Bard city blues, p.16
Bard City Blues, page 16
I left Freda to sleep it off and crossed the barroom to my corner, where Tails sat in the shadows with his head on his knees.
“You can come on out,” I said. “It’s safe now.”
He looked up. “I thought I was lost for sure. Thank you.”
“Thank Xolgoth.” I reached out a hand and helped him to his feet. “Though I’m not sure he’ll be able to do the dishes anytime soon.”
He stared at me. “The whole thing?”
“Most of it.”
“Incredible!”
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah, not a scratch.” Tails looked down at his body as if he couldn’t quite believe it. His chest was a little dirty between the flaps of his vest, but he looked otherwise untouched. “Serves me right for staying late to help out, I guess. I’ve been a little short of coin since Fhraff left, you know? Plus I’d hate to lose my favorite ever tavern. So I asked Freda if I could do a few odd jobs around here, sort of work off my debt and as a show of good will, like, and she said I could help clean up after she closed. So there I am, broom in hand, when up that thing comes from under the floor and starts smashing up the place.”
“It came from under the floor?” I shook my head. I had some bad news for him, and there was no sense in delaying. “Never mind. Tails, I need to tell you something. After all this…” I gestured at the kitchen, where the earth elemental lay in a decomposing heap. “I think it’s fairly obvious you’re innocent of whatever happened to Freda’s treasure map. But before we showed up, Alix and I were chasing Fhraff. We tracked him to a dance club and he ran the moment he saw us. He’s involved somehow, and that means… The night the painting burned, he must have picked that fight with you as a distraction. I’m sorry, Tails. He used you.”
Tails opened his mouth, but for once he didn’t seem to have anything to say.
“I know it hurts,” I said. “But your name is cleared. And don’t forget, you have plenty of people who care about you.”
He gave me a look that broke my heart. “But he was my friend.”
Just then Alix appeared at my shoulder with a glass of something brown and pungent in her hand. “There we are, Gally girl, medicine for shaky nerves. Drink this all in one go, no heel taps. In fact, it’s best you don’t stop to taste it.”
I was still too shaken up to argue, so I did as ordered and gulped the drink down. It burned unpleasantly in my throat, but a moment later, glowed comfortably in my belly. I shut my eyes and let the warmth spread. Before long I didn’t feel quite as shaky.
“Thanks,” I said.
Alix winked. “Any time.”
Tails, about whom I had momentarily forgotten, made a choking sound as though he was trying to cough up an egg. I looked over and saw he was staring at his boots, fighting back tears.
“What got under his saddle?” asked Alix.
“I told him about Fhraff.”
“That tall bugger!” Alix threw her head back. “Nearly had him, too. Well, you were right to divert us, Gally girl. Still, it rankles.”
“Which tall bugger?” said a gruff voice. “This one?”
Alix, Tails, and I turned as one. From the shadows of the stairwell came a squat shape escorting a large one, who barely ducked in time to avoid smacking his head as he was trundled unceremoniously beneath the portcullis. I nearly removed my glasses to clean them, but the sight was real: Thromli, leading Fhraff by a rope as thick as my arm. Somehow he had lassoed the big orc, pinning his arms to his sides.
“That one,” said Alix. Fhraff scowled at her, but said nothing.
“How?” I asked.
“I was sittin’ by the window and spied this ruffian leggin’ it down the alley,” Thromli said. He was wearing pajamas striped in his usual purple. “’Twas but the work of a moment to dash down and put the pinch on him. Good thing I was up late with my knittin’.” He glanced around at the wrecked chairs and tables. “Though I hardly expected the Gate to be in such a bad way. Where’s wee Freda?”
“Sleeping it off behind the bar,” Alix said. “She’ll come round soon, I expect.”
“Just like her to miss all the fun. Anyone hurt?”
“Tails, was anyone else here?” I asked. He shook his head. “Just the furniture, then.”
“Can I talk?” said Fhraff.
I intended to advise him that anything he said could be used as evidence once we hauled him to the city watch. But I was still looking at Tails, and the moment Fhraff spoke, the little thief’s head came up with such an expression of hope that I couldn’t bring myself to break his heart again.
“Go ahead,” I told Fhraff.
“I just want to apologize,” he said. His voice was low and gruff. “Not to you lot. To Tails. If I knew he was here I wouldn’t have let the mudball out. Sorry, kid.”
“You mean it?” said Tails, eyes gleaming.
“Sure.” Fhraff shuffled forward, trailing Thromli, and awkwardly lifted a hand. “We square?”
“Square?” Tails stared.
“Tails, you don’t have to accept his apology,” I said.
“Have you got a rope for a spine?” said Alix. “You got used.”
Tails gripped Fhraff’s hand, which dwarfed his, and they shook clumsily. “Yeah, you bet!” the little thief said. “Apology accepted.”
Alix sighed. Our eyes met and I gave her a shrug. I knew what she was thinking, because I was thinking it, too. Poor Tails.
Then another thought occurred to me. “Fhraff, you just admitted to unleashing the earth elemental on the tavern. You realize that, right?”
He shrugged within his ropes. “You’d’ve puzzled it out soon enough. You ran me down at the Underworld, didn’t you? I never told anyone about that place. So yeah, when I couldn’t shake you I figured the mulchpile’d make a nice distraction.” He scowled at Thromli, his bushy black eyebrows crinkling. “Would’ve worked, too, if not for short stuff.”
“Well, since you’re answering questions, how about this?” I pushed my glasses up. “I know you started that fight with Tails as a distraction. I know you let a water elemental out of your flask at the same time.” I paused, waiting for him to contradict me. When he didn’t, I knew I had guessed correctly. “The only piece I’m missing is what you did with the painting after you stole it.”
There was a blatant lie: I was missing far more pieces than that. But by leaving a nice big opening, I might just get Fhraff to fill it with some new facts.
“I didn’t steal anything,” he said.
Now that, I hadn’t expected.
“Sure, I picked a fight with the kid as cover, but all I had to do was uncork the flask. Don’t ask me what it was for.” Fhraff’s lip curled. “It was supposed to be easy money.”
I studied him for signs he was lying, but his face was like stone. Not everyone is as demonstrative as Tails. “Easy money from whom?” I asked. “Someone hired you?”
Fhraff gave a sullen shrug. “Dunno who. You’re so smart, you figure it out.”
“You don’t know who hired you?”
“They send me notes. No signature.”
I felt butterflies rising in my chest. “Can you show them to me?”
He snorted. “What am I, new at this? I always burn after reading. I’m no fool.”
“Jury’s still out,” said Alix. Fhraff glared at her.
“Go on, Fhraff,” I said. “Somebody hired you, anonymously, to play a role in whatever happened the night the painting was stolen.”
“Was it?” he said.
“You argued with Tails to cause a distraction and you let out the water elemental. What else do you know about your employer’s plan?”
He shrugged again. “That’s it. I did a job.”
I stared at him. There was something off about this, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. “How did you release the earth elemental if you were running from us at the time?”
Fhraff rolled his eyes, then bent over sharply as though he’d been hit by a sudden stomach pain. Alix and Thromli started for him, but stopped short when something tumbled from a pocket of his boxy jacket and landed on the flagstones with a gentle tinkle. I squinted. It was a bit of broken glass at the end of a leather thong—if I had to guess, the neck of a crushed bottle.
“City magic,” I groaned.
“Sympathetic magic,” Alix said.
Fhraff straightened up. “Bottle had a bit of the thing’s lifesoil. That lets you command him, so long as he’s close by, but if the bottle ever breaks, he wakes up mad. Magic, don’t ask me.”
“Wait—did your employer give you the bottle?” I asked.
“Nah.”
“You just happened to own an earth elemental.”
“Lots of guys own lots of things.”
I sighed and ran my hand over my hair. Parts of Fhraff’s story were awfully hard to swallow—but if he knew more, he wasn’t telling, and if he was lying, he wasn’t about to break. I looked at Thromli. “What do you think? Should we turn him over to the city watch?”
“No!” said Tails. “Please. I’m sure he didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”
“Come now, lad,” said Thromli. “Freda’s still out cold and you only escaped bein’ worm food thanks to Gally here. Have some sense.”
“But he’s my friend.”
Thromli snorted into his beard. “Tall folk never learn. Well, I tell you what. Why don’t I hang on to the bugger for a day and see if he’s got any more to say for himself? Then we can decide what to do with him. That work for you, Gally?”
“If you’re sure you can hold him,” I said. “Thank you, Thromli.”
“Come along, then, big boy.” Thromli looped the rope around his wrist and tugged Fhraff toward the stairs. To my surprise, the orc didn’t resist.
There was a clatter of glass behind the bar, and we all turned just in time to see Freda lurch to her feet, rubbing her head with an expression like she’d borrowed all her patrons’ hangovers for a day.
“…Lords Below, what’s happened? I feel like an eight-horse coach danced a tarantella on my skull.” She glared around the barroom, eyes narrowing. “What in the Lords’ names did you louts do to my tavern?”
“Fhraff released an earth elemental,” I said. “Though in the assets column, we found Fhraff.”
After the day and night I’d had, I needed desperately to sleep. Thromli had Fhraff well in hand, so I collected my guitar and slouched up the stairs and out into the night. It had stopped snowing, and the sky had lightened with the first suggestion of oncoming dawn. It would be morning by the time I reached the boardinghouse. Filbert Bilberry would be awake. The thought of answering his inevitable questions stirred a headache deep within my skull.
I took a few steps down the sidewalk and dropped my guitar. I was shivering again, all over, and despite hugging myself and tucking my hands deep into my shearling coat, I couldn’t get it to stop. The air around me looked smeary and thick. The sidewalk rolled like a ship’s deck beneath my feet.
I was considering sitting down in the snow to attempt a little vomiting when someone put a firm, gentle hand on my elbow.
“Easy, girl, I’ve got you.” It was Alix’s voice, soft and full of concern. “Steady now. You’ve had a long one.”
“Just gotta sit,” I said. My voice didn’t sound quite right. “Lemme vom’ a li’l.”
“Not sure you’ll stand up again if you do. Come along, there’s a girl, one foot and then the other. I’ve got your guitar.”
We were moving forward, or possibly sideways. I couldn’t quite tell. All I could feel was Alix’s hand on my elbow and her hot, steady presence at my side.
“Just gotta vom’,” I said. “Then I’ll skronk home. Gotta sleep. Southack tomorrow.”
“Home?”
“Student…” I couldn’t remember the word. “Hallway? Concert hallway. Filbert’s house.”
“You’re not going back to the boardinghouse,” Alix said. “You’re filthy. They’d toss you out with the chamber pots.”
“Jus’ gotta vom’. Might have worms in me.”
“You haven’t got worms in you, you’ve had a terrible long night and you’re reeling, that’s all. You just need a real night’s sleep, somewhere warm.” She sniffed. “And a bath.”
“Worm bath.” I giggled. “We gon’ smooch?”
Alix stiffened. “Not with the state you’re in, Gally girl. Another time, maybe.” Her shoulders fell. “One can’t help but feel somewhat to blame for the state of your bean. Well then. Come along, let’s away.”
I don’t remember much of the walk that followed, just a few scattered impressions: the slowly lightening sky, the incurious faces of early risers watching us pass in the street, Alix’s warm hand guiding me and keeping me upright. We passed into a part of Lackmore I didn’t recognize, a residential area a cut above the Lifted Gate’s neighborhood but not so nice as Symphony Hill. The people there gave us more concerned looks, and through my haze of exhaustion I felt vaguely out of place. These were respectable types, sturdy tradesfolk and parents with young children, not the sort who’d be staggering home past dawn, covered in dirt and mumbling about worm baths.
We reached a small yard where Alix propped me against something, a potted plant I think, and quietly unlocked the door of a little whitewashed building. She ushered me inside. I had the impression of a small room crammed with objects, in so many colors I had to squint to prevent my headache from getting worse. I wondered blearily if I was in some sort of criminal storehouse or bolthole—Alix had been the one to salvage Freda’s painting in the first place, after all—but my brain steadfastly refused to make meaning from what I was seeing.
Alix steered me toward a low, rectangular shape that resolved itself into a bed with four wooden posts and what looked like a feather-stuffed mattress. That much I could make sense of, and as I flopped down onto it, any further urge to ask questions dissipated instantly.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SUGAR MICE
I woke to a bright box of light laying itself across my face. Squinting, I sat up. I was on a single-person bed in the corner of what appeared to be a bedroom at the back of a small house. Near the foot of the bed a glass-paned door looked out on a little muddy yard. Across the room, two blue-painted wooden doors led deeper into the building.
But mostly I had the impression of things. Things everywhere. There wasn’t an empty spot anywhere in the room. Paintings and sketches seemed to cover the walls, but it was hard to be certain, because nearly all the floor space was occupied by standing racks hung with a wild array of clothing. Suits, dresses, shirts, skirts, jackets, trousers, uniforms, a shelf of jewelry, a tree of hats… I squinted against the glare of colors. My head didn’t hurt nearly so badly as the night before, but it was overwhelming nonetheless.
As my eyes adjusted to the many-hued riot, I began to discern outfits I recognized: a sky-blue cavalry officer’s uniform. Brown riding leathers. A green velvet coat.
Alix’s clothes.
One of the blue doors opened and Alix entered, wearing crisp pinstriped pajamas and balancing a little round tray on one hand. I caught a glimpse of kitchen behind her before the door swung shut. She plucked a pair of boots off a side table with her free hand and set the tray down. On it were a steaming mug of what looked like tea and a little blue-and-yellow mouse, apparently made of sugar.
Alix straightened up and set her hands on her hips, staring around the room as though she’d never seen it before. “You can dissolve the sugar mouse in the tea if you like, or eat it separate. Up to you.”
I stared at the tray. “Alix, where are we?”
“Me, I eat the mouse first. I’ve never had a tight rein when it comes to sugar.”
“Is this all your stuff?”
She kept pretending to examine her clothes. “I do like a mug of tea, though, when I’m up before noon. On the droving road we only ever had burnt coffee. Good tea’s as much a luxury as a sugar mouse.”
“Alix, is this your house?”
She opened her mouth as though she meant to make another idle remark about my breakfast, but instead, she shook her head and gave a chuckle like a horse’s snort. “Snaffled.”
“I don’t know what that means,” I said, picking up the sugar mouse.
“Means you’re right.”
“I thought you lived on the road. Isn’t that what post riders do? Stay at coaching inns and all that?” I took a bite of the mouse. It was delicious and incredibly sweet.
Alix waved a hand vaguely. “Would one call this a house, though? More of a glorified closet, I’d say. I’m most often on the road, mark you. One needs somewhere to stow one’s kit, that’s all.”
“Oh,” I said around a mouthful of mouse.
“Now then,” Alix said. “Those sheets you’re sitting on are more dirt than cotton, and I do believe you’ve deposited a worm. What say you hop up and let me strip the bed while you have a look in the bathroom?”
I did as requested, taking the mug of tea with me as I wove my way between clothing racks to the second blue door. It opened at my push, revealing a small but tidy white-tiled bathroom with a deep copper tub in the middle of the floor. To my astonishment, the tub was already full of water from which steam rose in lazy ribbons. I peered in and saw a small ribbon of flame burning merrily under eight inches of water, lacking any apparent source or fuel.
“Alix, is this—”
“A fire elemental?” she called from the other room. “A little one, but it sure comes in useful. Basheel rustled it up for me. It pays to have a magic guy, Gally girl. Go ahead and get in, don’t fret about making a mess.”
I hesitated, then shut the door and peeled off my sweater. It was caked with dirt, which showered to the floor in a ring around me. I was glad Alix had said not to worry, since otherwise I would have been looking for a dustpan. I didn’t see a hamper, so I folded my sweater and set it on the floor. I did the same with my shirt, trousers, and underthings, and was rounding the bath to climb in from the side when my eye landed on something new.
