“Well, I’m glad you’re out of that cellar,” Nobilis Aronson said, laying down a card. I showed him my hand and swept up his coins. “But I don’t know if I like the fact that Tegeus found the place for you.”
Aronson was a dreadful card player, especially when he was distracted. He wouldn’t be able to keep a poker face to save his life. I’d offered to teach him how to improve his game, once, but he hadn’t been interested. He said that losing at cards was an investment in his political future.
“The rooms are nice,” I said, collecting the cards and shuffling. The iguana on top of Aronson’s chair was staring at me with wary yellow eyes. Or maybe it was watching the cat, Shadow, that dozed in my lap. I couldn’t tell.
“Oh, I’m sure the rooms are fine. It’s just …” he sighed, sweeping his long black hair over his shoulder. The iguana tasted a few strands before deciding it wasn’t edible. “Tegeus was rotten long before he made that deal with Yzyrchye, you know. He was stealing things by six and he stabbed a gardener when he was ten. He killed one of my kittens when he was thirteen and ran away from home a year later. Frankly, I was happy to see him go. Then we heard he was arrested and pressed into the Navy under the Condemned Criminals Act. And then — well, you know the rest. It just went from bad to worse. Can a man like that really be redeemed?”
I dealt, wondering if Droit had run away before or after his mother had died. I was willing to bet on after.
Aronson looked at his hand and made a face, revealing the lackluster nature of his cards. Playing with him was more of a chance to practice my shuffling than anything else, but I was flattered that he enjoyed spending time with me. He had treated me like an equal from the first day we’d met over a dead body by the Old Cemetery. He was a nobilis and I was an ex-con, but he’d never mocked or belittled me or suggested I wasn’t worthy of his company. And I was certain he had no idea how much that simple act of respect meant to me.
“It’s not common for a hardened criminal to reform, but it’s not impossible, either,” I said, picking up my cards and giving them a quick glance before setting them down again. “It depends on how important is to the criminal. Droit says boredom finally drove him off the battlefield, but I don’ think he’s telling the truth. Remember, he dropped out of sight for a year before he showed up here. I think something traumatic happened before he quit — something personally significant that made him reevaluate his choices.”
“Like what?” Aronson tossed in his bet. I raised it.
“I wish I knew,” I said, sincerely.
“Have you ever asked him?”
“Once. He brushed the question off, and I didn’t want to pry.”
“There’s such a thing as being too polite, Axton.” We began to play. “I don’t know. I’d like to think he’s changed. I really would. He’s certainly become more tolerable, lately. But I keep thinking that this is just another game he’s playing, and eventually he’ll turn around and cut our throats.”
“Did he do that to you when you were children? Pretend to be your friend and turn on you?”
Aronson gave me a sour look.
“Yes, several times. I was a slow learner.”
“Hoping for the best in a person isn’t a fault.” I picked a card without looking and tossed it down. Terrible choice. Good. Maybe the nobilis would win, this time.
“Do you trust him?”
That wasn’t an easy question to answer.
“I think he’s trying hard to make a new life for himself,” I said at last. “Since I’m trying to do the same thing, I sympathize with his efforts.”
“Maybe he knows that and he’s using it to worm his way into your affections.” Aronson played a half-decent card. Excellent. I chose randomly again, dropping the card on the table.
“He’s clever enough to do that, but I wouldn’t be worth the effort. You’d be a much better target, if he wanted to manipulate and destroy someone who mattered.”
“Maybe he’s using you to get to me,” Aronson said darkly.
“I — thank you,” I said, feeling a warm glow at his words. Aronson looked confused.
“I mean, I like you more than I like him,” he clarified, unnecessarily. “That’s an awful thing to say about your own cousin, but it’s true. I’d be furious if he hurt you.” He squinted at his hand, then tossed down a card, triumphantly.
“You’ve always been more than generous, my liege.” I showed him my hand and folded, delighted to be able to lose for a change. He moved the coins to his side of the table but left the cards where they were.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, sensing his change of mood.
“Are my wards all right?” He took a sip from his drink, watching me over the glass.
“Yes.”
He set the glass down.
“You’ve been talking a lot to Jack and Caro.”
“They’re doing as well as can be expected.”
“And you’re not going to tell me anything, are you?” He gave me a rueful smile. “All right. Just — let me know if they’re in trouble, please.”
“I am doing everything I can to look after them, my liege.”
He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was 11 p.m.
“I suppose I should let you get back to your new flat. When are you going to be off those crutches?”
“Tomorrow, if Dr. Hawkins permits.” I moved Shadow off my lap.
“Good.” He stood. “No, stay there. I’ll have the servants bring around the coach. By the way, I want to give this to you as a house —“ He stopped, wincing, just as he picked up the crystal decanter. It slid from his hand and thudded to the floor, whiskey spilling all over the rug. Lines of strain appeared between his eyes and he pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. I grabbed my crutches, recognizing the symptoms.
“Who is it?”
“Lorencz. Come on.”
I’d never ridden a horse before, much less a balesteed, so I slipped my satchel strap through my crutches, clutched Aronson’s coat with both hands, and prayed with all my might that I wouldn’t fall off. Experts say that balesteeds have a smoother gait than horses, but I doubt horses ever make such sharp turns and stomach-churning leaps. I quickly closed my eyes and kept my face pressed against the back of Aronson’s cashmere coat, taking comfort in the familiar scent of his expensive cologne.
Nevertheless, his balesteed crossed the city in a fraction of the time it would have taken a carriage. The call guided Aronson unerringly into the long, sleazy stretch of Dockside called Experience Street. Constables ducked and swore as his balesteed hurled itself over the cordon they’d formed and came to a stop in front of the building they were guarding.
“Lorencz!” Aronson shouted, sliding off the steed. I stayed put, fumbling with shaking fingers at my satchel’s strap buckle as the captain strode out of the building. Aronson visibly relaxed as the call between them dropped.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Our old friend’s back,” Lorencz replied, glancing at the constables. “Who — oh. Hi, Ax. I don’t think we need a coroner tonight. It’s … pretty obvious what happened here.”
“He was with me when you called, so I thought I’d better bring him along.” Aronson turned and the balesteed knelt, its joints moving in unhorselike directions. I slid off, staggering, and Aronson steadied me before turning back toward the captain. My crutches were still tangled in my satchel strap. Next to me, the steed wisped away into thin air.
By the time I managed to separate my crutches and satchel, the two sentinels had already vanished inside the building. I limped after them, wincing. Not only had the ride jarred my wound, but my inner thighs felt bruised from the ride. I much preferred traveling in Aronson’s comfortably cushioned carriage.
The building was a brothel — almost all of the buildings on Experience Street were brothels or bars, or both. Despite the heavy Watch presence outside, only one constable stood in the reception area, taking notes. I looked around. The wooden floor was covered with bloody footprints that led to and from the door in the back of the room.
“Good evening, Sergeant Connas,” I said.
“Evening, Axton. How are you feeling?”
“Better.”
“Sorry they dragged you out of bed for this one.” She wiped off her pen and set it aside.
“I was proximate. What happened?”
“Your friend Far had himself a party.” Her expression was grim. “The captain’s clamped down on the scene, calling it Vigilance business. I’m the only tin badge she’s allowing inside.”
“She respects your discretion. How many are dead?”
“Six or seven, maybe more. They’re counting heads. Literally. Most of the heads aren’t too close to their bodies anymore.”
I leaned on my crutches, my over-stretched leg muscles twinging. Interesting. As far as I knew, Far had never killed that many people at once before, and decapitation seemed a little excessive for the transient. But it explained why Lorencz had called Aronson. Very few people knew about Far’s steadily growing cult of children. Calling the Vigilance’s arch-sentinel, Magister Carel, would have more politic, but Lorencz had been holding a grudge against her ever since she’d trapped us in Blackstone Hospital during a transient attack.
“Where’s the child?”
“We found ten children, actually. They were all standing here, in this room, absolutely terrified. They told us Far had broken their chains and told them to wait. We’ve moved them next door to keep them out of the way.”
“Ten…”
“Yeah. I don’t know what the captain’s going to do with them. Put them in a workhouse, I suppose.”
“I don’t know what else she can do,” I agreed, sadly. I wanted to talk to them, but my professional duties came first. I headed deeper into the building to see the slaughter for myself.
The floor and walls were splashed with blood and, as Connas had warned, a number of the bodies were no longer intact. I followed the smell of cigar smoke and the sound of voices past several small rooms containing crude beds and chains. Lorencz, Droit, and Aronson stood in the fourth room over a hopscotch board that had been scratched onto the floor. They were arguing, as they often did, so I left them alone and walked back to inspect the corpses.
About fifteen minutes later, the arguing died down and Aronson emerged. He did a double-take, then sighed and shook his head when he saw me sitting on the floor.
“What are you doing, Axton?”
“Reconstructing events.” I looked up and began to tick off my conclusions as Lorencz and Droit joined us. “Far caught that one by surprise and those two while they were running away. I believe those four tried to gang up on him and fight back, but it didn’t work. The evidence indicates that Far did this all by himself,” I added. “There’s no indication from the wounds or prints that he called any transients.”
“Thank Kyrchye for small favors.” Lorencz dropped her spent cigar into the blood and pulled out a new one, lighting it with a quick flash of balefire. “Far’s bad enough on his own.”
“Let him bring his friends.” Droit shrugged and leaned against one of the clean spots on the wall. “Who cares if a few kiddie rapers get killed?”
“Since when do you take the moral ground on atrocity?” Aronson shot back. Droit’s eyes narrowed, and he pushed himself upright.
“Stow it,” Lorencz snapped, glowering over a curl of smoke. “We’ve already wasted enough time tonight — let’s get to work.”
The two cousins glared at each other a moment longer, and then all three separated, looking unhappy. Nobody asked me to join them. I looked around, wondering what to do next.
They’d need me later, of course. The corpses were going to end up in my morgue, and they’d probably want me to talk to the children after the Watch was finished questioning them. But for now I was only in the way.
Crestfallen, I used the wall and one crutch to haul myself back to my feet and limped back to take a closer look at hopscotch board. It was small and crude, scratched into the floor by the side of the bed. I wondered how the child had managed to draw it. Had their client left the room? Forgotten to re-attach the chains? What had the child used? Fingernails? A link of chain? A splinter of wood or a shard of stone?
When word of Far’s murders leaked out, would it finally stop the child sex trade? I hoped so. I wondered if it would be worth breaking my orders just to get those rumors started. Whether I was brave enough to face the consequences of being caught.
I stepped back into the hallway and opened doors until I found the whoremaster’s office. I gratefully dropped into his chair and began going through his desk drawers, pulling out slim, well-printed volumes of child pornography and a folder of business ledgers. I opened the pornographic books and checked the publisher’s mark, then set them aside to focus on the ledgers. The entries had been written in a simple letter-replacement code, and it didn’t take me too long to break it.
My companions passed back and forth in the hall as I worked, carrying out their own investigation. At one point Lorencz came in, peered over my shoulder, and said something. I nodded absently, scribbling as I decoded. I’m not sure how much time passed before I yawned and lost my concentration. I stretched and wiped my pen on the cuff of my coat, looking around. The brothel was silent.
“Hello?” I called, reaching for my crutches. There was no answer. My gut twisted. “Hello?”
I tried to stand, then fell back into the chair as the muscles in my legs and thighs cramped. I rubbed them, thinking unhappily of the long walk back to Southgate and my new apartment. A lump rose in my throat.
“Captain?” I asked, plaintively. “Is anyone here?”