Making Peace Page 4

  Sen fell quiet, dropping his hands. Shield and Ugly turned to face the Captain.

  Captain appraised the group over the rim of his mug, taking his time. He pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket to wipe his bushy beard. “We’ve had quite a few incidents over the last week.”

  The Keepers murmured their assent.

  “I can’t help but notice they’ve all been committed against the Second House.” Captain swirled his mug, glancing into it. Then he lifted his eyes to us and swept the room.

  More agreement.

  “The mercenaries you captured earlier didn’t know anything about who hired them, or why they were ordered to kill those Second House guards in that alleyway where you found them. Their leader was one of those you killed.” He nodded at Ugly, who just looked back without comment.

  “I’m thinking what we need to do is figure out if this is an odd set of coincidences,” Captain paused while his soldiers scoffed out loud, “or if we’ve got a genuine House war in the brewing. If so, we need to figure out where it’s coming from and put an end to it. Fast.”

  “We need information,” Ugly said. “I say we keep track of the Second House members in the city and see who’s paying attention to them.”

  “My very own thought.” Captain raised his mug toward Ugly. “What we need is eyes around town. Shield, take Vapor and Sen and patrol the upper market. No interaction; just observation. Second House sends their slaves there to buy goods. See if you can catch any gossip. Vapor, if there’s no action after one circuit, come join us at the First House. Ugly, Tavel, you’re with me.” He headed for the door but stopped at my table. “Writer, you’re with us.” He left. I hurriedly finished off my drink and followed.

  “If you’ll wait here, I shall fetch my master.” The servant, an older man with graying hair and dressed in simple red robes, turned on his heel and left.

  Captain had surprised me by taking us to the First House so early in my work with them. He didn’t say why, and cell faith in their leader was such that no one questioned his judgment.

  Luckily, I wasn’t a cell member. “Is there something happening here?” I whispered at Captain, mindful of the echo in the marble entry room. He didn’t turn to look at me, but crooked one eyebrow in my direction. “Something you think has to do with the case?” The eyebrow wiggled at me. I took this as a yes.

  Ugly and Tavel flanked Captain. Ugly stood, stoic as always, looking at nothing in particular in the lavish room; just taking stock of exits. Tavel was gaping at the wealth on display. From his rough fabric shirt and the wooden medallion of the Valkyrie Saint hanging from his neck, I surmised this level of wealth was outside his experience.

  Crisp boot steps preceded their master, a distinguished looking man in immaculately tailored clothes. His face was carved in pure angles and held an imperious air. He stopped five feet from Captain, his heels clicking together on the polished stone. Despite walking at only a brisk pace, his cheeks were flushed and his nostrils flared. His fists clenched at his side for a heartbeat before he clasped them behind his back.

  “At last, you’ve arrived.”

  Captain inclined his head briefly, then got straight to the point. “We were summoned by the Hegemon. Your father’s message reported a problem and indicated we were needed to help resolve it.”

  “This way.” The man, whom I now realized was the heir to the leader of the city, turned on his heel and marched away into the house. We followed, as was expected. Tavel gaped even more as we swept through room upon room of wealth. We were led up two separate staircases to the third floor. The Hegemon’s son stopped outside of a closed door, his face tight. He took up a spot beside the door, his stance wide, his hands clasped behind his back. He did not look at us. “Inside here.”

  Captain nodded and went in, turning the door handle slowly and opening the heavy wooden door as one might open the door to a sacred shrine. We followed.

  I was totally unprepared for the scene inside. It had been a combination bedroom and sitting area filled with sofas and tables. The walls were covered in shelves laden with books and trinkets. Now, the room was a crime scene. Blood was splashed everywhere across lush white carpets. Lying in a massive puddle of blood on a table in the center of the sitting area was a young woman.

  Tavel gagged. I almost did, but managed to whip out a handkerchief and cover most of my face. Including, I’m not ashamed to say, my eyes.

  I heard Captain say, “Get to work. Tavel, puke outside if you have to.”

  A young voice. “No, Captain. I can do it.”

  I lowered my blinder. Ugly was scouring the outside walls of the room, checking the doors and windows. Captain was squatting next to the woman’s face, his eyes sharp. She had beautiful features, still plump with youth. Long blonde hair trailed down into the blood under the table. Tavel stood next to the door and stared at the young woman, his shoulders shaking, his eyes wide.

  “Who the hell would do this, Captain?”

  “That’s what I aim to find out, Tavel. Why don’t you help us do that by figuring out what she was doing right before this happened?” I heard Tavel swallow hard, but he moved to the desk to obey.

  I approached Captain, careful not to step on blood, and stood by his shoulder. “Who is this?”

  “Hegemon’s granddaughter, Elina. Seventeen. Just married. Gossip around town said she was already with child. Hegemon was damned proud of the union.” He gestured to her abdomen, where most of the blood had come from. I could see her long green dress had been slit open from crotch to sternum. Underneath, the flesh had been parted roughly, leaving the cavity to sag open in a long line.

  Captain looked her over, eyes scanning. “Breasts aren’t exposed. This wasn’t a rape. Clothes are still on, as well. Wound starts at sternum and ends at pubic mons. Jewelry still in place. Nothing missing a young woman of her station would be expected to be wearing inside her own home.” His eyes returned to the wound. “One cut, but the killer had to tug multiple times, here” he pointed to one particularly jagged edge of flesh, “and here. On a woman this small with poor muscle definition, that means either a weak arm or a dull knife. But this edge is clean, so the knife was sharp.”

  He turned his head to look at her face. “Eyes closed.” He lifted the head slightly as it hung over the side of the table, looked at the underside, then reverently laid it back down. “Massive blow to the back of the skull. Downward strike. Either the killer was extraordinarily tall, or the victim was seated with her back turned. The blow was hard enough to kill eventually, but she was probably still alive during the surgery.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Surgery?”

  Captain nodded. “Removal of a fetus. Not a viable one; not this early. The display of the body was only half the reason for the table. The body needed to be propped up to get inside with accuracy.”

  A cry came from the vicinity of the bed. Tavel fell onto his rear and scooted away, pointing under the bed. He got up and ran out, his boots trampling the blood. Captain and I went to the bed to check what he had found. As Captain reached under to draw out a bundle of towels, I heard Tavel retching in the hallway. I didn’t hear the Hegemon’s son say a word. I also didn’t doubt he was still standing guard over the room.

  Captain turned his back to me, blocking the bundle. I saw him fold back the cloth, then go still for a few moments. He covered the bundle back up, lifted it in his arms, and set it on the bed. We returned to the body. I tried not to even glance at the bed.

  Ugly came over. “No sign of forced entry to any of the doors. Windows are locked from the inside.” He looked down at the floor, then bent down at the edge of the table. “Blood isn’t dripping anymore, and it’s tacky. Probably been at least a few hours, but not more than four.”

  “The killer was able to walk right in and out. Which means they were stealthy as a ghost, expected in the house, or somehow unnoticed,” Captain said. “They got in, knocked her out; not gently. Cut out the fetus, wrapped it up and placed it under
the bed. Then walked out. Covered in blood?” He began looking around.

  It took us a few seconds to find a bowl of bloody water and some bloody rags. “So,” Ugly said,” he expected to be seen on the way out.”

  Captain shook his head. “A man wouldn’t bundle the fetus. And why hide it under the bed?” He turned back to the body. “The way those clothes were cut, her breasts should be exposed. But they’re not. Which means…”

  “Which means,” Ugly finished, catching on, “the killer covered them back up. Sure the family didn’t do the covering when they found her?”

  Captain ran a hand down his beard. “I’ve already asked that, explained why it was important, I even triple checked on it. No one touched this scene. We’ll need to ask if anyone was expected, and for a full accounting of everyone in the house during the day.”

  I spotted something out of the corner of my eye. Careful not to step in blood or look at the corpse, I went back to the table. A book was poking out from under the seat nearest the table. I glanced at the cover and saw the title, The Mech Pilot’s Widow. I held the book up for Captain to see and he looked at me expectantly, eyebrows raised.

  “I follow the publishing schedules and preorders,” I said. “This book was scheduled to come out today. In fact, my copy is probably waiting for me back on Garden.”

  Ugly shrugged. “She was reading, makes sense why she didn’t notice her assailant.”

  I shook my head and turned the book so they could see a red silk ribbon poking out of the top. “There’s a bookmark in it. She wasn’t reading.”

  Captain nodded his understanding. “She closed it and was sitting with it in her lap, or on the table. So maybe her assailant was someone she’d close a book to converse with.”

  Ugly scowled. “Or maybe it means nothing. Maybe it was just cluttering up the table and the killer knocked it off to make room.”

  Despite Ugly’s argument, Captain looked at me and made a thoughtful sound, stroking his mustache.

  Tavel staggered back in, his face gray. Captain went to walk past him and clapped Tavel on the shoulder. Tavel grabbed a handful of Captain’s jacket, stopping him.

  “We’re gonna catch the bastard who did this, Captain. Right?”

  Captain looked hard at Tavel until the young man turned his eyes up to meet Captain’s gaze. The old man patted Tavel again, then moved past him and out into the hall. I followed, Ugly coming out behind me. Tavel was the last to leave the room.

  CHAPTER 6

  VAPOR MET US out in the hall. I thought we’d head for the front door, but Captain Dancer surprised me by stopping and pointing at Ugly, Vapor, and myself. “You three, with me. Tavel, head back and let Shield know what we’ve learned. We’ll join you when we’re done here.” Tavel nodded and left through the front door.

  A pretty, blonde servant girl steered the rest of us toward one of the staircases, the largest in the house. It swept upwards around us as we climbed from the second floor, continued to the third, and ended at the fourth. A person could look out from each landing and see the rest of the house down below, which gave an open feeling to the entire place. As we ascended the stairs, I looked out at each level and saw dark wood floors and paneling, even carved wooden ceilings. The house dripped with wealth, evidenced by the golden inlays set into every surface. Tables and display cases held vases and trinkets; I guessed the price of each would keep me in comfortable living for at least a couple of years. Heavily armed guards flanked the landing at the fourth floor where we stopped, and I did not see any other staircases that reached this level.

  Captain asked the blonde servant girl if anyone new or unexpected was present in the house on the day of the murder or if anyone was missing. She seemed to be expecting this question because she immediately replied that her master, the Hegemon’s son, had told her to inform us nothing was at all unusual on the roster for the day, and no guests had been expected. Captain asked again if anyone had disturbed the crime scene, and he received another stern denial. With that, she parted from us, leaving us in the care of the guards.

  One of the guards led us down a separate hallway toward the back of the building, through a narrow doorway which led to a room, and into a second room which held yet another upward staircase. These steps were made of the finest wood, polished to reflection. Guards flanked the bottom step, but our guard made a quick hand gesture, and they allowed us through. We climbed two flights of stairs all in one long line, putting me in mind of temple steps.

  At last we arrived at the top of the smaller staircase on the sixth floor onto a wide landing made of the same polished wood. The walls had hemmed us in on the last two flights, but this landing opened up again to display various sections of the house below us, landings and indoor gardens and walkways. The platform led to a massive set of carved wooden double doors at the far end. More guards flanked these doors, two of the largest men I had ever seen, dressed in plate armor covered with the green and gold of the First House. Each man held an enormous glaive at rest with a massive battle-axe strapped to his back. I was struck by the heavy fortification of the First House. Of course, the Hegemon would need this level of protection. Every other House was his enemy. He ruled by force over a city which hated him. What must a man who lived with that reality day in and day out be like?

  Biceps bulging hideously, the enormous guards strained to open the doors as quickly as they could manage. The three of us followed Captain inside, Ugly and Vapor behind and to his sides with me bringing up the rear.

  The throne room was even more magnificent than anything else the First House had yet shown us. The floors were made of pure ripplewood, that expensive material only able to be harvested on this planet. As we walked across the floors, the wood reacted to the pressure of our feet and sent cascading ripples of color sailing outward, dissipating as it drifted through every color of the rainbow. Thick polished wood pillars lined the hall, enormous things that looked like entire trees growing up through the floor and into the roof, each pillar ringed with massive bands of hammered gold. The enormous ceiling was decorated with rose stone tiles inset with pearlescent shards. Light globes of varying colors danced above our heads, lighting the entire room as if noontime were full upon us. To our left, the wall opened onto an enormous balcony made of the same polished wood. The view seemed to encompass the whole of Tiers, looking down on the falls and the tiers below. Our footsteps echoed tremendously against the unadorned walls, making me self-conscious of each step as we approached the figure on the massive throne. The metal scales on Vapor’s prosthetic leg rang out, usually a barely noticeable chiming sound but now making a tinkling cascade of cymbals with every other step.

  The throne itself was entirely carved from smooth dark granite: a simple design with a back at least four feet wide and eight feet high, set with random spiral patterns of glittering jewels in every color. The throne rested on a lighter-hued granite dais fronted by three long steps, each wide enough for another chair to rest upon. There was more raw wealth on display in this one room than in any single home back on Garden.

  Guards stood the length of the hall, but kept back against the walls so as to be mostly hidden by the pillars. Two more of the enormous guards stood flanking the throne, dressed in plate armor covered over entirely with hammered gold. The weight of all that metal must have been crushing, but they gave no indication. They did not let their glaives rest, but held them in clear warning to any who might approach the throne with anything but absolute deference.

  A man stood behind these guards, on the first step of the dais and off to our right so as not to insult the Hegemon by blocking his view or presuming to speak for him through positioning. By his location and his strange layered robes, green and gold fabrics expensive enough to befit a high-ranking a member of the House, I guessed him to be some sort of advisor. His long brown hair matched the wood of the room, and the most startling lime green eyes pierced through me with such sharpness that I had to look away.

  The Hegemon awaited
us, seated on his throne. He looked smaller and less impressive, but somehow far more unsettling, than I had expected. He sat slumped in his throne, both hands gripping the ends of the stone armrests, his head inclined toward us. The dancing lights above us lit the entire room, but very little light touched his eyes. Certainly they gave nothing back, no warmth or flickering reflection. A golden crown, all sharp points, rested upon his sloped brow. Its pointy angles matched every bony protrusion of his face, as if all his softness had been eaten away and left only what could not be digested. His clothes, decadent finery, seemed to suit him not at all, as if they had been ripped from the corpse of a man in love with displaying wealth and finery. With his dead, predatory eyes, the Hegemon did not seem a man to be in love with anything.

  Captain stopped twenty paces from the throne, and all of us came to a halt behind him. We stood in silence, waiting to be acknowledged. The silence dragged on, broken only by a clicking sound. I realized it was coming from the Hegemon’s left hand, his fingernail tapping slowly against one granite arm. Several seconds passed; then a minute; then two. Still he said nothing, and I could feel myself sweating under that lightless gaze.

  I looked back to the advisor, hoping for some sign of how to begin, but I was surprised to find him studying Vapor. To her credit, she looked back into those sharp eyes without flinching. My eyes flicked back and forth between them, watching the subtle shift of his stance, her brows drawing together, the corner of his lip lifting into the barest hint of a sneer. Their posturing put me in mind of two cats meeting unexpectedly in an alleyway, and I would not have been surprised if they’d started arching their backs and hissing at one another. The hair stood up on the back of my own neck, and I reached to smooth it down, but static electricity exploded the moment my fingers touched my tunic collar. The shock felt like it seared my fingertips. My gasp must have scared Vapor because she jumped. The moment was finally broken. Vapor looked away, and I saw the advisor’s eyes twinkle with triumph. Clearly some contest had been lost, but what had it been about?