Alchemical symbol: Antimony [https://i.imgur.com/7omjkx8.png]
The climb was familiar. Without thought, Andra’s toes grasped the supports for the drainpipe, her claws dug into the stonework. Only the growing pain in her gut reminded her she wasn’t as fit as she had been, as she should be.
Still, she reached the roof without trouble, and up here, nothing had changed. The sky was huge and grey with formless clouds, broken in the east to let the sun look in. A damp west wind whipped over the tiles and tumbled clumps of moss into the guttering.
Her den too was unchanged, yet after so many days away, the familiarity felt strange to her. Before she had gone from day to day, not seeing, not caring how filthy everything was. Scraps of bone and hide lay where she’d dropped them weeks or months ago. The pile of ripped blankets and cloth in the sheltered space between the chimneys smelled of rotting meat.
She raked her claws through the bedding, sniffed the rags and threw them aside. Everything she had was filthy, everything torn to shreds. She might as well discard the lot and start again. Thankfully it wasn’t difficult to find blankets and such. Humans often left cloth dangling from ropes tied across streets, or hung from open windows. She didn’t know why, but it was convenient.
Though any new items would soon be as ripped and dirty as the old. Her claws destroyed everything. It was impossible to clean, to sew, to prepare hides. Even washing herself left her scratched and bleeding.
She sighed, pulled the rags back into a single pile and sat down. The bedding could wait until tomorrow; she must rest.
The wind breathed and aloneness settled round her like a cloak, a comfortable thing. After so many days surrounded by humans, it felt good to be quiet again. The children had been interesting, and perhaps she would not have survived without their help. But they were so noisy and irrational, and so different one from another.
Of course, they were human, and without families, and no one had ever taught them. What would they make of themselves, those poor abandoned small ones?
Her eyes ached. She curled up in her bed and shifted, restless, unable to find comfort. Her gut ached dully, and there was a scent, a nagging reminder. The sickly smell of the man Nevin still clung to her. And more than that; abruptly, she sat up, sniffing the air.
He had been here.
She growled. The collection of shiny things remained on the ledge and nothing was obviously missing or moved. It was disturbing though, to think of him poking and prying in her den.
And the marked one — not many hours ago, he’d been in the building below. Her enemy had invaded her place, her territory. Sour rage gripped her. Her claws punched through cloth, snagged in the weave and ripped it to rags.
She wasn’t strong enough, not yet, but now she was alone, life was simple again. Her strength would return. Then she would find the marked one and she would kill him. Simple.
Alchemical symbol: Nickel [https://i.imgur.com/SX7htXR.png]
Nevin knew Cord Street. Everyone did. And he knew the grand four-storey building, its plasterwork painted in pink and gilt, its ostentatiously large glass windows.
Not that he’d ever frequented the place. As a young man, friends had dragged him a few times to uptown establishments. He’d gone along because it was what young nobles did, along with drinking and gambling. Eventually he realised all those activities made him miserable, and he’d much rather be happy at the theatre alone than be miserable with a bunch of drunken idiots.
He knew he wasn’t typical. Most young noblemen visited such places, if they didn’t have a mistress. There was nothing wrong in it.
But the house on Cord Street, Easy’s House, wasn’t uptown. It was cheap. Not as cheap as a flophouse by the docks, but not a place nobles went unless they were short of funds and not too choosy. Or wanted services they couldn’t get uptown.
And this, according to Benedict, was where Thea had been taken. Nevin couldn’t imagine why — but no, actually, he could, though it turned his stomach to think of it. Thea was young and poor and had no one to defend her. Any number of terrible things could happen to a girl like her.
Nevin straightened his back and marched up to the entrance. Two men slouched outside. Both had long, curled hair, red jackets with gold braid trim, and expressions of lazy insolence.
‘Open the door,’ he said.
The bouncer on the left eyed him. ‘Long night, sir? Maybe you go home and sleep it off, yeah?’
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
‘I am Captain Nevin vai Phylaxes, and I have business here. Open the door.’
They exchanged wry smiles.
Nevin reached for his sword, found it missing. He wished now that Andra had come with him — but once she’d understood he wasn’t pursuing the Snake, she’d lost interest.
‘I’m looking for a girl,’ he said.
The bouncer grinned. ‘You don’t say?’
His colleague laughed at this extremely witty response.
Nevin ground his teeth. ‘If you don’t open this damned door right now, you will regret it to your dying day, which if I have anything to do with it, may not be far off. Do you understand me?’
The bouncer shrugged and pushed the door open. ‘No need to be nasty, mate.’
Nevin barged past him into a grand entrance hall. Light streamed through large windows onto pale polished stone and sothron silk hangings. A curved staircase swept up to a balconied upper floor.
On a couch against the far wall sat three young women, none of whom were Thea. A buxom middle-aged woman in a grey silk dress bustled toward him with a very unwelcoming expression.
Nevin advanced to meet her. ‘Where is Thea?’
She blinked. ‘Why, I’m not sure we have a Thea, sir. But I’m sure we can find someone to suit.’
‘Young girl, brown hair.’ Nevin sketched her height with his hand. ‘Dragged here by your tame thugs. Ring any bells?’
‘This is a respectable house, sir.’
Nevin sneered. ‘Who’s in charge here?’ He strode past her and shouted: ‘Thea! It’s Nevin. Where are you?’
‘Good sir, please.’ She plucked at his arm. ‘Have a little patience, I’m sure this can be handled without any—’
Nevin brushed her off and started up the stairs. ‘Thea!’
The woman scuttled away, calling out: ‘Antoine! Verstat!’
A man stepped onto the balcony near the top of the stairs. Tangled, dirty blond hair flowed over broad shoulders. He wore an old-fashioned green velvet coat, a red scarf at his throat, and a sullen pout.
The two bouncers Nevin had already met had entered the hall and were at the foot of the stairs. They began climbing.
Nevin continued upward. The blonde man in the green coat remained at the top of the stairs, barring his way.
‘Let me by,’ Nevin said coldly.
‘I don’t think so.’
Nevin drew himself up. ‘I am Captain Nevin vai Phylaxes and I’ll go where I damn well please.’
The blond man crossed his arms. ‘This is a private place of business, sir.’
His gaze flicked past Nevin. The two bouncers, he guessed, were right behind him. He had no weapon. The three of them could beat him into mincemeat without breaking a sweat. They probably wouldn’t, of course — he was a noble, and even a drunk and disorderly noble merited careful handling — but they clearly weren’t going to help him find Thea.
‘Let me make this simple for you,’ Nevin said. ‘I want to speak to your boss. Now. Or I come back in an hour and arrest every man here. Obstructing an officer of the city in the course of their duties is a hanging offence. What will it be?’
No one moved.
The blond man grunted. ‘Fine. If you’ll wait one moment, I’ll see if the Lady will speak to you.’
He headed along the balcony.
Nevin got no further than the top of the stairs before the two bouncers caught up and blocked his way. He stared at them, they stared back. Their faces smeared into a blur of colour. He swayed, unsure for a moment if the floor was shifting beneath his feet.
The bouncers didn’t stop him staggering to a settee on the balcony. He sank down. Tides washed through his head. The plain glass windows shimmered like the tails of peacocks and the only solid thing was Thea, and the need to find her. She had to be safe, because if any harm came to her, it was his fault, his responsibility.
A tremendous weight had settled on his back, crushing him into the soft cushions of the settee. Fear and anger had carried him this far. Now he was sitting, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand. If the blond man didn’t come back, what was he going to do? What could he do?
‘The Lady is presently engaged.’ The blond man loomed in front of him; Nevin jolted from the half-sleep he’d fallen into. ‘But she will be delighted to speak with you within the hour and instructed me to extend you every courtesy. Perhaps sir would like to bathe?’
Light. What wouldn’t he give for a long soak in a hot bath? But Thea — anything could be happening to her while these clowns stalled.
He stood. His legs shook under him. ‘No. I’ll see her right now, or I leave, and come back with enough soldiers to search this stinking place from rafters to bedrock. And if we find the slightest excuse, there will be arrests and hangings. Do I make myself clear?’
The blond man hesitated. ‘Quite. If you insist then.’
Nevin followed him along the balcony, down a corridor to an unmarked white door. The two bouncers didn’t accompany them.
The blond man tapped on the door. ‘My lady?’ He opened the door, revealing a small sitting room. ‘Excuse me, my lady. He insisted.’
An elderly woman rose from an armchair. ‘So I see. Do come in, Captain.’
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected the owner of the city’s most notorious brothel to look like, but not this. This was a neat little old lady with sleekly curled white hair, wearing lace-trimmed peach satin. Expensive dress aside, she might have been a shop-keeper, a genteel lady shop-keeper who sold thimbles or china dolls, or something of that kind. All that was missing was white cotton gloves and reading glasses on a chain round her neck.
A sothron red lacquer pen-case lay in front of her on a low round table, along with a closed ledger, and (he was obscurely pleased to see) a folded pair of reading glasses.
From the other armchair came a small startled gasp. He turned — and there was Thea, mouth open in shock, shrinking into crimson brocade cushions.