Dead Letter (26 page)

The
warehouse was painted an unremarkable hue of grey and the sheer
cliffs behind burned orange in the late afternoon sun. Elrin jogged
up to the door and pulled the bell cord several times. Warehouse
workers were notoriously deaf and the young man had learned in his
time running errands for Herder Kleith that a polite knock or
tentative ring was usually ignored.

A spy
hole opened and a pair of deep-set eyes looked him up and down.
“This ain’t the warehouse you want. Piss off!”

“
Warehouse Nine?” queried Elrin. “It has your number painted
right here.”

“
So what? I’m tellin’ you to piss off.”

“
I have a message for Runner Rix.”

The eyes
flicked to the side like a nervous rat and the shutter snapped
across.

A moment
passed by and no one opened the door. Elrin pressed his ear to the
timber to see if he could hear any conversation and received a
smart jolt when his skin touched the door. There would be no
eavesdropping, so he rang the bell with more insistence. Damn the
Guildmaster for making his last errand a hand delivery; otherwise
he could have slipped the message under the door and been off to
his shift at the Cog and Wheel.

The slot
opened again and a different pair of eyes scrutinised him. “You
ain’t a courier.”

“
No. I’m on an errand … for the Guildmaster.” Name-dropping
would get things moving faster.

The man
considered it. ”You alone?”

Elrin
looked about to make sure. “There’s only me. I need to hurry on.
May I just come in and give this to Rix? The Guildmaster is going
to be furious if you don’t let me in. I won’t take long if you’re
busy.”

The door
opened and the man stuck his stone hard shaved head out and checked
for any other people. Seeing none, he grabbed Elrin’s arm and
dragged him inside. The door slammed shut and an uncomfortable echo
ricocheted inside Elrin’s head accompanied by a tingle that bolted
down his spine. The door was enchanted with magic sigils carved
into the frame and a painted white eye watched from the centre of
the entrance.

The
warehouse was so large that there was much of it he couldn’t see in
the shadows. Unmarked kegs and barrels were stacked in orderly rows
beside crates and shelves. An elf-touched man with cruel hazel eyes
and angular ears tossed daggers at a target, while another man sat
on a barrel watching on, chewing his fingernails. Magical glow
lamps illuminated an elaborate alchemical still, the complexity of
which Elrin had never seen, nor read about. A man worked the
apparatus, pouring a measure of red viscous fluid into a beaker of
milky white liquid that warmed above a small flame. Vapours drifted
up to the high ceiling and gathered in a cloud, patiently waiting
to drift out a vent.

“
I told you he wasn’t no courier,” said the brute with the
deep-set eyes. “He’s a spy for sure, Varn.”

“
Not bein’ a courier don’t meant he’s a spy, idiot,” said the
brute with a head so thick it would humiliate a brick.

“
We can’t use real couriers, can we?” The half-elf added as he
tossed a dagger on centre. “They’d recognise our little magic man.
Anonymity is our friend.”

“
See!” exclaimed Varn with vindicated enthusiasm that
suggested he was not often correct. “Leave the door checkin’ to me,
Chop.”

“
Who’d ya say? Anna Mimity?” asked Chop in confusion. “Foreign
bloody name if I ever heard one. I know a friend when I see him.
I’ll prove this Anna fella ain’t.” The brute snatched the letter
from Elrin’s grasp set to tear it apart.

Elrin
snatched it back from his black tattooed hands and announced in a
loud voice, “Message for Runner Rix!” hoping that Rix would come to
claim it if he were here. If not, Elrin was prepared to sprint out
the door. Damn the silver tab, he was not ready for a beating from
this lot.

“
I’ll throttle you for that.” Chop pounded his fist on a
nearby crate advancing on Elrin. “Give it over!”

Elrin
backed up, holding the message as far from the brute as he could. A
dagger whistled by the fighter’s nose and lodged in a post beside
him. “Leave off, Chop!” ordered the half-elf. “We’ve had enough
stupidity today.”

The big
man touched his nose to check it was still there. “You lot are
chewin’ ash, not us. I’m doin’ my job checkin’ for spies. You can’t
even check for traps.”

The
half-elf laughed. “Got the prize, didn’t I?”

The
laboratory worker approached and put a hand on the big fighter’s
shoulder. “He’s no spy, Chop. Just a nameless lad, looking to put
some shine in his pocket. A freelancer like us. Shouldn’t we stick
together?”

“
S’pose so, but I’m watchin’ him close,” said Chop, walking
back to his post beside the door.

“
Are you Rix? Of the Courier Guild?” asked Elrin, checking the
man had blacked out tattoos on his hands. He was handsome with
well-groomed hair and held himself with the posture of a highborn
guilder who had more than his weight in gold. He didn’t fit in with
the other men. He stood above them. While some men separated
themselves, aloof from those of lower classes, Rix had a
charismatic tidal pull, as the moon did on the ocean below. He drew
you toward him, but remained out of reach. In the instant Rix
spoke, Elrin wanted to be his friend and didn’t know
why.

“
I am he. Though not of late; names don’t stick long on me.
The question is, who are you?”

“
I’m Elrin. I’ve never had a guild name, but I wish one would
stick to me.”

“
Names are nothing more than a burden. They are shackles the
guilder’s polish up to make us think they are jewellery. We are so
fooled into desiring them.”

Elrin
wanted to listen to Rix all afternoon, but he knew that he had to
get back the Cog and Wheel. “I have messages for you. This is from
the Guildmaster.”

Rix
opened it and read, his expression switching from diplomat to
despot. Anger flared in his eyes and his hands shook.

“
What’s it say then?” asked the quiet man on the barrel. “Is
he dead?”

“
Like the boss’d care, Haggan,” answered the
half-elf.

“
What if he’s alive and yappin’ on us?” asked Chop. “That’s on
you, Ipp.”

“
Then I’ll make sure he’s handled,” replied the half-elf
balancing a dagger on his finger.

“
We all might get
handled
,” replied Rix. “If we don’t
play this game right, we’ll get caught in the middle of two kinds
of hell.”

“
So, spit it out, Rix,” said Ipp. “What’s got you in a
knot?”

“
Read it for yourself.” Rix screwed the message into a ball,
ignited it with magical fire and tossed it at the
half-elf.

Ipp
caught it in his mouth, doused the flame and unfolded it, blowing a
ring of smoke to top off the trick. He read it and laughed. “That’s
what you get for being too jamin’ smart. Serves you right,
Rixy.”

“
What’s it say?” asked Chop.

“
Says the magic man has a lot more work to do. We’ve got to
keep him safe in these luxurious apartments for a while yet. So
make yourselves comfortable, lads.” Ipp went back to his target
practice and the spirits in the room descended.

“
What good’s all this shine if I can’t spend it?” rumbled Chop
to his fellow guard, Varn. ”I’m sick of starin’ at this creepy eye.
I swear it moves.

Whatever
this lot of men were talking of, Elrin knew the Guildmaster would
be upset to discover he was indirectly associated. The Guildmaster
was the most strident advocate of guild law, and his dedication to
the good of Calimska was without comparison. These men were not
traders as he had suggested. With the exception of Rix, they had
the swagger of thugs, hard-boiled in the Cauldron. It appeared Rix
was trapped here, forced to labour for these criminals.

“
There’s a mage from the Island looking for you,” whispered
Elrin.

Rix
paused in thought without a reply. Elrin couldn’t make out if he
was shocked with joyous surprise or apprehension. His eyes
considered the other men. “I must write a return message,” he said
in a voice that carried through the warehouse. “My quill and ink
are over here.” Rix motioned for Elrin to follow him to the
laboratory workspace. Intrigued by the secretive behaviour and
encouraged by the chance to look closer at the alchemical
apparatus, Elrin followed.

“
Do you know your letters?” whispered Rix, keeping an eye on
the other men.

Elrin
affirmed his ability with a nod.

Rix
dipped his quill and wrote with precise script, speeding across the
yellow paper.

The elf-touched has ears as sharp as his blades.

Tap your finger once for Yes. Twice for No.

Who is looking for me? Is it Adept Lanuille?

Elrin
was puzzled. Could that be Kettna’s colleague? He didn’t know to
shake or nod.

Without
a response, Rix continued to write.

Beautiful, blonde, blue robes?

Elrin
tapped his finger twice, wondering who that might be.

The Archmagus?

Elrin
tapped twice again.

Novice Kettna?

With one
tap, Elrin affirmed it.

Rix
stared at the ceiling in thought. Black ink dripped from the nib
and a blot spread on the paper.

You must take this message to her straight away.

Pretend it is for the Guildmaster.

Can you do that?

Elrin
tapped once and Rix promptly screwed up the paper and threw it in a
potbelly stove behind them.

“
This ink is terrible, Ipp!” yelled Rix. “It’s blotting like a
startled squid. You know he hates that.”

“
I’ll get better stuff for the next batch,” replied Ipp from
his target practice. “Anything for our golden boy.”

Rix took another sheet of paper and began writing the message
for Inspector Kettna.
Being brought up
with impeccable manners, Elrin turned away. In truth the alchemical
apparatus fascinated him. “What are you making here? I’ve never
seen anything like it.”

“
I discovered a way to extract the properties of some rare
ingredients,” replied Rix, telling Elrin everything and nothing at
the same time.

As a man
of uncommon curiosity, Elrin assumed Rix was inviting him to
enquire further. Delighted, he obliged. “What are the rare
ingredients and what is the extract used for?”

Rix
finished his message and sealed it in black wax. “We’re making a
healing salve of sorts, from the petals of rare flowers that grow
up along the Great Dividing Range. But that is not your concern.
You must be on your way.” Rix slipped Elrin a silver tab from a
stack beside a melting crucible. “Make haste and never
return.”

***

Elrin left the warehouse with nerves in knots,
dreading that one of the thugs at the door would stop him and check
the message. They never asked and as soon as he was through the
door, Elrin sprinted away. He only slowed to a steady jog once he
had put several intersections between him and warehouse nine, but
didn’t dare walk. The secret message for the Inspector made him
uneasy and he wouldn’t be comfortable until it was in her
possession.

When he
arrived at the Cog and Wheel, Elrin approached Innkeep Rimple for
permission to speak with the sorceress. “I have a special message
for Inspector Kettna,” puffed Elrin. “May I go up the stairs to her
room?”

Rimple
was delighted to see Elrin, though quite distracted. “Inspector.
Such a marvellous name. No sooner is it invented by the Constable,
good deeds have set it in silver.”

“
Yes, it is a fine name,” assured Elrin. “I need to see her.
Is she in?”

“
Not till evenfall, I expect. What with thwarting ten fierce
Black Beard gangers in the midst of daylight robbery, she must have
a lot of questioning to do.”

“
Black Hand Boys, Rimple,” corrected Chelle as she entered the
common room. She made it her business to squeeze past Elrin on her
way to the bar, pressing her curves close and lingering with a
wicked smile. “Need to catch your breath?”

“
That’s the one,” said Rimple, unaware of Chelle’s manoeuvres.
“Though, surely they were men, not boys. I heard for a fact, they
each had a menacing beard and swords as tall as you,
Chelle.”

“
What do you mean?” asked Elrin.

“
About the greatswords or the beards?” asked
Rimple.

“
About all of it,” said Elrin. “What happened?”

“
That woman is an inspiration,” said Chelle. “Announced as
Calimska’s first Inspector in the morning and broke up a jewel
heist on High Street after noon. She’s the talk of the
city.”

“
All on the benefits of our fine breakfast,” said Rimple.
“Can’t beat the Cog and Wheel to get your day rolling.”

Cook
came out of the kitchen with a keg of pickled eggs to put behind
the bar. “Gods save us from your slogans, Rimple.”