Silence. I slid the ledgers and pornography into my satchel, waited until my legs could support me, and limped out to the front room. My heart pounded and my stomach twisted.
“Hello? Nobilis? General? Captain?”
My eyes landed on Connas, asleep in a chair. I felt a rush of relief.
“Sergeant!”
She stirred, took a deep breath, and opened her eyes.
“Huh? Oh, sorry.” She yawned her head and straightened up. “Must have dozed off.”
“Where is everyone?”
“They went next door to question the kids,” she said, yawning. “Told me to wait until you were done.”
“What time is it?”
“Beats me. Late. I’m supposed to lock up and walk you wherever you need to go.”
The tightness around my chest loosened. They hadn’t forgotten about me. They hadn’t stayed for me, but they hadn’t abandoned me, either. I nodded to Sergeant Connas, grateful for her company.
The walk from Experience Street to Bright Street wasn’t long, but I was on crutches and the night was bitterly cold. A few snowflakes drifted through the darkness, suggesting more to come. We said little as we walked, intent on getting back inside as quickly as possible. I felt vulnerable, making my way through the slick, uneven street on crutches, but Sergeant Connas’ sword and badge kept us safe.
The Dockside Watch station was one of the largest in Cislunar, a reflection not of its prestige but of the area’s greater incidence of crime. The station’s main room was filled with constables both off and on duty, most of them crowded next to the fireplace trying to keep warm. An assortment of prisoners and witnesses sat in hard wooden chairs, answering questions. The air was thick with smoke from the fireplace and sundry oil lamps, pipes, and cigars.
Connas and I worked our way to the back of the room, where a line of desks blocked off space for the captains to work. Lorencz sat at her desk smoking, her well-worn boots propped up on the desktop. Droit sat nearby, sharpening a knife.
“Where are the children?” I asked as Connas greeted them.
“Off to a workhouse until we can find their guardians, if they have any,” Lorencz said, with a distinct lack of enthusiam. I knew from past conversations that she’d spent part of her childhood in a workhouse in Ankham. “Here you go, Sergeant. The file’s waiting for your statement.” She handed a sheaf of papers to Connas, who took them with a nod and walked off.
I pulled up an empty stool and sat between them. Droit crooked a finger. I hesitated, then edged my stool closer to his chair. He grinned and reached over to squeeze my uninjured leg.
“Find anything for us?” he asked. I avoided his smug green eyes and pulled my satchel to my lap.
“What did you do with the child who called Far?” I countered, removing the whoremaster’s ledgers from my bag.
“We cut him loose with the rest.” Lorencz shrugged. “What the hell else could we do? Aronson wanted to turn him over to the Vigilance, but that kid wasn’t even old enough to be thinking about Manifesting. It’ll be years before we find out if he’s got the ability.”
“You know he’ll tell others what he did.”
“Yeah, I know.” She flicked ashes on the floor. “Bad in the short run, maybe good in the long run.”
I nodded. Clearly she and I agreed that Far’s deadly child-cult wasn’t entirely a bad thing. I glanced at Droit, who was replacing the knife into one of his hidden sheaths.
“Far’s cheaper and more efficient than the court system,” he said, wrapping up his sharpening supplies. “I like a problem that sorts itself out.”
I looked from him back to the captain. The two looked suspiciously comfortable behind their desks.
“If there’s nothing left to do on this case, shouldn’t you be back on patrol?” I asked.
“Of course not. We had to wait for you and Connas to return,” Lorencz said with a smirk. She finished her smoke and tossed the stub toward the fireplace, missing. “You’re part of the investigative team. Officially, for a change.”
Droit stood and crushed his partner’s smoldering cigarette under one heel.
“You’re going to burn down the whole quarter someday,” he griped.
“We should be so lucky.” She pulled her feet off the desk and sat up. “So, what did you find for us? You looked pretty busy in there.”
“I was examining the brothel’s ledgers. There are two items of interest. First, a ‘Tom’ has been receiving payments from the brothel for the last two years, approximately every three to four months.” I pulled my notes from the satchel and laid them on the ledgers. “The payments are sizable and broken into ‘deliveries.’ It doesn’t say what he was delivering, but food and alcohol are noted under different entries. Tom could be Tommy Malkin, bringing in children.”
“Plausible.” Droit looked through my notations, handing them to Lorencz as he read.
“We’ll check it out,” Lorencz agreed.
“Second, the whoremaster kept records of his clients, using first names,” I handed Lorencz the stack of notes and ledgers. “I decoded and listed them for you in case they’ll help you build your case.”
“First names ain’t much to go on,” she muttered. Droit plucked the sheet of paper from his partner’s hand, folded it, and tucked it into his coat.
“I’ll get answers,” he promised.
“Finally,” I continued, “I found some pornography. Stories and engravings about children. I don’t know what it was for, but I thought you might want to visit the publisher.” Droit’s hand was already out, so I handed him the slender volumes.
“Okay. Good work,” Lorencz said. “You ready to go? I promised Aronson I’d give you a ride home.”
“On another balesteed?” I couldn’t keep my misgivings out of my voice.
“The Watch don’t run coach service, pal.”
Lorencz left me at the front door of my new boarding house. Riding with her had been almost as bad as riding with Nobilis Aronson, and she hadn’t been nearly as satisfying to cling to. After I’d untangled my crutches, I let myself in, moving up the stairs as quietly as I could.
I smelled my visitor before I saw him, the reek of cheap gin overwhelming me as soon as I opened the door to my rooms.
Arlin yawned.
“You keep late hours, Ax.”
I set my satchel on the table, propped my crutches against the fireplace, and pulled off my greatcoat, hanging it over the back of a chair. By the time I was unbuttoning my jacket, my initial flash of fear had settled into resignation.
“Yes, and I’m tired,” I replied. “Will this take long?”
“Shouldn’t.” He offered me the half-empty bottle.
Despite the pungent scent of old alcohol and unwashed flesh that lingered about him, Arlin “the Knave” had clear eyes and a steady hand. His layers of greasy rags had once been expensive, and his dirty blond hair straggled around a beard-stubbled face. The fingers that held the bottle were lined with dirt.
Despite all that, I took the bottle and drank. After ten years volunteering for latrine duty in prison, I wasn’t squeamish.
“What do you want?” I sat and pulled off my boots, setting them by the fire, and began unbuttoning my borrowed waistcoat. Arlin raised an eyebrow.
“Those the nobilis’s clothes?”
“He had a dinner party. I stayed the night and he let me borrow some clothes in the morning.” I could guess what Arlin was thinking from the expression on his face. “We aren’t lovers. He’s just my patron.”
“Well. I know how much you like becks.”
“We aren’t.”
“Good. I don’t trust him. You got blood on your trousers.”
I looked down. That might explain Aronson’s sigh when he saw me sitting on the brothel floor. I inspected his waistcoat. It was clean — my greatcoat had protected it. I was glad I hadn’t ruined the entire suit.
“The Watch found a body in a military warehouse a few days ago,” Arlin continued. “You never filed a coroner’s report on it.”
“I got stabbed.” I stood and limped to the back room to finish undressing.
“I heard. I would have visited, but…” his voice trailed off and I imagined his shrug. “Did you write the report?”
“Yes.” I pulled on a nightshirt and unwrapped the bandages around my leg to inspect the wound. Dr. Hawkins’ neat mattress stitches had become aggravated — too much walking and riding. I searched the bedroom until I discovered where Droit had put my medical supplies and began cleaning the wound, wincing.
After a minute or two Arlin walked in and leaned in the doorway.
“So why didn’t you submit it?” he asked, looking at the wound.
“I’ll give it to Captain Lorencz tomorrow.”
“What are you hiding?”
“Vigilance business.”
“Vigilance business? Or Banishat business?”
I glanced up, my skin prickling. His face was grave.
“I don’t like it, Ax. Here you are, fresh out of prison, hanging out with a bunch of goddamn sentinels and making a living cutting up bodies.” Arlin held my gaze. “It’s the same damn pattern. Didn’t ten years in Hellsgate teach you anything?”
My mind flashed back on all the things Hellsgate had taught me and I swallowed acid, forcing the memories away.
“I’ve done nothing illegal for Captain Lorencz and Nobilis Aronson except act as a medical examiner before I was officially appointed to the position. And Director Jaspin already knows about that.”
“You don’t consider hiding a report illegal?”
“Lorencz will receive a report of my findings tomorrow.” I was phrasing my replies carefully, but he gave an impatient hiss. My word games couldn’t fool him; he’d taught me most of what I knew about lies and deception. Lies, deception, gambling and filth. I was his living legacy, in that sense.
“Talk to me. What price are you paying for these nice new clothes and this pretty new flat?”
“Less than you paid for your rags and bottle.”
He gave me a hard look. I met it. Then we both looked away. Stalemate.
“Why is the Vigilance interested in that corpse?” he asked.
“The man died of adjuration,” I replied. “Why is Domenico interested in it?”
Arlin hissed.
“Show some respect.”
“Was there something important in the warehouse?” I pressed. “You said it was military.” I tried to remember what had been stored there, but all I could remember were crates with writing and government seals all over them. Ah. I put two and two together. And the dead man had belonged to the king’s private guard. “I thought the military had its own warehouses in the Naval Docks. That was a public warehouse. Were the crates stolen?”
“Was the dead man a sentinel?”
“Possibly. Why would a sentinel be in a warehouse full of misplaced military supplies?” I watched him for a reaction, but Arlin had learned to hide his tells a long time ago. “Is Domenico working with the Banishat?”
“The murders tonight — was it Far again?” he countered.
“Yes.” I went back to wrapping fresh bandages around my leg. I wanted another dose of laudanum to kill the pain, but I didn’t dare take anything that would dull my mind until Arlin left.
“Is there any connection between Far and the body in the warehouse?” he continued.
“Not to my knowledge.” Although that question suddenly made me wonder if I’d missed something important.
“The man died of adjuration. How? Was it something he did, or something someone else did to him?” Arlin suddenly sounded tired. I felt a pang. He had to be somewhere in his fifties now — too old to be spending half his time drunk in the streets. If it weren’t for me, he’d be a well-padded, comfortable courtier instead of an half-starved drunkard and spy.
I’d never been able to untangle my feelings of gratitude and resentment toward him. I wasn’t going to do it tonight, either.
“If I knew what Domenico was worried about, I might be more helpful,” I replied. “Can you tell me anything? Why is he interested in that man?”
“I don’t know what’s worrying him. But I can tell you what’s worrying me.” Arlin said, turning and walking back to the front room. “I read the Ministry’s secret files. You crossed the Line, Axton.”
“Not voluntarily.”
His voice trailed from the other room.
“You went to hell and you came back. What did those demons do to you while you were over there? Tell me you’ve still got a soul, Ax. Tell me you still love Kyrchye. Tell me you aren’t repeating the same old mistakes all over again.”
I closed my eyes. Arlin’s reverence was another trait he’d taught me, but while he’d turned to religion as a reaction against adjuration, I would prefer to reconcile the two.
“You know I never asked to leave the Reverence, and I’ve never lost my faith in Kyrchye,” I said, opening my eyes again. “I don’t know if I have a soul, and I don’t know if Kyrchye cares about me, but I hope so on both counts. I’ve petitioned to have my excommunication lifted.”
Gin gurgled from the other room.
“I don’t want to see you in jail again, Ax. It damn near broke my heart the first time.”
Had he needed a drink to say that? I wondered how much of it was true and how much was a calculated ploy to make me feel guilty.
“So,” he continued, “I have to know: Do you have anything else you want to tell me before it’s too late?”
I finished tying off my bandages, picked up one of my crutches, and limped back into the front room. I didn’t own any drinking glasses, so I took another slug straight from the bottle when he offered it to me.
“We’re on the same side,” I said, setting it on the table.
“I don’t think we are. You’re keeping the wrong company. It’s not too late, you know. Things can change. I can make them change. I can make your life better.” His voice was tight. “I will make your life better.”
I shook my head. It was too late for both of us.
“My friends are good people. They take care of me.”
“A firebug, a retired monster, and a high-ranking lackey in the Vigilance. They’re trouble, Ax — trouble you don’t need. Things are changing in Cislunar; people don’t want to live in a city full of Perdition-worshipping becks anymore. You need to stay away from them.” He turned, his pale blue eyes studying me. “Have that coroner’s report in the Watch’s hands tomorrow morning. And talk to me if you think of anything else you want to admit.”
“I’ll attempt to give the report to Lorencz by tomorrow evening.”
He sighed and left, sweeping up the bottle of gin as he walked past. I locked the door behind him and went to bed.