The acolytes at the Temple of Seven Prophecies did good work. Lord Kaleban lay on his bier, hands clasped on his chest, a look of perpetual serenity on his face. To those who knew his lordship well, such a thing came off as a joke in bad taste.
"How did they get that smile on his face?"Sevvan Incelidar asked, looked down at the corpse. "In my experience, corpses tend not to smile all that easily."
"I'm sure there's a trick to it."Kord Holdenor responded.
The priests placed the body in a antechamber of the temple. A formal funeral service took place earlier in the morning, where Lord Kaleban's sons and grandsons were prominently in front while his wife was prominent by her absence. The official story was that she was overcome by grief. According to the rites of this particular sect, the body would remain in place until the first light of dawn came through the eastern windows, after which it would be placed on a wagon and taken outside the walls to the Kaleban family crypt for burial.
"Tell me again, where they found him."
"With respect, I already told that tale."
"My ears can scarce believe the words."
Kord shrugged. He'd heard, and done, worse over the years. "Laid out on a street in the Clanet, naked save for the dagger through his...er, you know. Two other bodies with him as well. We've identified them both as part of the Thorny Guard. Both had their throats slit and died quickly. Lord Kaleban..."
“Died slow."Sevvan was silent for a moment. "The Thorny Guard."
"They've gained a stranglehold on the flesh trade in the last year. Most of the street trade in Keelarin falls under their banner and at least half the District Council are theirs one way or another."
"And the ones responsible for the killing?"
"The Red Shadows."
"Damn them."Lord Sevvan grimaced, glaring at the corpse as if he wanted to kill the bastard again. "Why couldn't he have fallen in the lake like a decent degenerate?"
"They may have done him a favor,"Kord pointed out. "The Thorny Guard has a nasty habit of blackmailing their clients, particularly men of rank whose pleasures fall on the wrong side of the law. They would have bled him dry before it was done."
"They would have been disappointed. Kaleban took pride in his perversionss. A man without shame cannot be extorted in that fashion. His wife is lighting candles to the saints in thanks for his sudden demise."Again Sevvan paused. "My Uncle spoke to me this morning."
Kord nodded. "I heard.
Sevvan's uncle was the Prince. Markus of House Incelidar, who had held the reins of power in this city for decades. Under his rule, Galadorn had grown into the Jewel of Tyberia...wealthy, powerful and riven with factional rivalries. Kord owed the man his life. His loyalty was absolute and unquestioned. "He asked you to make an appearance."
"Lord Kaleban's heirs were suitably flattered."Sevvan was the Prince's heir - with no sons of his own, Markus has groomed the lad to follow in his footsteps. "That should cool the kettle for a while, but something has to be done. Lord Therion Halmaker spoke with the Prince last night. Kaleban was a bag of slime masquerading as a man and the Halmaker's could barely stand to be the same room as him, but his family has been sworn to Lord Therion's house for generations. He demands justice for the slain."
"Justice? For this heap?"
"You know what I mean."Sevvan turned away from the corpse. "Street killings are one thing, but now a nobleman is dead. People are starting to talk. The Red Shadows kill without hesitation. Now a prominent client sworn to one of the Forty Families is found dead in rather extreme circumstances. People are starting to talk."
"And we can't have that."
"It needs to be sorted out."
Kord nodded. He knew what that meant. Officially, Sevvan was the Master of Whisperers, the chief spymaster of Galadorn, responsible for rooting out treason and corruption within the borders of her domain and keeping an eye on her enemies without. In truth the job was Kord's and had been for over twenty years. Foiling plots against his Prince, plucking the secrets of his enemies from their heads even as they thought them...House Incelidar kept many weapons at the ready to defend its power and Kord Holdenor was by the far the deadliest. Lord Sevvan sat on the Council of Prefects and delivered the reports, while Kord and his men did the real work behind the scenes. In the process Sevvan gained an education in the dark arts of intrigue that would serve him in good stead on the day he succeeded his uncle.
Sevvan also served as a messenger, when Markus couldn't pass along orders directly. "I've had my men looking into them for a while now. They are...difficult to find."
"The gangs are getting out of hand, Kord. These killings are merely the latest affront. As long as its confined to the Gardelaar, honest people don't care, but when men of noble birth are left butchered in the street like hogs..."Sevvan shook his head. "Some are calling for the regiments to be sent into the Gardelaar."
"As far as I know, the Red Shadows aren't based there."
"It doesn't matter. Therion Halmaker isn't the only one demanding that something be done and a crackdown in that part of the city counts as 'something.'"
"If we send in the regiments, it'll be a bloodbath."
"My Uncle prefers to avoid that. Sort it out, Master Holdenor. For all our sakes."
"I did tell you to duck."
"Not soon enough."Fenn pressed the damp rag against his head. The swelling had stopped, Suns and Saints be praised, but the headache was another matter. "Did you see who threw it?"
"No. Just be glad Harald picked you off the the floor. It got hot there for a moment."
"Next time you want me to break up a brawl, I'm bloody charging you."
"Now is that anyway to speak with a friend?"A clay cup slid across the counter. "Here,"Red Eye said. "The good stuff. On the house."
Fenn took the wine, had a sip, then pulled away the compress. The rag was soaked in some weird folk remedy Marri swore would have his head good as new in a day. At the moment all it did was make his scalp smell like old lemons. Fortunately nothing was broken except his pride.
Early in the morning. The Cat was quiet now. Fenn always like this time of day. Good for thinking and considering, when the light was still fresh and the days possibilities still to be grasped. Riches to be had by those with the sand to grasp them.
"Where did you get this?"Fenn asked, raising the cup.
"It's from Ruuad, if you can believe."
"Is it now?"Fenn set the cup down and wondered if he should spit on the floor. Nothing good came from the Empire of Ruuad in his opinion, except men in need of killing.
"A right bunch of bastards they are...but they make fine wine for those who can get their hands on a bottle. Swallow your pride and enjoy the cup, Fenn."Red Eye corked the bottle and slid it back under the counter. Then he frowned. "Bugger me sideways. What are they doing here?"
Fenn turned around, watching as a mob of jackfooters strutted into the common room of the Cat. Crescents tattooed on arms and branded into cheeks marked their allegiance for the world to see. "Bit early for a drink,"Fenn observed.
The Crescent Lords spread out, flaking the door and peering into corners, eyes sharp and wary, hands on knife hilts and pistol butts. Fenn took another sip of the wine. Red Eye picked up a rag and polished the bar.
The man who came through the door had to duck his head slightly to avoid banging it on the lintel. Nearly seven feet tall, with a face like a slab of granite and hands the size of dinner plates. Only a few years before he went about barechested in all weather, save for a leather vest festooned with the broken teeth and severed ears of his enemies. Now he dressed like a respectable man of the town. His tunic, which on any other man might count as a dress, was shot through with gold thread. The silver chain around his chest wouldn't have been out of place in any factor's counting office, while the various rings on his fingers glittered in the morning light.
Ogeron the Brick, leader of the Crescent Lords. He'd led the gang for over a decade and come a long way in the process, rising from the gutters of the Gardelaar, pulling himself up one bloody street fight at a time. Now he lived in a fine house on the edge of the Campelor, playing the role of a gentlemen while the jackfooters under his banner bled and died for alleyways. Keeping his distance from the dirty work. Some said he'd gone soft. Those who said it too loudly tended to disappear.
He'd been around the district more often in the last few months, ever since Arpan got himself hurled into the death cell. Without a reliable second in command, the Brick had to handle more of the day to day. He strode to the bar, his man flanking his shoulders. "Red Eye,"he rumbled in greeting.
"Ogeron."Red nodded in return. "What brings you under my roof?"
"A cat who rises early catches the most mice. So my dear departed ma once said. Pour me a drink, the day looks to be a warm one."
Red filled a cup with wine. Not the good stuff, Fenn noticed. Ogeron scooped it up and drained the contents in a single gulp. "I got business."
"I'm listening."
"Not with you."Ogeron turned slightly. "With young Fenn here."
Fenn stepped away from the bar. "Whatever it is, I didn't do it."
"Ha! Funny."Ogeron smiled, but his eyes remained cold as ice. The empty cup in his hands looked like a thimble. In the old days, Ogeron never carried so much as a paring knife on him. Those big fists were all he needed. One punch was enough to drop an ox, or so the story went. "Pour the lad another drink...and me as well. What he's drinking, not the usual swill."
Red Eye grumbled, but complied. Two cups of liquid gold slid across the counter. "You boys play nice,"he said before ambling away.
Ogeron raised his cup. "Sun shall rise,"he said in the old style.
Fenn raised his cup as well and gave the final response. "Until the final day."Both men drank. It was a good sign. Ogeron was old fashioned - when the Old Oath was invoked with wine, it laid a promise of peace on the proceedings.
The cups were set down. "I got a job for you, Fenn."
"The last job I took from a Crescent nearly got me dead."
"Not taking this job might get you the same."
Fenn figured on telling the Brick where he could take his offer, and himself at well. Then he remembered hearing how Ogeron once crushed a man's skull with his bare hands. "I'm listening,"he said.
Ogeron reached into a pocket and pulled out a coin. "What do you see?"
Fenn looked closely. "A gold aurin. But since you're asking so specific, I'm guessing that's not the case."
"Right again. They say you're a smart one."A finger the size of a sausage tapped the coin. "Been seeing these around the last few weeks. High-quality fakes, good enough to fool the clerks at the Palace."
Fenn picked up the coin and tapped it against the counter. He heard the distinct ring of gold...but something else as well. He'd pulled a job with a counterfeiter a few years back, and the fellow told him what to look, and listen for. "Lead core,"he said, "with a gold case. Feels like it came right from the mint."
"As I said, quality. Someone's making them out in the countryside...don't know where, but I got ears on when they're bringing in new batches. As it happens, there's another shipment due in three days time. You're going to steal them for me."
Fenn snorted at that. "Why me? Plenty of thieves under your banner can handle a simple stab and grab. You're don't need me for this."
"I got my hands full with the Docksiders."At that a hint of anger entered the Brick's voice. "The truce won't last. Soon as the powers that be look else, its back to business as usual. Early winter by the latest is my guess...meanwhile we're both watching each other like dogs over a bitch in heat, gathering our strength for when the killing starts anew. I can't spare the men."
"Not even for a few days?"
"Want another reason? Fine, you do it because Ogeron the Brick says you do it!"
"And Ogeron the Brick best remember, I don't stand under his banner!"
The bodyguards perked up at that. One of them took half step forward, then halted at a glare from his master.
"You want this done right,"Fenn said in a more reasonable tone, "then I need to know everything. You're holding something back."
Ogeron leaned in. "All right. Here's the thing...these coiners, they have friends."He paused a moment. "The Red Shadows."
Fenn almost laughed at that. Then he saw Ogeron was deadly serious. "You want me to steal a box of fake aurins from coiners protected by a mob of killers that leave dead noblemen in the street? Who pass through walls like ghosts and vanish like smoke in the wind?"
"They're just men, same as you or I. Stab one and he bleeds red."
This dead stunk worse than a bucket of rotted fish guts. Fenn could see Ogeron's reasoning - not why he wanted the bloody coins, but why he came to Fenn for the taking. If things went sideways, there would be no connection to the Crescent Lords, no link to Ogeron the Brick. Having an unaffiliated thief like Fenn meant none would know he was involved.
He should walk away...but not this time. Ogeron the Brick was still the most powerful personage on the shady side of things. Saying no to a man like that was not an option for any skag with a desire to keep breathing.
But that didn't mean he couldn't go down swinging. "Why do you want these coins then?"
"I'm done answering questions."Ogeron slapped down a scrap of paper on the counter. "That tells where and when the wagon is coming. For the rest, ask Red Eye. Bring me the goods when you're done."
"And what do I get in return?"
"I'll owe you a favor. How many men can say about Ogeron the Brick?"And with that he left, headed out the door, his guards trailing behind. The counterfeit coin remained where it was.
Fenn picked it up, glaring at the shiny surface like it was a bad penny. "How much did you hear?"he asked.
"Enough."Red Eye ambled over. "Ogeron must be desperate to pull this. The Docksiders were pressing him hard when the truce came down. Plenty are saying he's lost a step. Gone soft."
"More like he doesn't want the Red Shadows coming after him if this goes sideways."Fenn slipped the coin into a pocket. "What do you hear?"
"About the Shadows?"
"Anything useful?"
"Not that you could use."Red Eye shook his head. "They're new. Appear on the shady side two years back, right out of nowhere. No one knows who they are, I've yet to see anyone I can say is a member. They like wearing masks when there's killing to be done. Seem to have it out for the Thorny Guard, I hear three of Daaren the Rose's boys fell under their knives."
"That means little. Everyone hates the Thornies, and I piss on Daaren the Rose."
"From your lips to the Godhead."Red Eye scratched his chin, sorting through the library's worth of knowledge in his head. "The Shadow's stick to major lays, don't bother with any of the street nonsense. You don't find them, they find you."
"I'll make sure they don't have a need to. And if they do, I'll shout the Bricks name good and loud. Maybe they'll let me go with a slap across the head."