The next morning I went to Bright Street Station and took a closer look through Jim Hanks’ possessions and didn’t find anything too useful. His pocket atlas was pretty well marked up, though, especially around Northgate and Dockside, so I slipped it into my own pocket, figuring I’d check out the addresses as I walked around town.
“Hey, Lieutenant,” I said, buttonholing Lt. Medley by the hob, where the station’s communal kettle was constantly boiling during the winter months. “I need a favor.”
He sighed, lifting a cup of tea and cradling it between his hands. As always, his clothing was impeccable, which is exactly why I needed to talk to him.
“What is it, Lorencz?”
“I’ve got to get into the Gilded Lily up in Northgate to ask some questions.” I lowered my voice. “Connected to that death last night.”
He jerked his head to one side and we moved farther away from everyone else.
“You think the Gilded Lily’s implicated in slavery or nix?”
“Not sure … but turns out Tegeus Droit is a silent minority owner, so….”
“Kyrchye.” He closed his eyes a moment. “We do not need to start anything with Droit.”
“No, no, I ain’t stupid enough to do that, but I want to look around, see who he talks to, maybe walk around the neighborhood after to check out some addresses where Hanks, our vic, had been picking up clients. Nothing obvious, just a quiet in and out.”
He opened his eyes and gave me a skeptical look.
“You don’t do quiet ins and outs, Lorencz.”
“I will this time. And who else are you going to send? This case has got a sentinel’s fingerprints all over it.”
He heaved a sigh. “Are you asking for my permission, then? Because that would certainly be unusual enough to incline me to grant it.”
“Well, sure —” I hadn’t even thought about it “—but I’m going to need some money to flash around. And …” this was the big ask “you’re about my size, so I was wondering … could I borrow one of your suits?
Medley took some convincing, but at last I got a letter of credit that I was warned not to use, a handful of cash from the Watch’s slush fund that I was asked to return if at all possible, and one of Medley’s older suits, which I tucked away safely in my own flat before heading to the Vigilance’s Orderhouse. The Vigilance’s secretary, Mazarin St. Cloud, told me Carel would be busy all morning but might have time for me later, so I left my name and headed back to dive into a stack of books. I didn’t come up for air until my growling stomach started to bother the other sentinels. Then I grabbed my overcoat and walked out into the golden autumn sunlight, lighting a cig and letting my eyes adjust.
“Arcady Lorencz.”
Startled, I turned, Magister Carel, head of the Cislunar Vigilance, was walking down the path toward me, flanked by another sentinel. Carel was a slim, silver-haired woman with a cool blue gaze and stern demeanor.
“Magister Carel,” I said politely. The last time I’d talked to the Vigilance’s arch-sentinel, she’d been dressing me down for what she called “over-exuberance,” and the authorities were calling “arson,” in carrying out my duties Dockside. That had been a year ago. I didn’t hope she’d forgotten, but maybe her irritation with me had subsided some since then.
“This is Ethan Hargraves, my project assistant. Hargraves, Arcady Lorencz, Watch sentinel for Dockside.”
“Sentinel,” Hargraves said, giving me a short nod. He was a hard-faced, balding man in his fifties, and I returned his nod, wondering what kind of project he was assisting on.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yeah … you want to talk out here?”
“I’ve been cooped up in my office all morning, so yes.” We began to walk. I wasn’t thrilled about having Hargraves there, listening in, but it didn’t look like Carel planned to dismiss him.
“Guy got stabbed last night — eviscerated, really — but lived long enough to scream for a while. When I got there, I saw something move across the Line, but it didn’t look like a transient, and the guy’s wounds didn’t look like a transient had made them. It was a short breach — closed while I was watching — so maybe it was just a transient investigating the guy’s pain, but why would it have left so quickly, and on its own? And … I don’t know, like I said. I couldn’t get a good look at it, but it looked more like a human than a transient.”
“Was the victim a sentinel?”
“No, I mean, not that anyone said. Coachman, working around the Northgate area. We found some slaver chains and nix in a locked chest under his bed, though.”
Carel stopped. Yeah, I figured her ears would perk up at that. I reached into my greatcoat pocket and pulled out the wooden box, handing it to her.
She picked off the rag holding the lid closed and opened it, tilting the box so Hargraves could see.
“Yes, that’s nix,” she said, her voice hardening. “Quite a bit of it, too. Tell me more about this coachman-slaver.” She handed the box to Hargraves, who carefully closed and re-wrapped it.
“I don’t know much more, yet. He was building up a route to and from the Gilded Lily, though, so I’m going to drop in there to look around.” I held up a hand. “Discreetly.”
Carel gave me a cool, evaluating look.
“You aren’t a good fit for the Gilded Lily, Lorencz. Why don’t I send somebody else in, instead? Hargraves here, maybe.”
“I’m planning on cleaning up for it,” I said, grimly. “Already borrowed a nice suit and everything.”
“Your hair looks like a badly dyed rooster’s comb.”
I braced myself. I’d kinda known it was coming as soon as I realized I needed to get into the Lily, but still …
“I’ll cut it.”
She pursed her lips, then seemed to make up her mind. Her expression eased.
“All right — if you want it that badly, let’s see how you do. Impress me, Lorencz. Show me you can be polite and discreet.”
I had a feeling there was a promise and a threat under those words.
“Sure. One more thing, Magister?”
“Yes?”
“Who in the Vigilance has enough power to create nix?”
She sighed.
“Not many of us. Fixing bale requires the ability to hold at least four calls, and every sentinel ranked at four or higher in Cislunar sits on the Vigilance’s board. I can’t believe any of my colleagues on the board would engage in such a … distasteful pursuit. But if that’s true, then we have three other choices. One, a misranked sentinel, which can happen if a sentinel grows into their power slowly, or deliberately holds back on the exams for some reason. Two, an untrained sentinel, although anyone with that much power would likely have been identified early Or three, a foreign sentinel working undercover and avoiding the Vigilance.”
“All right,” I nodded, making a mental note to double-check all the board members, anyway. Carel might trust them all, but I sure didn’t. “Can the Vigilance hold this nix for me? I don’t trust it in the Watch’s evidence room, and I don’t fancy carrying it around in my pocket all the time. It needs to be stored somewhere safe until a trial … if we ever get to a trial.”
“I will keep it in my office,” Carel promised. “It’s one of the most well-warded spaces in Cislunar.”
That it was; I’d discerned in there, when I first joined the Vigilance, and the place had lit up like a fireworks finale. I nodded, made my goodbyes, and headed out to return the Hall of Records key and ask if Elliot knew a good barber.
“How’s that?’ Elliot asked, brushing strands of hair off my shoulders. I raised my eyes to the mirror and grimaced at my reflection. Short … my hair was so short! And the cut was so … symmetrical. I grimaced.
“I told you I knew how to cut my nephews’ hair,” he said, defensively. “And you said a boy’s cut would be fine —”
“No, no, I’m not complaining about the haircut,” I exclaimed, whipping around to face him and nearly getting a scissor blade in my eye. “That’s not what I meant at all. The haircut’s swell; you’re a real champ to do this for me. It’s just … I just … I hate looking normal.”
He relaxed, setting the scissors down.
“Well, if that’s what’s worrying you, I can assure you that you’ll never look normal until you bleach out that bad dye job.”
“Not going to happen.”
“And stop wearing men’s clothes and start wearing skirts.”
“Definitely not going to happen.”
“Then you don’t really have to worry about ‘normal.’” He rested his chin on his hands as I ran my fingers through my newly cropped hair, making the red and yellow strands stand on end in a pathetic imitation of its former glory. “You’d stand out no matter what you wear, you know. You have a very distinctive face.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“It’s not bad.” He smiled slightly. “Anyway, you’re finally starting to look respectable enough for dinner.”
I pocketed that promise for later.
“Do I look respectable enough for the Gilded Lily?”
“As long as you flash around a lot of money.”
“That, I can do. Flash it, anyway; my boss will have a fit if I spend any of it.” I pulled on the dinner jacket I’d borrowed from Lt. Medley and picked up his heavy wool coat. “Thanks again, El. I really appreciate it. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck. You look good, really. Come by the hall tomorrow and tell me how it went.”
Elliot gave me a quick hug goodbye as he left, just the kind you’d give to a friend. Still, I was lucky it was a long, cold walk to Northgate, because it took a while to wipe the stupid grin off my face.