The Worlds of J D L Rosell Read online

  I tried to deny the holes his words bore into me. I was curious about most mysteries I came across. But my mother’s dalliances was one I never wanted to know anything more of, much less hear mentioned casually to me by a stranger. “And who are you?” I asked, hating the way my voice trembled.

  “It’s only fair for me to tell you, isn’t it?” He paced back across the steps of the sanctuary. “Talan, you can call me. But it’s not all of my name. If you wish to know the rest, you’ll have to discover it yourselves.”

  “Well, Talan,” Nomusa said in a tight voice, “are you going to tell us your reason for revealing our life stories in the middle of the streets or not?”

  Talan smirked. “Indeed I will. Now that you are impressed by the depth of my knowledge and are convinced of my prescience, you will believe me when I tell you the location of the man you seek.”

  I gave a short laugh, but didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to reveal that it wasn’t a man we sought now, but a woman.

  The Guilder looked at me. “Ah, you must think I’ve forgotten the silver-haired woman who visited here.” He shook his head with another infuriating smile. “But it is not her I mean, but a man with more accessible information. One Eazal of Sandglass.”

  The humor drained from me, and fear began creeping up in its place. Though he offered us honey, I did not like the flavor of his extensive knowledge, and trusted him with it less.

  “What do you know of him?” Xaron demanded.

  “His location, as I said. Or are you not interested?”

  “Don’t play coy with us, Guilder.” Nomusa put her hands on her hips. “If you mean to tell us what you know, then be out with it.”

  “As you wish,” Talan said, studying his nails. “Go to an inn in Bazaar called the Weeping Hills. There, you will find your man.”

  Even though I didn’t trust this Guilder, I knew I would set off for Bazaar at once. But I wasn’t yet satisfied. “Why tell us this?” I demanded. “Why not go yourself if you’re so interested?”

  The smile was back, wider than before. “I come as a sort of benefactor. Your spiritual guide, perhaps. A pyr made flesh.”

  Xaron snorted next to me, and Talan nodded appreciatively.

  I crossed my arms. “That’s not an answer.”

  “Then perhaps you should ask a better question.” Talan gave a mocking bow, then turned and walked away. I watched until he slipped into an alley and out of sight.

  We three Finches were left to stare at each other, until Xaron threw up his hands. “What in the dark depths of the ‘Thae was that? Was he waiting the whole time we were in the sanctuary to put on that performance?”

  “He does have a flair for the dramatic,” I observed drily.

  Nomusa adjusted her hair. “I like him. He’s certainly more amusing than other Guilders we’ve met.”

  I shook my head. “Please. Take any other man to bed. Just not him.”

  She gave me an amused look. “What? Do you have eyes for him then?”

  Xaron looked between us with amazement. “Him? He had half a year’s mud on him!”

  “I think we have more important things to do,” I said loudly. “Like maybe visit that inn?” I set off in the direction of Bazaar before either of them could protest. But as little as I wished to talk about Talan, I couldn’t help but look for our enigmatic Guilder in every shadow we passed.

  Half a turn later, we entered the weather-stained door of the Weeping Hills. It wasn’t situated on the finest of Bazaar streets, but it was a clean and well-maintained establishment. Decorated in the dreary Avvadin style, its ceiling was composed of slats of nearly black wood, and red tapestries hung from its walls. The clientele was similarly Avvadin, with fezzes, turbans, and beads adorning the heads of men and women, as well as a number of beards. The plates were chipped, the utensils tarnished, and while the visitors didn’t appear to be paupers, the wear of their clothes left much to be desired. An out-of-the-way inn, perfect for a man to hide unnoticed.

  I cast a look around, but as expected, I didn’t see our apothecary in the main living area. Time for a bit of investigation, then. I glanced at Nomusa. “You ready?” I muttered.

  “When am I not?” she whispered back.

  We approached the innkeeper’s counter, where a portly man with red and silver beads hanging from his mustache sat scratching in a ledger. He glanced up at us without much interest — until, that is, Nomusa leaned over the counter. While she hadn’t worn robes any more licentious than usual, her usual left enough skin exposed to draw the eye of most men, and a number of women as well.

  “Hello there,” Nomusa said in a low voice, her eyes locked onto the innkeeper.

  The man ogled her, his eyes traveling up and down her figure almost reluctantly. “Yes?” he asked uncertainly.

  Her hand traced over the countertop, inching closer to where he sat on the other side. “I have something I need.”

  The innkeeper swallowed. “And what would that be? A room, perhaps?”

  “Aren’t you a forward one?” Nomusa arched an eyebrow at him.

  The man flushed and spluttered, “But I didn’t mean—”

  “I am teasing, of course,” Nomusa interrupted smoothly. “I am, however, here to seek the company of another man. One of your patrons, Eazal, sent a bird for me. Apparently, he is in need of some… comfort.”

  The innkeeper’s eyes wandered to myself and Xaron standing behind her. “Ah. But what are your companions here for?”

  “To safeguard my virtue,” Nomusa said in a lightly barbed tone. “If you could but tell me which room he is staying in, we’ll leave you to your… ledgers.”

  Innkeeper looked from one of us to the other, finally landing on Nomusa. “I’m afraid I cannot do that,” he said, the words seeming to cost him. “Without permission, I do not give out the location of my guests. My apologies, hanim.”

  But he had told us more than he knew. I hid a smile. The Guilder had told the truth. Our apothecary was here.

  Nomusa sighed dramatically. “Come, then,” she said to Xaron and me, and she swept across the common room. I felt the eyes of the innkeeper as well as many of his patrons upon us as we crossed the floor to the stairs. I expected the various strongmen across the room to stop us, but not one of them shifted as we ascended the stairs. Whether it was because of Nomusa’s lingering influence on the innkeeper or a lax security, I could not tell.

  Once we were on the floor above, we stared down the cramped hallway that continued in either direction, dingy doors lining the walls. Stairs led up to a third floor with assumedly even more rooms. I sighed. We were so close to Eazal, yet locating him among these rooms — and convincing him to open the door — might prove more difficult than the first step.

  “I did my part,” Nomusa said, crossing her arms. “Someone else will have to figure out how to find him.”

  Xaron screwed up his eyes in concentration for a moment before a smile spread across his face. “Wait. I know something I could try.”

  I had a feeling I knew what it would relate to. “Not in the middle of an inn,” I hissed.

  But Xaron had gotten the idea in his head now, and he wasn’t going to let go. Always eager to use his abilities no matter if they would help or not, it was a wonder he hadn’t been caught yet. “Look,” he said, kneeling in the middle of the hallway. “This is all it is.” He pressed his fingertips to the floorboards and closed his eyes. I knew he’d begun to channel.

  I sighed and nodded at the stairs. “Can you watch there?” I said to Nomusa. “I’ll watch the doors.”

  Nomusa nodded and took up her position.

  “Quiet,” Xaron hissed. “I can’t hear.”

  I crouched down next to him. “What are you doing?” I whispered.

  He cracked an eye open. “Trying to listen. And you keep interrupting me.”

  I gave him an incredulous look. “Listening? I thought you were channeling.”

  Xaron sighed. “Sound is no more than vibrations,
Airene. And vibrations use the same energy as kinesis. If I concentrate very hard, I might be able to feel the movements of the guests and know which rooms are occupied.” He jerked upright. “Or I guess I can feel that,” he muttered.

  I shared a look with Nomusa. “Feel what?”

  Xaron stood and pointed down the hall. “There. Whatever Eazal has done with pyrkin, it’s left behind a… trace.” He shrugged. “I don’t know how else to explain it. It’s like hot oil left in a pan. When I open myself up to it, it burns and makes it pretty obvious where it’s splashing from.”

  As usual, talk of the Pyrthaen awoke both curiosity and uneasiness in me. Knowing I would never fully understand what Xaron was talking about would drive me mad if I thought too long on it. “We’ll take your word for it. Quietly, now.”

  We crept down the hallway towards the door Xaron had pointed to. I winced at every creak, but nothing could be done for it. Finally, Xaron indicated we were in front of the door, and I took a deep breath and knocked.

  There was no reply for a long moment. “Yes?” a hoarse voice said from within.

  “Eazal of Sandglass,” I called through the thick wood. “We need to speak with you. If you could open up for a moment—”

  “I’m sorry,” the apothecary cut me off. “I have suffered from a long illness and need to rest. If you’ll return another time…”

  Xaron leaned into the doorway. “Eazal? This is Xaron, the son of Jihu. Do you remember her?”

  There was a long pause on the other side of the door. “Yes, I remember,” Eazal replied softly. “We haven’t spoken since her accident.”

  “It’s actually about her that we need to speak,” Xaron continued spinning out the lie. “Can you open up for us?”

  Another long pause. “Thank you for visiting, Xaron. But I must refuse. As I said, you’ve caught me at a poor time. Please, if you would leave me alone.”

  Xaron shrugged helplessly at us, but I had an idea. “That’s actually why we’re here, Eazal,” I said, pressing close to the door. “Jihu heard what happened, and she wanted us to help you.”

  I held my breath as we waited for his reply. Suddenly, I heard the bolt on the door sliding, and the door creaked open. “Come in,” came the hoarse reply. “I must trust that Jihu wouldn’t send her son to murder me.”

  With that foreboding greeting, I pressed inside. The room was dark and lit by a single pot of violet pyrkin in the far corner. By the low light, I saw the furnishings were even more modest than the common room downstairs, with a single narrow bed pressed against the wall, a table that held the pyrkin pot, and a chair by the shuttered window. In the middle of the floor on a small, shabby rug stood our apothecary. His features were shadowed, but from the way the darkness fell on him, I could tell he was gaunt. As he turned his face towards us and the light hit him, I also saw he was middle-aged, just old enough to have a child around our age.

  “Come in,” Eazal said. “I have trusted you this far. I may as well see what help it is you offer.”

  As we stepped inside and closed the door, I hoped we weren’t misplacing our trust as well.

  The door shut. We all stood in silence for a moment, examining each other, until Xaron broke it. “You look older than the last time I saw you,” he said cheerfully.

  The apothecary turned his hollowed eyes towards him, and I squirmed with discomfort. But rather than take offense, the shadow of a smile appeared on his thin lips. “Yes,” he agreed, “I do. As do you, Xaron, though I still recognize your voice.”

  Xaron gave a brief bow. “Jihu sends you her greetings. She would have come herself, but as you may know, she doesn’t leave the house much since her accident.”

  “Yes. I remember this. It’s been many years since I’ve seen or heard from her.” Eazal bowed his head.

  We lapsed into silence. I thought of how to best approach the subject at hand, but it was Eazal who spoke next. “So. You claim to have come to my aid. Yet I know of nothing you could do.”

  I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer. “We should start by you setting our facts straight. We know the basics of your predicament, but if we’re going to help, we need to know everything.”

  Xaron and Nomusa both cast me disapproving looks, while Eazal stared at me with his expression carefully composed. “Of course,” he answered slowly. “Ask your questions, and I will answer them as I can.”

  “Your partner was murdered,” I stated bluntly. “Agmon of Iris. Do you know who did it?”

  Eazal hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”

  My pulse quickened, and I only barely held my tongue, waiting. But the apothecary offered no further information.

  “Could you tell us?” Xaron probed gently.

  Another breath, then a shake of his head. “Not yet,” Eazal murmured. “But please, ask your other questions.”

  So he didn’t completely trust us yet. I couldn’t blame him, though I found I had to rein in my patience all the same. “Did you know he was going to be murdered?”

  Eazal’s eyes flickered, then he shook his head. “No. Not exactly. There were… disagreements. Hesitations. And other arrangements had been made. But I did not believe it would come to that.”

  “You must say more than that, Eazal,” Xaron chided. “You’re barely telling us anything.”

  The apothecary looked to him. “These aren’t people to cross, Xaron. I only speak as much as I believe safe for you to know. If you were to learn too much… I do not doubt they would do the same to you as they did to Agmon.” He bowed his head. “As they have done, I believe, to many other people.”

  I stared at the man. I had thought he spoke vaguely to protect himself. Now I saw him in a new light: he was trying to protect us. I thought also of who might inspire such fear. One organization came to mind, particular considering the mysterious visitor who had waited for us outside the Eidolan sanctuary. But this — widespread murder, from the sound of it — wasn’t the Underguild I knew. True, they made examples of those who broke their shadow-rules. But this was brutal coercion, not subtle enforcement. It had to be some other group I didn’t yet know of.

  “Can you tell us of these other victims?” Nomusa asked, glancing at the door. I suddenly understood why. We hadn’t been exactly discreet in our inquiries after him. And if these people had the influence to scare Eazal this much, we might be in increasing danger the longer we stayed.

  Predictably, Eazal shook his head. “I’m sorry. Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea after all.”

  “Please, Eazal,” Xaron pleaded, extending a hand towards him. “Let us help you.”

  The man shrank back from his touch, fading into the corner where his bed was tucked against. “No, Xaron. I think it is best that you leave now.”

  I felt the sands of time streaming away from us, measured in the quick beat of my heart. We didn’t have time for any more delays. “Eazal,” I said severely. “Your partner was murdered yesterday. And from what you say, more people will be killed soon. We might be able to prevent that. But if you keep what you know secret, you’ll be just as responsible for their deaths as whoever is doing this.”

  The apothecary seemed to really look at me for the first time. “Who are you people?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Finches,” Xaron replied easily with a shrug. “So will you help us or not?”

  Eazal looked at him, then Nomusa, finally resting on me. He breathed out a heavy sigh. “I suppose this was bound to come crashing down sooner rather than later,” he muttered. Louder, he said, “At the tenth turn of the night, our contact will arrive at the manor of a recently elected Servant, one Feiyan of Port.”

  Feiyan — my mouth twisted in disgust, an expression mirrored by my companions. We had all heard rumors of the way that spider had obtained her power and position. Yet all the bribery, extortion, and framing she had conducted to make her commercial ventures successful had been done with such a light touch that we had never had enough solid whispers to put an end to her illicit activities.
I wasn’t surprised to hear she was tangled up in this, yet another shady business dealing.

  “Be there,” Eazal continued, “and you will know the face I know of the one whom you seek.” He paused. “And perhaps you will discover why you should abandon your questioning into this. Think of your mother, Xaron.”

  Xaron shook his head with mock mournfulness. “A low trick, my long-ago uncle, and one to which I’ve been long immune.” He bowed to the apothecary. “But thank you for what you’ve given us so far. And if you have more to confess, you can find us at—”

  “Send a bird to Port’s aviary,” I interrupted him. The last thing we needed was to be giving out Canopy’s location. “We’ll arrange a meeting via finch.”

  Eazal met my eyes. From his look, I suspected we would not be hearing from him again.

  “Now,” the apothecary murmured, “I am sorry to appear rude, but you three should leave.”

  Nomusa opened the door with a furtive glance into the hallway. “You might consider a new location,” she said back to the apothecary. “Too many people know where you are.”

  He gave a thin smile. “There isn’t a place in Oedija I could hide. But I appreciate the advice.”

  With one last look back, we exited the apothecary’s room, closing the door behind us. As we walked back down the hallway, the bolt clicked back in place. I hoped it wouldn’t be the last time we saw him alive.

  “Well then,” Xaron said. “I guess we have a rendezvous to catch?”

  I nodded. “We should take carts or we’ll miss it.”

  “If you’re willing to spending the coin for carts,” Nomusa said drily, “it must be desperate.”

  Our squabbling cut off as we entered the common room again. Suddenly, the patrons I had assumed to be innocent now seemed to be watching us, while the licentious innkeeper seemed to have a malicious glint to his eyes. With a shiver of paranoia, I shuffled us quickly out of the inn and onto the street.