Tearing The Shroud (20 page)

Two ships carried them westward, and two traveled to the southeast. One of the westbound vessels sailed to the port in Callendel. He had marked its arrival date, and his well-compensated representative was first in line at the port master’s office. The day of the ship’s arrival came and went. Another day passed, then another. A sevenday later, several small boats limped into the harbor, overloaded with refugees. A storm two days off the coast had struck the ship bearing his flowers. The ship and its cargo had been lost.

When his agent returned with the tale, Justus was in his garden walking off his impatience. He took the news calmly, thanking the man for his service. ‘Might you be available for one or two more assignments?’ he asked.

The sturdy young man nodded. ‘Yes, Sire, for the wages you pay, I’d gladly be available.’

‘Excellent, wait here a moment, if you will.’ Justus walked past the man and swung the walking cane like a club, hitting him in the back of the head. The man dropped like a sack of laundry, and Justus spent the next several minutes calmly beating him. Afterward, he extended his hand to Laurence, who filled it with a linen kerchief. Justus wiped the spattered blood from his face.

‘Laurence, retrieve a vial of my healing elixir and administer it.’ He poked at the bloody heap before him. One arm bent in several new and unique ways. ‘Use enough to take care of these broken bones and the interesting dent in his skull, but be sure to leave scars to remind him of my displeasure.’ He turned toward the house. ‘See that he is well compensated for our momentary exercise together, and retain him for the next cycle. We will be traveling north to retrieve what is rightfully ours — he might come in handy.’

Costanoan

Costanoan sat on a large natural bay with steep hills rising around it. Streets snaked their way up, lined with tightly packed buildings that appeared to keep each other from tumbling down the hillside. The wharf was a conglomeration of warehouses, businesses, seedy bars, and restaurants with a diverse assortment of people. Finely dressed entrepreneurs walked past women selling themselves for pleasure who paced near alleys where destitute drunks slept.

Justus strode to the desk of the Port Authority and smiled at the clerk. ‘Hello, good Sire, might I have a moment of your time?’

The man glanced up. ‘Whadd’ya want?’

‘I seek information.’ Justus offered his hand. ‘I’m Justus.’

The clerk shook his hand and palmed the gold piece in it. He peeked down casually and raised his eyebrows. ‘Sire Justus, how may I be of service?’ He inclined his head.

‘I’m interested in a recent importation. A client of mine anticipated the crop of
pellundium
flowers scheduled for Callendel. Unfortunately, the ship was lost and the cargo with it. Her daughter is to be married within the cycle; nothing else will suffice.’

‘I see.’ He nodded. ‘A difficult thing, that. A few small boxes arrived, but they sold before the ship made port. As you might imagine.’

‘Yes, of course, what with the tragedy in the islands.’ Justus applied a suitable look of sadness. ‘With the efficiency I see in your office, I’m sure you have record of who acquired them, though.’

‘Absolutely, Sire,’ he said. ‘If you’ll simply fill out this requisition form and pay the five silver fee, we can have that information...’ He grinned hungrily. ‘In ten days.’

Justus restrained himself. Having the Beaten Man hold this puffed up lickspittle while he peeled the skin from his face would be counterproductive. Instead, he applied his acting skills, looking plaintively at the clerk.

‘Surely there’s some way we might expedite the matter.’

He flipped through the appointment book on the counter. ‘If you pay the advanced processing fee, we could have it sooner, say by tomorrow, midday.’

Justus reached into the breast pocket of his coat, finding the straight razor there.
Later, Justus, later
. He withdrew his kerchief and mopped his brow. ‘And that fee is?’

‘Ten gold, Sire.’

Justus stopped moving then said softly, ‘If you have it before the day’s end, I’ll double that.’

The man’s eyes widened. ‘I can see this is an urgent matter indeed, Sire Justus. I’ll suspend all activity until a list is compiled.’

‘Grand. I knew we could come to an accommodation.’ Justus smiled as if the man were his best friend. ‘As a sign of my appreciation, please join me for dinner. I’m new to this beautiful city, and company at a fine restaurant would be welcome.’

The clerk bowed. ‘I would be delighted to accompany you.’

‘Wonderful.’ Justus looked out the window at the remaining daylight. ‘I’ll let you be at it and return in...?’

‘Just after sunset, Sire. I’ll have the list, and we can proceed from here.’

‘Until then,’ he said, and exited the office. He looked around the wharf and saw a bar that served the dockworkers’ swarming the area. He turned to the Beaten Man.

‘Go fetch your workmate and meet me there.’ He pointed to the bar.

‘Yes, Master Justus,’ he said and trotted off.

He entered the seedy establishment, ordered ale from the counter, and found a table against the wall. The deep brown brew had a sweet finish, tasting of molasses and toasted oats.
A cask of this will find its way home with me.
He took another deep drink of the frothy-headed liquid. The barmaid came by as he finished the glass.

‘Another, Sire?’

‘I believe I shall. Also, have two casks of this fine stuff set aside for me.’

She was apparently used to the request and simply nodded then glided to the counter. A second glass arrived as his men returned and approached the table.

The strong drink warmed Justus. ‘Keep watch outside and make sure that runt doesn’t run off. I’ll have glasses of this wonderful substance sent to you.’

They raised their eyebrows. ‘As you desire, Master Justus,’ the Beaten Man replied.

He signaled the barmaid. ‘Bring me another and two for my men outside. What do you call this?’

‘It’s Two Shovels, Sire. We brew it ourselves.’

‘An interesting name.’

She smiled. ‘If you have too many, it’s like getting hit — ’

‘With two shovels,’ he said.

He settled in his chair, drinking the third casually. As the glass neared a quarter full, the Beaten Man entered and nodded. He downed the ale and headed toward the door. The floor had acquired a slant that made a direct path more difficult than it should have been.

‘There’s no sign of movement from the office, Master Justus.’

Justus stepped outside and belched. ‘Let’s see how things progress. Return here tomorrow and obtain three casks of Two Shovels, and get the information for shipping more to us.’

As they walked in the growing darkness, Justus waved the Beaten Man closer. ‘When we get this rodent in a secluded place, do be sure to stab him.’

The clerk looked up as they entered. ‘Ahh, a timely return.’ He stood with a paper in hand. ‘There were four purchasers. If we might complete your transaction, Sire?’

‘Indeed. I have your payment prepared.’ He brought out a coin pouch and tossed it to the man.

The clerk weighed it in his palm with a practiced hand. ‘Thank you, Sire Justus. Here is your information.’ He handed him the paper. ‘I checked every ledger for the past three weeks. These are an accurate accounting, I assure you.’

Justus nodded and waved toward the door. ‘Then let’s be off to dinner. Where do you suggest?’

‘There’s a wonderful Fish House a few blocks down. In fact, one of the vendors on the list is just up Hill Street from it. We can stop by, if you wish.’

As they exited the office Justus glanced at the Beaten Man and shook his head. ‘Fish sounds delicious. Would it be a bother to inquire about the flowers on the way?’

‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘This way, please.’

Pools of warm yellow light created by the gas lamps floated in the night, making the areas between them even darker. They traversed the docks away from the central boulevards.

‘For safety, let’s have one of my fellows walk before us, and another behind,’ Justus said.

‘Precautions are never a bad idea,’ the clerk said.

Justus motioned, and the Beaten Man dropped behind.

‘As I was saying,’ the clerk said, ‘the fish is absolutely fresh, as you may imagine — go right at this street.’ They turned onto a small lane, just wide enough for a single wagon. The lamp at the corner cast barely enough light to penetrate ten paces down its darkened length. ‘Usually, I would stay to the main course, but with your men to watch over us, we can arrive sooner this way.’

‘Perfect.’

As they entered the darkness, Justus sidestepped as if avoiding something on the ground. ‘Pardon me,’ he said, as the move forced the clerk to stop and allow Justus in front of him several paces. Moments later he heard a moist gurgle behind him, and then a body falling. He paused, savoring the moment. With a predatory grin, he turned to retrieve his coin from the fool who dared to swindle him.

Something slammed into his cheek, and brilliant lights exploded in the night. He moaned and tried to roll over. Hands flipped him roughly onto his back. The face of the clerk appeared over him as he riffled through Justus’ pockets.

‘Don’t worry, Sire. You’ll be in the Fish House soon enough.’ The man snickered. ‘But it’s they who will be doing the feasting.’ He took the coin pouches and the razor, which he waved before Justus’ eyes. ‘This is quite the fish-gutter for a gentleman. Didn’t do ya any good though. All right then, time for your nap.’

Justus saw the man cock his leg then everything went black.

He was flying.

He was floating.

The world passed, inverted.

He was over someone’s shoulder.

He was flying.

Shocking coldness slammed into his back.

He was floating.

Justus fumbled into a hidden coat pocket; finding the small vial, he managed to retrieve it. Pulling the cork with his teeth, he spilled most of the precious healing liquid, downing the rest before the blackness swallowed him.

He was floating.

The sky was bright blue. He heard creaking and thumps of water against wood. Justus looked to the right, and saw he was in a small boat, before the world spun uncontrollably and darkness came.

He was flying.

On his back, weightless.

He opened his eyes and fell, stopping with a gut-wrenching jolt. He lay on a cot, in a rough wooden shack, unable to do more than raise his head on a wobbly neck.

‘Well then, you’re up,’ a ragged voice said.

A woman walked into view. She had a weather-beaten face, and hair whitened by age or the sun. She touched his brow — thick calluses gave her hand a wooden feel.

‘How...?’ His throat hurt from disuse.

‘Found ya in the sea. Floating along as pretty as ya please.’

‘Where?’

‘Where’d ya get in? Don’t know for sure. The tides here ‘bouts are fast as a runnin’ horse. Yer in ma home, day’s travel from Costanoan.’

‘Why?’

‘Full of questions, eh? I collect things from the sea; sometimes it’s profitable.’ She shrugged. ‘Who knows what ya might be worth?’

‘How...long?’

‘Near to three sevendays ya been out.’

Three sevendays. He wept with frustration. Three sevendays. He had missed the event and would have to wait another twelve years.

Chapter 18

A Workout
7493 AR, 10th Cycle
Cloister of Berdine

‘Do you know how this works?’ Coleman asked Jolie, tapping her on the shoulder.

‘What?’ She laid her hand on his forearm.

He took her hand and carefully rotated her wrist.

She leaned down, sweeping her right arm up toward him. He was no longer there. An irresistible pull exploited her strike. Her body followed the captured wrist, and she found herself flipping through the air. He knew exactly what was happening because he’d been on the receiving end of it more times than he could count. He felt her relax to prevent injury, landing on her right side. She looked up at him, over her wrist he still held.
Were there ever a pair of eyes more beautiful?
He kissed the back of her hand.

‘You got me again!’