It didn’t matter who you were. Shit like that would shake you up. If it didn’t, you wouldn’t be fully human.
I was trembling, and my breath was coming too short and fast. My fingers and face felt numb. Something or someone was out there who could rip people into ragged flesh. It was the brutality that hit me. I had seen dead people. Death wasn’t a stranger in the Warrens. I had even seen people killed, although thankfully not often, but I had never seen anything so unquestioningly savage. It sent waves of cold and hot flushing through my body. I stopped and slumped against a wall.
It – they – whatever – had killed the Master Servant — Master Servant Rush, Captain Gale had called her. Then they had killed the only person who knew their identity. Were we next, Benny and me?
No, I told myself. We were supposed to be blamed for the murder of Master Servant Rush. If we were murdered, the Ash Guard would know someone else was behind it. We were safe for now. Unless we got too close. Until the Ash Guard found enough fabricated evidence to convict me and the City Watch started chopping off Benny’s hands for burglary.
Bannaur’s bloody balls!
I had to find who was behind this, and fast, but I didn’t even know where to start with Uwin Bone gone.
Think. Calm. Take the time you need.
I would achieve nothing running madly around the city. Right now, Galena Sunstone was expecting me. Her non-existent ghosts seemed an absurd distraction, and the idea of wasting a whole night in her pantry when I should be tearing the city apart looking for the murderer almost made me want to cry. But it would give me time and quiet to think this through, and I needed the money.
I leaned on the wall, forcing myself to take long, slow breaths while my heart slowed and sweat dried on my skin.
Benny’s not going anywhere. The bureaucracy of Agatos was slow. It could be weeks before he went to trial.
With a last shudder, I pushed myself away from the wall and made my way out of the Warrens towards the Upper City.
Morgue-lamps were spreading their green-tinged glow across the paved streets and plazas here. The gently flickering light made shadows sway on the walls and flagstones.
The lamps weren’t officially called ‘morgue-lamps’, even though that was the name most people used. The Maradarians called them ‘The Light That Shines from the Ever-Watching God’, but that wasn’t their official name either. It was just a pile of bollocks. If Mara was watching, he wasn’t doing it from the morgue-lamps. Right now, I half wished he were. Then he could shout a warning if anything came for me out of the shadows.
Depths, Nik. Calm down. You’re safe.
The Senate, who maintained the morgue-lamps, just called them, with the usual overabundance of imagination that afflicted bureaucracies, ‘lamps’.
No one quite knew where the name morgue-lamps came from. One theory was that it was because their greenish light made everyone passing under them look like a corpse. The more popular story was that the Senate had the slowly decaying leg of the dead god Talifa secreted in the depths of Horn Hill and that it was the magic released by the rotting god that powered the lamps. It was a nice story, but I didn’t buy it. With that much magic, you could make the whole city float away into the clouds. You wouldn’t waste it on a few streetlights. My theory was that it was a combination of some invested artefact and a clever spell that gathered raw magic and distributed it to the morgue-lamps. To me, that was a whole lot more impressive. I just wished they were brighter.
By the time the Sunstone house came into view, it was a relief. Despite knowing, rationally, that no one was coming after me, I couldn’t help but dig my nails into my palms at every figure emerging from the dark and every unexpected sound. The familiar sight of the fluted marble columns that flanked the Sunstones’ door and the doorknocker in the shape of a ram’s head dropped the tension from my shoulders. The heavy door was painted golden yellow, but in the light of the morgue-lamps it looked sickly and drained of colour. I had always thought that the house tried too hard to boast an extravagant wealth that wasn’t matched by reality. The Sunstones were rich, no doubt, particularly compared to me, but they weren’t sailing on the same ocean as the likes of Carnelian Silkstar.
I took a last, calming breath. Along with my other injuries, I was sure I had developed a blister on my left heel, and I was feeling sorry for myself. I hoped Galena Sunstone was the type to take pity on a poor mage and at least spare something to eat.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t the one to open the door when I knocked.
The man waiting inside was a good twenty years older than me, with the kind of solidity of flesh that came more from eating too well for too long than from physical labour. He was dressed in purple and yellow robes that worked together in the same elegant way that a pool of vomit goes with a Kendarian rug (and, trust me, I’d had plenty of chance to witness that this morning).
“You’re the mage,” he grunted.
I was still wearing the stupid mage hood-and-cloak. I resisted the urge to make a sarcastic comment. I needed this job. See? I did have some self-control.
“And you must be Mr. Sunstone.” Galena’s husband had been away on business, so I hadn’t actually met him before.
“The Estimable Larimar Sunstone,” he said, putting emphasis on the ‘estimable’.
Great. I had known Sunstone was a merchant, but I hadn’t realised he was a member of the Estimable Guild of Master Merchants. A more pretentious and stuck-up bunch you wouldn’t find anywhere in Agatos. Well, if you excluded the mages and the priests.
I didn’t reply, because there really wasn’t much to say about that.
He stood in the doorway, looking me up and down.
“My wife’s position,” he said, slowly, clearly selecting his words carefully, “is such that it is necessary for her…” He paused, rubbing at his lips.
“She needs ghosts to impress her friends?” One of us needed to be straightforward.
Sunstone’s fleshy face tightened. “I have important connections. I have looked into you, mage.”
“And you just want to tell me what fantastic reports you’ve heard.”
“No.”
Looked like today really wasn’t flatter-a-mage day.
The Estimable Sunstone glanced behind, then leaned closer. “I think you are a fraud. I think you’re taking advantage of my wife’s … requirements.”
That hit closer than I was comfortable with. I searched his face, but there wasn’t a lot of give there. He didn’t like me. Fine. Not many people did. To be honest, at times like this, I didn’t much like myself either. Better this than the alternative, though. Better than being a high mage’s acolyte.
I had been honest. I had told Galena Sunstone I didn’t think she had ghosts, and she’d wanted me to keep looking anyway. If the Estimable Sunstone didn’t like it, that was between the two of them.
He must have read my expression, because a controlled fury tightened his eyes.
“Your time is up. Find these ghosts tonight, if you can, and deal with them, or leave.”
Shit. I hoped I managed to keep the dismay off my face. I had relied on keeping this job for the full week. I smiled my most confident smile, which was undoubtedly undermined by my swollen lip.
“I had better get on with it, then, hadn’t I?”
I stepped forwards, forcing him to either move aside or us to collide. He made the right choice and let me in, but I felt him watching me the whole way to the kitchen pantry.
I waited until the sounds of the household had finally faded to nothing, then let myself out of the pantry again. I had been expressly forbidden from doing this in case I scared the non-existent ghosts, but screw it. There was only so much I was willing to put up with today. I spent a while poking around the jars and boxes in the pantry and the covered dishes on the kitchen shelves, piling food on a plate, then settled down to think while I ate.
Today had not been a great success, to say the least. I had almost been killed by a booby trap, arrested, and framed for murder, as well as seen my best friend jailed for burglary, lost my only lead, and had the shit kicked out of me by another mage.
Let’s just say that it wasn’t going on one of my flyers.
It might be true that this was more about murdering the Master Servant than getting me and Benny arrested or killed. But whoever was behind it had involved us, and that hadn’t been an accident. They had needed a mage to trigger the booby trap and act as a scapegoat. I was the only mage stupid enough to be available for hire, and the only person I would have done this job for was Benny. We weren’t just unlucky passers-by. We had been chosen carefully by someone who knew about our relationship or who put in the hours to research us. You couldn’t do that without someone remembering. There were connections there, somewhere, if I could only winkle them out before the Ash Guard or the City Watch made it too late. A surge of fury swept through me at the thought. I would not let this bastard finish me and Benny like this.
I grabbed a handful of grapes and shoved them into my mouth, chewing them angrily. I would say one thing for Galena Sunstone: she didn’t scrimp when stocking her kitchen. I bit into a slice of spinach and cheese pie, then followed it with a chunk of spicy round-bread. I washed it down with a better red wine than I had had for years. If I was going to be fired, I might as well get something out of it.
I returned to the pantry, folded my long frame up as best I could, and tried to think of anyone who had been acting suspiciously around me, anyone new asking too many questions. It was futile. Everyone asked questions in my line of work. Clients wanted to know my background to convince themselves I could do the job. Neighbours wanted to know what a mage got up to in his spare time. Depths, sometimes kids even followed me around, hoping I would do something interesting, until I disappointed them.
My mind slipped, sank, and the next thing I knew I was jerking awake. It was dark and still and stuffy, not yet morning, but not far off. Pity! I hadn’t meant to fall asleep. What had woken me?
A sudden fear swept over me. Someone had come for me! I scrambled for my mage’s rod and smashed my elbow on a shelf. I bit back a curse.
No one’s coming. It doesn’t make sense.
Those two murders, the brutality inflicted on their bodies, had left my nerves tighter than a merchant’s purse. I forced my breath to slow.
I felt stiff. I had been lying awkwardly for too long. I tried to straighten and immediately regretted it. My muscles had seized up, and when I moved, every bruise flared like I was being branded.
A scream sounded from the kitchen, high and loud and clear, followed by a crash of dishes. It hit me like a musket ball in the chest, sending a spasm through my cramped limbs and an electric burst of adrenaline into my muscles.
I burst out of the pantry, stumbling into the kitchen, my aches forgotten.
A maid was standing in the middle of the floor, hands clasped to her mouth, surrounded by broken crockery. When she saw me, she almost screamed again, then one shaking hand pointed towards the door.
I opened my eyes to magic, and there it was, the faintest trail of white, wisps evaporating like dawn mist. Ghost-trail. Ectoplasm.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!
I took off in pursuit, limping and scarcely able to keep my footing. I shouldered the door aside, hearing it crack and earning myself another bruise.
The ghost-trail was thicker here, only just starting to break apart. It led across this hallway to a door on the other side. I followed again, more carefully this time. Ghosts weren’t physically dangerous, but a malign ghost could attack your mind, tear your sanity into shreds if it was powerful enough, and wave the rags from the rooftops. I would never live it down if I went out that way.
I lost another second wrestling with the door before realising it was locked and popping it open with a spell.
Stairs led down into a dark cellar, and there I saw them beside a set of free-standing shelves: a young couple dressed in outfits that hadn’t been fashionable for at least two hundred years, hurrying across the cellar, hand-in-hand. They turned to look back and through me.
I grabbed magic. If I was quick enough, I could stabilise them, trap them, and even interrogate them in a limited way. But even as I shaped the spell in my mind, they reached the far corner and began to fade. Desperately, I threw the half-formed magic after them.
I was too late. They were already gone, and all that was left was fading ghost-trail.
I stood in the doorway as the implications hit me. Galena Sunstone’s ghosts were real. They weren’t the self-indulgent fantasy of a bored, rich woman. They weren’t a wish. They were real, and I had told her they weren’t. Now, they had actually appeared, and I had been asleep. I had missed my chance. I had screwed up.
You idiot, Nik.
Voices, shouts sounded from the kitchen. I turned in time to see the Sunstones come hurrying through the door. They were still dressed in their night robes, and without her elaborate make up, Galena Sunstone looked as tired as I felt. For the first time I wondered if there was more to her interest in the ghosts than just impressing her friends. She looked as though she had been too scared to sleep. Now, though, she was almost vibrating. Fear and excitement were battling for control of her expressions.
What was I going to say to her? How was I going to explain this?
“Did you see them?” Galena Sunstone blurted out. “Were they here?”
“Yeah,” I started. “Two of them—”
The Estimable Sunstone cut me off. “And you dealt with them, I take it? As you were paid to?”
There was fear on the Estimable Sunstone’s face, too. Almost terror. I hadn’t expected he would be scared of ghosts. When he had met me at the door, he had seemed angry about the very idea of them.
Anger hides fear. There was something primal about the fear of ghosts, of the last remnants of the dead, and some people could only deal with fear by being angry. I could see his fury building by the moment, shoving his fear down.
I guessed now was not the time to point out they hadn’t actually paid me.
“It’s not as easy as—” I started.
“No.” He had sneered at his wife’s belief in ghosts. Now, he was having to come to terms with being wrong and frightened. I didn’t think he was a man who liked being wrong or frightened. “You had a job. You were supposed to get rid of these ghosts.” No mention of the fact that he hadn’t believed in them any more than I had. “You are a fraud, a parasite.” He advanced on me. “Get out. We’ll find someone competent to do this.”
The injustice of it slapped at me. Yeah, I had made a mess of it. But even if I had been ready to believe that the Sunstones were being haunted, even if I had been on alert every night, this was the first time the ghosts had manifested themselves since I had been here. I couldn’t get rid of them with a quick spell, not if the Sunstones wanted them gone for good. It took planning, preparation, observation. I had to know what was holding them here.
“Now, wait a minute…”
I didn’t have time to say more. The Estimable Sunstone took another step forwards. If he came any closer, he would be in danger of knocking me down the stairs. I braced myself.
“You were told to do your job,” he said, “and you haven’t.”
I couldn’t let it go at that. This was the only job I had, and suddenly, unexpectedly, it was a real job.
“Exorcising ghosts isn’t just a matter of waving your hands. You have to find out what brought them back, and you have to—”
“I don’t care,” Sunstone enunciated. “You’re fired. Leave.”
Depths! What was I supposed to do? I could hardly force him to employ me, but losing this job was devastating. I needed a success, and I needed the money.
I took a steadying breath. “My pay?”
Sunstone’s face reddened. “For what? What exactly have you done other than sleep and eat our food? Go, Mr. Thorn. Now. Before I call the Watch.”
I stared at him. He wasn’t going to pay me? I had sacrificed four nights for this. I deserved something. Fuck! I couldn’t take him to court. I was broke and he was rich. And if I just took my pay, he would have me arrested.
People wondered why I had a problem with the rich and the powerful.
Cursing, I shouldered my way past him. Four nights in a cramped pantry, and I had nothing to show for it. Benny was right. Never take a job without getting paid up front. But I had been desperate. Look at where desperation leaves you. Now what was I going to do for money?
I stomped through the kitchen, grabbing a still-warm loaf from the table and daring anyone to challenge me, then out onto the plaza. The first sunlight was just starting to limn the eastern mountains with orange and bleach the dark from the sky.
I was in trouble and out of a job. Things could hardly get any worse.
I believed that all the way until I reached my apartment and found the eviction notice nailed to my door.