The darkest glass, p.5
The Darkest Glass, page 5
“All right, I’m in.”
“There he is!” Ezra cheered, mock punching Tobias’s shoulder.
“And if I get bloody hacked to bits because Smithy thinks the moon is too bright, my spirit will hunt you down in the Infernal Plains.”
“Deal,” Ezra said with a wink.
The pair moved with light footwork down the balcony to a second-floor window, jumping across to the first floor door canopy and down again until they were in the tangled, overgrown remains of the once brilliant mansion gardens. Overhead, purplish-blue bled through the rose gold of sunset as nightfall grasped the sky.
Once outside the gardens, they slipped into the crowd of passersby, taking care to keep beside carriages that blocked them from the view of the Seadevils posted at the bridge. After a couple blocks, they slipped down a narrow alley sandwiched between a pub reeking of boiled meat and cigar smoke, and a closed cartography shop. A single gas lamp illuminated the shop’s side door.
“You sure about this?” Tobias whispered.
“Trust me, it’ll be fine” Ezra replied. “Smithy’s our best way past the spotters. Just play nice and we’ll be to the Rim in no time.”
“Easy for you to—” Tobias was cut off by the groan of a swinging door on old hinges. A boy no more than nine or ten stood in the doorway with dark curly hair and a scowl.
“Smithy in?” Ezra asked.
“Who’re you?”
“Tell him Ezra Molyns and Tobias Flemming are here.”
The boy slammed the door in Ezra’s face.
“Oi!” Ezra pounded on the door. “The little twat just left!”
“Pft, has the right idea …” Tobias grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets.
Several minutes later, the boy reappeared in the doorway. “Smithy’ll see you. Head straight back.”
Ezra glared at the boy as he walked past, but the boy ignored him. The backroom of Smithy’s shop was crammed floor to ceiling with half opened crates the world over, bundles of maps, untranslated atlases, and reams of blank scrolls. Partially filled inkwells were strewn across every table, and the stale reek of ink, kell smoke, and paper permeated the stale air.
The boy brushed past them and sat down at a small desk. He dipped his quill in a blue glass inkwell and resumed his task in silence. On the other side of the room, a dwarven boulder of a man looked up from a map of the Avalon Isles sprawled halfway down his desk.
“Aye, whatta surprise we have here!” He removed his magnifier glasses and slid off his stool with an audible thud. “What’re you lads doin’ around at a time like this? Shop’s closed Imma afraid.”
Ezra gave a short wave. “Just comin’ round to say hello.” He elbowed Tobias. “Ain’t that right, Tobias?”
“Mhmm.”
Ezra nodded towards the boy at the desk. “Got yourself some new help, Smithy? A real delight.”
“Aye, Bram’s been here nearly a month now.” Tobias noticed the boy stiffen under Smithy’s gaze but said nothing. “Good with the quill and quick on the trace, that one. Me hands be givin’ me a terrible time lately. Bloody rain only makes it worse.” He pulled out a flask from his vest pocket and took a swig.
“Got some runts of me own runnin’ around this blasted rathole of a city but, eh, not worth shakin’ trees for honey. Bram here came from Chapman House, just like you lads.”
Tobias’s stomach clenched at the mention of their old orphanage. Home of misery and free labor.
“Right, cheers. Anyway,” Ezra said, edging away from the topic. “We wanted to head through the tunnels. Got some business in the Rim tonight.”
“Oh?” A single bushy grey brow arched upwards. Smithy took another swig from his flask and let out a loud belch. He nodded towards Tobias. “One of Marcellus’s boys is like one of me own. How’s the ol’ bastard doin’ these days?”
“Good, good,” Ezra interjected. “Keeping busy. Says we may be ready soon to get bigger marks.”
Tobias cleared his throat. “Sorry Smithy, but we really gotta run. Best leave before—”
Smithy slammed his fist onto his desk. The noise ripped through the shop with a brute viciousness. Tobias and Ezra both flinched. Even Bram paused in his work, electing to remain perfectly still. Smithy’s bloodshot gaze held Tobias’s for several seconds. Tobias never once looked away, whether out of fear or defiance he wasn’t sure, but a cold sweat pooled on the back of his neck as the taut silence held his throat.
Then, as if a candle was blown out behind his eyes, all anger dissipated from Smithy’s face and he belted out a hearty laugh.
“Right then, go on, get at it! But be wary … Word is a lass was snatched straight off the street the other night. And not by no person. A beast they say.” Smithy flashed a checkered smile. “Keep your wits about you, lads. Oh, and tell Kempsey when you see him the tiger’s stripes are blue.”
Tobias and Ezra exchanged glances. They quickly skirted around Smithy’s desk and down the narrow staircase into the cellar. Behind the single door was a hatch embedded into the floor. Ezra leaned down and lifted it, revealing a tunnel illuminated just enough to see a finger or two ahead.
“Ladies first,” Tobias grinned.
“And that’s precisely who’ll I’ll be seeing first, so thank you.”
Ezra swung his legs over the side and jumped down into the tunnel. Tobias made the short leap next. Just as he landed, Smithy appeared above them like a crooked god. His beard lay flat across his barrel of a stomach as he squatted down.
“The Rim’s on alert since the Seadevils showed up, so be quick about it.” He squinted into the dimly lit tunnel. “And if any spotters show up, this door ain’t openin’, got it? Cry and scream all you bloody want, it makes not a lick of difference to me. Saints blessings, lads.”
The tunnel door slammed shut above them.
6
Tobias
“Careful of them Green Coats. Of all the gangs, they understand addiction best. The North Rim was a stockyard before they came with flashy ideas and hollium profits. Word is if you lean close, you can still smell blood in the bricks. But lean too close and you’ll be smellin’ your own.” – Johnie Ellis, letter to Harry Thornton, undated
The tang of wet earth and snake oil permeated the dead air.
“Let’s get on with it then.” Ezra led the way. Tobias followed close behind, but his thoughts were worlds away, imagining the wanted posters that one day would show his face crudely drawn beside that of a blood thirsty beast.
“You’re fouler than usual,” Ezra said. “Everything all right?”
“Fine.”
A chuckle in the dark. “Don’t tell me that bit about the beast got your knickers soaked through.”
“What? No, ‘course not. It’s just some pub tale anyway.”
“I dunno. There’s plenty of terrors prowling the Parlor District.”
“Aye, and they’re all drunks or peddlers. Don’t be stupid, Ez.”
“But can you imagine? A saint’s honest beast like in the stories? Probably just another hairy brute like we saw at the carny show last year. You remember that one? Bloody seven feet tall?” Ezra chuckled, but Tobias said nothing as Hilda’s voice wormed through his ears. Think those dreams are just night terrors?
He swallowed hard, willing down the nausea and panic bubbling in his stomach. What if there were others, worse off than him, hunting the streets of Lordhaven like lone wolves and killing people for food? No, he couldn’t think like that.
I’m not sick. I’m not sick. I’m not sick.
Tobias cleared his throat. “It’s probably just some drunk perv creepin’ around in the shadows.”
“Could be. Rather boring though.” Ezra stopped and pointed up. “Oi, we’re here.”
A crude, makeshift sign read “DUNLY STRIT” on the left side of the tunnel. Beside it, a short ladder with dented side rails and missing treads was affixed to the wall. Ezra climbed up first and slowly opened the door above him. A faint yellowish glow cut across his eyes and nose. He motioned for Tobias to follow.
When Ezra was halfway out of the hole, a door swung open. A bald man clad in a tailored green vest and black trousers walked in and leveled a pistol at Ezra’s head. Tobias froze, catching a momentary glint from the metal surface.
“What is the color of a tiger’s stripes?” the man asked.
“B-Bla—”
“BLUE!” Tobias shouted from the hole.
The man peered around Ezra and locked eyes with Tobias, as if just noticing he was there. The pistol remained trained on Ezra.
“The tiger’s stripes are blue,” Tobias stammered.
Kempsey stored his pistol and stepped aside. “Welcome to the Rim, lads.”
The boys hurried past him and found themselves in a long hallway. The thick parlay of voices and rattle of throwing dice filled the hall.
“I recommend you two make yourselves scarce. The Hound’s Club is no place for children.”
“Will you be ‘round?” asked Ezra, a hint of shakiness still lingering in his voice. “So we can come back through the tunnel?”
Kempsey shot him a steely glare. Tobias grabbed Ezra’s arm.
“Come on, let’s go,” Tobias urged beneath his breath.
They hugged the back walls of the Hound’s Club until they spotted a side door for the kitchens. Leaving the tipsy patrons and betting theatres behind, they weaved past the confused waiters and sweaty line cooks and scampered out the exit door.
Once they were outside, Tobias sucked in a lungful of air.
“I’m never listening to you again.”
Ezra’s nerves boiled over into infectious laughter. “Bloody hell, you were brilliant, Toby! Saints, I’ve had some run ins before but that was …” He laughed again and shook his head in disbelief. “Tavia’s gonna piss herself when I tell her. She’ll be so jealous she missed out.”
“Twenty sterling you lose a finger.”
Ezra mulled it over. “Aye, probably should give her another day. Maybe two. You think two?”
“Over there.” Tobias nodded towards Crown Street, the main vein that snaked through the heart of the North Rim. “The Golden Queen has two Seadevils out front. The Pearl’s got two, no, one spotter at the corner.” He shifted his gaze to Peddler’s Bridge. “All clear on the south end. But getting to Burrows might be a problem.”
“Not if we grab a winner,” Ezra said with a smirk.
“And you know who usually made that easier?”
Ezra rolled his eyes.
“Let’s hope the drink is strong tonight.”
The sharp smell of sweat, kell smoke, and perfume clung to the Rim like shadows. Cabbies with doorless, open carriages ferrying drunks and poor Burrows students ambled alongside curtained, lacquered carriages seen most often in the posh Garden District. Sidewalks teemed with young highborns, rosy cheeked from too much liquor, and red-lipped sallies slung on their arms, corsets sinched and lace fans fighting desperately to preserve well drawn makeup against the muggy night. Snake oil lamps lined the streets like stars, lending the Rim a golden, dreamy quality. It was easy to lose oneself in the sea of kitten houses and coin parlors. The promise of easy sterling and even easier pleasures was irresistible.
It was a dream inevitably dulled for Tobias after hunting marks night after night. Coin parlors let only the best paying patrons win, sallies only flocked to those who were as handsome as their family carriages, and pubs saved the strong ale for the first glass and watered down the rest. And yet a small part of him still wanted to believe in the Rim’s illusion of pomp and ease.
Suddenly, a short man in his late twenties stepped out of pub and nearly collided with Tobias. He stumbled back and eyed Tobias over.
“Do I know you?” he stammered.
“Oi, it’s me, from the other night,” Tobias replied with practiced ease. Ezra quietly separated from the pair and disappeared down a nearby alleyway. As he rounded the corner, he pulled out a billystick hidden in his waistband.
“From the other night?” The man rubbed his prickly chin and mulled through his booze-soaked memories. “You look pretty young though.”
Tobias slung his arm over the man. “You know, William? William Daugherty? Listen, don’t trouble yourself. You played a round of Cradle with my brother’s mates. Come join us at the flat. It’s just a row over.”
“Ah, with the mates …” The man bubbled with laughter. “Yes, we played Cradle …”
When Tobias and his companion were nearly upon the alleyway Ezra was hiding in, a woman’s hand shot out from the crowd and grabbed the man’s arm. “Ellis, wait, you’re not really leaving, are you?”
Tobias came face to face with a petite ebony doll of a woman in a dark red corset and layered skirts. Her locs were woven into a onyx black crown dotted with pearls.
Her dark eyes locked with Tobias’s. “And just where were you running off to with my Ellis?”
Ellis looked between the woman and Tobias.
“You know him, Marjory?”
“No better than you do.” Marjory folded her arms. “Now get back to the table, Ellis. You promised to take me by the Emperium after this, remember? Their shadow theatre simply can’t be missed.”
“Ah, yes, yes.” Ellis slipped from Tobia’s grasp and held out his arm to Marjory. She led him back into the coin parlor without a second glance behind her.
“Dammit.” Tobias ran his hand through his curls. He dipped into the alleyway and motioned for Ezra to follow him.
“What happened? He was right there!”
“His date happened,” Tobias grumbled. “Let’s just keep looking.”
As Tobias scanned the crowd, he caught the eye of a tall, stone-faced man standing near the entrance to Haight Kitts, a boisterous pub across the way. He held Tobias’s gaze for a breath too long, his scowl deepening. Tobias broke contact first, noting the large silver hook hanging on the man’s beltloop.
“Head to Red Row,” Tobias muttered beneath his breath.
Ezra didn’t need to be told twice. They wove in between passersby, careful to keep each other in their sights, on their way deeper into the Rim. Eventually they came upon the bend at the end of Crown Street and into a quieter area free of pubs and coin parlors.
Red Row was notorious for its kitten houses, lodgings of ill—and pleasurable—repute marked by red cat statues in their windows. None was more famous than Vulpine, the oldest and most exclusive kitten house on the row. Nestled at the end of Crown Street, it was five stories of heavily curtained windows and no signage. Only a single black door marked it as the Vulpine. Tobias had heard stories of its member-only offerings, and each story was more outlandish and depraved than the last.
“Oi, over there. At Vulpine. Poor bastard can’t get in.”
A bearded man dressed in a patchwork jacket and frayed trousers was pointing and yelling at a broad shoulder gentleman in a burgundy vest. The latter stood behind a podium at the door with a bored expression on his face.
“My turn. Here, take this.” Ezra handed Tobias his billystick. “Try not to miss, eh?”
“Try not to piss everyone off.”
Ezra crossed the street as Tobias continued and abruptly turned down a darkened alleyway. He hid behind a pair of bins and waited.
“Da!” He heard Ezra exclaim. “There you are. How’d you get over here?”
The bearded man gave a startled response, but Tobias didn’t catch Ezra’s reply. A few minutes passed. Tobias’s heartbeat pulsed in his ears.
“—sorry to trouble you,” he heard Ezra say.
A soft chuckle, like summer rain. “Lost, perhaps?” A woman’s voice. “This is a proper establishment.”
“Yes, I did see the cat statue in your window …”
“Get him home.” A deep voice. The burly guard.
Footsteps coming up the way.
“It’ll be grand. Lots of sallies. Hollium, too. Pipes of it.”
“Down the honey road …” the bearded man sung off pitch. “Down the honey road, sweetest you’ll ever know …”
“Aye, right down here,” Ezra said.
Tobias watched the pair walk past him. A second later, he sprung up from his hiding spot and lobbed the back of the man’s head with the billystick. The man stumbled as if surprised, then collapsed on the ground.
Tobias and Ezra each took a pocket.
“Aces, got our carriage money!” Tobias held up a coin purse, beaming. Ezra looked grim. He held up a residency card.
“I think we got a slummer.”
Tobia’s face fell. “What?” He reached for the card and turned it askance to catch the lamplight from the street.
It was a residency card for one George Cranton, age 32, married, and a certified resident of Stanton Trough, Lordhaven, Halcyon.
“Bloody hell, he’s from Stanton Trough. That’s in the Garden District. He’s a damn highborn.”
Ezra frowned. “He looks like a grifter from a rough night at Higdin’s. Fooled me.”
“That’s the point.” Tobias shoved the residency card into his pocket. “Forget it. I’ll burn it later. Let’s just hail a carriage and get him to Burrows. The sooner the better.”
“And what happens when the City Watch come knocking on doors looking for him? Burrows will clamp up and Marcellus will have our arses.”
“They won’t have to know,” Tobias countered, throwing Cranton’s left arm over his shoulder. “We keep the residency card and Burrows keeps the body. By the time he’s reported missing, he’ll be bits in the Dorne anyway. They won’t keep him past tonight if they’re smart.”
Ezra took Cranton’s other arm and the two lifted him up.
“He’s heavier than he looks,” Ezra said through gritted teeth. They made it back onto the street and hailed down a carriage. The burly guard from Vulpine watched them but made no move to intervene. As were most guards in the Rim, he was paid well enough to keep his mouth shut to the happenings outside.
The carriage driver pulled on his horses’ reigns and stopped beside the trio. Tobias spoke up first.
“Can you help us, sir? Need to head to Burrows Medical College. My mate’s da here had a bit too much drink and dice tonight.”
