Kal Moonheart Trilogy: Dragon Killer, Roll the Bones & Sirensbane (29 page)

‘And? Come on, Nim!’

‘He walked home in some kind of trance and murdered his wife and children. Then he signed over his business to Witchwood, before cutting his own throat. The contract was shown in the Forum, soaked red with blood, but the Senate still declared it legal and binding.’

Kal shuddered. ‘Let’s see her try to bewitch a knife,’ she said.

* * *

Kal tried to look inconspicuous as she walked the streets towards the Bower. She had her weapons and equipment in a bag, and wore a plain, loose shirt over her leathers. She imagined the Peacock and Witchwood had hidden eyes all over the city; it wouldn’t do to let them know she was coming.

Less hidden—in fact, quite the opposite—was another faction that was making its presence felt in the city. General Cassava’s legionaries were on every street corner and outside every public building. They weren’t in armour: the laws of the city stated that no commanding officer was permitted to exercise their power inside the city walls, except on the day of their triumph, when troops were allowed to join the procession and celebrations, but not in uniform.

Cassava’s troops were pushing the boundaries of the law; officially they were doing nothing more than enjoying a nighttime stroll, stopping to converse innocently with their friends. They were all dressed identically in red tunics and black cloaks, their sword blades correctly covered by a scabbard. The bulk of Cassava’s army was still encamped out on the Field of Bones, but Kal estimated that at least a thousand armed men and women were positioned inside the city.

But for what purpose?

Kal headed downtown, past the dark empty shape of the Snake Pit, past the Cathouse (which Cassava’s men seemed especially interested in patrolling) and set her sights on the illuminated facade of the city’s cabaret, the Idole Rouge.

‘Hey you! Get over here now!’

Kal slowed her pace, but not her course, forcing the two soldiers to come to her. ‘Are you Kal Moonheart?’ one of them asked her.

She shook her head innocently. ‘Nope!’

The soldier looked at Kal, then at a scrap of paper on which she could see a rough sketch of a serious-looking girl with freckles and messy hair.

‘Are you sure?’ the soldier said.

‘I think so,’ Kal said. ‘Look, I gotta go—I’m supposed to be in the chorus line in the next show at the Idole!’

The other soldier spoke up on Kal’s behalf. ‘Let her go, mate,’ he said. ‘She can’t be Kal Moonheart. She doesn’t look strong enough to
lift
the spear of Mena, let alone impale a dragon with it. The general’s looking for a tough warrior, remember?’

Kal was able to slip away. ‘What’s in the bag?’ the first soldier shouted after her.

‘My heels and a wig!’ she yelled back, before waving goodbye and losing herself in the crowds milling around the cabaret. Posters on the walls showed a line of male and female dancers, arm-in-arm, legs kicking above their heads. A gallery ticket for the show cost Kal fifteen shillings (a standing ticket in the stalls cost more than five times that price) and she pushed her way through the busy foyer to the stairs.

She found the unmarked door that led to a fire escape that gave her access to the roof. On a narrow flat section she found Will and some of his gang: his friend Dene, two other lads and a girl that she hadn’t seen at the Dead Dog earlier. They were all gathered around the statue of the god of love and desire, Lovath, who was famed for her blood-red skin.

‘Hey Kal,’ Will said, his face lighting up when he saw her. ‘Dene and the guys have been staking the place out, seeing who has been coming and going. The Peacock never leaves, though; guests are always invited to the Bower for any meetings.’

‘Is Witchwood here?’ Kal asked. ‘No point in wasting our time for just one of them.’

‘Her carriage was seen leaving her house on the the East Bank just before midnight,’ Dene reported. ‘Right now it’s parked outside the home of one of her known lovers in Temple Gardens.’

‘So she’s not here,’ Kal said.

‘Actually, she is,’ Will said with a grin. ‘Witchwood’s carriage was a decoy. An unmarked trap pulled up outside the Bower an hour ago, and the senator climbed out … alone, in a simple grey hooded cloak.’

Kal went to the balustrade and looked out. Across the street was a block of several buildings, including Amaranthium’s biggest brothel, the Cathouse. ‘Which building is the Bower?’ she asked.

‘All of them,’ Will said. ‘The whole block is interconnected, including the Cathouse. I know this because I once … er … because
Dene
once paid a visit—’

‘Guards?’ Kal asked as she scanned the crowds in the busy streets below.

‘There are three men up on the roof,’ one of the thieves supplied. ‘They’ve just been walking round and round the perimeter all night. There’s one of them now, carrying a bow. Don’t worry about Cassava’s soldiers over there; they’re only here for the … nightlife.’

‘Three guards can’t cover all four sides of the block at once,’ Kal reasoned. ‘I’d only need a small window of opportunity to cross the street.’ She took out her pistol crossbow and cocked the bolt. ‘This time,’ she told Will, ‘you’re not getting a ride.’

‘When you get in, see if you can open a door on the opposite side,’ he suggested. ‘The doors have no locks; they must all be barred internally.’

The wide street was a hundred yards across: Kal could see now how the Bower was a veritable fortress: hidden in plain sight, set apart from the surrounding streets, and with surprisingly few ground floor doors and windows. She set herself against the balustrade and aimed at the top jamb of an opposite window. She picked one that was dark and curtained: hopefully, nobody would be in the room, and the curtains would deaden the sound of smashed glass.

‘You’re clear,’ the other girl told her.

Kal shot her bolt. The second it hit, she looped her end of the wire around a chimney stack behind her, gave Will a brief wave, and jumped off into thin air. The cable went taught, but this time it held. Kal shot across the busy street, a black shadow in the darkness above the glow of the street lighting. Her boots hit the window opposite, and she punched through it, her body slipping through the gap between the curtains.

She landed on her feet, arms out for balance, pupils dilating to take in her new surroundings. She relaxed as her eyes adjusted to the gloom; she was in a dark library. The walls of books would have helped muffle the sound of her entrance.

Kal took a couple of sulfer sticks from her pocket and rubbed them together to produce a flame. She lit the two oil lamps that stood either end of a table in the centre of the library. The darkness retreated, revealing the Peacock’s collection of books.

Kal was amazed. No wonder Witchwood and the crime boss got on so well.

Every shelf in every bookcase was jammed with arcane works: spellbooks, heavy tomes with mysterious runes on the spine, grimoires and fantastical bestiaries. Parchments inked with pentacles and other strange sigils were unrolled and displayed on the walls behind glass frames.

Kal could almost feel the electric sizzle of magic in the room.

III.vii

The Green-Eyed Monster

Magic! Even the smell of it hung in the air of the library: the sharp metallic tang of the enchanted inks; the alien scents of the rare beast hides that provided the leather bindings. Kal picked up a heavy volume that had been left on the centre table:
The Encyclopaedia of Erotic Enchantments
. Senator Viola Witchwood was known to be a wily seductress, so was this her reference book? Kal turned to a random page; her eyes widened at the illustrations within.
I need to show this to Will
, she thought. She flicked the page over. Her mouth dropped open.
Or perhaps not!

The next book on the pile was called
The Power of Symbols
. Kal opened it at a page marked by a strip of thin pink leather. The tongue of a basilisk, maybe, or the tail of a parvicursor: something rare and exotic, she guessed. When she moved the bookmark to one side, she froze.

The symbol illustrating the page was the same symbol that she had seen burned into Senator Grey’s chest: the clenched fist, surrounded by a ring of flames. Kal’s first thought was,
Grey’s murder was a ritual killing … a magical ritual
! She went on to read the lines of text underneath the symbol:

The flaming fist was the personal crest of Feron Firehand during the revolution of 505. During the formative years of the Republic, Firehand would personally carry out the executions of enemies of the state by branding them with the symbol. To use the brand today is to invoke the restless spirit of Amaranthium’s greatest leader.

Kal heard a noise outside the door. She put the book down and slipped behind a nearby bookshelf. The library door opened, and a man stepped inside—a guard, dressed in worn leathers, with a green tabard decorated with the silhouette of a pouncing cat. Kal held her breath, but the man didn’t seem interested in checking the room. If he had, he might have noticed the smashed glass beneath the curtains where Kal had entered.

Instead, the guard turned the key in the door behind him, went straight to the centre table and picked up
The Encyclopaedia of Erotic Enchantments
. Kal couldn’t believe it; with his back to her and both hands occupied, he presented one of the easiest targets she had ever had the pleasure to deal with. In two quick bounds, she crossed the library and wrapped her forearm around the man’s neck, pressing her bone against the artery in his neck. The second he dropped to the floor, she released her grip. It was a fine line between unconsciousness and death, but Kal had plenty of practice at the
sleeper hold
: the guard was quite safe in her hands.

‘Just stay there and have a little rest,’ she whispered to him. ‘Dream about …’—she glanced at the page he had been absorbed in—‘the
magic starfish
. Eeuww!’

Kal dragged him out of sight. She considered donning his guard uniform, but thought better of it. That gambit had never worked in the past—in fact, she was less likely to arouse suspicion as a random stranger, than as an unfamiliar face in a familiar uniform. Kal unlocked the door and stepped through into a larger room that was also lined with books, and furnished with comfortable leather chaise lougues and reading chairs. A giant wall-to-ceiling mirror served to double the scope of the room. The works shelved here were mainly histories and atlases, although Kal did spot a collection of one of Amaranthium’s newest forms of literature: the novel.

She picked one up at random:
Swords of the Silver Sea: a fabulous tale of adventure in far-flung lands
. The lurid illustration on the cheap cardboard cover showed a muscular sailor with a cutlass fending off a sea-monster, while a half-naked girl screamed and struggled as tentacles wrapped around her. It looked exciting. Kal dropped the book in her bag next to the items she had brought from Nim’s. She could rarely get any sleep when she got home after a mission like this, so something diverting to read was always welcome.

Kal thought someone was watching her, but it was only her reflection in the mirror. Why did stealing even the smallest thing make her feel guilty? Was it because that, unlike Crab Corner’s hero of the needy, Will Straightarrow, Kal would just as soon steal from a careless shop keeper than she would a wealthy crime boss. She stuck her tongue out at her disapproving reflection, and looked for a way out of the room.

There was a door, unlocked, that led to a long red-carpeted corridor with several closed doors on either side. Will had been right—the whole block must be connected. This corridor was far longer than the house had appeared from the outside. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to get lost in here. Still, her objective was clear: take things one room at a time, find some stairs, get to ground level, open a door and let Will and the thieves into the Bower.

As Kal started along the corridor, the door at the opposite end opened. A girl dressed only in a silk shift and silver choker pranced down the corridor, pulling a nervous-looking middle-aged man along by the hand. As she stopped to let herself into one of the side doors, she gave Kal a long stare and a wink. Kal smiled back and tried to act like she was supposed to be there. She must be in the brothel. Oh well, first time for everything!

The end door opened out onto a wide balcony where two staircases zig-zagged four floors down to ground level. The space was vast, with red carpets, red fabric wall coverings, and an enormous crystal chandelier. Kal paused before stepping out—someone was stomping up the stairs. It was Captain Dogwood. He pushed angrily past two bare-chested gigolos who tried to waylay him on his way up. ‘I need to see the Peacock!’ he shouted up the stairs. ‘Now!’

In the middle of the balcony, a guard stood at a door. Kal saw him lock the door and pocket the key before striding forward to meet Dogwood at the top of the stairs. ‘The Peacock is busy, Captain. You know the rules. You need to wait until you’re summoned.’

‘Damn it, man, this is important!’ Dogwood complained. He was sweating after hauling his fat bulk up the stairs, and he took a moment to take a few great gasping breaths. ‘The murder …’ he began.

The guard thumped the butt of his spear in front of Dogwood. ‘
Captain
,’ he said firmly, ‘I am escorting you downstairs to a waiting room. You
do not
want to make a scene and spoil the enjoyment of the Peacock’s clients.’

Kal laughed to herself as Dogwood capitulated and let himself be walked back down the stairs, his face even redder then when he was struggling to get up them. Served him right for getting involved with someone who had no respect for his position. The guard followed Dogwood down, and Kal was faced with a sudden on-the-spot decision.

The balcony was clear; she could enter the Peacock’s chamber in a matter of seconds. Witchwood would likely be there, too. She could confront them both, with an easy escape down the stairs and out to the street if things went bad. Forget about the original plan; plans were something you sat and made while opportunity was passing you by.