Moon's Artifice (8 page)

A tall and muscular man, Rhe was not a native of the Imperial City. Once a noble son of House Brightlance, a major House under the Eagle hegemony to the north-east, Rhe’s skin and pale cropped hair were dusted a faint grey-blue while his eyes were as grey and unyielding as steel.

He took a step forward, as light and lithe as a cat. Knowing the man’s mannerisms after over a year of assignment together, Narin’s eyes darted to the stave Rhe still held behind his back just as the Lawbringer brought it around with a crisp movement and tucked the weapon under his right arm.

‘Goshe ? You have a story to tell me ?’

Narin nodded. ‘More of a request really.’

‘Noted.’ Rhe nodded towards the street Narin had just come from. ‘I have asked for the long patrol today, you can tell me as we walk.’

Narin tried not to glower. He knew perfectly well what the long patrol meant and why Rhe had requested it – an incident the previous week where his temper had got the better of him. They would spend the day on a slow tour of the city gathering news from every House guardpost and Lawbringer watchtower, which meant dealing with officials of every rank and caste. If there was any crime to be investigated in the city today it would be the chewed-on remains of people taken under cover of fog or murdered drunks, yet still Narin knew which task he would prefer.

‘I did apologise to the man,’ he muttered, feeling like a chastened child.

‘Indeed you did,’ Rhe said, ‘and the words were all perfectly acceptable.’

‘But my tone was not ?’

The Lawbringer inclined his head. ‘A child could have done better, Narin. That you thought the man an idiot was perfectly reasonable given the circumstances. That you failed to hide your opinion of a man in the warrior caste was foolish.’ Rhe took a step forward, the smile fading. ‘That you allowed such an opinion to colour your judgement remains unforgivable.’

Easy for you to say,
Narin thought, ducking his head in acknowledgement.
Few men are above you.

His gaze alighted on the pistol at Rhe’s hip. The Lawbringer was third son to a lord of House Brightlance – a family of middling status among that nation’s rulers. Though he had renounced his family and inheritance when he joined the Lawbringers, Rhe’s caste remained and he could own a gunpower weapon. If Narin ever reached the same rank, he would still always be of the craftsman caste. It should be honour enough for someone of his low birth to be allowed a sword, apparently.

‘So, the favour ?’ Rhe asked as he started off, indicating Narin should fall in beside him.

‘I have addresses to check – I don’t know for what, but I hope to discover a link between them.’

‘Interesting. Does it take us far out of our way ?’

He shook his head. ‘The instructions seem simple enough, assuming I’m reading them correctly.’

‘Then how could I refuse ? I must trust the judgement of an Imperial Investigator if I am to evaluate it.’ Rhe said in a level tone that Narin had to hope was intended as playful. ‘Let us hope they’re the addresses of palaces, to give you a little practice on that front too.’

Ah, humour. Maybe Enchei’s right about him after all
, Narin thought glumly. ‘Thank you, Lawbringer.’

‘In the meantime, some background information please. We have a long walk, no need to spare me the details.’

Narin took a deep breath.
All the details ? Not with my judgement recently.
‘Of course. Tell me, have you ever spoken to a God ?’

Rhe hesitated, surprise flashing across his face at the unexpected question. ‘A strange thing to ask, even if half the novices would be keen to hear the answer. However – no, I have not.’

Narin nodded as they continued back the way he had come, heading for the Tier Bridge where they could cross onto the spur of land on which House Dragon’s palazzos stood. The first address was not far from the other end of the bridge.

‘Turns out, you’re not missing much.’

*

The brass bell chimed. Kesh unknotted her fingers and rose from the bench, ignoring the nudge against her legs as the person beside her slid up into the end position. She had been there more than an hour and her legs were stiff, but Kesh forced herself to step purposefully forward. She’d watched some lurch from that seat and almost fall over the course of the hour, while others had spent what seemed like an age getting their balance before advancing – long enough that some had tried to take their place and further delayed everyone by sparking an argument.

With as much poise as she could muster Kesh walked up to the desk and bowed to the official sat behind it.

‘Good morning, Mistress,’ the man said, not rising but indicating one of the stools on Kesh’s side. ‘Please, sit as you wish.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ she replied as warmly as she could manage. After that damn bench, sitting was the last thing she wanted to do, but she had no wish to dismiss his courtesy and eased herself down onto the stool.

She saw the official was religious caste by his collarless coat – though not actually a priest himself, given his head was not shaved. Most high-castes would have expected her to stand and look at the ground the whole while. In the last hour of observing him, trying to fathom what sort of man she would be speaking to, Kesh had realised he cared little for caste stricture, but a lot for manners.

The official carefully laid his polished brass pen on the wood rack to his left and leaned forward, elbows on the desk’s leather surface and fingers steepled. He was a small man, as most Moons were ; well past his middle years and the tiny crinkles of his polished brown skin possessed a curious white sheen. Kindly eyes looked large in his face beneath prominent, bushy eyebrows.

‘You are of the Imperial House ?’ the official inquired after taking in every detail of Kesh’s face and clothes.

She shook her head. ‘No, sir, the Harbour Warrant.’

‘Of course,’ he said with a smile, ‘I should have guessed – that bench is designed to be uncomfortable, I often suspect. Only sailors are steady on their feet straight away.’

Kesh nodded. ‘I served a few of my father’s seasons on a merchant ship.’

‘Ah, I thought you a bit young for a full term. So Mistress, what service may House Moon do you today ?’

‘I … I’m looking for advice I suppose.’

‘Very well ; don’t believe what young men say after a few drinks, and never eat anything with more than eight legs. Will that do ?’

She blinked up at him, mouth half-open in surprise at the thought that he was casually dismissing her. Only then did she spot the corners of his mouth twitch and realise this man of high rank was joking with her just as her mother would.

‘Thank you, sir – I shall endeavour to keep those both in mind,’ she croaked as she got over her surprise. ‘There is, however, one more thing.’

‘More ?’ He sighed theatrically, ‘My dear, you are a demanding young woman !’

Kesh bowed her head again, attempting to hide the smile crossing her face. ‘So I have been told, sir.’

‘Did they mean it as a compliment at the time ?’

‘I, um, I really don’t think so.’

A twinkle appeared in the man’s eye. ‘More fool them, they’ll learn just like the rest of us had to. Now, what sort of advice were you seeking ?’

Kesh’s mind went blank for a moment, thrown by his unexpected manner – more as a result of his position than his age. Old men were just a different sort of fool most of the time, but senior House officials were said to be the greatest sticklers for protocol and status. Kesh was servant caste and used to being treated as such – higher castes would naturally treat her with gentle disdain at best, it was how they had been brought up to act.

‘My mother and I, we run a guest house overlooking the harbour,’ she explained at last. ‘One of our guests has been missing a few days now and there is a debt on his room.’

‘Missing rather than left without paying ?’

‘His belongings, a sea-chest and whatever’s inside, are still in the room.’

‘And he is a Moon ?’

‘Shadow,’ she clarified. ‘Master Estan Tokene Shadow.’

The official brightened. ‘Well, that makes things easier,’ he said. ‘There are few enough Shadows in the city at any one time. If he is here on official business, he’ll be easy to find in the rolls and if not, well, I suspect the chest will be of more than sufficient value ? The Shadows are a funny lot, I’ve found. More than their fair share of wild adventurers from those parts.’

Kesh nodded. ‘Certainly worth more – with whatever possessions are in it, far in excess I would expect.’

The official turned in his seat and attracted the attention of a pale young man in grey clerk’s robes. ‘Estan Tokene of House Shadow – please check the rolls for any man bearing the Tokene family name ? And put it on the register in case we are notified about anything. Ah, Mistress – do you know his caste ?’

‘Craftsman or Merchant, by his manner – though he looked more like a mercenary.’

The official nodded to his clerk and the youth scampered off. ‘Have you informed the Lawbringers that a man is missing ?’

‘Not yet, I have to cross the island to get home so I came here first.’

‘See that you do so,’ he said solemnly, picking up his pen and recording the details in an elegant script as he continued. ‘Most likely your errant Shadow will turn up with a sore head later today. However, if he does not, my ruling is that a debt is acknowledged in your favour. Barring official business listed on the rolls, if there is no word of him by, ah – we are on the third day of Shield’s Ascendancy, so let us say, by star’s turn ? If there is no word by the first of Pity’s Ascendancy, the chest shall be brought here to be assessed and apportioned fairly. Your name, please, young lady ?’ He raised a finger, remembering she was not of House descent. ‘Full name, that is.’

‘Kesh Hinar,’ she said hesitantly, reminding herself of the proper form to be used outside the Vesis and Darch Harbour Warrant. ‘Ah, that is Kesh Hinar Vesis.’

‘Home ?’

‘The Crow’s Nest boarding house, the Highstrand in the Harbour Warrant.’

‘It is done,’ the official said with one final flourish of the pen, inscribing his name at the bottom before setting the paper aside. ‘Any more advice I can offer you ?’

Kesh gave him a small smile and got to her feet. ‘No, thank you, sir. Your efforts are much appreciated.’

The official inclined his head in acknowledgement and signalled for the next person to come forward, while Kesh made her way out into the light of day again. Heading out through the open double doors, she stopped at the top of the steps and looked around. It was rare that she made her way to this part of the city. House Moon’s district, the smallest in the Imperial City, was situated on the opposing spur of land from her home, across the broad mouth of the Crescent as it entered the Inner Sea.

As with the rest of the city, the district’s architecture was dictated by Moon’s homeland, far to the west and one of the most remote parts of the Empire. Traditional turf-roofed houses surrounded the fortress that served as the heart of the district, all sheltered from the coastal gales by jagged granite cliffs running unevenly along the outer shore. Steep, pitch-sealed roofs occupied the rest of the area, coloured pale greens and yellows by the lichens growing there.

Kesh walked down the steps to the cobbled ground below and paused before entering the flow of people. It was a circular junction of five streets, lined by carts selling wares and food fresh from the docks ; a hub of humanity all turning about a verdigrised statue to Lady Chance. The Goddess had long hair swept back from her face, one half of which was covered by an expressionless mask, and carried a flail like a walking staff. Recalling the temple creed, Kesh’s eyes were drawn to the half-dozen chains that trailed from it – variously tipped by blessings or curses.

The crack of sticks on the cobbled ground dragged her attention from the statue. Kesh watched the people spread almost as one to the edges of the junction as a tall man emerged from the left-hand road. He was dressed in Moon’s own colours, a surcoat of white emblazoned with a black crescent, while a small conical hat identified him as a house servant of some noble family. He carried a switch of willow in his hand and struck the ground again with it, a rapid double-crack ringing out around the junction as a pair of covered litters advanced in his wake – each flanked by four armoured soldiers carrying muskets, their skin the same dusty-dark as the official’s.

Kesh followed the rest and bowed her head respectfully rather than stare at the passing high-castes, though her eyes lingered on the rearmost litter once it had crossed the junction and the eyes of the guards were elsewhere. In their wake the locals resumed their day as though nothing had happened, but Kesh continued to stare after the small procession until it had turned the corner and passed out of sight.

The sight was common enough in the Imperial City, but Kesh’s small corner of it saw few high-castes ever pass by. Those who came to the harbour did so in barges, eschewing the city streets when there were quicker routes for those who could afford them. At last she turned away and was about to push into the streams of people passing when something else caught her eye.

A flicker of movement in a shadow – a blur of white and rusty-red that seemed to drag her eyes directly towards it. She took a step forward and peered into the dim space below a cart selling pungent, spiced squid. Standing there, seemingly as oblivious of the scents of frying food above it as the cart’s attendant was of it, Kesh saw a fox. The creature stared straight at her, unblinking and completely still now she was looking at it.

A shiver ran down Kesh’s spine as she took a half-step backwards and made the sign of Lord Shield – hands together to form a diamond, fingers pressed against her lips.

‘Shield defend me,’ she whispered between her fingers, ‘Knight guard me.’

The fox didn’t move, concerned by neither the invocation of Gods nor a passerby crossing its view to walk around the back of the cart.

The cart’s owner continued oblivious, deftly turning strips of squid on a hotplate before scooping them up in one movement and depositing them in a pocket of flatbread for a customer. The shifting footsteps around the cart still failed to distract the fox. It kept its gaze fixed on Kesh and her sense of foreboding increased, tales of fox-demons filling her mind. But then the fox broke the contact, for no reason Kesh could tell. It looked away then back at Kesh, long enough to show her it was not spooked, before darting into a narrow alley unnoticed by anyone but the young woman.