figures entered the house. The first was large, arrogant, and leering. Andreyev did most of Gibroz’s dirty work, so even Imperial quaesitors watched their step around him. He looked happy to see me. He’d never looked happy to see me before.
Second was Suzana. Tall for a woman. Cruel for a starving bear. Could have been beautiful except she preferred to be something else. Enjoyed the feel of running a knife through flesh. Gibroz let her slaughter enough to slake her thirst. She looked ready to take another drink.
Third was Vladan. Bigger than Andreyev, he’d been a sailor once. Now he ran Gibroz’s smuggling operations. Just the man to get a fishing boat to drop an inconvenient body into the lake.
“Edward,” sneered Andreyev. “So good to see you.”
“No doubt. Now that you’ve had the pleasure, why don’t you return the favor and leave?”
Suzana moved around to my right. Vladan around to my left. Andreyev put his hands on his hips.
They chuckled.
I chuckled.
The ghosts chuckled.
The mirth got tedious. “What do you want, Andreyev?” I asked.
“You talked to a guy.”
“I talk to guys quite often.” I glanced at Suzana. “Talk to girls, too.”
“What would you do if I said you shouldn’t be helpin’ that guy?”
“I’d shrug. Here, let me show you.” I shrugged.
He bunched his fist. “Leave it be, Sevener. You won’t enjoy it if you poke your nose in.”
I shrugged. “See? There’s my shrug again. Just like I promised.”
A smile grew on Andreyev’s angular face until it became an actual grin. “I’m so glad you haven’t changed, Sevener. You know I can’t kill you, least not right now, on account of that deal you made with Gibroz. But that don’t mean we can’t have the conversation I’ve been wantin’ to have with you.”
Vladan slugged me.
I saw it coming out of the corner of my eye. Blood flew from my nose as my head twisted about. Suzana hit me from the other side and turned me back.
Then, for some reason, I was on the floor. Andreyev’s boot hammered into me. Suzana’s followed. Vladan, on the other hand, pulled out a length of heavy, knotted rope and whipped it down on me.
The beating lasted for only a little while. Not longer than a couple of years. Or decades.
Finally, they stopped.
Andreyev stooped to peer in my face. “Gibroz owed you a free pass. People know that. This was it. Next time Suzana gets to have her fun.”
She snickered, putting her deep brown eyes close to mine. “I’ll even dress nice for you, Sevener. Make sure you get to see something pretty before dying.”
Andreyev patted me on the cheek lightly, then kicked me once more for good measure. He and the others left.
I laid there and contemplated my good fortune. I had had that free pass. No light thing there. My blood probably hadn’t gotten on my tunic. Important, that. Zoe hated cleaning blood out of clothes. She could do it, had plenty of experience, but hated it.
Oh, and they hadn’t asked about the sketch. Probably didn’t know Vardimir had drawn it. That was fortune worthy of sacrifice.
I’ll think I’ll pick it up. My head rested on the dirty oak boards. In a moment.
* * *
My eyes opened when I heard another person at the door. This time it was a washerwoman in a walnut-dyed dress with white hair pulled back tight.
Except it wasn’t.
“Edward.” She sidled over. Not the way a washerwoman might, but the way a cunning wizard in disguise might. Which, of course, she was.
I said, “Evening, Katarina.”
“Oh, Sevener, what shall I ever do with you?” She helped me to my feet.
I put my hands on my knees to let the spinning room come back into focus.
“Hand me that.” I pointed at a less rotted dress.
“And get my hands dirty?”
“Can’t bleed on my tunic or Zoe’ll take care of both of us.”
“Why didn’t you say so in the first place.” She handed it over, completely unconcerned about whatever grime might be on it. “I wouldn’t want to have to face the mighty Zoe.”
I put it on my nose, then took a step.
Stayed upright, much to my surprise. And hers.
Took another.
A third even.
I went to a knee to grab the sketch.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“What Vardimir gave me.”
She giggled. A light, girlish giggle that seemed odd coming from an old washerwoman, but was even odder coming from what I knew she was. “Going to stick your freshly broken nose in Gibroz’s business again, aren’t you?”
“I wasn’t. I’d said no.”
She laughed. This was her deep, full-throated, arrogant laugh. The one a cruel magic-using mistress of whores should laugh. “And then those fools beat you.”
I shoved the sketch into a pouch so I could keep both hands free. “Can’t let it stop me. Can’t let it seem to stop me.”
“I know that, silly.” She patted my cheek. “And it’s a shame. I’m actually here because I want you to leave this all alone.”
“Why?”
“When have I ever given you the easy answer?”
I leaned against a wall and took a deep, painful breath. “I’m not really in the mood for your games, Katarina. I hurt and I’m hungry. Tell me why.”
“I’m so glad you fell in love with Gabrijela.” She giggled.
I said, “Which you could see with your magic, of course.”
“I could revel in your feelings with my magic.” She snorted. “But even the blindest beggar in the Square of Legends could see you’d fallen for her.”
I said, “So, I was an idiot in love. Why does that matter now?”
“Since you let Gabrijela go, Gibroz has been erratic. He used to be steady and boring, but in these past few months, he’s been very interesting.”
“Allowing you to take advantage of him.”
She smirked. “Exactly.”
I narrowed my eyes, then said, “I don’t believe you. Oh, I believe he’s been erratic and you’ve taken advantage of him. You take every advantage you can get.”
“Not every one. I saved your life, didn’t I? What advantage did I get from that?”
I snorted. “You’ve saved me several times, and you got something out of it each time. I’m not so foolish to think it’s all about money or even control. It’s about excitement for you.”
She stamped a foot. “You never let me have my fun. You see through all my disguises. You know me too well. Worst of all, everyone now knows I have a soft spot for you.” She laughed. “But you haven’t been boring. Most fun I’ve had in years.”
“I’m glad I entertain you. In that case, tell me the real reason why I should leave this alone.”
“No, I don’t think so. A girl’s gotta have a few secrets.”
“What’s so special about the knife?”
She laughed. “Oh, you’re delightful, Edward. Are all Seveners so direct?”
“Yes.” I considered her. “So the knife matters to you, but there’s something more.”
“How do you understand me so well?” she asked with another stamp of her foot. “It’s a good thing you never talk to any of those looking for the chance to kill me and take my place.”
“As you say. Are you worried that you’ll need to save me again?”
“If you learn what I know, then I can’t save you.” She sighed with a sadness I’d not known she could feel. “But maybe, just maybe, you’ll be lucky and miss something this time. A girl can hope.”
* * *
As I left Grozdana’s house, I went around to the stables of the Faerie and knocked. Ragnar’s boy Eirik opened the door. His eyes widened, but he’d seen me in worse shape before. After cleaning as much as I could, I thanked him and went into the taproom.
Ragnar took one look and shook his head. “Now I was knowin’ them rats and suchlike beasties in Grozdana’s old place were gettin’ all uppity, but a huscarl of the Seven Kingdoms such as yerself ought to be able to fend them off better’n that.”
“Good thing Zoe made goat, then. I clearly need my strength.”
I plopped into my seat and Zoe slid the goat in front of me with a wry expression. Then she took my chin, tilted my head this way and that, and nodded. She said, “Probably improve the nose.”
I chuckled, which hurt because of my bruised ribs.
“Anything broken?”
“Not that I can feel.”
She said, “Going to be worse tomorrow.”
“I know.” I shrugged. “Little I can do about it.”
“I’ll have Eirik warm water for a bath. It’ll help.”
I nodded and ate the goat. Juicy, steaming, and covered in dill, garlic, and onions. People came to the Faerie for a number of reasons, and this was as good as any.
Afterward, I smoothed the sketch on the table, leaned back, and contemplated it over a mug of Ragnar’s ale.
When he came over with a refill, I gestured at the sketch. “Seen anything like it?”
He scowled. “Now that’s not to be feelin’ right. Looks almost Periaslavlan, but wherever it’s comin’ from, it makes me want steel in my hand, and that’s bein’ One-Eye’s own truth.”
“Me too. Thanks, Ragnar.”
The sketch told me nothing else, despite studying it over several more mugs of ale. The bath had a few things to say, though. Mostly, it reminded me I didn’t particularly care to let Imperial thugs beat on me.
* * *
The next morning was worse than I wanted, but probably better than I could have hoped. I got the kinks out by sparring with Eirik, as I did most mornings. By the time I left the Faerie, I moved almost as well as I normally did as long as I didn’t laugh. Or twist my ribs about. Or get into a fight.
The Faerie is on the Fourth Serpent, one of five roads branching off Medusa’s Way. The neighborhood, called the Serpents because of these streets, only had one exit, which led to the Square of Legends.
The Square of Legends bustled, as it usually did. The Trade Road bisected it north to south, so it always held tired horses driven by tired teamsters on tired wagons. Locals pushed through with buckets to get water at the fountain in the middle of the square. Pickpockets viewed the square as their natural hunting ground. So did some of Katarina’s whores. Kiosks lined the edges filled with everything their vendors could sell to this folk. Travelers simply tried to survive.
And it was loud. Dogs barked. Horses neighed. Merchants growled. People cursed at each other. Hustlers beckoned toward any likely mark. Them with something to sell, whether food, drink, trinkets, or sex, made sure all knew what was available.
Since there’s no other way out of the Serpents, I’d long since started keeping an eye out for people tailing me from the square. Why wait in a close-knit neighborhood to follow me when I’d have to go through this maelstrom anyway?
Often, I hadn’t noticed someone following me until too late, but if there was anyone worse than me in Achrida at tailing people, it was Andreyev. In my case, it was inexperience. In his, arrogance.
I guessed he wanted to know if I’d listened to their warning. Still, if he was watching me, it also meant I could watch him. I made no special attempt to lose him in the crowds of the Trade Road as I went to the Golden Sea Inn located in the Grain District of Achrida.
The Golden Sea had served as a gathering place for tradesmen for centuries, providing average beer to average folk for average prices. The tradesman I wanted often drank there, just as I often drank at the Frank Faerie.
Sebastijan showed not long after I arrived, whether by chance or by warning from the innkeeper, I didn’t know. He was my size, maybe a little broader, and he knew the back side of Achrida as well as anyone.
I put the sketch in front of him. “Ever seen a knife like that?”
He said, “With that curve it looks Periaslavlan.”
“The guy who owns it says it’s not. Say’s it’s not like anything he’s ever seen before, and he cares about blades.”
“A collector?”
“You could say so,” I said.
He didn’t press me. He knew I trusted him, but we got along because we knew each other’s limits.
“It got stolen from this collector, right?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Want me to ask around?”
“If you can do so without making it too well known.”
He snorted. “I think I can manage that. If it’s as different as this collector says, only a few will try to buy it.”
“Good point.”
“Who else are you asking about this?”
“Anastasius. If it’s unique, the Readers might know something.”
He shook his head. “Don’t do that yet. If they’ll tell you anything, they’ll also tell anyone else who asks what you asked about.”
“You’re right. I hadn’t thought about their oaths.”
“And keep this away from the quaesitors. If they get involved, it won’t be Zvono or my brother who tries to find this knife. I wouldn’t trust the other queasies with anything more valuable than a pile of horse droppings on the Trade Road.”
“That part I already knew.”
“Good.” He got up. “You noticed Andreyev following, yes?”
“I did. I figured I’d leave him there unless I saw someone else or he tried to herd me into a trap.”
“You’re learning, Sevener. I didn’t see anyone else from Gibroz’s kral, though that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Do you know why’s he’s doing something himself, and not leaving it to one of their underlings?”
“He and the others beat on me last night.”
“That explains the nose.”
“Yes. He’s making sure I’m not doing what he doesn’t want me to do.”
Sebastijan glanced at the sketch. “Which, of course, you are.”
“Yes.”
He snorted. “I’ll do my best to keep your name out of this.”
“Thanks.”
“One more thing. Avoid the Stracara. It’s no place for you right now, especially with Andreyev already itching to kill you.”
The Stracara held the worst of Achrida. Maybe of the empire.
I said, “I’m not that stupid, Sebastijan.”
“Since when?”
* * *
I ran into Zvono before I could get back to the Square of Legends. The quaesitor looked far too pleased to see me.
“Edward! Just the man I wanted,” she said. “We’ve got work.”
Her work meant they’d found a body. Kapric, Sebastijan’s brother, and Zvono tried to solve all the murders in Achrida since they were the only reasonably honest quaesitors here. People usually wanted murders solved. Usually.
“Where at?” I asked.
“The Stracara.”
“Of course.”
Zvono led me past the Fish Docks, which smelled merely of rotting fish. Then into the Stracara proper, which smelled of everything else. Urine. Old beer. Piles of chamber-pot leavings tossed out the window from upper stories. Worst of all was the despair.
The body lay sprawled in a cleared street. Two mages circled it. I’d met them before. One was an erkurios, a type of wizard who manipulated emotions. Someone trained in this specific task could sense the powerful emotions most murderers leave on bodies. The other was a zokurios, whose magic dealt with things that lived or once lived. People left traces of themselves on the ones they killed, even without knowing.
Kapric watched them. He looked like someone had carved him out of the mountains around Achrida. No wasted motion. A statue come to life to deliver what little justice the empire held. He gestured at me. “Recognize him?”
The ravaged face looked no better in the daylight. Especially with his throat sliced neat as could be. “His name’s Vardimir.”
“Doorwarden of Gibroz’s den.” Zvono tapped at her wax tablet. She always carried it, though no one knew why. She never forgot anything. “He visited you last night.”
“Yes.”
“What did he want?” she asked.
I checked around. Faces leaned out from open windows. Eyes peered out of the shuttered ones. Good thing I was a battle-proven warrior with my sword, saex, and dagger or their attention would have bothered me.
The watchers made no sound as they listened for my answer.
I said, “Let’s go for a walk.”
Kapric scowled, but nodded. When we reached a private spot, I told him all Vardimir had said and about Gibroz’s people beating on me. Then I showed him the sketch.
“What have you found so far?” he asked.
“I found out Ragnar still makes the best ale I’ve ever had.”
His eyes turned frosty. “Sevener. I have no time for your games.”
“Vardimir only talked to me last night. What else could I have done as smart as that?”
“Did you at least think about what to do while you got drunk?”
“I did.”
He pounded his fist into his hand. “Stop playing around.”
I said, “You don’t want to know what I did.”
Zvono chuckled. “You came from the south part of the city. That means you talked to Sebastijan.”
Kapric snarled, “Zeus’s cock, Sevener. Why him?”
“You know why. You may not like your brother much, but he’s always gathering bits and pieces. Aren’t many better at that, so I asked him to check around.”
He took a deep breath and became a statue again. “You’ll tell me everything he finds out.”
I didn’t answer.
Kapric turned his granite eyes toward me. “You will tell me. This isn’t like the others who came to you with problems. This is Gibroz and his kral. Vardimir doesn’t deserve your pure Sevenish honor, and if you get in the way, I’ll bet silver to bronze we’ll find your body too.”
“I’ll try to avoid giving you more work to do.” I grinned. “Believe me on that.”
He snorted.
“I’ll tell you this, though,” I said. “Andreyev followed me when I went to see Sebastijan. In fact, he only let me go when Zvono found me.”
“Doesn’t make me any happier.”
“Me neither, so I’m being careful.”
We went back to the body.
The zokurios had completed his examination.
“Well?” asked Kapric.
“The killer was a woman,” replied the mage. “At least, a woman held him when his throat got slashed. It’s possible, I suppose, someone else could have been the one with the blade, but she made it happen at the very least. I’ll know more later.”
I stiffened slightly. Not much, but enough that Kapric saw.
“What?” he asked, eyes narrowed.
“Katarina also talked to me last night,” I said softly. “Told me to stay away from Vardimir’s job.”
“She’d have a reason to kill him, no doubt,” he replied just as softly.
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not? You know she enjoys killing people.”
“Yes, but really, she enjoys making a scene. If she cut his throat, she’d make sure everyone knew it was her. She wouldn’t leave it as some simple street killing.”
Kapric scratched his beard. “Fair point.” He looked at the erkurios circling the body. “What about you?”
He straightened. “I need to take him back to our chambers to fully dig into these emotions.”
“First impression,” growled Kapric.
“Yes, sir. My best guess now is whoever killed him regretted having to do it. I don’t sense anger or rage. No joy or excitement. None of the usual emotions, though the usual amount of emotions.” The erkurios shook his head. “I’ll need time to unwrap them all.”
Kapric waved me close and the two of us knelt over the body. I caught a whiff of something. I leaned in and took a deep breath.
“What?” he asked.
“I smell something.”
He inhaled. “Perfume?”
“I think so.” The fragrance tantalized me, trying to tell me something. “More evidence Vardimir spent time with a woman.”
“More evidence it might be Katarina.”
“Katarina wouldn’t regret killing Vardimir. Also, she’d leave almost no emotions, not complicated ones.”
“True.”
“What about Suzana? She helped beat me. Vardimir said Gibroz might want him dead, and she’d probably be the one he sent to do it.”
“Perhaps, but she’s not usually one for wearing perfume. Not like Katarina.” He stood. “Alright, Sevener. No need to speculate yet. Keep in touch.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Zvono escorted me out of the Stracara. When we got back to the Square of Legends, she said, “Don’t push things, Sevener. We all know what this could turn into, and Kapric’s had enough of following this trail of dead bodies you keep finding.”
* * *
Evening had fallen by the time I reached the Fourth Serpent and I heard a hissing voice call out “Sevener” from the shadows next to Grozdana’s house.
I caught a whiff of perfume.
I put my hand on my sword hilt and took a step closer to the figure in the shadows.
“Not like that, I need to talk.”
I recognized Suzana’s voice, but she sounded hesitant, scared. By Woden’s lost eye, what in Hel’s name is going on? “Hold on, I’ll be right back.”
I went into the Faerie and got the key from Ragnar, who in his loquacious way told me to keep it this time. I didn’t answer. I simply took it and a new lightstone back across the street.
I waved her inside, keeping my hand on my sword. I certainly didn’t turn my back on her.
Inside, I said, “Suzana, how pleasant to see you again.”
In a way, that was true. She wore makeup along with the perfume. Her silk dress fitted her better than I’d thought possible. She had dressed up, just as she’d promised, but she didn’t move like she meant to kill me.
She said, “I need your help.”
“What’s wrong?” I gestured. “Not that I mind how you look. You should wear it more often.”
She blinked almost shyly. Then she came close. Too close, but I didn’t push her out of knife reach.
After taking a deep breath, she said, “Gibroz wants me dead.”
“Why would he? He wouldn’t waste you for no good reason.”
“He’s got a good reason, or he thinks he does, and it’s those damn quaesitors’ fault. And yours.”
“Oh?”
“How many people do you think heard that wizard say a woman killed Vardimir?”
“You’ve been known to slice a throat here and there. How does this involve me?” I put up a hand. “Wait, let me guess. He’s been erratic ever since I let Gabrijela go.”
“Yes. And now he thinks I killed Vardimir without permission.”
“Did you?”
“Why would I?”
“If you caught Vardimir skimming, you would. Maybe he drove away a good customer. Or, knowing you, you decided you hadn’t slashed someone’s neck in three days and it was time.”
Her eyes flashed, and for a moment she was the Suzana who had kicked me the day before. “Jebi se! I didn’t kill him, but I might change my mind about you.”
“Why did you come to me anyway?” I gestured up and down. “And why dressed like this?”
She came close again. She caressed my neck. It was so out of the ordinary for her, it felt odd, not sensual.
She whispered. “You’re the only one who Gibroz will believe. You have tell him I didn’t kill Vardimir. I’ll pay you all the value you want. I wanted you to see what I could offer.”
I gently lifted her hands away. I stared into her eyes and my voice seemed to come from across the mountains. “I’ll help, but not for this. I was going to find out anyway.”
“Why?”
“Because I couldn’t let you intimidate me. I can’t let you do this either, but mostly I couldn’t do that.”
She stepped back. Looked down. “I should hate you for pushing me away.”
“You hated me before. I liked it. It was a good, honest hate. I respected it. This? This isn’t you.”
Her eyes flashed.
I raised a hand before she could say anything. “Do you know anything more? Last night, Vardimir asked me to help him and about all I know is that nobody wants me involved. Not Gibroz. Not Katarina. Not the quaesitors. Not even me, but I’m involved whether I like it or not, so tell me what you know.”
She said, “We thought someone was after Gibroz. Had some grudge to settle or something. We didn’t want you involved because you’d have gotten in the way.”
“Maybe you were right. Vardimir’s dead, after all.”
“But that has to be Katarina, right? It’s obvious.” She stepped close again. “You have to tell Gibroz. He’ll believe you.”
“Why do you say that? Katarina would have done it differently. She’d have made sure we all knew she did it.”
“I’ve known Vardimir for fifteen years now, and I would have said none of us could have surprised him. He always saw everything. It’s why Gibroz put him as the den doorwarden in the first place. That’s why it has to be Katarina. Who else could get so close to him?”
“Because of her magic?”
“It’s the only way. The cut was neat, like he didn’t defend himself. It has to be her.”
I asked, “No one ever snuck up on him?”
She snorted. “He saw everything, Sevener.”
“It’s not Katarina,” I said.
“It’s not me,” she said.
“So I’ll search for someone else. Another woman who can do what you say had to be done.” I admired her body. “You didn’t have to dress up to convince me, but I appreciate it. Very much.”
“Thank you.” She moved to the door. “Stay clear of Gibroz until you can tell him something. The past is the past now.”
“I understand. Where will you be?”
“Somewhere he can’t find.”
* * *
Zoe placed a dish of selsko meso on my table. Lamb, onions, and mushrooms in Zoe’s special wine sauce steaming straight from the oven.
After I ate, I brooded about my options until Sebastijan arrived. I waved at Ragnar for another mug of ale.
Sebastijan took a drink, then said, “I found several collectors of blades, but one wanted that knife in particular. Her name’s Bojana Radmila. She’s an Enchelei.”
“Tell me about her.”
“She’s an erkurios, about forty. Made a fortune selling her ability to manipulate the emotions of political foes in Basilopolis. She’s got a mansion in the Gropasverni overlooking the lake now and spends her time indulging herself.”
“Interesting. The emotions on the body were complex, or so Kapric’s mage said. What if it wasn’t Katarina, but another erkurios?”
“Bojana could have been the one to kill Vardimir, but it’s not her style. Usually, she’s one to leave people in place so she can continue to use them.”
I took a drink from my mug. “How would she get involved with Gibroz?”
“I don’t know, but I can tell you she’s been expecting the knife to come to Achrida from Basilopolis for about a month.”
I grimaced. “What’s so special about this knife?”
“I don’t know, exactly. It seems to be unique, maybe magical, but no one I’ve talked to knows, or tells me, anything more. However, it’s clearly something she’s coveted for some time.”
“As far back as when she was in Basilopolis?”
“I believe so. I can ask people I know in the Great City to confirm, but that’ll take time and I don’t think you have it.”
“I agree. It’s all happening too fast. Suzana came to me tonight saying Gibroz thought she was the one who killed Vardimir and now he wanted her dead.”
“Because she’s the only woman who might have done it?”
“The only one Gibroz can think of. Clearly he’s convinced it’s not Katarina.”
“Not her style. Too boring.”
“That’s what I said to Kapric.”
“You could tell Kapric and Zvono about Bojana. Let them go question her. It’d certainly be wiser, because I’ve heard some nasty stuff about her.”
“I could, but it doesn’t help me if they don’t tell me what they find out.” I smiled. “Besides, it’s not like Kapric and Zvono don’t have enough to do anyway.”
“Don’t push my brother, Sevener. You may not realize it, but his superiors in Basilopolis have been pressuring him to get you on something, anything, so they can get rid of you.”
We sat quietly for a while.
I said, “I don’t get it.”
“What?”
“Why is the emperor so determined to kill me? And why did he go after Gibroz? What’s so important about us?”
“You know why,” he said. “Achrida’s one of the biggest and richest cities in the empire. These northern provinces sit in such a way that if their governors, along with the provincial cohorts, decided to break from the empire it’d be tough to bring them back. Emperors always give us weak governors for that reason.”
“I know all that,” I said. “I still don’t understand about Gibroz and myself. We’re nothing to the emperor. We can’t lead these provinces in revolt.”
“You forget how petty emperors can be. Nikephoros wanted Gabrijela to control Gibroz for him, figuring he could use that control in case a governor got stupid. He’ll never forgive you for getting in his way.” He grinned. “The good news is that no emperor lives forever.”
I snorted. “I’ll visit Bojana in the morning.”
“Be wary. She’ll use her magic at least as ruthlessly as Katarina might.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
* * *
Bojana’s house matched all the others in the Gropasverni neighborhood. They were tall, made of large blocks of the local limestone, and served as miniature fortresses.
Those who lived here, mostly the richest of the Enchelei, also favored ugly statuary. Bojana was no different, or at least she’d not had the various gargoyles, dragons, ugly gods, and uglier goddesses taken away when she moved in.
I went to the doorwarden. These houses all had one of those too, and they were generally less attractive than the statues. This one was worse than I expected. He made Vardimir seem almost human, with a nose veering left and a jaw veering right.
He looked at me without expression. Just as well, really.
“I’d like to speak with Bojana, please,” I said.
“She is unavailable.”
I pulled out the sketch. “I have information on this and I believe she’s willing to pay for it.”
“Leave it here and she’ll consider it.” He reached out for the sketch but I pulled it back.
I said, “I’ll keep this, thank you. If she wishes to speak with me, have her send a message to the Frank Faerie.”
I turned to leave.
He cleared his throat. “I shall see if she can spare some time.”
“You’re too kind.”
He closed the door and left me standing on the porch. After long enough to make sure I knew my place, he opened the door again. “The mistress will see you.”
“How good of her.”
“Indeed.” He sniffed.
He led me into the house, which was cold and empty. The marble floors echoed. No furniture in the entryway interrupted the sound. No pictures on the walls. No tapestries to ease the winter’s chill. The Empire of Makhaira might be warmer than my home in the Seven Kingdoms, but its winters could still be as harsh as their politics.
We reached a room decorated as I expected of the lords and ladies of this place. Like the other houses along this ridge, it had large, well-made windows overlooking the gloriously deep blue Lake Achrida. In the morning, this would be a warm room as the sun rose over the far mountains and hills. In the evening, it was a place to sip rakija and admire what the gods had wrought.
However, there was only one place to sit and a woman occupied it. She was sensuous and knew it, did everything she could to enhance it. Her raven hair was piled on her head, held together by gold hair sticks with rubies. Intricate ringlets framed her face, which showed light but immaculate makeup. She wore a dress of cotton dyed in Sabinian purple. The cost of the materials was matched by the skill of the seamstress.
She turned her wide, abyssal eyes to me. “You know of this dagger?” she asked.
I liked her immediately.
I’d liked other people immediately, but not for the same reason. Bedarth, my mentor, had trained me to recognize magic and I’d been waiting for it anyway because of Sebastijan’s warning. So I could tell what Bojana was doing.
I managed, barely, to keep control of myself, but I decided to play along.
“I do, mistress, and I would be happy to tell you all I know.”
“Yes, you will.” She smiled and sent me a surge of happiness. Then she commanded, “Let me see the drawing.”
I pulled it out.
She smoothed the crumpled parchment. “Where did you see this blade?”
“I didn’t see it myself, mistress. A person asked me about it. He’s the one who saw it.”
“Who was this person?”
“Vardimir. The doorwarden of Gibroz’s gambling den.”
“I have heard of this place. Tell me more.”
I said, “He received the item in payment for gambling debts.”
“From whom?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
She wrinkled her lovely mouth in a moue and leaned forward. “Surely you asked.”
“Yes, milady, but he didn’t want to tell me.”
She tapped her finger. “I see. He lost it how?”
I described what Vardimir had told me.
“This is most distressing.”
I said, “I’m sorry, milady.”
She was suddenly next to me. I could feel her magic caressing my emotions. Then she kissed me. A kiss that would wake all the dead kings of far Amaranth.
I was not, at the moment, dead. I was awake. As awake as Thunor fighting Fenris.
She ended the kiss and stepped back. “You would enjoy pleasing me, wouldn’t you?”
With a voice as dry as the Qafric Wastes, I husked, “Yes, milady.”
“So you will find this knife.”
“Yes, milady.”
“Then you will bring it here. To me. To no other.”
“As you wish.”
She kissed me again. “Good. Because I so look forward to rewarding you.”
I couldn’t say anything.
She ran a finger across my lips, then dismissed me.
I turned, not quite in control of my body. The doorwarden smirked as he saw me leave her chamber. I put a hand on the entryway wall to steady myself.
Then he pushed me out the door into the garden of grotesqueries.
I took a deep breath and glanced back at the house. I saw movement behind a window. I smiled as lusty a smile as I could manage and then left the yard.
I needed a drink.
* * *
I went to a tavern near the North Gate. It was close, and I’d spent a few nights drinking there with the gate guards.
I also knew they had cheap rakija, which was all I wanted after talking to Bojana. The rakija might have been plum flavored, but tasted so harsh and new I couldn’t tell for sure.
The first swallow took my breath away. The second brought it back, in the form of several coughs. The third, well, I’d felt that false warmth before. Still, it cleared my thoughts.
It’s not Bojana.
No one could thrive in the politics of Basilopolis without ruthlessness and cunning. She’d used everything she had on me and I’d only escaped with myself intact because I’d felt it all before. And because Sebastijan had warned me.
She didn’t have the knife. She’d have tried to keep me from finding it if she had. I’d told her everything I knew, and it hadn’t given her what she wanted.
She wouldn’t kill Vardimir unless doing so would get her the knife. Instead, she’d control him, just like she tried with me.
So she hadn’t killed him. Neither had Suzana. Nor Katarina.
But it had to be a woman, and they had to have a way to get close to Vardimir. Either he trusted her, and I bet he didn’t trust many people, or she could make him do so, and that probably meant Suzana had been right in one thing. Only a wizard could have gotten so close.
I had another cup of the painful rakija thinking about what woman it could be.
I came up with no answers. Merely kept asking myself the same questions. Most of all I wondered why I couldn’t place the perfume.
Bedarth had constantly told me to “Look and look again.” He’d sometimes add, “And make sure you’re looking at the right thing.” Even though years had passed since he’d died, I could always remember his voice.
The voice made me ask, Why kill Vardimir? Unless he’d found the knife that morning, he didn’t have it, so no one killed him to take it away from him.
Maybe he had something else worth killing for? I asked myself, but I shook my head even as I asked the question. It’d have to be something like the knife, something so valuable it was worth risking Gibroz’s revenge by killing one of his people.
It had to be because of something he was doing at the time.
Or something he’d be doing later. Like what?
He’d be guarding the gambling den’s door. Maybe Gibroz’s people were right. Maybe someone was out to get Gibroz. Could this woman have killed Vardimir to make it easier to get inside the den?
Would that make it easier? I asked myself. It might, especially since they not only got rid of him, they also pushed away Suzana at the same time.
Gibroz was as vulnerable as he’d been in years without Vardimir’s experience and Suzana’s steel. Andreyev and Vladan were formidable, but if this mystery woman could get close to Vardimir, I’d no doubt she could deal with those two.
Through the window, I could see the shadows lengthen.
Time to go back to the Faerie for dinner. Gulyas tonight, probably.
If this woman wanted to get into the den, she had to do it before Gibroz got Vardimir properly replaced. She hadn’t tried last night, or Sebastijan would have told me about it. Something as big as an attack on Gibroz would spread rumors like an ocean gale.
None of this explained why Katarina didn’t want me involved. So I asked myself that question. What other woman could make her care about me getting involved? The only woman—
It all clicked. I remembered the perfume. I didn’t understand why Katarina wanted to save me, but now I knew why she couldn’t help me, once I’d gotten involved. She was right, though. It would have been better if I hadn’t figured it out.
But at least I now knew what to do. I put several silver dinars on the bar to pay for my rakija. Far too much, but the barmaid could use it more than I would if things went wrong. And they might.
I headed back to the Gropasverni. From there, I could go into the Stracara from the north. It wasn’t the way I’d normally go and maybe those who watched for me wouldn’t be looking there.
I moved furtively, with a hand on my hilt and keeping my face in shadow. This was how everyone walked in the Stracara, so I appeared like any other thug.
Twice, the sound of footsteps following me made me bring out my saex. I let the moonlight play on the water-patterned steel. It was enough. Most here preyed on the unwary.
I was wary.
I finally got to the opening of the Metodi Mean, the alleyway that led to Gibroz’s gambling den. I found a shadowed area and knelt in the darkness.
The smells and sounds of the Stracara were no better at night, but at least I couldn’t see much under the sliver of moon.
Just enough.
* * *
I knew her immediately. I couldn’t see her face, as she had a hood covering it, but I recognized her walk. How could I not?
I crossed the street after she went into the alley and peeked around the corner. She was still at the gambling den’s door. Then the new doorwarden let her in. He’d have been powerless against her magic.
I hustled through the alley to reach the door before it shut completely.
The doorwarden didn’t watch me. He stared where she had gone, hoping to keep her memory.
I’d never forget her, as much as I tried sometimes.
The doorwarden turned to me, “Hey!”
“I’m her servant,” I said, gesturing inside. “She’d appreciate you allowing me to pass.”
His eyes warmed in welcome. He waved me into the sitting room. To the left was the den itself. On the far side was a set of stairs going up. At the top, I saw a door closing.
I went up the stairs. I pushed the door open slowly and peeked down the hallway. I’d been here a few times, so I knew where to look.
Gibroz’s door was open and I heard a grunt of anger. Then the ring of steel sliding from scabbards.
I jumped into the hall, drawing my sword and saex, and burst into the room.
The first thing I saw was the woman holding the knife. It had to be that knife. It called every eye to it. It was too big for her hand, but she held it balanced and easy.
Everyone else had been staring at the knife too, but my entry pulled their eyes to me.
Gibroz snarled.
Vladan did too.
Andreyev, on the other hand, seemed dreamy.
The woman merely nodded, as if she expected it. As if she’d known I’d be here. As if, all along, she wanted me to be here.
Vladan thrust a short sword at me. I pushed it away with my longer blade.
Andreyev slashed with his own sword.
I hadn’t expected that, so I had to jump back into the hall.
Andreyev didn’t follow me, but instead turned his sword on Vladan who blocked it and thrust back.
That gave me a chance. I slammed into Vladan, sending him sprawling and putting myself into the room.
Gibroz chopped at me with a knife. I heard him say something, but I ignored it. I didn’t have time to parse through his peculiar use of profanity because I had to keep his blade out of my ribs.
I caught his dagger with my saex, then slammed the pommel of my sword into Gibroz’s nose. I felt a satisfying crunch. I’d owed him, after all.
Swords came at me left and right. They forced me to use all my skill to keep them at bay. That meant I also had to slash back. I hadn’t wanted to kill anyone, but Vladan had given me no choice. The sword my father had given me slashed into where his neck met his shoulder.
I tried to yank my sword out of Vladan’s chest to block Andreyev’s sweeping strike, but my sword stuck.
So I stepped into the strike. Andreyev hammered into my right arm with his hilt, knocking my sword out of my hand, but it didn’t chop into my flesh.
I punched Andreyev under the chin.
He chopped again.
I pushed my saex to block his strike, and then without thinking, I twisted my wrist and slid my blade into his throat.
Gibroz croaked in outrage, but he’d not gotten up yet and I still had to worry about the woman.
Then waves of love battered me as she unleashed her magic.
Mighty magic, a spell for the Readers to remember, it was. It staggered me.
But it didn’t stop me, because she’d used the wrong emotion.
I knew why she’d used it. Love came easy to her, where for others who manipulated emotions it was hate or fear. But she had loved me once. Still did, I could tell. It was this love she attacked me with.
But I’d loved her too and I’d lived with that love. She couldn’t truly make me love her any more than I already did. I said, “Gabrijela,” as if it were a prayer.
“Edward,” she whispered, praying exactly as I had. Then she crouched with the knife ready. She had the skill with blades a trained spy of an emperor should.
That didn’t stop me from approaching.
“Stay back.”
“No.” I stepped closer.
“I don’t have a choice. I’ll kill you.”
“How does the emperor control you?” I took another step. “I know you don’t want to be here.”
She swallowed. “Doesn’t matter.”
“The Great Wolf it doesn’t,” I snarled. “You gave up all we could be. Then you came back, knowing if I found you, I’d…” I trailed off. “Tell me why.”
“I can’t.” She lowered the dagger. “You can’t know. No one can.”
I took a step. “Tell me.”
She raised the knife again. “No.” She swallowed. “I just can’t.”
“Tell me,” I pleaded for a third time.
“Please don’t ask again.”
I stepped within arm’s reach. “At least tell me it was worth it.”
“I had no choice.” She looked to the ground. “None.”
I took advantage of her glance and jumped forward. She brought the dagger up, but I slid it past me. The blade, impossibly sharp, sliced through my sleeve and along my right arm. I grabbed her wrist with my left. I twisted her around and took the dagger from her.
It was lighter than I expected. Perfectly balanced. It seemed to want to taste blood.
I said, “Now I know why so many people wanted this. It’s as good a blade as I’ve ever held.”
“Don’t keep it!” she burst out.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s…It eats at you, the longer you hold it.” A tear went down her cheek. “Please tell me you’ll drop it in the lake.”
“I won’t keep it,” I promised. “Is that why you used it?”
She looked at Gibroz, lying on the floor. “The emperor didn’t know what he had, and I knew I could use it to open up his people enough to get inside.”
“Jebi se! You’re dead, kuja!” he growled.
“The emperor took away my life long ago, Gibroz.” She turned back to me. “That’s why I used the knife. I kept it close to me, when I could. The emperor would never let me go, but maybe, just maybe, the evil in this blade would kill me and I’d be free.”
Suddenly, she ripped every bit of emotion away from me, all the hate, love, joy, rage. She slammed me with it in desperation. The rippling wave of emotions would have driven me to the ground a year ago, but not this time, even though I wanted to let it work.
She tried to run, but I pulled her tight.
Then she stopped. Leaned into my chest. She said, “I’m glad it’s you.”
“I’m not. I hoped I’d never see you again. Never have to—” I swallowed.
“I know. But you have to.”
“No one knows what I told you that night.”
“Of course they do. More importantly, I do. Either you’re the man I loved and you’ll do what you said, or it won’t matter.”
“Gabrijela—”
“I’m glad it’s you.” She repeated, then she pulled me close and kissed me. Deeper than the lake that kiss was. “Do it,” she whispered. “Give me my freedom.”
The dagger, the impossibly sharp dagger, slid easily into her chest, straight into her heart. She fell immediately, barely having time to see it happen.
Her blood seeped through my hands. I watched that incomparable treasure stain them crimson. I stared at the knife. The incomparable treasure that had wrought all this pain.
Tears flowed down my cheeks.
And then I looked at her face.
It held the one incomparable treasure I would keep from this night.
Her smile.