The Dead Cat Tail Assassins, page 11
The old woman was as still as stone for a long moment.
“There are three … fools,” she spoke at last. “With grand ideas of doing forbidden magic.”
“Edgelords,” Tamu spat with disgust.
“Edgelords?” Sky asked, looking truly puzzled.
“A bunch of privileged pricks,” Eveen answered. “Usually from well-off families who got themselves kicked out of decent colleges. Like to find banned texts or unsanctioned thaumaturgy. The riskier the better. Claim to be freeing magic from restrictions, pushing it to the edge. They come to the Barrow because there’s no one here to sanction them. Half the time you hear about zombie hordes or demon summonings, it’s probably an Edgelord playing cute—until something chews his stupid face off.”
“These call themselves the Three Beards,” Mama Birgini said. “Pull off small feats, childish antics. However, on the first night of Festival they appeared at my houses, throwing around coins like water. I was curious so I had several of my prettiest ply them. They bragged they’d landed a powerful patron. And had performed some great and dazzling magic.”
Eveen perked up, for the first time this bizarre night feeling some hope.
“Where are these three now?”
Mama Birgini frowned. “That is one of the strange things. In the past days, two have turned up dead. One burned alive in his bed. They say even his bones were cracked and charred, as if the fire came from inside him. The other was found sitting on a latrine, holding his severed head in his lap. No one knows what happened to his eyes.”
Sky swallowed audibly. Eveen felt her own hope deflate.
“Someone’s cleaning up,” Tamu noted.
“They’ve been shipped,” Eveen muttered, running a hand through her locs in frustration. Aeril’s fiery tits!
“But…” The old woman held up a finger. “There is one still left. At least last I checked.”
A bit of hope crept back. Eveen leaned forward. “Do you know where I can find him?”
Mama Birgini’s dark lips spread in a smile. “Naturally. But you’d better hurry. My gambling houses have taken bets that he’ll be dead before the dawn. And the odds aren’t in his favor.”
Eveen looked to Sky, who had that same glimmer of hope in her eyes. The odds hadn’t been in their favor all night. Time to see about changing that.
* * *
IT WASN’T TOO much later that the two found themselves outside a cluster of buildings along an unlit and unpaved street in the Barrow. The third from the center was as Mama Birgini had described—with fractures running along the stone and window holes fitted with red sheets. From inside, a small light glowed.
“That’s it,” Sky said.
Eveen glanced over. They’d both cleaned up a bit. And Mama Birgini had provided the girl a Pirate Princess jacket in a deeper shade of blue. It was like having a slightly off twin.
“Looks like this—what was the name?”
“Mael,” Sky offered.
“Mael … looks like he’s alone.”
“How are we going to handle this?”
Eveen raised an eyebrow. “We?”
Sky eyed her, indignant. “I’m not staying out here. It’s not safe.”
That did make sense. No cloak to hide her anymore.
“Fine. But this place is likely warded. Stay by me. In fact, stay behind me.”
Sky’s gaze dropped to where Eveen’s hand rested on a knife.
“You plan on…?” She let the rest go unsaid.
“No. We need him alive. Besides, second unbreakable vow.”
“You can’t ship the uncontracted,” the girl said, remembering. There was a pause. “I’ve been meaning to ask, how did you kill this Reaper? Mama Birgini said you volunteered. He wasn’t contracted then.”
There was a moment’s hesitation. “I broke the second vow,” Eveen answered.
Sky’s eyebrows rose. “Oh! What about the hounds?”
“Aeril’s minions aren’t sent for something like that.”
“But … Mama Birgini said you paid a price.”
Damn. The girl was perceptive.
“For my transgression, my indenture was … increased.”
“Increased? By how much?”
Eveen sighed. Not letting this go, was she? “A century.”
Sky’s jaw slackened. “What? Another century?”
“Yeah. They say after the first, you start losing count.”
“But that’s not fair!”
Eveen huffed. “Gods ain’t fair. Don’t let nobody tell you different.”
The girl seemed at a loss, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” she said finally.
Eveen shrugged. “It is what it is.”
“I mean it.” Sky touched her arm, face serious. “I know you hide behind the ambivalence and the jokes. You had me fooled there for a while. Pretending you’re just some heartless killer. Maybe that makes it all easier. Like a suit of armor. But what you did for the Barrow was brave. A sacrifice. I’m … I’m sorry I judged you before. I don’t have that right. I don’t think I could be that selfless. But I’m kind of proud to think that someday I’ll be strong enough to make that kind of choice.”
Eveen mumbled a thanks, feeling laid bare. Gods! This girl had read her like a cheap book. Saying things she didn’t even like to admit to herself.
“Do you ever … regret it?” Sky asked.
“Nope,” she answered. “I’d carve that bastard up again. And spit in the eye of any god who tried to stop me.”
“I think you would.” Sky looked back to the building. “So, we sneaking in?”
Assassin rule #42: stealth is preferable to—ah, to hells with that.
“Nah,” Eveen said. “Let’s make an entrance. Just this once.”
“Okay. But before you start cutting anyone, maybe try to persuade them.”
“Seriously?”
“The threat of violence might be incentive enough,” the girl urged.
Eveen pulled down her mask. “Fine. But if it doesn’t work, I begin with fingers.”
Then she took off in a run. Sky quickly followed.
“Why can’t I have a mask?” the girl whispered from behind—just as they hit the first wards.
Aeril’s blades cut through them like butter—well, butter that threw off crackling sparks. Kicking in the rickety door, the first thing Eveen glimpsed was a fireball, streaking straight for her. She batted the thing away with her knife, sending it careening and exploding into a wall. This would-be sorcerer had some defense. But a godsdamned fireball wasn’t going to cut it.
His second attempt was stopped by a full open-palmed face smack that sent him sprawling. He tried for another spell and Eveen smacked him down three times again. Smackity-smack-smack! When he offered no more resistance, she dragged him up to eye level. A lanky young man with a bearded face glared back between trembling fingers.
“Please!” he stammered, eyes fixed on her with fright. “I haven’t told anyone! I still have most of the money! I can get the rest! My father works in the banking district!”
Eveen glanced to Sky. The girl had shut the door behind them and was using a thick rug to put out the fireball that left a charred scent in the air. The room was small. But the decor didn’t match the modest exterior: expensive furniture and a high-end glow lamp. Even the rug, with ornate gold and green motifs, didn’t look cheap. Neither did the man’s clothes. The fistful of shirt in her grasp felt soft as silk. Her eyes took in his clean fingernails, and supple hands that had never seen a hard day’s labor.
“Shut up, banker’s boy,” she said. “I’m not here to kill you.”
The man’s mouth snapped shut, relief and confusion flooding his face.
“You Mael?” she asked.
He nodded as his eyes shifted, only just noticing Sky. They went round as coins. “You!” His gaze swung back to Eveen. “That means you must be…”
“Yeah.” She lifted up her mask and flicked one of her calling cards in his face. “I’m her.”
“There’s a giant mural only blocks from here,” he stammered. “Looks just like you, but with these great big golden wings. People stop and light incense—”
He cut off as she dropped him onto a moss green divan. “I ain’t here to take in the local art scene.” Bending down, she angled a knife at his nose. “Funny that you know us though, but we don’t know you. Maybe you start talking, or—”
“I’m the one that did it!” he blurted. “It was three of us! But I’m the only one left!”
Eveen pulled up, frowning. “Just like that?”
Mael swallowed. “You’re the Eviscerator. I don’t want to be tortured. I’m thinking we can make a deal—”
She inched the knife closer, resting it under one of his eyes.
“You’re not in the deal-making business right now.”
“I’d listen to her,” Sky said, leaning against a wall. “If you want to keep all your parts.”
Mael stared cross-eyed at the blade. “What do you want to know?”
Eveen didn’t move the knife. “Everything.”
He swallowed again. “It started with a summons. By a Patriarch.”
“Pol Oranus,” Eveen said.
Mael nodded. “He’s the one. Wanted to see us, my friends and I, the Three Beards. Every Edgelord hopes to catch some big-time patron. But a Patriarch was beyond our wildest dreams!”
“Why would a Patriarch hire three nobodies?” Eveen asked.
“Because we were the only ones who figured out the mystery.”
“Mystery?” Sky asked.
“The mystery of the Reaper of the Barrow. We came here to solve it.”
Eveen balled a fist. “And why the godsdamned fuck would you want to do that?”
Mael looked startled. “Because he’s a legend! A sorcerer who pressed the boundaries!”
“He killed children!” she growled, fist tightening.
“Yes. That’s terrible, certainly. But … he was also going after some unbelievable magic! All the Edgelords have theories about it. We were the only ones who really studied him, though. Hunted every scrap of information. For instance, did you know he didn’t leave behind a body?”
“The city took control of his corpse after I dumped it,” Eveen said flatly.
“But then what?” Mael pressed. “Buried? Cremated? There’s no official record.”
“I don’t care if they tossed him into the sea,” she retorted. “He was some vagrant. No family. Or at least none wanting to claim him.”
“A man like smoke,” Mael said. “Convenient.”
Sky frowned. “What are you getting at?”
“We visited the place you burned down,” he told Eveen. “Found a journal.”
“Impossible,” she said. “If a thing like that existed, it would have been found already.”
Mael shook his head. “But no one goes there. People in the Barrow think it’s cursed. They won’t even rebuild. Nothing left but rubble. Besides, the journal was magicked. Fire can’t touch it. Hides itself. One of my friends, though, he has … had … a kind of knack for finding things. That’s how we got ahold of it. And we learned what the Reaper was after.” His voice dropped to a whisper, eager at sharing this great secret. “Immortality!”
He looked disappointed that no one appeared impressed.
“How does killing children grant immortality?” Sky asked, her face troubled.
At that Mael looked abashed. “We don’t fully know. The journal was … confusing. But we think it had something to do with children’s souls, being innocent and all that. The Reaper believed that such power was in the heart, in the blood.”
Sky sucked in a breath. “Blood magic!”
Of all the banned sorcery in Tal Abisi, that topped the list. Like lose your head, banned.
Mael nodded. “He was certain that one had to consume the spirit in the blood—”
“Enough,” Eveen snapped. She wasn’t listening to any more of this horror. “That all sounds like absolute eel shit. Your Reaper was full of absolute shit.”
“What does this have to do with the Patriarch—Pol Oranus?” Sky asked.
A slight smile graced Mael’s lips. “The Reaper’s journal. His entries were all signed: O.”
There was a stunned silence and he stepped in to fill the vacuum, eyes locked on Eveen.
“Did you know that Pol Oranus had a son? Aban Oranus. He was something of a recluse from what I hear. Died. Supposedly at sea on a ship bound for the Baleen Archipelago. This was right around the time you eviscerated the Reaper. Also convenient, don’t you think?”
Eveen stared, trying to resist the urge to punch his overly smug face. Then gave in.
Mael howled, clutching where she’d struck him. “I think you broke my nose!”
Uncaring, she grabbed his shirt and yanked him close. “Are you fucking saying that Pol Oranus was the Reaper’s fucking father? That the child-killing monster I put down was a Patriarch’s son? You expect me to believe this Terrible you’re trying to write?”
“Something like that couldn’t keep secret,” Sky agreed, sounding dubious.
“No, not if we did it!” Mael sputtered. “But a Patriarch? Who else could hinder authorities from coming to the Barrow to hunt down the Reaper? Who could make records and a body disappear? You know a ship did actually go down on the way to the Baleen Archipelago? Forty-six passengers and crew drowned. Who has the power to orchestrate the end of forty-six people, just to fake his disgraced son’s death?”
Sky sucked in a breath of disbelief. “But the other Patriarchs wouldn’t condone this!”
“I don’t think they knew at first,” Mael said. “Not what Pol Oranus’s son was doing. But when it was all done, how couldn’t they know? But they weren’t about to let that news out. The city would have been in riot! No, the best thing to do was hush it all up. Let the matter get buried and forgotten. It was just the Barrow, after all. The only real punishment was making Pol Oranus withdraw from running for Grand Patriarch. Anyway, when we told him what we’d found out, he didn’t deny it.”
Eveen released him. She took a step back, her mind swimming. “He admitted it?”
Mael nodded, nursing his bleeding nose. “Once we figured out things we contacted him—to offer the journal. We thought he’d maybe give us a reward. And we could talk about him becoming our patron. He seemed amenable. Even asked if we could complete his son’s spell.” At seeing the angry flash in Eveen’s eyes he held up his hands to protect his face. “We told him no! We’d never kill children! I swear it on all the gods of my forebearers!”
“He wanted immortality for himself?” Sky asked in horror.
“I’m certain of it,” Mael answered. “Whatever his son was into, Pol Oranus was too.”
“He just didn’t bloody his own hands,” Eveen said. “How do I fit into this?”
Mael’s eyes rounded again. “He hates you!”
“For killing his son,” she said.
“For taking away his chance at immortality,” he amended. “For ending his dream of becoming Grand Patriarch. But yeah, for killing his son too—eviscerating him like a pig. You can practically feel the rage in his voice when he speaks about you. He’s been looking for his vengeance for the past four years.”
It was odd to hear of being plotted against by someone you didn’t even know.
“Why not just pull his own son back from time, if he wanted him so much?” Eveen grumbled.
“Because he’s not undead,” Mael answered. “Your soul is in this time, and the past. We could ask one to seek out the other. But he’s gone. There’s nothing left here to…” He gestured, reaching for words. “… anchor him.”
“So, that’s what this is, then,” Sky reasoned. “Pulling me here. Contracting Eveen. This is how he planned on getting back at her.” Her voice grew cold. “Was it your idea? Did you give him this grand plan to mess up my life?”
Mael shook his head vigorously. “Us? No! This was all Pol Oranus. He even wrote the spell!”
That took Eveen off guard. “He’s a sorcerer?”
“No, he can’t do a trickle of magic. But he’s a genius at writing it!”
“That’s a thing?” Sky asked.
Mael nodded. “Of course. Like a songwriter who can’t carry a tune. I think he even wrote the immortality spell for his son. The one he created to pull you forward through time was mathematically beautiful! I’ve never seen such flawless thaumaturgical equations! Better than anything the colleges can do, trapped in their orthodoxy. When he offered us the chance to perform it, we accepted!”
The admiration and pride in his voice made Eveen want to punch him again.
“Now he’s trying to kill you,” Sky said wryly. “Already killed your friends.”
That took the air out of him. “I don’t understand. We did just as he asked.”
“You know fuck all,” Eveen said, shaking her head. “You and your Neck Beards.”
“Three Beards,” he corrected.
“Whatever. Pol Oranus didn’t invite you dolts to work his grand magic of vengeance because he admired your stupid little club. He did so because you’re expendable. The power that resurrected me, that protects my anonymity, is of Aeril. You know how dangerous screwing around with godling magic is? No sanctioned thaumaturgist would take that work. Not even unsanctioned sorcerers in the criminal underworld. But you boneheads don’t know dangerous when you see it. Tell me, any other Edgelords gone missing over the past four years?”
Mael’s face took on a shade of stupid. “A few…”
Eveen huffed. “Bet you weren’t the first expendables Pol Oranus tried this with. You just happened to be the lucky ones whose souls weren’t torn to shreds or burned out. Congrats. Oh wait, no, because now he’s getting rid of the only other people who aren’t fellow untouchable Patriarchs. Who know the secret of his child-killing son. Did the three of you give even a second’s thought before trying to blackmail one of Tal Abisi’s most powerful men—who also writes evil spells?”
