You can read the previous chapter here!
“I said I wan’ another drink, and nobubby can stop me!” Candace roared over the shouts and laughter in the tavern.
“Who would even try?” asked Asp, at first with excitement, and then with genuine puzzlement.
The bartender, a cheerful elf, raced over to them. “Did I hear ‘another drink’?”
“Huzzah!” cried Candace and Asp together. The elf dipped Candace’s flagon into a barrel of ale and handed it back, splashing all around–including on Candace, who didn’t seem to notice.
“Asp,” came a whisper from behind. Asp spun and found Jehosaphat watching her and Candace.
“Whassup, Jehosaphat?” she inquired.
“C’mon,” he said and left the tavern.
Asp turned and spoke to Candace. “We gotta go,” she mumbled. “I think Jehosaphat wants to talk.”
“Awwww noooooo,” moaned Candace as she got off her stool at the bar. “I can’t make talking now good.”
Asp laughed harder than she meant to. “Oh, you sure can’t.” She held out a hand and guided Candace to the door. “C’mon, sweetie. Just a little bit further.”
They left the tavern together and stood before Jehosaphat. Asp tapped a foot idly while Candace swayed a bit.
“Where the hell have you two been?” he asked, jabbing a finger at them. “Please tell me not just out drinking the whole time.”
“Wha’s it matter a you?” spat Candace. “Yer not my dad.”
“Thankfully not,” said Jehosaphat, rubbing his face in his hands. “No, the issue is that our friend the Curator has been doing some talking. A lot of talking, in fact. He’s got the guards nearest him mostly convinced that Delia Violet has framed him.”
Asp’s eyes narrowed, and she wished suddenly for sobriety. “So is this like a counterintelligence thing, or an ‘I need to hide’ thing?”
“Until we know for sure, I’d say it’s a hiding thing.” Jehosaphat looked each way over his shoulders. “Our last secure spot got found. If they’ve connected you to us, it’s a worthless place. I hate to do this, but you’re going to have to find somewhere to hide for a day or two.”
“Are we talking about holing up in a quiet inn,” asked Asp, trying to sound pleasant, “or do I need to be under some floorboards?” She ended her question on a down note to indicate her preference.
Jehosaphat sighed. “It’s up to you–it’s your safety. I’m a cautious type, so I’d be as covered as possible.”
Asp thought for a moment. Think like you’re sober. What would I do if I was sober? “There’s a little house in the hiskin quarter,” she said after a while. “South-central area, uneven steps because it’s on a slight incline, a broken window to the left of the front door. I’ll be under the floor. If you could, send someone to set things right in the house after I’m underneath. And if it’s more than a while, please send some food.”
Jehosaphat nodded. “Understood. Good luck, now.” He turned to Candace and offered her an arm in which to link hers.
She took it daintily. “Oh, a gentleman!” she cried. “Hey, wait,” she called to Asp, smiling. Candace wrapped Asp in a bear hug. “Be careful, okay?” she said in the tone that drunk people adopt when trying to appear very serious.
It didn’t work. Asp offered her a big smile in return. “I’ll be careful,” she replied and strode off into the early hours of the morning.
-
Asp went up the uneven steps and into the house in the hiskin district. She inspected the fireplace and its removable stone–neither seemed to have been disturbed. She set to work. Moving quickly, she pried up enough floorboards to allow her space to get underneath them. Because of her small size, it only required a few boards, but working without tools complicated the process.
After twenty nervous minutes, she had pried up four floorboards and lowered herself to the ground before returning the floorboards to as close to their correct places as she could get them. It was an imprecise science, but she managed it as best she could in her current state. She laid down on the rocky dirt and stared up at the floorboards above her.
I’ve prepared for a time like this for so long. I’ve always known it was possible. So why doesn’t it feel real? She inspected her mind. I’m not too drunk to feel it, I don’t think. Maybe it’s because we’re not sure yet. Could be a false alarm. She shook her head, thinking of Jehosaphat. He was pretty worried. She glanced around the crawl space. If I get found, do I have a way out?
Her eyes settled on a space where boards at a corner of the house could possibly be moved. She crawled towards it and pushed gently on the wooden lattice work. It gave way just enough for her to slip out if need be. Satisfied, she crawled back to the center of the house and waited.
About half an hour later, footsteps sounded on the uneven stairs up into the house. Asp tensed and watched the cracks in the floorboards for signs of who had arrived. In the darkness and through the cracks, it was nearly impossible to tell from appearance.
“Asp?” came a whisper. It sounded like Annabel.
“Yes?” Asp whispered back.
“Oh thank the gods,” breathed Annabel. “Do you know how many uneven stairs there are in this district? I’ve been whispering your name in every abandoned house for a half mile.”
Asp flinched at the thought. “Can you put the floorboards back, please?”
“Right,” said Annabel, and she set to fixing the planks back into position. Asp thought of being buried alive as the final floorboard was replaced.
“Any news from the outside world?” asked Asp.
“Because you’ve been locked up so long?” replied Annabel. “Dancer woke up and went back to partying. He’s a big fan of yours now. And so is Candace!” she added, surprised. “I don’t know what you said to her, but she was very drunk and very happy when Jehosaphat brought her back.”
Asp grinned beneath the floorboards, then wondered why she was smiling. Am I actually making friends?
“Thanks, Annabel. Hey, what happened last time one of us had to hide out? Jehosaphat said something about your old place getting found.” Asp tried to keep the nervousness from her voice.
“Oh, yeah. Um, Oslo doesn’t like us to talk about it.” Asp could see that Annabel was fidgeting where she stood. “It’s, uh–we used to have a designated room at this inn. But then we had someone hiding out in there, and the innkeeper sold us out. Our friend got nicked. They sent him off to another city–we don’t know where–and we don’t even know what happened to him.” Pain wracked Annabel’s voice.
Asp spoke in her gentlest voice. “Yancy, right?”
Annabel tensed. “Yeah, Yancy. He was a really good thief. All-purpose–he talked people out of things, he snatched things, he could break into places, even hold his own in a fight.” Her voice bordered on the dreamy. “But none of that matters when your back is to the wall and there’s eight guards come to get you.” Asp watched as Annabel drew a finger across her throat. “Oslo said there’s nothing we could’ve done. Candace said we could’ve paid the innkeeper more, or threatened him more, or something. We fought about it a lot. Eventually, Oslo just said, ‘Leave it alone.’ You know? If we can’t agree on it, then leave it be.” Annabel stared up at the stars above and continued. “But that was then. We won’t let that happen again to any of us. Not even our rookie,” she added, leaning down and patting the floorboards. “Is there anything else you need?” she asked.
“I’ll need food in the morning,” whispered Asp. “Aside from that, I’m fine.”
“Get some rest,” replied Annabel. “You never know what tomorrow holds.”
-
Birds chirped overhead as the darkness of early morning receded. The sun rose slowly into the sky, and the city of Strey began to come slowly to life. Asp stirred under the floorboards and thought idly to herself. Why don’t I just change into Penelope or something? Nobody here really knows her yet. She flopped onto her side, trying to ease her aching back. The ground had not been hospitable last night. But then if they were looking for Delia, they might also be looking for a slightkin in disguise. Better to preserve those covers for when I really need them. Asp probed her fingers under her hip and removed an angular rock.
The clump clump clump of feet climbing the stairs set Asp on edge. She slid to one side to get a better view through the boards. It appeared to be a green Ronan'el–Kyrn. Still, though, out of caution, Asp waited to be spoken to.
“Hello?” came Kyrn’s voice. She seemed to be peering down through the floorboards, and Asp’s heart skipped a beat under Kyrn’s gaze despite knowing Kyrn meant her no harm.
“I’m down here,” whispered Asp. She tapped on the underside of a board beneath Kyrn’s feet.
“Good. Gimme a sec.” Kyrn pried up a board and handed down a small haversack. As soon as Asp took the sack, Kryn refastened the board and stood by the front door, looking out on the street. Asp poked into the haversack and found strips of dried pork, some slices of a hard cheese, and a handful of almonds. Asp chewed some almonds and tried to relax.
“It doesn’t look good,” Kyrn said after a while. “They believe the Curator when he says something is up. That means Gilbert is in trouble. At the same time, the dwarf who was supposed to identify Dancer sent word to the guardhouse, and she described Delia.” Kyrn scratched her hand. “If you’re going to leave, and I don’t recommend you do, you’re going to have to do it as somebody else, or maybe even as yourself.”
“Myself?” repeated Asp. What do I dress like when I’m me? How do I act?
Kyrn’s voice was tense. “Oslo says you need to be as careful as possible. You’re the only one of us right now who isn’t known to the guards as a criminal. That’s more useful than you probably realize.” Kyrn was talking to Asp as though she were in the same room, keeping her gaze at eye level. She paced slightly sometimes, then quickly stopped in an effort to stay quiet and unremarkable. “If it were me in your place,” said Kyrn, her voice pleading, “I wouldn’t want to stay put. But you really need to, for your own good and the good of all of us.” Her speech over, Kyrn’s hands fell to her side. “Does that make sense?”
“It does, unfortunately,” said Asp, chewing the inside of her lip. “I am not exactly a ‘sit around and wait’ type.” She traced a counter-clockwise spiraling shape in the air with her finger. “But I don’t want to get nicked, either, so I’ll just sit around and wait.”
Kyrn nodded, then chuckled and said, “Good.” She glanced up at the sun and back down towards Asp. “Someone will be here with dinner around sunset. Do you need anything else before I go?”
Asp considered the situation. “Do you . . . “ she began. “Can you tell me why Candace got defensive about Dancer?”
Kyrn froze, then stepped down the uneven stairs in a few confident strides. She turned and spoke quietly into the small house. “I have no idea whatsoever,” she said, her voice flat. “But I do know that now’s the time to get through this, not the time to bring more trouble on our heads.” Without a further word, Kyrn walked away from the house and out of the neighborhood.
Underneath the floorboards, Asp stirred. Some secrets are worth something, and others are nothing but trouble. She rubbed her eyes. I wish I could tell the difference.
-
I’m a little slightkin, small but strong
My legs are short, but my memory’s long
If you ever doubt me, you’ll be wrong
Never say I don’t belong
In lieu of making any noise and risking being discovered, Asp had taken to mentally rehearsing the songs of her youth. They brought her no particular pleasure, but then, pleasure was not the point. She had been lying flat on the ground for nearly twenty-four hours now, she judged by the disappearing rays of light streaming between the floorboards. It’s hard to stay calm when the only thing separating you from almost certain arrest is less than an inch of wooden planking which could be moved around without the need for tools.
She heard footsteps coming down the street toward the house where she was hiding. Dinner time? she thought, more out of boredom than real hunger.
But it was two sets of footsteps that sounded on the uneven stairs up to the house.
“They said it was this one,” called a big golden Ronan'el guard, his armored boots clattering on the floor.
“Yeah,” came another huskier Ronan'el voice. “They said they saw a few people come into this house in the last few days. A dwarf and a greenskin today, and some slightkin girl a few times the day before.”
“Looks deserted,” said the golden Ronan'el.
“Yeah,” said the other Ronan'el again as though it was an inconvenience to say. Asp could see his pale white scales in the low light through the floorboards. “But you know thieves. They’re craftier than a newtkin mother with too much time on her hands.”
The golden Ronan'el snorted in laughter. “That’s a good one, Iggy.” He stomped on the floorboards. “You think someone could be in the chimney?”
The white Ronan'el called Iggy crossed the room to the fireplace. He looked around, then thrust a longsword violently up the chimney. “Nothing,” he said, deflated. “Maybe under the floor, though . . .”
Asp flattened herself against the ground.
“You think there’s a way under there?” asked the golden Ronan'el.
“It’s just planks, Burg. Who knows what’s down there?” Iggy walked to a corner of the house and placed the blade of his longsword under a floorboard, prying at it.
Asp grabbed something from her pack and scrambled towards the edge of the house.
“Hey, this plank just popped right up!” cried Iggy.
“Cheap house,” said Burg, kicking the wall. “Whole thing’s falling apart.”
“No, I mean it wasn’t nailed down anymore,” said Iggy. “We should check this out.”
Burg pulled up two more floorboards. “Can you see down there?” he asked.
“I’m gonna climb down. Gimme a hand,” said Iggy, lowering himself to the ground.
He stepped down to the flat ground and looked around the crawlspace. There were a few rocks, and he noticed that the far wall was broken. Where there should have been a lattice that bridged the gap between the ground and the floor of the house, there was a break that opened to the street behind the house.
“Uh, Burg?” he called.
“Yeah?” groaned Burg.
“Either this place is more broken down than most, or somebody just left in a hurry.” Iggy’s tongue flicked out, twisting this way, then that. “Get back here.”
Burg jogged out of the house and nearly ran into a regal slightkin woman with long sandy hair and a billowing green gown.
“Sorry, there, miss,” said Burg, bowing his head and stepping aside so she could pass. “Good evening,” he said, jogging around to meet Iggy.
The slightkin bowed deeply to the guard and then scurried off in the direction of the entrance to town. She took side streets and alleyways, surprising what few people lurked in those places with her finery and lordly manner. Her pace slowed at times and quickened at others, her looping path eventually leading her to the warehouse at the docks. She stepped up to the door and was about to knock when she heard speech from inside.
“I saw guards go into the house when I went over with food just now,” said Gregorio. “There’s little chance she’s made it out.”
Asp, dressed as Lady Penelope, stood outside the door and was about to open it wide and make a surprise entrance.
But first, Oslo’s voice followed. “Little chance, huh?” A tense silence followed, which he broke by saying, “You all look like you’ve got something to say.”
“She didn’t let me sit in jail,” moaned Dancer.
“I didn’t say we’re leaving her out to dry,” countered Oslo.
“I’m just saying,” insisted Dancer. “If it were somebody else, she’d be coming up with a plan.”
“So come up with one,” spat Oslo. There was a sound of footsteps as though he were pacing. “Listen, I just spent considerable time and money bringing her here.” He spat. “I don’t want to lose her either.” A murmuring from the gang. “I don’t!” cried Oslo. “I saw what she did with the job. And we haven’t even gotten paid yet, dammit, and it’s all falling apart!” His voice rose, then dropped to utter calm. “I’m not gonna risk all of this. I just won’t. No one goes out to look for her.”
Asp lowered her hand from the door, no longer interested in knocking. So that’s how it is. She turned from the door and walked quickly into the night, her dress flapping around her ankles and her hair trailing in long curls behind her.
-
The dead of night had fallen, and with it, Asp had fallen into a darkness of her own. She sat with a bottle of rum which she drank from as she gazed at the stars. She was sitting on a low wall outside a villa at the north edge of town.
“I’m not gonna risk all of this,” Asp said in a passable impression of Oslo. “I have a fancy goatee that I don’t want the guards to get out of shape–I almost finished stroking it just so.” She took a long gulp from the bottle of rum, then winced and looked at the label. In her Lady Penelope voice, she said, “So it turns out rum is super gross.” She turned to an imaginary bystander. “Why do people drink it?” she demanded of this invisible person, then took another swig. “Because they have sorrows,” she answered herself, then fixed her eyes on the sky above once more.
A pair of humans, a middle-aged woman and a youngish man, walked down the street. They eyed Asp like she was a potential threat and quieted their conversation as they passed her.
“And a very merry evening to you two!” Asp called after them. Then, more to herself than anyone, she added, “And to me,” her voice sad and reflective.
“Excuse me, my Lady?” A newtkin teenager approached her. “Can you help me?”
“That depends,” replied Lady Penelope. “What is it you need?”
“I’m new in town, and I don’t have anywhere to sleep.” The newtkin had a simple hat clutched in both hands, wringing it between white knuckles.
“A story told a thousand times,” said Asp to herself as much as to him. “And I suppose you have no food to eat, either.” She looked back up at the stars, awaiting his reply.
“No, my Lady,” he said. “I only got the clothes on my back and a positive attitude.” He beamed at her in the darkness.
“So you’ve got nothing,” she summarized. “Nothing but a need that someone else has to solve for you.”
The boy slumped forward, a frown on his tired face. “I’m so sorry, miss, I didn’t mean to bother you.” He placed the hat back on his head, then straightened it. “I don’t want to offend you, so I just won’t.” He turned to leave.
I just won’t. The words Oslo had used to label her safety a liability. The words that had told her what she really was brought here for–a mulberry bush and nothing else. The words that put Asp and this young newtkin in similar situations.
“Wait.” Lady Penelope raised a delicate hand to halt the newtkin boy leaving. “I’m sorry. I’ve just received some bad news, and it’s really played havoc on my mood.” And that’s actually the truth. She reached into her coinpurse and withdrew a crown–more than enough to sustain the boy for at least a few weeks if he was at all clever about it. The crown glinted in the low light. “Everyone deserves a new start,” she said. “Maybe two or three.”
The boy took the coin with a look of wonderment. “Wow, thanks, my Lady!” He polished the coin against his tunic. “Gee, is there anything I can do to earn this?”
Asp stopped. “Is there . . . anything you can do . . .” she said, the gears in her head moving slower than her mouth. Help me? I mean, can anybody help me right now? Although. . . “Yes,” she finally said. “I think I could use your help with something.”
She drew near to the newtkin and began to whisper into his ear. He blinked again and again as he listened, his eyes widening in surprise at a few points. After a while, Asp finished whispering and withdrew from the boy.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Unfortunately, I am.” She nodded with finality, and the newtkin slipped the crown into a pocket and was gone.
Asp looked back up at the sky and finished what was left of the rum. She coughed at the sting in her throat, then giggled to herself. If this doesn’t work, I’m in serious trouble, and there’s no gang in the world that could save me. If they wanted to save me. She threw the rum bottle into the air almost straight up, and then it pitched back down to the earth and loudly shattered over the cobblestones. She giggled again, now at the senseless destruction of the bottle. She pulled out a sheet of paper and began to write quickly in the low light. When the page was nearly full, she switched to her right hand and scribbled something before rolling the paper up and stowing it.
Two guards, a dwarf and an elf, came around the corner and cut a beeline to Asp. The dwarf’s armored boots broke and ground the glass underfoot.
“Are you Lady Penelope Jasmine?” the dwarf demanded.
“I am,” Penelope said, disinterested.
“I’m afraid we’re going to have to take you with us,” said the elf.
“I hope I haven’t done anything untoward,” said Penelope with partial concern in her voice.
“This way, my Lady,” said the dwarf, gesturing down the street.
No manacles. So far so good.
Penelope was guided through crowds, down thoroughfares, and past the swirling city. The guards walked her up the stairs into the guardhouse and deposited her in the Captain of the Guard’s office, which was empty.
“Wait here,” ordered the elven guard, and Asp was left alone in the office. She swiveled the small bust around, studying its features. She could see where the Captain’s facial structure came from; he looked like a slightly more angular version of his mother.
The Captain entered the room, interrupting Penelope’s study of the bust. “Sorry to keep you waiting, my Lady,” he said, brushing a hand over his short hair. “I won’t bore you with the details, but things have gotten quite complicated here. Which is actually where you come in.”
Penelope looked concerned and, to a lesser extent, shocked. “I must admit I’m quite nervous about this whole thing,” she breathed, and Asp’s ability to honestly say so made the line quite easy.
“No need to be nervous. I just have a few questions.” He dipped a quill into an inkwell and prepared to write on a sheet of parchment. “Now, can you describe for me how you know Curator Candlewax-Hobbson?”
Penelope pursed her lips in displeasure. Internally, Asp was trying to decide if that last drink was wise–she was firing on only instincts now, and that could be dangerous.
“I employed him as part of a joint slightkin-newtkin task force on the arts and sciences. You may have heard our work referred to as a ‘hiskin’ effort–we neither reject nor embrace that term, but it does communicate the idea.” Penelope pretended to catch herself rambling and made a show of refocusing. “I hired Candlewax-Hobbson because he made a wonderful impression. Initially, anyway. His credentials seemed to be among the best, and he shared our passion for the project–this is a delicate thing, you understand. It is hard to find unity in this world, even among our similar kind.” She again made an effort to visibly refocus. “I’m sorry for being so hard-pressed to get to the point. I know from experience that any detail can be useful, so please forgive my attention to detail.”
“You’re quite alright, Lady Jasmine,” the Captain said, a slight smile on his lips. “Please, continue.”
Penelope nodded in a businesslike motion. “We had reason to suspect at the time that Candlewax-Hobbson was up to something, but we didn’t give it the appropriate attention. You see, we were eager–too eager–to begin our work. We overlooked some of the more . . . not suspicious, but maybe questionable things. Not that we weren’t diligent! I mean, every candidate has some dirty laundry. So we moved forward. But once all our eggs were in Candlewax-Hobbson’s basket, we began to notice other things.”
When Penelope paused, the Captain bid her continue. “Other things?”
“He kept asking for advance money. Every time we would grant it, he’d mention another necessity. I’m ashamed to say, sir, that we invested three times our original budget into Candlewax-Hobbson’s project, and all we have to show for it is a canceled exhibit in a museum with a tarnished name.” Penelope placed her palm on her forehead as though fighting a headache. “I have even heard reports that Candlewax-Hobbson was basing his exhibit on a fake.”
“A fake?” repeated the Captain. “Fake what?”
“I checked in at the museum today. Not only was Candlewax-Hobbson’s supposed artifact not even of newtkin design in any way, it appears to be a modern trinket.”
The Captain raised his eyebrows. “A trinket?”
“A toy, Captain,” said Penelope with ire in her voice.
“So let me get this straight,” said the Captain, shifting in his seat. “You hired Candlewax-Hobbson, and he conned you from start to finish. You’ve come to town to see that justice is gained. And what recompense are you seeking?”
Penelope fought to keep her eyes from widening. “Justice is the only requirement of my mission,” she said, “but if any of the funds that were advanced to Candlewax-Hobbson can be recovered, my associates and I would be very grateful.”
“We did confiscate a small sum when we arrested Mr. Candlewax-Hobbson,” said the Captain, gesturing back toward the cells. “I’ll have that awarded to you when you leave.” He placed the inked quill down on the table and gazed across the desk. “I have just two questions left. First, he claims that he is being set up. Can you back up your version of events?”
“I have this,” said Penelope, producing the rolled sheet of paper. “I don’t know if this will suffice, but it is the contract that Candlewax-Hobbson signed with me which makes him responsible for obtaining a genuine artifact. I suspect that having it in writing is what made him desperate enough to accept such an obviously fake bauble.” She handed the paper across the desk to the Captain. “He will claim that his signature is a forgery, of course, but I can produce several witnesses to his signing it.”
The Captain scrutinized the document for a moment, then lowered it. “Very well. My other question is this: if we only arrested Candlewax-Hobbson in the last two days, how is it that you arrived from Eunax–three days’ journey away–today?” His blue-grey eyes burned holes in her.
“I was on my way to see the exhibit when it opened, but I was a day late due to travel difficulties,” she explained. Then, with sadness in her eyes, she added, “Am I under some kind of suspicion?”
“No more than anyone, my Lady,” said the Captain. “It is unfortunately our task to investigate anyone and everyone. The truth holds no allegiances.”
“And allegiances hold no truth,” said Penelope, finishing the elven proverb. “So strange that the ending has been forgotten by so many.”
“A strange saying for a diplomat, isn’t it?” The Captain had an eyebrow raised.
Is that friendly conversation, or is he on to me? Penelope nodded. “Perhaps,” she said. “But then perhaps your thinking that my job is not about truth is like someone thinking that guards hate criminals rather than crime itself.”
The Captain sat back. “I meant no offense.” He waved his hands in front of himself, indicating he wanted to retract his earlier statement, or at least its tone.
“None taken,” said Penelope. “Now, it is getting a bit late–is there anything else I can do for you?”
“You’ve been a huge help,” said the Captain, standing. He reached into a desk drawer and withdrew a common coinpurse, handing it over to her. “Your investment,” he said. “You enjoy your time in town.”
“Good night, sir,” she said with a smile, and she stepped out of his office and into the street outside the guardhouse.
Where to go, where to go, she thought. I’ll check back with the gang tomorrow when the bad taste is out of my mouth. Do I dare go back under the floorboards? Would they check there again? Or maybe another abandoned house? Asp looked up at the stars. It calmed her in a slow, gradual way, like waves lapping up the beach. It would be best if I went to an inn. That’s what Penelope would do, anyway.
As the city slowed down even further into slumber, Asp rented a room in a mid-range inn and enjoyed a night of sleeping on a bed rather than the stony ground. As she began to drift away to sleep, a great weight slowly lifted from her shoulders to match the weight of her worries, and she slept in a darkness that held no dreams into the following morning.
You can read the next chapter here!
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