The art of legend, p.13
The Art of Legend, page 13
“What?” said Sohn.
“Taishi!” Bhasani hissed.
Fausan missed it entirely, having made friends with several of the Worst Boys at the gambling table in the other room.
“This isn’t a problem,” continued Taishi.
Beautiful Boy seemed surprised. “Well, that’s great. You’re sure about this?”
“We promote each other for fun all the time.” Taishi winked. “Tell me the name and he’ll be wearing that ugly bumblebee hat by tomorrow.”
“His name…” stammered the leader of the Worst Boys.
“I’ve seen enough.” The woman sitting at the far end of the table stood. “She suspects already. Clear the room.” She bowed formally in the martial way. Then she touched what appeared to be a hidden door, swinging it open. “This way.”
Taishi and her friends had little choice but to follow. “You must be Beautiful Boy,” she said, ducking into the next room and following the woman down a set of stairs that connected to a larger room. This area was finer, with tall ceilings, polished marble walls, and tiled floors.
Beautiful Boy answered, nodding. “It’s not a well-kept secret, but it still surprises most people.”
“Is it to glean information during negotiations?” asked Bhasani.
“More like for assassination attempts,” Beautiful Boy replied. She pointed back the way they had come in. “Bak, my man back there, is perpetually food poisoned. It’s rather amusing, if not for the fact he has the worst bowels.”
“You know,” said Bhasani, “if you wanted to sell that ruse, you should get a more beautiful boy. This one doesn’t reach expectations.”
“He was more handsome when he first took the job,” admitted Beautiful Boy. She sat in the chair at the opposite end of the table and gestured for them to sit. Taishi was thankful. The relief of getting off her feet after so much walking today sent a shiver up her spine. She fell into a small fit of coughs, wiping the blood off her lips with her sleeve. This was not a place to show weakness.
Beautiful Boy studied Taishi first and then leaned forward. “You have a very shallow record, Dowager Nun Nai Roha, almost as if you appeared out of someone’s imagination one day. Nothing in the temple records, and stranger still, nothing in the Black Orchid rosters.”
“I’m from the original temple,” said Taishi. “You didn’t bother checking with them, did you?”
“No, that’s not it,” said Beautiful Boy. She had a peasant’s face but possessed a strong jaw and determined eyes. She was an observant one. Taishi still couldn’t shake her familiar face. “Then it hit me. I don’t know you.” She pointed at Taishi, and then she pointed at Fausan. “But I’m a big fan of him!”
“Me?” Fausan, who hadn’t been paying attention, looked up. “How big of a fan?”
Bhasani slapped his shoulder. “Does it matter?”
“The God of Gamblers is revered in the Underworld. The bulk of our business is gambling and loansharking, and most of our loans are to degenerate gamblers.”
“It’s like a double-dip,” said Sohn.
“You do the Worst Boys great honor by standing in our inner sanctum.”
Taishi groused, “You keep this up and his head won’t fit through the door.”
“And you, Dowager Nai Roha.” Beautiful Boy faced Taishi. “There were reports coming from the west about the God of Gamblers sighted with the Queen of Hot Air.”
“I’m what?” said Taishi.
“You never heard yourself called that?” Bhasani looked surprised.
“Everyone calls you that,” added Sohn.
Taishi rounded on him. “Do you call me the Queen of Hot Air behind my back?”
“Uh,” the eternal bright light master stammered. “Of course not. That’s outrageous.”
“You have the look. You speak with the authority. If the God of Gamblers is here, then I must be in the presence of the Queen of Hot Air, or Grandmaster Windwhisper Ling Taishi.”
“I’m going to kill the next person who calls me that,” Taishi grumbled.
Still, smart girl. No wonder she ran the operation. “You have your big name now. How much more will it cost to smuggle us out of the city?”
The Worst Boy boss sat in her chair, wearing a fake smile while pretending to think. “Last I checked, you were the second-most-wanted fugitive in the Enlightened States. Imagine what you’re worth now.” She gestured at the door. “I could hand you in for the reward myself.”
Taishi shrugged. “You could try. Maybe you catch me alive—that reward is only good if I’m captured alive by the way—or my fellow masters and I can slaughter every one of you little plague mice and wipe your stain off the ass of the kingdom once and for all.”
Beautiful Boy arched one eye, impressed. “Now that is the Ling Taishi my father used to tell me stories about. He claimed he even knew you. I never believed him. Yes, we could try to capture you, and you could slaughter us all, but then you’ll never escape the city.”
“So name a price. How much to ferry Ling Taishi and her party out of the city?” At this point, Taishi was willing to pay any amount. It wasn’t her money, anyway. She would apologize to Mori later.
“That’s the thing.” Beautiful Boy stood and shook her finger. “I’m not going to charge you anything to smuggle you out of the city. But…”
Taishi’s eyes narrowed. “But what?”
“I’m going to need you to take someone out for me, Ling Taishi.” Beautiful Boy looked her straight in the eyes. “I want you to kill Highlord Oban.”
Chapter Thirteen
The Nursery
For the next few days, Qisami couldn’t stop seeing the signs of her run-in with those stupid pruneskins at the Lawkan corner. The clues were everywhere, and in many cases, impossible to ignore. That is, unless you were these skull-squeezed prison guards. They missed everything. It wasn’t hard to notice the nursery runners. Every Lawkan heading in and out of the mines looked suspect. The guards were finding strange contraband almost daily, anything from stockings to candles to pacifiers. Women were being dragged out of the lines on a daily basis for carrying contraband.
A guard caught a Lawkan inmate one morning carrying a large jug of breast milk to the mines. He convinced them that it was a popular drink back home, and considering the river folk’s often strange reputation, the guards bought it and let him through. There was another instance of an inmate caught stashing a bag of dolls and carved stone sailing ships, a man with five gourds of mashed vegetables, and a woman holding a stack of washed but shit-stained diapers. She told the guards that her barrack was so behind on their quotas that they decided to save time by skipping piss breaks. And the guards bought it! Inevitably, that same woman was caught at the end of the day carrying a satchel of soiled diapers, which they allowed through as well. Qisami happened to be standing in line near the main elevator when that woman had passed by. The stink had been overwhelming.
As a professional, amateurs grated on her last nerve, probably the only nerve she had left. Bad criminals gave everyone in the lunar court a bad name and made it much more difficult for the legit ones to commit crimes. And weren’t the Lawkan supposed to be expert smugglers? Then she remembered that smuggling was a lowbrow profession, while the Happy Glow Retirement Home was a prison for court and powerful inmates. Sunri would never bother throwing real smugglers into this high-class joint. She would just lop off their ankles—hands for thieves, feet for smugglers—and be done with it.
After a few dozen times, even the lazy pudding-brained guards began to notice that something was awry. Those bored ninnies began to chatter and share stories of strange incidents. It was only a matter of time before they figured things out. The whole operation was so amateur hour that the insanity bordered on entertaining, like a badly written Burning Hearts romance.
It was later that evening, after she had spent the day with Cyyk and the Goons working on an opal vein on Ten. Qisami had just stepped out of the elevator heading toward home when she encountered Boobs the nursemaid trying to get past the checkpoint. The heavyset woman carried two large burlap sacks, one slung over each shoulder. She was hunched over like an oversize turtle as she struggled to keep them from slipping.
Two guards were having fun poking at her, mocking her size and age. One snatched a sack off her back, nearly causing her to tip over. He opened it and pulled out a stack of neatly folded clothes, dumping them in the dirt. The other pretended to climb onto her hunched back and ride her like a horse before shoving her to the ground. Boobs squawked. Her frail voice broke, causing a new fit of laughter. Many of the guards in management were former court-martials from the Caobiu army, all serving life sentences, so their poor manners weren’t surprising. Sunri did not tolerate bad soldiering among her ranks, but they were far from the well-trained Cinder Legions. These guards now felt free to let loose their worst instincts, especially against those from enemy duchies.
Now, Qisami enjoyed a good tease as much as the next person, but only if they could fight back. Otherwise, it was bullying, so watching the two young guards harass big Boobs cut her the wrong way. She was just passing this childish display when her annoyance got the best of her. The truth was, Qisami wasn’t the same person anymore, ever since Allanto.
“There you are, Boobs. You were supposed to report to me an hour ago!” She squeezed herself between the two guards and kicked the woman lightly on the ankle. “Now get up before we lose the rest of the day.”
The two guards recognized Qisami. One guard stammered, “Is…is the pruneskin with you? She didn’t have the right marker to take the elevator.”
Qisami flashed her marker. “Sure is, Duckface. Supposed to bring drinks and supplies down to the Goons.”
The blood drained from their faces. Even the guards treaded lightly around the Goons. These guys might be the management, but they were all prisoners.
“She said she was taking it down to her barrack.”
“I don’t care what Boobs says,” Qisami retorted. “This stuff is for the Goons, or there’ll be hell to pay. All the dogs down there are thirsty and pissed. You don’t want to get on Hair Bear’s bad side, do you?” She jabbed a finger at him. “That was a trick question. Both his sides are bad.”
That last jibe broke just enough of the tension. Duckface waved Boobs through. “Thanks for clearing it up, Chopstick. Tell the crone to bring the right marker next time.”
“Do I look like a wristwagger to you?” Qisami shot back.
“No troubles, Chopstick,” said the other guard. Her reputation was almost as scary as the Goons’, which was a bit insulting.
Qisami latched on to Boobs and dragged the woman along in silence until they crossed the bridge and were about to head into the lift building.
“Thank—” Boobs began.
An elbow to the ribs shut her up. Qisami stepped ahead of the nursemaid and waved at Three-Chins sitting behind the cage next to the elevator. “Hi, sweets.”
“Back so soon, Chopstick?” The blind elevator attendant squinted. “You were smaller the last time I saw you. Wasn’t it just a small bit ago? My, the time has flown. It felt like you were just a little turd just yesterday. Where are you off to now?”
Qisami frowned and craned her head to see the larger nursemaid overshadowing her. “Level eight.”
Boobs interrupted, “Don’t you mean level—”
Qisami elbowed her harder, this time in the right boob. She shook her head. “Don’t mind the feeble-minded Boobs here. Eight, please, sweets.” To quicken the transaction, she dug out the cookie she had planned to snack on later and passed it through the bars.
The two women stood in silence as the cage began to rumble, clicking loudly and rattling in random intervals. Curtains of chains snaked up and down as the cage lowered, banging against each other.
Finally, Qisami, more out of boredom than anything else, spoke. “So.” She continued staring straight ahead, watching the vectors of the cage pass by. “How’s your baby incubator coming along?”
“Thank you for helping with the guards.” The woman joined her in watching their descent. “Will you accompany me to where I’m heading?”
“That was a pathetic display,” said Qisami. “You Lawkan are terrible at smuggling things. Isn’t that supposed to be your expertise? You’re all so amateur I’m offended.” She pointed up. “And with Three-Chins up there. Why would you tell someone exactly where you’re going?”
“Sorba doesn’t even remember his name half the time, let alone where you’re going.”
“Who is Sorba?”
“Exactly, child.” The nursemaid popped a smile. “As for the elevator, you’ll understand when your knees get worn down like mine.”
“That’ll never happen.”
“No one stays young forever.”
“Shadowkills don’t get old.”
“That certainly is true.” The nursemaid’s response was weighted.
The elevator stopped at eight, and Qisami slid the gate open. Boobs reached for the extinguished lantern, but Qisami slapped her hand away. She shook her head. “Let your eyes adjust.” Her voice was low and soft. The wind and echoes carried words well down here.
The two women traversed the bridge and then continued up the nearby path that curved toward the upper regions of the mine. Each elevator stop covered two to three levels, depending on the mine, so to get to six they had to walk up approximately seven flights of stairs. The old woman was huffing after the first set and had to take a break after they reached the seventh level. She plopped down on a nearby stone ledge and gasped for breath. For a few moments, it sounded almost as if she was going to keel over, which would have posed a serious problem. Her body was too large for Qisami to push over the side. Corpse removal was the weakest part of her assassination game. Fortunately, it didn’t come to that as the nursemaid recovered.
The pair was still resting when the elevator began to click. Qisami yanked the nursemaid’s sleeve and dragged her behind a raised lip along the path as the cage carried a group of miners back to the surface. The Happy Glow open pit mine had been operating for over a century. Most of the higher levels had been picked clean decades ago, so the crews had to venture deeper to mine ore. That left the upper levels abandoned but also meant that those coming from below had to pass through on their way back up.
“We need to get away from the main shaft before rush hour,” said Qisami, dragging the woman along.
Six minutes later, they reached level six and turned into one of the tertiary tunnels. Qisami was surprised. It wasn’t the area she had in mind to place these brats but she said nothing. There could be many reasons for the Lawkan to plant their nursery in any of these caves. It also occurred to her that the pruneskins had been trying to hide the babies from her as well, in the event that she betrayed them.
As they wandered through the maze of cave tunnels, it wasn’t lost on Qisami that this might be a setup. Perhaps there were thirty Lawkans waiting to stab her to bits. It would be justified, although she doubted these court-groomed limp lilies could muster such an elaborate ambush. Speaking of which…
“Hey, Boobs,” she asked. “How did you know I was a shadowkill? You said you were born in Manjing, but it wasn’t like we advertised on every corner.”
That earned a chuckle from the woman. “My sister was a training pool mother.”
That startled Qisami, mainly because it had never occurred to her that training pool mothers had family. They had always come across as sterile cold bitches. Besides, the nursemaid was so nice.
“Was she a shadowkill?” she asked.
The nursemaid nodded. “For a while. She was my mother’s brood atonement when the Consortium had put a contract on her. She became a shadowkill, but eventually realized she preferred to teach, so retired as headmother of Ba Liu Zhi Wu San Ling Yi pool.”
“A seven-tier! Your sister was big shit.” Qisami whistled, impressed. She had attended only a four-tier pool.
“A good teacher. Not a great killer,” agreed the nursemaid. “My family hail from a long line of educators.”
And nobles. Seven-tier training pools only served high-ranking lords. Which meant this woman wasn’t just some nursemaid. Who was she?
Qisami was about to scratch that curious itch when she heard the first cry. It was distant, whiny, and grating. The sound reminded her of the sniffling and sobbing of freshies at the training pool, or little Lady Akiya, whom Qisami had been a child companion for during her undercover job in Allanto. That sensitive dear could water fountain on command. Her twin sister, Akiana, was a crier too, albeit for different reasons. That little demon wanted to win so badly at everything that she broke down into uncontrollable sobs with every lost fight or argument. Now that girl was meant to be a war artist. The lunar court lost a great one when the twins had drowned in the Lake of Bountiful Abundance back in Allanto, courtesy of Chiafana, Sunri’s Minister of Critical Purpose. Qisami adored those hellions. Her hands clenched at the thought of that woman. One day, she intended to square up that balance.
The pair followed the sound of the noise. The lone cry was soon joined by a second, and then another. Their sounds bounced around the tunnel walls until it became a constant chorus of babies wailing. It was harsh and sharp enough that Qisami nearly lost her balance.
The nursemaid pulled out a long rag and tied it around her head from the top to under her chin, covering her ears. She offered one to Qisami too, who followed her example. It was somewhat effective.
Eventually they reached a small, cavernous crawl area. There were a dozen makeshift cribs crafted from various materials stacked close in the center of the room, with the area surrounded by a burlap curtain. A lantern hung directly above, offering some illumination. The cribs were also surrounded by several torches burning down to various states of use. Three of the Lawkan were here. A man had one of the babies in his arms trying to feed spoonfuls of what Qisami assumed was breast milk through a funnel. A woman was changing a baby on a stone slab off to the side. Another man was sleeping on the ground in what looked like a deeply uncomfortable position.
