Getting out of the underground tunnels took a bit longer than expected. The smell of fire had done its job of preventing Holmsteader’s gang from chasing me, but had also drawn the attention of something else in the underground.
I didn’t see what it was. As soon as I heard its steps, I found a nearby alcove and wedged myself into it, staying perfectly still until the thud of its footsteps faded away.
Two hours spent hiding away every time I heard something threatening, finding a place I could fit myself and the books. They also slowed me down, but like Hells was I going to leave them behind as I moved through the tunnels of the underground.
I stayed far away from the larger tunnels the dwarves had cut out underground. Too much risk of running across other people with fewer places to hide. The tunnels and dug-out caverns down here ranged from the tiny ones I had to crouch to move through up to massive ones built for entire armies to march through. And dwarf settlements could reach truly massive sizes. I’d been to the mostly abandoned town Almaseck’s Delver guild based themselves out of plenty of times. There were smaller cities further away.
The Dwarf Capital of Druthzeren had been even grander, spread across many caverns, said to stretch across miles both in width and depth. The central cavern had been massive and carved out like a massive sphere. Rumour said you could have dropped a coin from the highest point and it wouldn’t hit the bottom of the cavern until half an hour had passed.
All in the past tense. I’d never seen it, and I’d only seen the ruins now. Whether it was the propaganda that the dwarves had collapsed their capital to kill as many Anglean soldiers as possible or the rumours that the army had damaged it themselves during the fighting, the capital city of the dwarves was a wreck.
The goverment forbade access to it on pain of execution. Unlike the many other wrecked dwarf fortresses, shrines, and other places where they enforced it on paper only, the Anglean army patrolled the dwarf capital well. They also tended to shoot first and ask questions later.
Not a problem for me today. No need nor desire to go there. I was heading for an older entrance into the underground close to my shop. My now approaching over a week closed shop. I needed to hire help. Or just shutter it all together. But for right now, I needed to be alert.
New entrances and exits from the underground popped up in the Quarter faster than the authorities could shut them down. Keeping them hidden, however…the one I’d used to enter was a well-known one, never closed by the common unspoken agreement to not tip off Imperial authorities it existed.
Of course, that also meant the Black Flame knew it existed, and knowing my half-brother, he had as many entrances under watch as he could handle. He would have known I had entered. The only question was, had enough time passed for him to hear of Holmsteader’s death, hear of what I’d left painted over her corpse, and organize for me to be intercepted if I left?
I could go to my bolthole in the basement. But I wanted to see how he would react.
My brother’s role in this was a puzzle piece I couldn’t figure out. He was aiding the conspirators, but he set me on their trail. He had his ‘deserter’ diabolists kidnap Melissa and plan to sacrifice her, then Malachti and Mitlau burst in and started killing the diabolists.
I paused, considering that order of events. Obviously playing multiple sides, but I couldn’t lay the Melissa being sacrificed firmly on him. Hells knew, even when he’d been at his strictest about no infighting, plenty of us still were eyeing each other’s backs for various grievances and slights, especially in the chaos of those last weeks of the revolt.
Whether he had ordered that or not, I hoped his response would be very informative.
***
My street was quiet when I finally turned onto it. Everyone was inside, either from the falling snow or because they’d been forewarned of my arrival.
I saw some curtains move, figures behind them trying to move out of my sight. Definitely the latter. I sighed, then walked down towards my shop.
The only one who dared stay outside while the walking disaster known as Harrow tromped through the street was a ragged beggar, rags wrapped tight, skin discolored from some past encounter with magic, horns missing chunks. He smiled a grin missing most of its teeth.
“Alms for a war veteran, miss?”
I considered him blankly for a second, snorted in amusement, then tossed a shilling into his tin cup and continued on my way towards my shop’s door.
I shut the door to my shop with the jangle of a bell, then immediately locked it.
I should hire help. Although no one had been outside. Word spread fast that I was not opening my doors any time soon.
From the looks I’d gotten from several people on my way home, they might prefer that time to be never.
I sighed and took a step away from the door. No one was here. Kelson had still been in the basement when I’d woken up and left. Tolman would have come to take him to Edwards. Melissa was hopefully staying put at Tolman and Arsene’s. Gregory and Alice should still be at Tarver’s temple, resting and healing. Varrow was probably staying low and in a place I couldn’t easily get to him.
I moved across an empty floor, the tap of my hooves on it the only sound. The smashed-apart shelves from my fight with the devil were gone. About all that was left was the counter. Plenty of space to think as I put the ledgers down on the countertop.
I started pacing. It had taken half an hour to reach my shop, and the entire time I’d been followed.
Two Infernals had tailed me amateurishly to my home. They’d disapointed me with how amateurish they’d been. Not because I didn’t know there’d been a more competent tail who’d kept up after I’d evaded those two, but even as decoy tails, you expected some level of competence.
That was the most informative part of the response. Not even knowing he didn’t want to risk direct confrontation came close to it. He must be running low on resources and people, probably both from diabolists lost in fake defections and now the number of Black Flame members lost in last night’s fighting.
Or he wanted me to think that way. I assume a weaker Versalicci, I get more reckless around Versalicci. Mind you, I’d already been plenty reckless around him, hoping he'd make the first move. Why?
I paused, not quite sure how to dissect what came up in my mind, thinking on that. Mostly my half-brother’s corpse. I was standing by the door, and I took a look out of one of the few windows not shattered by the fight.
The street was still empty. Snow was coming down once again. Another impediment to what I needed to do today. Also overkill at this point. Something besides the streets is clear for an immediate deployment of the army if necessary.
I gave it another second of thought, then snorted. Oh. Riot control. I wasn’t sure how much I believed what I’d been told about the depth of your average Anglean’s faith in their pantheon, but I couldn’t imagine any of them would be happy to find out some unknown number of them were diabolists. Possibly city-wrecking riots.
Best to blanket the entire city in cold to cool tempers and have people only venture out for work and not spend a second longer out in the freezing cold.
Actually, the murders themselves might have started some riots by now if not for the snow. They probably would have been focused entirely on the Infernal Quarter. For once Imperial intervention had actually spared us that, which I’d be grateful for if I didn’t suspect it was entirely accidental.
Versalicci’s goal remained as opaque to me as ever. I’d never found out who he’d been talking to that night. I’d overhead him admitting to betraying the Flame. My assumption had become Imperial Intelligence because in the end the Crown had benefitted the most after the revolt, both in terms of tightening their grip on the Quarter and turning it and the other Infernal Quarters across the empire as new sources of manpower as ‘penance’ for our crimes. And Versalicci had strangled any other pro-Infernal organizations in Avernorn dead in the crib.
Since then it had been a balancing act, giving us just enough of a carrot through potential service in the military and the stick in the form of the knowledge that they could have just wiped us out and possibly could again in the future.
So why was the Flame involved in this? Infiltrating on behalf of Imperial Intelligence, I could understand if they were paying him, but this had gone far past the point of usefulness. Even if it was to collect more evidence of church involvement in the Diabolism program to use for leverage, we’d long passed that point as well.
And while the snow was dampening the public response, each killing would only drive up civic unrest. The empire didn’t benefit from that.
I frowned. He wasn’t actually pursuing opening the Hellgate, was he?
Holmsteader, I understood, she’d make her money and ditch when the opportunity came. Most of the rest of the conspiracy I imagined was a mixture of people who might or might not want to open the Hellgate but were pursuing for their own gain. Did Versalicci want a portal to the hells?
I sighed. I needed to collect more information before chasing that. For now, why make me think he was weaker? The obvious answer was to make me act recklessly.
Well, in terms of provoking me, I wasn’t going to blindly charge down into the underground searching for wherever the new Understreet was. What had he said the newer members of the Flame were calling it? The Street Beneath?
I doubted he thought I would do that, either, no matter how much he prodded. What was he making me overconfident for? I didn’t know where anything was that could actually hurt him. Places where Black Flame gathered? I’d only leveraged that to force a meeting, and I knew a repeat performance wouldn’t work. They’d be too on their toes.
Enough thinking on Versalicci. I had time before my one other necessary errand today. Which meant plenty of time to go through the books I’d acquired from Holmsteader.
I lit a lamp, then started my search. I found the ledger for the last six months. It was possible the conspiracy stretched further back than that, but I could always check earlier ledgers. I doubted anyone who had delivered money before then would have stopped prior to the last six months.
I scanned through the ledge, noting each time I saw a familiar name, leaving a coin between the pages to mark the spot. Thirty minutes later, I’d finished.
Five names, five clerics. Albert Mallet, Elizabeth Millitent, Albert Kexsmith, Daniel Roberts, and Matilda Rose. Four of them were names I’d marked to take an interest in after talking with Mourner Kelson, two serving Daltaren, one Ixillae, and the fourth from Tildae’s clergy. The last name, Matilda Rose, was a servant of Lareran whom the Mourner hadn’t been familiar with. Alternating each week, so close to one time a month for each of them.
Five. I drummed my fingers on the wood of my countertop. That felt excessive to have so many people running money, but spreading it out lessened the amount of money they would need to take. And presumably, the money they would need to embezzle. And if they weren’t known for games of chance before, going only once a month would look less suspicious than going once every two weeks or even every week.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
The listed amounts were just the money brought by the priests to gamble as part of their cover. The money handed off must be several times this amount. Many times that amount, actually. Some of it would be the relics like the Halpsusian wards I’d dug up in that warehouse in the Kettle, but there would be some money, and things that could be sold for quite a bit of coin.
This further explained Holmsteader’s interest. Even if she had her doubts about them successfully opening the Hellgate, this much money flowing with her as the middle-woman would have been a very tempting opportunity. Skimming just a little would have been lucrative. Avoiding being implicated in it would be more difficult, but she wouldn’t be the first to let money rob her of her reason.
And it might be another reason she was killed. The killer hadn’t questioned her about missing funds, but it might have been an existing finger on the scales when they decided to smash her skull.
Those five would have to be a priority. Not only because they were people who could tell us more about the conspiracy, but because their heads would assuredly be next.
It wouldn’t be long before the conspirators heard about what had happened in Holmsteader’s office. Even if her gang tried to cover up their boss’ death, the conspirators would likely keep a close eye on Glee Street, if only to see if anyone in her gang knew as much as she had.
When they discovered someone had been rummaging through her office, the next to be targeted would be the parts of the conspiracy that had run the money to Glee Street.
Which meant we needed to protect those five and get them into safety as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, my own standing and ability to do that were pretty limited, and the one resource I could lean on was probably getting chewed out for dealing with me in the first place. Which left one option for who had the manpower to do this and the authority to get four different churches to cooperate with them.
I rolled my eyes, went to my door, and opened it to the biting cold. The old war veteran had vanished entirely, and I eyed the empty space.
I moved so anyone could move into my shop without any issue, waited for twenty seconds to be sure, then shut my door again.
“Nice of you to let an old war veteran share the warmth of your home, Miss Harrow,” the same discolored Infernal from before said, leaning their back against my counter.
I moved to the remnants of one window, using the ragged and torn remnants of my curtains to start blocking what parts hadn’t been patched by wood. “Good morning, Tagashin.”
“How did you know it was me?” Tagashin asked as she changed out her glamours. Back to being the female Infernal in the blinding pink suit.
“Lucky guess,” I said simply as I finished blocking the rest of the windows. “I joke. No, I figured someone from Intelligence would be watching me, and you would be the easiest to keep a tail on me.”
Not the actual truth, but I was hardly going to say out loud that Tagashin had clued me in by assuming the same form she’d taken twice while pretending to be Voltar. No need to get her in trouble with any Imperial agent who might be eavesdropping.
What I’d once assumed to be strangely colored burns from alchemical fire wielded by the dwarves, I now knew was her unrestrainable taste for the flamboyant.
“Well, what has you calling your tail in to join you?” Tagashin said lazily, leaning against my countertop. “Worried about me catching a cold?”
“No, although I will be making some tea,” I said. “That should warm you up.”
“Decadent habit,” Tagashin commented as I moved behind the counter. “You really should limit it.”
I cocked my head to the side. First, one of the fey spirits she shoved inside my head, now her. Did Fey not like tea?
“No,” she said. “We can, however, tell when someone is addicted.”
I snorted at her correct guess of my thoughts. “I’m hardly addicted. Like in all things, I go for moderation.”
That got a laugh from the kitsune. “I can wait for a cup. If this doesn’t take too long. I have more to do today than just keeping an eye on you.”
“Of course,” I said. “And I hate to add to your list of burdens, but I have something of particular use to the investigation.”
Tagashin sighed. “Oh, woe is me. I’ll forgive you if it’s not too onerous.”
“Just a little bit of letter-running,” I told her. “Of a kind I can’t really trust a runner with.”
For less vital information at less tense times I’d contribute to the urchin economy for a runner, but with recent events I was afraid anyone I hired would be attacked, mind-read, drugged, and a variety of other methods that would permanently ruin my reputation with them.
“I recently came across these ledgers,” I said, gesturing at the books still spread across my countertop. “Property of the late Miss Holmsteader.”
Tagashin grinned maliciously. “Late? How later? And how..culpable are you?”
“I didn’t kill her, and in a few hours,” I told her. “No one got a good look at me as I went through her room. The killer had already made off with most of the evidence, but these were still there. Either Holmsteader was very good at hiding her activities, they were bad at spying on her, or she was in a rush. Either way, five of the names belong to members of four churches confirmed to be in the Diabolist program, and they were probably funneling money to Holmsteader for use in the scheme.”
“Ah,” Tagashin said. “So now that they’ve cut Holmsteader’s throat, you want to make sure they’re made safe before someone cuts their throats as well?”
“Pretty much,” I said. “Imperial Intelligence has the resources to do that; I don’t.”
I held up a letter I’d written, explaining all of that to the Voltars and with the names written down.
“So, you’re back to trusting them then?” Tagashin asked, taking the letter.
“I’m trusting whoever is in charge of this has ambitions stopping short of opening a Hellgate,” I replied. “Or that they won’t risk anything to bring their motivation to do that into question.”
Tagashin’s tail swished evenly at that. “You could say more eyes are on this than were before.”
I would hope so. Whoever might have been trying to keep this below certain people’s attention might be cursing my name. I couldn’t imagine they could completely keep the story of what had occurred last night out of certain people’s ears.
I didn’t want to involve more people, but given that whoever was pulling Intelligence’s strings treaded far too close to risking it all, I would risk it.
No matter what the price was later.
“That I can imagine,” I said. “So, the letter?”
She gestured, and the letter vanished from her hand. “Consider it delivered. Now, I think it’s time we had a talk, Malvia.”
I raised an eyebrow, but for once the trickster’s face was devoid of any actual mirth.
“So, now for a cup of tea?” I offered, reaching down to where I stored my pot.
“Assuming you aren’t reaching for some horribly destructive device and using it to blow both of us up to avoid a conversation?” Tagashin said. “Certainly.”
I snorted. Yes, I had put some alchemist’s fire down here after the incident with the devil. The fact that it was near my reserve teapot was a pure coincidence.
“Green tea, I think,” I said, reaching for a tin of stored leaves. “Unless you have a preference for another blend?”
“None,” Tagashin said as I started the process of warming everything, including the water, before I began to steep it. “We haven’t really had a chance to talk about yesterday. You don’t seem as devastated as I thought you would be.”
“I cried the worst of it out of me last night,” I said calmly. “I didn’t know the poor man personally, and while I’m dismayed about the failure to keep him alive…well, at least I found out the calibre of our foes. It’s something useful, and hopefully will prevent more deaths in the future.”
Tagashin raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment any further on that as I continued preparing the tea. Whatever her personal thoughts on the fiction I’d crafted, she was leaving it alone for now.
“So, what were you talking about with the good Captain Malstein before I happened upon you?” Tagashin said.
“Private affairs,” I told her, and she snorted. “And before you say it involves the case, I share what information I want. If one of the Voltars wants to pry further, they can bring along something to actually coerce me into giving answers.”
“I’m asking as your friend, what did you talk to Captain Malstein about?” she said.
The tea kettle was full, so I put it on top of the stove while I tried to think of what to say. The truth, because I expected her to catch any lies out. She’d known I would be there. I could hope it was only for personal reasons instead of Imperial Intelligence spying, but the best thing to assume was that Tagashin knew at least some of what had happened.
“Terms for his help in my little plan yesterday evening. I ended up paying less than I expected or planned to. Remarkably forgiving man considering I killed his partner.”
Tagashin twitched, and I nodded soberly. “Several years ago, when I was first in the Flame. It was not an easy death. I didn’t cause many of those back then. It was messy, bloody, and our mutual acquaintance, the Captain, proved himself a better person than me for not taking the opportunities for vengeance I offered. If offered the same, I would have-”
My mind darted down the path of if the Queen of Masks had been just a little more successful, and immediately rushed back before it dwelled too long in that darkness.
Good thing, too, as one of the teacups I had pulled out was on the verge of cracking, a hairline already forming as something split. My expression turned apologetic as I put the cup away, getting another one out for myself.
“Needless to say, I picked the best choice out of the few I had on whom to approach. ”
“And your offer was to bare your neck and wait for a sword to fall upon it,” Tagashin said.
“Hardly a sword,” I replied. “Whatever else he might be, Captain Malstein is a man of honor. Execution would have been if I actually deserved it. As is the offer of just a cell in the Coffin was refused.”
Tagashin stared at me in a mixture of horror and anger. “I’m tempted to just go tell the two laid up in the temple of Tarver what you just said and let them do my work for me. I’m sure if I did, they’d do their best to make sure you didn’t go out and do such a stupid thing again.”
I forced a sudden jolt in my chest down at the thought of where Tagashin talking to them might lead. “Please don’t. My life is complicated enough without adding issues like that to it.”
“Ah yes, the two of them knowing you might fancy both of them is such a complication to your plan to get shoved into a jail cell for a permanent stay,” Tagashin said, voice harsh. “Those fey spirits failed, I see.”
“They did not,” I retorted firmly. “Just because I came to conclusions you didn’t expect nor want doesn’t mean I learned nothing. And I hardly expected to be put in that cell forever.”
Tagashin glared at me, but she didn’t accuse me of lying. I wasn’t even sure if I was. The offer to Malstein, in retrospect, was a moment of weakness.
Thankfully, the Watch Captain apparently considered me living a free woman more of a punishment than being in the Coffin. I wouldn’t correct his delusions.
“Why are you doing this, Malvia?” Tagashin asked me. “Not just the offer to Malstein, all of this? No one is demanding it of you.”
I paused, hand firmly on the pot’s handle, until the whistle of the steam made me pull it off the stovetop.
I poured the tea gently, slowly. “Well, I could answer that it’s out of duty to the Queen and Country, but I don’t want to joke. Saying it’s a case of morality rings rather hollow after my years of lacking any inclinations in that direction. Vengeance against my half-brother? I could have tried that for several years now, but even in the middle of this case, I never could work up the nerve to actually try. Imperial Intelligence killing me for not helping me is no longer the case, and continuing to involve myself actually makes it more likely I get my head chopped off.”
I finished her cup and moved onto my own. “Perhaps it’s simply that, living in Avernorn, I don’t want it overrun by devils? I have people I care about living here, after all.”
With both cups filled to the brim, I put the kettle aside for now. Tagashin hadn’t sipped her own yet.
“Leave it too long, and it will get cold,” I told Tagashin, taking a sip of my own. I enjoyed the earthy tones, at least until Tagashin’s voice cut through my temporary tranquility.
“Malvia. Why are you doing this?”
I sighed, letting the flavor on my tongue distract me from having to answer for a few seconds longer. “Is not wanting to live in a city overrun by devils insufficient as far as reasons go?”
“No,” Tagashin said flatly.
I drummed my fingers on my countertop as Tagashin watched, trying to find something to say only for the words to die a few times in my throat.
“I won’t push,” the Kitsune said, finishing her cup. “We’ll talk later, if only because I’ll make sure you find out what each of these clerics had to say when we get them to safety and Voltar starts prying into their reasons for doing this.”
I nodded, happy to move on from that topic of conversation. “One of them is because of a curse on her children’s bloodline from a fey their grandfather irritated. Her husband died of it. Apparently, it makes their veins run dry.. If you could handle that, she might be willing to talk. Elizabeth Millitent.”
Tagashin’s nose scrunched up in an expression of disgust. “A bloodline curse? Gauche. But I can definitely see that happening. Most fey who don’t deal with mortals on a regular basis see it as…you know what, I’m not going to get into the details. I’m one of the most sociable and mortal-understanding fey I know.”
“In more ways than one,” I said drily, getting a laugh out of her.
“Don’t think you’re going to distract me with banter,” she warned. “But yes, I’ll take a look, if for no other reason that harming pups for the sins of parents is one of the strangest urges I’ve found across mortals and fey. Was there anything else?”
She was starting to disappear from sight now, entire body turning transparent.
“None,” I said. “While it is..difficult, I’d like to talk more, but I have my own things to do. I’ll see you later, Tagashin.”
“Don’t get killed,” Tagashin told me, fading out of sight.
“I always try my best,” I replied.
She smiled, shook her head slightly as it disappeared into the air.
“No, you don’t.”
The door shut behind her. I could hear other foot and hoof steps crunching through the snow now, people realizing that someone had left my shop invisibly.
I meanwhile poured myself another cup, slowly savoring the taste and how it took my mind over what had just occurred.
Irritation refused to be kept down, bubbling up and lodging in my throat, refusing to be forced down by the tea. Who was Tagashin to say this? To take this interest? Did she fancy herself my mother?
I had one mother, currently stuck in a hospital bed, asleep, possibly until my dying day. When she woke up and took me to account, then I would accept guilt, but not from a foolish fey fox-
I took another sip, forcing it down. All of it.
Most of my discomfort was from that question. Why am I doing this?
I wish I could answer that. Since I couldn’t, I instead went to collect my things and get ready to leave.
Soon I was on the steps of my store, locking up while keeping all the books I’d grabbed held tightly to my side. I was taking the ledgers with me in case Versalicci’s watcher tried to break in. Or anyone else from the various factions swirling around this case. Paradoxically, they would be safer in my coat than at home, even if I were heading to a den of thieves.
Time to visit the Temple of Lareran