Best Left in the Shadows (4 page)

The six men closed in. “We were just coming for the boy,”
Festa said. “Had no direct mention of you, Alys, nor your friend. But now…” He
shrugged.

Alys nodded. “We play the dice as they roll, yeah?”

The Razor slowly advanced across the cobblestones of the
street. The men behind them spread out, ensuring there was no way past them.

“Try not to get yourself killed before you pay me, Dax,”
Alys said.

Then, without warning, she whipped a blade through the air
aimed directly at the face of the Razor and followed immediately by a small
sack. With both airborne, Alys charged.

The Razor’s face shifted into a confident smile, and she
felt the tell-tale pressure against her chest as the big man touched the
strange power that made Razors so formidable. In a blinding flash, he swept his
blade from its sheath and deflected her thrown blade. Knocking away the weapon
with an almost nonchalant motion, he reversed his blade to block the small
sack.

Now, it was Alys’s turn to grin. As Festa struck the bag,
it exploded in a cloud of flour, pepper, and ground glass, covering the man’s
face. That was the great thing about Razors. They were so used to being so much
better than everyone else that they forgot how to cheat.

Immediately, she felt the pressure from the build-up
of his power falter and fade as he clutched at his eyes. Closing the distance,
Alys struck him across the jaw with the knuckle dusters on her left hand. She
felt the jaw shatter under the blow.

Following up the strike, she pounced, her weight bearing
him down to the street. He thrashed as they hit the ground, but she had already
pulled one of her blades. She thrust it into his side over and over as he
spasmed.

Leaving the big Razor on the ground to bleed out, she came
up and threw her blood-stained blade into the chest of one of the toughs
approaching her, knocking him from his feet.

Dax traded blows with two more of the fighters, swinging
his sword and a metal truncheon. He seemed to be holding his own.

From the corner of her eye, Alys saw one of the Leather
Aprons coming up behind Dax. She darted over and slipped the garrote around his
neck, holding him close as he kicked and struggled. Over his shoulder, she
caught sight of one of the men dragging Calder down a side alley as he
screamed.

As she let the man’s body fall to the ground, Alys saw Dax
standing over the bodies of the two he had engaged with. He was breathing a bit
hard, and had a few small cuts across his arms.

Looking around, his eyes grew wild. “Where’s Calder?”

Alys gestured in the direction of the alley. “Gone. Taken.”

“Taken?” Dax said. “Why the hell take him?” He sprinted
over to the alley and cursed, leaning against the wall to catch his breath. “Money?
Keyburn said there were others that he owed.”

Alys stared down at the body at her feet. “That Razor knew
me. He should have known we had the Blacktide’s blessing, yet he was willing to
cross me and Harry both, without hesitation.”

“You know who they are?”

“Recognized the Razor at the front. They’re Leather Aprons.”
She spat onto one of the bodies at her feet. “Bad people.”

“You know where to find them?”

Alys started walking. “I know where they are and they’re
not going to see me coming.”

Slaughterhouse Confessional

Dax followed Alys over the Prionside rooftops.

He made an incautious step and the old building’s crumbling
stone moved under his foot. Dax lurched forward, dropping to his knees hard and
clinging to the roof’s thatch. It was far enough down that he did not want to
consider what would happen if he fell from this height.

Alys stood over him, shaking her head. She raised a single
finger to her lips.

Dax felt the heat of embarrassment on his cheeks, but
worked his way to his feet. Alys was moving on, her steps light and sure as she
nimbly made her way across the long roof. Dax followed as best he could.

Lifting himself to peer over the edge, Dax saw a huge
corral filled with hogs before a large, run-down stone building. Parts of
the furthest wall had crumbled into the river long ago. The sharp wind shifted
and the full stench of the hog pens hit him. It was a choking, noxious odor. A
reek of shit and fear and blood. He put his forearm over his face to keep from
breathing it in.

Alys nodded. “The Leather Aprons are butchers,” she said. “Pig
or person, makes not a whit of difference to them. Long as they get to cut.”

Dax took slow breaths through his mouth. “Calder?”

“If they wanted him dead, they would have gutted him back
outside the Sportsman’s. The fact that they didn’t means he’s likely alive. So
there is that. The other thing we have going for us is that they won’t expect
us to come after him.”

She pulled out a small iron hook and wedged it tightly
between two large stone pieces, then handed him a piece of leather with copper
teeth sewn into it. “Wrap that around your hand, leaving the teeth exposed on
the outside. They should be right across the center of your palm. Grip tight to
slow yourself.” She pulled out a thin coil of rope, attached one end to the
iron hook, and went over the side.

She gracefully made her way down the tall stone face of the
building, the thin rope unspooling behind her. Then, she ducked into the
shadows across from the Leather Aprons’s slaughterhouse.

Before he could lose more of his nerve, Dax wrapped the
leather strap around his right hand and dropped over the edge. The rope slipped
against the copper teeth as he plummeted the first few feet, but then he
gripped hard and the teeth caught. Smoke from the friction seemed to rise from
his palm as he descended, but it slowed him enough so he hit the ground with
barely more than a slap of his boots on the causeway. He slipped into the
hiding place beside Alys.

Her eyes were focused on the entrance to the slaughterhouse,
but she held out her hand to him. For a brief moment, Dax almost took it with
his own, but then he remembered the leather strap and passed that back to her.

“Still no movement over there. Usually there’s be a few
coming and going,” she whispered.

“What is your plan?”

Alys bit her lip and pointed to the crumbling part of the
building where the river lapped against the wreckage. “There. We go in that
way, and we should be fairly blocked from sight until we’re actually inside.”

Slowly, they made their way down to the water’s edge and
Alys motioned him into the cold, murky water. As Dax slipped in and followed
her along the docks, he did his best to keep his face above the waterline. The
thought of the oily, brackish, black water going into his mouth kept his lips
sealed tight.

Despite his discomfort, they crossed the remaining distance
quickly, scrambling over the stones into the ramshackle rear of the building.
The smell of the hogs was almost overpowering now, and yet above that, the
unmistakable iron tang of blood filled the air.

He followed Alys cautiously, careful to place his feet
exactly where she stepped as they made their way over rubble and into the
building.

Alys froze.

Dax stopped where he was. The sound of his breathing seemed
as loud as a shout, but over it he heard what caused Alys to stop: voices.

“I told you! I told you you’se cuttin too deep. Now he done
nodded out again. What if we can’t wake him up again? You wanna tell Lord
Razorback we found him, but he ain’t talkin no more?”

A second voice responded. It was full of bravado, but Dax
caught the edge of uncertain fear. “Inkman ain’t dead. Not yet, no way.
Besides, we agreed. We find his rich twist before the rest of the skins, and we
got it made. We bring her to Lord Razorback, we top cutters. Especially now
that Festa is dirted.”

In the shadows, Alys frowned. He responded in kind.

Suddenly, he heard one of the voices curse, and Dax tensed.
His hand dropped to his blade, sure that they had been discovered, but Alys
held a hand up, urging him to remain still.

“Shit! It’s Gobber’s pack. Back early and empty-handed,
lazy sots,” the first voice said urgently.

“Run out and meet him. Talk ‘em and stall ‘em like. I’ll
wake the inkman and get what we need before them others see what we got.”

“Don’t you kill him!”

“Tsh. If he tells me where the twist is, then we don’t
needs him no more. Now move!”

There was a sound of hurried footsteps from ahead of them,
but Dax could not see anything to match with the sound. Alys slowly pulled out
the garrote from within her sleeve and stretched it between her hands. “Wait
here,” she mouthed silently as she headed into the building’s main area.

The moments passed like hours as Dax waited, his ears
straining. He heard a slight shuffling noise, like boots sliding on the floor,
then a soft thud. He held his breath.

“Dax!” he heard her whisper. “Get out here, now.”

Dax broke from his hiding place and moved around the blind
corridors. All around, the bodies of slaughtered hogs hung from iron hooks,
dressed and open. The white of ribs shone against the bloody red of flesh.

In the center of the large room, tied fast to a chair, was
Calder. Pooled around the young man’s chair was a bright red puddle of blood.

Alys shook her head. “He is barely here. There is no way we
can get him out of here. Just trying to lift him out of that chair and pieces
of him are going to start falling off. Whatever you need from him, I suggest
you get it now.”

Dax frowned as he moved over to Calder. Kneeling in the
sticky puddle of blood, he gently tried to rouse the young man. Blood covered
Calder’s face, and the dark red on the side of his head marked where his right
ear had once been. His shirt was torn open, and his chest was streaked with
blood. As Dax shook him, Calder’s eyes began to flutter. Then, he came awake
and began screaming.

Trying to quiet him, Dax held onto Calder’s wrist, but the
young man was hurt badly and his eyes rolled white with shock and fear. Before
Dax could calm him, he heard a commotion toward the entrance.

Alys’s voice cracked out to him, “On your feet, Dax.” She
wasn’t whispering, and there was a sharp edge to her words that got his
attention immediately. At the far end of the building, coming through the main
entrance, were five rough-looking Leather Aprons.

“What the hell is this shit?” one of them said.

Alys reached behind her back and pulled the long scythe
from its holder. She rapped the butt of the staff onto the ground and the long
curving blade snapped into position with a menacing thrum. “This is doing
things the hard way,” she said, hoisting the scythe in her hands. “You with me,
Inspector?”

Dax stood up from the puddle of Calder’s blood and drew his
long blade with a rasping sound of steel against leather. “Always,” Dax said.

He charged forward, but Alys was already in motion,
crossing the distance to the Leather Aprons in quick, darting steps. She reared
back with the scythe as she ran and brought it around in a whistling arc. One
of the toughs jumped back to avoid the huge curving blade, but another was not so
lucky. He took the full force of the blow and it almost cut him in two. Even as
she hit, Alys pulled a dagger and threw it into the face of the man she had
missed.

Dax caught one of the men as he brought his sword up to
defend himself. Dax allowed his blade to strike against the Leather Apron’s
sword, but then kept charging forward, lowering his shoulder and sending him
reeling. Dax took a step forward and kicked the man in the jaw. He felt bones
give way under the blow.

The remaining two Leather Aprons turned and ran out the
front entrance, scrambling in a frantic panic until they were gone from sight
and Dax and Alys were alone with nothing but corpses.

“They’re going to get reinforcements,” Alys said, breathing
hard.

As she spoke, Dax returned to the bloodied Calder. “Easy,
boy,” Dax said. “We’re not going to let them hurt you anymore.”

Calder’s eyes flew open, wide with panic. He thrashed for a
moment, but Dax felt how weak the man was. Alys was right; he wasn’t going to
make it out.

“Magistrate. You—you came for me?” the young man managed to
stammer. His eyes grew wide and he gripped Dax’s coat. “Lydia!” Calder gasped. “I
love her. She deserves better. Better than me. Didn’t tell them anything.”
Calder’s eyes rolled wildly in his head as he began to fade once more.

Something clawed at Dax’s awareness. He shook the dying
boy, trying to get him to focus one last time. “What, Calder? What didn’t you
tell them?”

“Lydia’s alive. You have to tell her. Tell her about me.
Tell her I loved her.” Blood welled up in from Calder’s mouth and he choked on
it. His eyes grew dimmer. “Better off without me,” he whispered, and then the
light went out in his eyes and Calder was gone.

“Lydia’s alive? Calder?” Dax said, shaking the body. “Calder.”

“He’s gone,” Alys said.

“Damn it,” Dax said, sitting back. “He said Lydia’s alive.
But how? Where?”

Alys knelt in front of Calder’s still form and pulled open
his shirt. With the palm of her hand, she wiped away blood to expose a tattoo
over his heart.

A tattoo in the shape of a sparrow.

Dax stared at the tattoo. It looked like the burn mark on
Lydia’s body. No, not like it. It was exactly the same.

“They faked it, Dax. I think he was telling the truth.
Lydia Ashdown is still alive.”

“But why? And where is she?”

“Only Lydia can tell us why.” Alys stood up, wiping her
bloody hands on her pant leg. “As to where, I have an idea, but I hope I’m
wrong.”

The Best Laid Plans

As soon as Squinting Raff opened the door, Alys was
already pushing it wider and storming inside. “Where’s your boss? She’s
expecting me.”

Raff stared at her for a moment and then jerked his chin
upwards. “Her room,” he growled. “You know the way.”

Alys strode through the room in a flurry. The few whores
still awake stirred as she crossed the space, but they kept them quiet and out
of her way.

“You sure about this?” Dax asked as she reached the door.

“No,” Alys said, but she rapped hard on the door.

There was a drawn out moment before the door opened, and there
stood the Tigress. The make-up was thick on her face, and the casual
dressing gown she wore was busy with a fur collar and gemstones. “My dear, what
an unexpected pleasure. Your company twice in such a short interval. I am
touched. Truly, I am.”

Alys ignored the condescending tone. “I’m here to see
Lydia.”

The Tigress’s eyes narrowed and she pursed her painted
lips. “You’ve lost a step,” the Tigress said, her hard green eyes glittering
behind the heavy shadows of her make-up. “Or you’re just getting soft.”

Alys stepped inside the door, Dax following close behind.
As he entered, the Tigress ran a wrinkled hand over his cheek. “I figured it
was only a matter of time before I saw you in my bedchamber, Magistrate,” she
said with a throaty laugh.

Dax opened his mouth as if to say something, but stopped
short. On the bed, amidst a sea of cushions, sat Lydia Ashdown.

The girl was a close match to the body on the docks, though
the real Lydia here had larger eyes. They added to her look of desperate
innocence as she sat up straight. “Daxton!” she exclaimed breathlessly. “The
Lady of this house,” she said, indicating the Tigress, “told me that you were
searching for Calder. Tell me, I beg of you, have you found him?”

Dax took Lydia’s hands as he knelt down before her. “Lydia!
Three months your family has been searching for you. Kara was desperate with
worry. This morning you were dead. What is going on?”

Lydia blinked her wide, round eyes and shuddered. “Lord
Ellis, we had no choice. Things just got so out of hand so quickly, we had to
find a way out. We had to!”

Dax shook his head emphatically. “But to fake your own
deaths? To make even your family believe such a thing?” She began to tear up
and Dax squeezed her hands. “What happened, Lydia?”

Lydia Ashdown took a deep breath. “When I met Calder, he
was in a bad situation. But he was sweet and kind, and we…” Her words trailed
off and her smile grew larger. “We fell in love. We wanted to leave, get out of
Resa. Make a new life for ourselves out in the Marches. You know my parents.
And Calder, with everything… It was a fresh start for both of us. Just the two
of us.”

“What happened?” Dax’s voice was soft and gentle.

Lydia’s face fell. “I did something foolish,” she said
quietly. “I knew he owed much to his former associates.” She had her hands in
her lap and she began to wring them together. “I had money. So I thought I
would pay off what he owed.”

Alys spoke up, shaking her head, “The Leather Aprons? You
presented yourself to the Leather Aprons? As Lydia Ashdown? You might as well
have rung the dinner bell.”

Lydia nodded, her delicate chin quivering. “They were
horrible,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “They took all that I
had brought, and then told me that it was not enough. I was to bring more
money, every week, or they would kill Calder, and then hurt my family.”

“Why didn’t you go home then?” Dax asked. “Why not come to
the magistrates? To me?”

“It would mean leaving Calder behind to face the wrath of
those animals at having lost me.” She shook her head vehemently. “We knew that
if we were to get out of Resa, we would need to free ourselves from the threat
of the Leather Aprons once and for all.”

“By making them think you were both dead,” Dax said.

Lydia nodded. “We were desperate. So, instead of bringing
the latest payment to the Leather Aprons, we came here to the Tigress.”

By the closed door, the Tigress gave a slight bow. “And I
was of course more than happy to support such a noble enterprise in any way I
could.”

“I’ve no doubt of that,” Alys said. “You supplied the
bodies, then, and arranged safe passage?”

“I am nothing if not resourceful, dear. You of all people
should remember that.”

“Calder had it all planned out. He tattooed both of the
bodies to resemble ours. His markings and my burn scar.” She smiled. “He really
is an artist.” She paused for a moment to take a deep breath. “Last night, we
made sure we were both seen around the docks, then I came here to wait while he
placed the two bodies in the river.”

Alys crossed her arms over her chest. “Knowing they would
surface eventually with enough damage to hide they weren’t really you. And the
distinguishing markings would be more than enough to convince anyone interested
that you were dead.”

“That is just what Calder said. So I waited here, but he
never came back. Now please, where is Calder?”

Dax looked lost, as if he could not find the right words to
break this young girl’s heart.

Alys did it for him. “Calder is dead.”

Lydia’s head rocked back like Alys had hit her with a fist.
She shook her head back and forth as tears fell down her face, but then looked
to Dax for confirmation. He could only nod, and validate her pain.

Lydia shook, but her sobs had subsided to an eerie calm.
Tears fell from her blankly staring eyes. “Then what does it all matter?” she
said in a hollow voice. “My Calder is dead.”

Inside Alys, a cold voice spoke.
What did she think was
going to happen?
it whispered.
A fairy tale ending? Riding off into the
sunset like a troubadour’s tale? This was the only way it was going to end. How
it was always going to end. There are no happy endings in Lowside.

Alys turned her back and walked from the room and out into
the Lowside night.

A few moments later, Dax came out to join her, his eyes
red. She sighed. That was always his problem. He felt too much. Cared too much.

“You should be happy,” Alys said. “Young Lady Ashdown is
alive, and the only casualties were a few gangers and a degenerate Lowside
wastrel that no one is going to miss.”

“Lydia will miss him,” Dax said simply.

“Then she’s a dreamer and a fool,” Alys replied.

“She was in love.”

“So that makes everything all right? Their entire plan was
idiocy and ineptitude. It got him killed and it came close to ending her. You
don’t think that was foolish?”

“I think it was brave”

“Of course you would.”

“They were far braver than we were,” he said. “Braver than
I was.”

Alys looked at him, surprised at the admission. She wanted
to return with a barbed tongue, but instead honesty came forth from her mouth. “We
were plenty brave, Dax. We just weren’t smart.”

“We’re smarter now.”

That caught her off guard. “Are we?” she asked, raising an
eyebrow.

Dax smiled. A confident smile with a hint of something
hiding behind the edge of it. That confidence was something she hadn’t seen in
a while. Not since the days when they had first met.

“I’m thinking about spending more time down here in Second
District,” he said, still wearing that smile.

Alys laughed. “In Lowside? Well, that proves you’re an even
bigger fool than before, not less of one.”

“Perhaps,” Dax said. “Then that’s all the more reason why I
will need to call on you as my occasional guide.”

“If you are willing to provide payment,” she said, her arms
once more crossed, “perhaps I’ll help you. For a price of course.”

Dax laughed and nodded slowly. “Nothing free in Lowside?”

“Not ever,” she said. “And, speaking of which, it’s time to
pay up, isn’t it, Inspector? I believe the terms were for the name of the
Justicar for Lowside, and what leverage there is on him.”

“Very well,” Dax replied. “The name of the new Justicar for
the Second District is Lord Daxton Ellis. And as for what leverage there is on
him, well…” He paused and looked at her. “You already know.”

In stunned silence, Alys watched Dax turn and walk away
into the last light of the evening, heading back toward Highside. She watched
him until he was gone from her view. And then, as she stepped into the shadowed
alley, a slow smile began to grow on her face.

Follow the continuing stories of Alys in Book 2.

Coming Soon.