Chapter 3

  Candour Among Criminals

  In the days following the brutal murder, the Red Maiden, or ‘Bloody Maiden’ as many residents were now calling it, became much the talk around Leeside. Many citizens debated as to who, or rather, what, had committed the killing, but among all the theories, one prevailed above all others. The word ‘Striga’ was whispered in close confidence and a resurgence of fear spread throughout the lower echelons of society, as well as those who shared Roland’s belief about the monster’s existence.

  Margret was in a foul mood following the substantial dip in business as many of Leeside’s inhabitants second-guessed attending anyplace close to the crime. To some residents, it was like opening an old wound into the past and any attempt the Matron made to hush the whole incident was quickly rendered futile when the TinyOwl publication did another story regarding it. The newspaper attracted significant attention when it released details of the attack—or more precisely—the evocative execution. In response, an investigation was declared by the Duchess’ magistrates who guaranteed the peoples safety as well as a swift justice to whomever responsible.

  Although the victim was not identified by name, he was accounted to be a resident from Lupos, the Imperial capital, and published how his body was being returned home by ship. Like Roland had described, the body was indeed savagely mutilated before being drained to a husk. A decree calling for extra guards to patrol the streets at night was given. Some of the locals went so far as to petition for another search of the vast sewer system below the city. By the end of the month, Theo himself began to understand just how terrified the good people had been of the Striga.

  One afternoon, during another summer rain that blasted the outside walls of the Maiden, Theo overheard a whispering pair talk about the dozens of men and woman that went missing in the past. “We had seven straight days of rainfall.” The older gentlemen murmured, cocking a finger towards a water-drenched window. “On and on it went just like that, as if the Gods themselves were trying to wash away the Striga’s filth. The entire west side of Redbank was swallowed up before the sky finally relented. And then there was that girl, poor thing.” Sorrowfully, the man took a swallow of his pungent mead while his companion listened eagerly. “Taken right in front of her little sister—dragged down a manhole into the city bowels, never to be seen again.”

  What more the man had to say was cut short when Margret appeared like some ill omen to silence them.

  Since then, he had suffered Margret’s wrath night and day despite his best efforts to remain invisible. He considered once more the idea of tainting Margret’s wine with some mischievous concoction just to avoid her incessant bullying for a while. Every problem was in some way his fault, and every mistake was of his own doing. The imperial mark—which he still obtained—remained hidden away below a barrel of mead in the cellar. He wondered how much poison it could buy on the black market. Certainly, enough to kill half a dozen people, no doubt.

  Thunder barked threateningly when Jane approached him one dark day. “Hey,” she said leaning across the bar from him, arms held tight against her chest. “Matilda said Margret’s gone out for the evening. Some important business with a Lord Ashford down at the docks.”

  “Is that so?” Inquired Theo as the two smiled at one another. He hadn’t been able to see Jane lately, let alone talk to her since Margret’s frenzies. As usual, Margret found a way to separate the two of them by assigning them to separate areas of the Red Maiden. If Theo worked the bar, then Jane cleaned the rooms and worked errands. If Margret needed Jane to work the floor, then Theo would be out on other business like picking up supplies. Recently, Margret even subjected him to work the door as protection after Roland suffered from great pain in his joints, equipping him with nothing more than the broken end of a broomstick. As for how Jane managed to make her way to the bar, Theo had no clue.

  “Looks like a storm is brewing outside again” said Theo, nodding to the dull greyness visible beyond the open doors to his left. He Leaned in scratching a fingernail into the rich oakwood of the bar when a sudden chill wind blew by, extinguishing a weak candle at the end of the bar.

  Jane looked at Theo and blinked. “Weather, Theo? We’ve barely spoken in nearly a month and the first thing that comes to your mind is the weather?”

  Smiling briefly, he stole a glance at her, remembering just how beautiful she was. Even now, after all these years he found his heart beat a little faster in her presence, realised how his eyes followed hers uncontrollably, and how his nose relished at that all too familiar scent she naturally imbued. He’d sometimes wondered what was behind this perpetual need to escape and consistently found Jane occupying his mind. Then his mind would betray him and relive memories of Jane moving from table to table, greeting sailors and would-be merchants, treating them with her suggestive hospitality right before Margret burgled into his mind’s eye, her sallow face and cold eyes shadowing him. The sight of her—even imaginary—made something inside of him want to come alive and attack.

  “You look beautiful today.” Theo said, forcing a wicked smile out of Jane.

  “Why thank you. I was just about to say how I couldn’t say the—”. Her words ended abruptly like the candleflame on the bar when two gentlemen entered. Leo, who was casually picking the dirt from under a fingernail at the door, quickly casted a warning glare across at the pair of them. Theo recognized one as Pyro, but the tall man remained unfamiliar. Despite the second man’s slenderness, something beneath the tight layers of black-boiled leather gave Theo the impression of heavily corded muscle wrapped around narrow limbs. Muscle that was lean and tough like hempen rope. Theo adjusted his ears, stunned by how deaf the man’s footfalls were, as if he were drifting across the floor, not walking at all.

  Theo felt Jane shift uncomfortably next to him, her eyes burning the side of his face. Pyro was fashioning a cane in which he used to aid his newfound limp. The burned man leaned heavily on his left leg ensuring not to put too much pressure on the right, which to Theo, looked slightly crooked. He hadn’t seen Pyro in… perhaps a week. Apart from the Magus and his mistress who still frequented the Red Maiden consistently since the murder, he’d seldom seen any of the usual locals.

  Before the murder victim was identified, curiosities as to who exactly had been murdered filled his mind. He thought maybe Pyro’s ill-gotten fortune finally caught up to him, but that idea was promptly put to rest when the imperial spy that had handed him the mark, never returned. He remained hopeful at first, half expecting to see the spy walking through the open doors one day. There were even times when he thought he saw the spy. However, each one was merely a lookalike.

  Realising his mind had wondered, Theo turned his attention back to Pyro and his new friend. His intentions on joining the crime syndicate were renewed now that his previous collaboration was dead in the water; quite literally in fact. Pyro hadn’t gotten himself killed, but it sure looked like he’d had a run-in with something nasty.

  Pyro limped along awkwardly to a table, the chatter with his accomplice too low and discreet despite Theo’s best attempts to eavesdrops. It felt like their words were being deliberately drowned out by the outdoor ambience as a Pseudodragon squawked past the main entrance to the great surprise of Jeremiah. Reliably, Pyro made his way to the same table he’d always sat at, sitting in the same chair—the one facing the bar and front doors despite the table itself not being fully cleared of empty mugs. Jane reached over to grip Theo’s sleeve, noticing he was already in his own mind.

  “Theo…don’t” she whispered, but what better time than now to try again he thought. Margret was nowhere to be seen, the floor was mostly empty except for Leo standing guard, Jerimiah at the door, and Matilda conversing with a single patron. Theo could even steal a few sips of alcohol to quill his nerves without anybody catching him if he wished. It must have been apparent that his determination hadn’t wavered as Jane began to audibly sigh. When his eyes met Jane’s, nothing but utter fear and a little disappointment could be seen within them.

  “I have to Jane, for us. This is the only way now.” Theo said while ensuring his voice was hush. He eyed the two with hunger, not unlike that of a predator eying its prey right before the attack. He reached down below the bar and began to move some of the old bottles, causing them to chime audibly as they clashed against one another. Standing up again with bottle in hand, he pulled the cork. He had made sure to pick a clear bottle that seemed to contain a comparably clear liquid. If not for the potent aroma it diffused, it could have been mistaken for water.

  Theo poured a little into a mug, then knocked back the shot in the motion an arrow might dash a helmed knight. It was a common understanding that elves had particular difficulty digesting strong liquors opposed to their human constituents. He had seen it first-hand when elves from Herbline Wood would lay unceremoniously passed out in the gutter after just a few shots. With this in mind, he tentatively weighed the correct amount he’d need to acquire the effect he wanted. He after all sat somewhere in-between his elven heritage and human counterpart.

  Within the next ten-minutes Theo began to feel his body warm and a light haze descend over his mind. The fear he’d once felt wrapped around him like a cloak began to loosen and fall away. He mumbled to himself, rehearsing his speech. He took another shot; his last one, making sure to do it secretly away from the prying eyes of Leo. Jane looked at him hopelessly, silent in her acceptance that Theo would do what Theo wanted, and no number of words or pleads could convince him otherwise.

  A flash of light erupted outside, closely trained by a growling rumble, and then rainfall doused the streets in a torrent of fury. The doors into the Red Maiden remained open allowing a few sprays of water to patter against the interior floor. Jerimiah would be forced to close them if the rain continued.

  “Theo.” Came the last warning from Jane as he made his way around the bar. Pyro was sitting awkwardly; hands crossed over the handle of his cane and in deep conversation with his counterpart. Neither one of them had ordered a drink. It was the taller man that noticed his approach first. Almost instantly, in fact. His eyes were cold, calculating; his face stone-like.

  “Walk away elf-boy. We do not require your services,” said Pyro the moment he drew close, waving a dismissive hand. The final word was spoken with an added tone of mockery.

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  ‘I want to make some real money.’ He remembered saying all that time ago. How could he have been so stupid to say such a thing in a brothel.

  “Please, a word, my Lord’s.” Theo asked, amazed by how steady his speech was ironed out. Pyro blinked unbelievably, temporarily stunned by the boldness of the half-elf now standing before him. The tall man simply watched him behind a face absent of emotion. Something about the man’s eyes felt odd, penetrating, acutely aware as if the gaze was boring into Theo as opposed to merely looking upon him.

  “You wha—” Began Pyro, raising clumsily from where he sat. His eyes shone with a rapid eagerness to fight, the shock of Theo’s words obviously wearing off, he made ready to strike out with the butt of his cane. From behind Theo, light footsteps could be heard as Jane hurried over to the doors, notifying Leo in case something went awry.

  Thankfully, before Theo’s temporary courage waned, Pyro’s accomplice raised an arm and pulled his abrasive friend down to which the burned man begrudgingly accepted. Perhaps this new man was not only part of the same guild but of higher rank. Whether this was a good thing or bad was yet to unfold.

  “Sit, boy.” Ordered the tall man without blinking. His only movement was a small nod to the empty chair which Theo was to occupy. Dark circles surrounded the man’s eyes while his temples looked monstrously overly sunken, like shallow craters.

  Theo lowered himself on the rickety chair opposite them before clearing his throat. His thoughts were surprisingly clear and well marshalled this time, the words weren’t fumbling around like rolling stones but instead aligning themselves neatly into coherent sentences. All the while Pyro glared at him; his face contorted with rage at being leashed. Cool headed, Theo opened his mouth to speak.

  Before a word was ushered, the tall man cut him off. “Your kind are rare around these parts. Tell me. Are the tales true about an elf being able to hear a leaf fall as far as Herbline wood?” He nodded at the long ears that pointed skyward.

  “No, my Lord—or perhaps so. I am only half-elf so cannot speak for my kindred.”

  “My Lord? Do I look like a Lord to you?” The tall man replied, revealing no emotion in the statement. Pale lips were tightened above a clean-shaven pointed chin. His hair was a widow’s peak of caramel which towered above a sharp nose. “What’s your name?” he asked after a moment.

  Theo shifted uneasily, not allowing his mind to do anything but answer the questions given to him. He swallowed, but the lump in his throat remained before saying, “Theodor Redwood, Sir.”

  “I am no Knight either, Mr. Redwood, so dispense with the titles. Call me Skinner and my associate here Pyro.”

  Annoyance crept across Skinner’s frozen face, causing Theo to hasten his thinking. He ran fingers through his hair noticing he was sweating slightly.

  “So, you’re a bastard?” Pyro said scornfully. When Theo didn’t reply, Skinner responded as if to clarify.

  “All bastard elves are given the family name Wood. Let me guess, you got the ‘Red’ in ‘Redwood’ from growing up in Redbank? Half the elf, half the name, am I right?” Theo was initially amazed by Skinner’s keen understanding regarding elves and their naming conventions.

  “Not many people in the city know or care to learn much about my kind. But I got the Red from growing up in the Red Maiden, not Redbank,” murmured Theo. He could feel his shoulders begin to slump at being slightly disarmed, so straightened them. Pyro smiled menacingly as if he’d just caught Theo on the end of some invisible hook.

  “I’m curious, bastard,” he asked, “Which parent was the elf? Your mother or your father?”

  “The male side.” Theo spoke his answer, wondering if he’d ever heard of a female elf working at a brothel. His kind were rare in the city, and if a brothel managed to attain a female elf, that might put the rest out of business.

  Pyro pipped up once more, “And your mother birthed you here?” Theo nodded. “So, you’re a whoreson as well as a bastard?”

  The liquid courage in Theo’s his stomach was curdling into rotten rage. The thought of grabbing one of the empty mugs before him and smashing it against the man’s burnt face came to mind. Not the bad side either, but the good side, the side which still held a glimmer of whatever Pyro was before the burns.

  “Do not be offended,” said Skinner as casually as one might order a drink. “Although I cannot claim the title of whoreson or bastard, I can accept far worse.” Skinner leaned forward earnestly.

  “It’s better to accept who you are and move on. You cannot outrun your past any more than you can your own shadow.” He said, almost warmly.

  Theo felt as if he was on the back foot from the beginning. Before he could attempt to change this, Skinner continued, “Now I assume you came to our table on a business matter, Mr. Redwood, so speak quickly and clearly.” The table remained quiet for a time while Theo focused and gathered his resolve once more. He was aware of Leo and Jane behind him, ready to move in on the slightest sign of trouble. It unnerved him to know Leo’s firm grasp might clasp down on him again and that would be two-for-two. A step echoed behind him, magnified by a frightening prospect it was Leo already in pursuit: “I want to join your guild.” He said bluntly.

  Skinner and Pyro both raised their brows simultaneously.

  “Guild? Mr Redwood,” Skinner said flatly. “I’d have you speak the names of the people who told you such rumours.”

  Immediately Theo was betrayed as ‘Jane’ flashed across his mind, but his tongue remained loyal. Raising his head to meet their gaze he said. “I cannot hear the leaves fall in Herbline Wood, but I can hear things others cannot. Things meant to be secret. Things I dare not share with others. Although only half-elf, my ears and eyes are still sharper than that of humans, you see.”

  “Bastard, Whoreson, Eavesdropper” listed Pyro. Skinner ignored the remarks and, as difficult as it was to read Skinner’s face, he appeared to be slightly intrigued, albeit impressed.

  “Some say the half-elves can move as silently as the wind?” Skinner suggested and the proposition was easy for Theo to follow.

  “That they can.” Theo admitted eagerly. He had him, he thought. It was Skinner on the end of this invisible hook, not him.

  Pyro was looking back and forth between the two of them, confused by the discourse. Despite his limited intelligence, he knew what Skinner was implying.

  “You can’t be serious Skinner. He’s—well. He’s a stranger.”

  “Help me in an important task suited to your innate abilities and consider yourself part of our Guild.” Skinner said. Pyro’s jaw swung open. It wasn’t the first time Theo had been hired because of his innate abilities this month but without any hesitation he throughout the words “I accept” before Pyro had a chance to change his boss’ mind.

  "Good," he said with a nod. "However, we cannot discuss the details of the matter here, of course. We might have...eavesdroppers." Skinner ended the sentence with a smirk as he leaned in. “Are you familiar with the southwest side of Redbank?” Theo shot a swift nod. “Good, then Pyro will meet you at a tavern there this Friday. The place is called the ‘Salted Crab’. Come alone. There you will discuss in private what will be your initiation into our syndicate. You are not to speak of this appointment to anyone. Do you understand?”

  Theo, now also leaning forwards to match Skinner’s posture, fired another nod. “Yes. I do. Thank you.”

  In reply, Skinner said, “You have one chance, Mr. Redwood, to impress me” I already have Theo thought noticing the mint on Skinner’s breath. “And Mr Redwood? If I may ask, why do you want to be part of our Guild?

  Reliably, Jane came to mind. Keeping a straight face, he said. “For coin.”

  The penetrating eyes of Skinner felt heavy on him as he chewed on the answer. It was only half right, and Theo felt as if those steel eyes knew before they eventually floated over his shoulder to the bar behind him. A single heartbeat later, Skinner rose smiling triumphally. “Very well.” He finished.

  Pyro, none-the-less flabbergasted, propped himself up using his cane and then hobbled around the table. Theo remained seated, neither turning nor moving; frozen in place with his heart beating rapidly as the results of the conversation sank in. He felt as though his mind and body had fled him, gone to sleep. He had done it, he had a chance, him and Jane might be free.

  It wasn’t until the two men headed back outside, disappearing into the showering rain, Jane made her approach. She halted before him, her eyes observing the immense pride emanating from his face. No words needed to be said; it was clear to her what had happened.

  “You don’t care about anyone but yourself, do you?” She hissed, her hands balling into trembling fists. She was holding back tears Theo now knew and reached out to her. She withdrew from his touch, then dashed away from him in a blur. In front of the bar, Leo stood firmly, one hand dependably on his baton.

  Outside, lightning cracked the sky like some elemental whip, while rain hammered against the building in harsh bursts. People darted past the open doors in search for shelter as the storm became fierce. Children shrieked, half in fear, half in excitement as thunder struck unexpectedly.

  “Closing the door folks!” came the hoarse voice of Jeremiah from the entry. A summer storm had well and truly arrived.

  Theo moved cat-quick across the floor in Jane's pursuit. She was already halfway up the stairs towards the second floor before he evenutally reached her. She was urgently twisting the nob on her bedroom door when Theo grabbed one of her pale wrists and spun her. As she turned around, Jane used the momentum to throw a wickedly fast palm, which struck him on the cheek without warning. The blow stunned him for a moment, forcing the half-elf to steady himself on the wall. He’d never been slapped by Jane before, ever. The two had hardly found the need to, despite growing up together as somewhat spirited children.

  The slap stung his pride more than his cheek. He let go of her wrist, letting his arm swing idly to his side. Wet streaks ran down her face like shallow rivers. Her lower lip trembled. She wanted to say something Theo could see, but the fear in her went too deep. It was too much to hide behind subtle words without imploding.

  As moments stretched out between them, interrupted only by the hollow cracks of thunder outside. Theo searched for words that would not come until he mustered a defeated, “I’m sorry”.

  She said nothing in response but tore her arm free and entering her bedroom. Theo felt the air whoosh against his face as the rose-coloured door slammed but an inch from his nose. He understood her on some new level now. He saw just how deep her well of affection for him really went. The bedroom lock clicked and through its wood he heard the surrendered sobs of Jane from within. With that, he returned to the bar, his mind floating in a cloud of uncertainty.

  “She’ll come around.” Leo said from the base of the stairs. Outside the rain hammered on, which to Theo sounded like a sack full of rice being upended on the roof continuously.

  “She just worries about you, mate. Fuck, she might even love you, Amor help her.” Leo went on, as if love was a weakness, not a virtue. Theo looked on absently into an invisible horizon; his senses dulled by the events of the last ten minutes. He supposed it was shock. His accomplishments with Skinner and the opportunity of getting into the guild became a muted, faraway thought.

  Leo snorted loudly next to him, clearing his nose with one gigantic spit into a spittoon at his feet. “I just sure hope you know what you’re doing Theo. Those people don’t make the best companions.”

  Anger flared up within Theo. “Why does everyone think I don’t know that?” he said through gritted teeth.

  Leo raised his hands, palms facing Theo in hopes of calming him down. “All I’m saying is, you’ve not grown up around people like that. You’re nothing more than a tool to the likes of them.” he explained.

  “And what? You don’t think Margret sees us all as just tools? Things she can just use until they rust with age or…break!?” He clenched his fist as his mother’s face wandered into his mind’s eye. The alcohol in him was burning away all emotions except one, a hot one that wanted him to lash out at something. Given there was only Leo before him, he was glad to rule that anger.

  “I’d rather die free than work for Margret! Once I pay my debt, I can leave the Red Maiden and then the guild.” He said, and even in his own ears it sounded like a lie. He knew these guilds weren’t likely to pat you on the shoulder and shake your hand when a jobs over. When you’re in, you’re in for good. Usually, your only out involves floating face down in dock water.

  Snatching a dirty rag from below the counter, he aggressively rubbed at a stubborn stain on the bar that refused to budge after so many years of cleaning. Anything to take his mind off his frustration. His cheek burned just like the fiery alcohol going down. Watching, Leo shrugged his shoulders in a ‘Well, I tried’ gesture and left him to it.