Si glyph [https://i.imgur.com/mHhTdaF.png]

Simon knocked on the door of Danta’s workshop. After a short wait, Vikki opened it. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy.

‘Can you show us where you last saw Jonas?’ he asked. ‘Exactly?’

‘Here,’ she said. ‘When we got back, Mum bandaged him up. We offered him a bed, but he wouldn’t stay. He said goodbye here, outside the workshop, then headed downtown.’

Simon glanced at Andra. In the stories told by northers, a lasker’s sense of smell was keen as a dog’s, but that might be an exaggeration. Andra hadn’t said anything. ‘Can you follow him?’

Andra didn’t reply. She stood with closed eyes for a minute, then walked up and down the street, sniffing the air.

Watching, Simon knew it was hopeless. Andra wasn’t superhuman. It was hours since Jonas had been here, and hundreds of people must have passed since then. He was only wasting his time and raising Vikki’s hopes.

Andra stalked back to them, her face expressionless as ever. ‘Come.’

She led them down the street, her stride fast and purposeful; Simon had to push himself to keep up, and was soon wincing at the pain in his leg. Vikki took his arm.

‘You saw Sam home all right?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘Can your friend really follow Jonas by smell?’

‘I don’t know.’ Andra seemed confident of her direction, and he didn’t think she’d lie—didn’t think she even knew how to lie—but success seemed so unlikely. Jonas and the codex could be anywhere in the city by now.

At the edge of the slum district, where workshops gave way to tenements, Andra stopped. She walked back and forth across a street junction, turning her head this way and that, seeming unsure of the direction.

Glad of the chance to rest, Simon got his breath back. So far she had led them in a straight line, heading toward the docks. The only House in that direction was Anemari, but they weren’t likely buyers for the codex. Of all the Houses, their interest in the arcane was most oriented to practical uses. To his knowledge, no one had ever accused the Anemari of dabbling in demonology, even, which was one of Athanor’s perennially popular rumours, pinned on anyone from Lady Numisma to sothron immigrants.

If not Anemari, then maybe some wealthy merchant with ambitions to build a fifth House… But he was clutching at straws. He was more and more convinced Jonas intended to take the codex abroad. In which case, he might already be on a ship at sea, and beyond their reach.

Andra set off again down an alleyway which wound round the backs of tall buildings. Crimson paint had been splattered on one grimy stone wall in a long wavy line: a crude drawing of a snake.

Two men rounded a corner, coming toward them.

Simon took Vikki’s arm. ‘Andra.’

She stopped and looked back at him, waiting for him to catch up. He moved to the side of the alley to allow the men to pass. Though the alleyway narrow, there was room enough.

The two men approached and stopped, blocking their path. The man on the left was short and pale, with a pronounced squint. His taller companion was dark-skinned, his face seamed with scars. Both were young and both had snake tattoos circling their forearms.

Snakes… Simon felt he’d seen a lot of those lately. They must be a gang of some kind, but usually gangs controlled an area of a few streets, or a district. Snakes seemed to turn up everywhere. ‘We don’t want any trouble.’

The men eyed each other and smirked.

Simon took a breath. They meant to steal, of course, or worse, but perhaps there was a chance to avoid violence. ‘We’re looking for a friend of ours, a young man with red hair. Have you seen him?’

‘Have we seen him?’ the squinter said.

The scarred man shook his head. ‘Nah.’

Squint smiled with disarming pleasantness. ‘If we do, we’ll be sure to tell him you want him.’

‘Thank you.’ Simon gestured past them, up the alleyway. ‘Do you mind?’

‘Oh, no, we don’t mind,’ Squint said.

‘For a price,’ Scarface said. ‘This is our patch. Turn out your pockets, Grandad, then you can look for your friend.’

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‘But not the women,’ Squint said. ‘We want to talk to them some more.’

Andra stirred. ‘This is not the way.’

Scarface frowned. ‘Wotcha say, sweetheart?’

Andra strolled up to him. She peered into his face. ‘This is not the way,’ she repeated, and suddenly her long curved knife was in her hand.

The blade slashed through air.

Simon blinked. Somehow Scarface had dodged Andra’s strike, and was still smirking.

Vikki gasped. ‘Gun! Watch out.’

The other man, Squint, fumbled with a long black object. Simon had taken it for a club hanging from his belt, but Squint was pointing it at Andra.

She spun and drove her knife into his gut. Squint staggered. The gun dropped from his hands. He clutched the red stain spreading from the hole in his shirt, and collapsed.

Andra turned to Scarface, the bloody blade held before her. He raised his hands and backed a few steps, then turned and strode quickly out of sight.

The injured man tried to crawl away, whimpering in agony. Andra bent over him. For a sick moment, Simon thought she would slit his throat, but she just calmly cleaned her knife on his shirt.

Vikki stood frozen, her eyes very wide. ‘She stabbed him,’ she said. ‘She just stabbed him.’

Simon gripped her arm. ‘They would have killed us.’

‘I know. It was just so quick.’

Andra finished cleaning the knife. She picked up the fallen gun and offered it to Simon.

He took it. It looked exactly like the gun Chase had threatened him with. It was heavy in his hands, the black steel cold and slightly oily to touch. Nothing but steel and blast powder, yet even the thought of using it made his skin crawl.

Not that he could. Experimentally, he raised the gun and pointed it down the alley, confirming what he’d already guessed. His steel fingers couldn’t work the trigger.

Still, a weapon might be useful. He handed the gun to Vikki, who accepted it as if it were just another tool. To her, perhaps it was.

‘Come,’ Andra said. ‘This is not the way.’

They retraced their steps back to the junction where Andra had been unsure of the direction. From there she led them confidently into the maze of alleyways, showing no hesitation.

In an unremarkable backstreet, she stopped, staring tensely into the distance. ‘Blood,’ she hissed. There was no obvious blood in sight.

She strode into another dingy alleyway, smelling of things even slum-dwellers wouldn’t eat. Twenty yards away, a dark figure lay face down on the ground.

Vikki ran forward, crying, ‘Jonas!’

Simon followed. ‘Vikki, wait.’

As she reached the body, Vikki stumbled to a halt and screamed.

Simon caught up with her. One glance was enough to see they’d arrived too late; he turned away, fighting the urge to vomit. He leaned against the wall with his back to the body, breathing slowly until he regained control of his stomach.

He didn’t want to look, but he must. Vikki had retreated to the mouth of the alley and had her back to him. She was hugging herself. He made himself turn and approach the ugliness lying on the ground.

It might be Jonas. The build was similar, and the clothes resembled those he’d worn the last time Simon had seen him. But Jonas usually had a head.

The body had been decapitated, quite neatly, with a sharp blade and some skill.

Simon had to turn away again. He focused on his breathing. Later, there would be time for horror. Right now, however unpleasant the task, he must examine the body and learn what he could.

He forced himself to touch the corpse, to lift one shoulder. The body was rigid, which made it a little easier. He could pretend it was only an unpleasant object instead of the remains of someone he’d known. He turned the corpse over.

The belly gaped open, slit from side to side. Clotting blood and flesh puddled where the body had lain.

Bile stung the back of Simon’s throat. He rushed to the gutter and retched. Then he wiped his mouth with his hand, and wiped his hand on his clothes, and made himself return to the body.

Simon took a few deep breaths before he could bring himself to open the blood-drenched jacket and check the pockets. There was no money, no nothing. More importantly, no codex, and no bag that might have contained the codex.

‘Is it him?’ Vikki stared at the corpse from a distance. Her face was very pale. ‘Maybe it’s not him. I want to look.’

Simon stepped in front of her. ‘I’m sorry. It is Jonas.’

‘Maybe it’s not. Maybe a thief stole his clothes. Let me see.’

‘No.’ He put his arms round her and held her close. She was tense and trembling. ‘I’m sorry, Vikki. Don’t look. You don’t want to see him like this.’

Vikki sobbed. She clung to him and Simon held her, as he’d held his children when they were small and crying over a scraped knee. He only wished her pain was as simple, or as quickly over.

He patted her back and muttered meaningless, soothing words. It’ll be all right, he wanted to say. But Jonas was dead and nothing was all right. She was young, she’d get over it sooner than she thought, but now wasn’t the time to say so.

He walked her down the alley, away from the body. ‘Wait here a moment, will you? I have to talk to Andra.’

‘You hear stories,’ she said dully. ‘People dead, cut up, bits... Horrible stories. They say there’s a monster in the city. A lasker, someone said. It can’t be true, can it?’

Simon glanced at Andra. She was searching the ground around the body. Surely… no. She wouldn’t have. Would she?

Vikki jerked away from him. She stared wild-eyed from him to Andra and back. ‘Light above. That can’t be—What is she, Simon?’

‘Andra’s not…’

Shaking her head, Vikki turned and ran. Simon pursued her for a few steps, then stopped, realising he wouldn’t catch her. She was in no mood to listen to reason, anyhow.

He trudged back to Andra. ‘What happened to him? Can you tell me anything?’

‘He is dead.’

Simon rubbed his forehead. ‘Yes, I know. Anything more than that, like who killed him?’

Andra shrugged. She pointed to the ground by the body. ‘Men here. Two, the same ones. They hit him. Later, a—’ She frowned. ‘Child? Girl child?’ She drew her finger across her throat sharply. ‘She takes the flesh-and-blood price.’

Simon’s stomach twisted again. He wished he hadn’t asked. But then, perhaps she was wrong — she was interpreting clues invisible to him, and perhaps she’d mistaken the order of events. Or something. ‘He may have had a book with him, maybe in a bag of some kind. Can you tell who took it?’

Andra shook her head.

So that’s it, Simon thought. Jonas was dead, the codex lost. And it was all his fault. If he hadn’t helped steal the codex, Jonas would be alive, not dead and headless in an alley.

He still had to keep his promise to Andra, take her back through the undercity to the Chained Serpent. Then he’d stop by Danta’s to check Vikki had reached home safely. And then, assuming no further disasters on the way, he could go home himself, and hug his children, and worry about the rest of his life.