Chapter 22

TOLLS

‘Who the fuck is this?’ asked Malyka.

‘This?’ I pointed my spoon at the intellect standing awkwardly in my kitchen like a tree growing in the middle of the ocean. ‘This is Rocaresh of Tekmet. He’ll be staying with us a while,’ I told her.

‘Greetings,’ said Rocaresh as he offered a small and timid wave. His eyepiece clicked several times as he focused on Malyka.

‘Hmm,’ she replied. ‘I don’t like the way he looks at me. Where’d you find ‘im?’

I shrugged. ‘Academy.’

‘Lizard-shit,’ Malyka scoffed. ‘Like nether did you get in.’

All I did was stare back at her. Though I didn’t think it was possible, her eyes grew wider. ‘You didn’t…’ She shook her head.

‘I did.’

‘Did you see that brother of yours?’

‘I did.’

Cause any trouble besides kidnapping a Venerance intellect?’

‘He came willingly.’

‘I did,’ echoed Rocaresh with a solemn nod.

‘Then I don’t suppose you know somethin’ about why the bells of the Academy rang until dawn, and why there’s mobs of prosecutors goin’ about Bashkar lookin’ for a murderer?’ Malyka asked me with a raised eyebrow.

Rocaresh began sweating. I supposed Scramp lurking behind his shoulder wasn’t doing wonders for his already lacking confidence.

‘First I’ve heard of it,’ I said, keeping my smile.

Malyka broke into an exasperated laugh. She pulled at her dark hair. ‘You really do have some balls on you, girl. Who did you knife? Was it your brother?’

‘No,’ I said, grinding my spoon into the counter. ‘Not time for that yet. It was a worker who refused to get out of the way.’

‘Not like the Venerance to be so up in arms about a worker and a missing intellect.’

‘I think it’s more to do with the fact somebody got into their little sanctum without them noticing,’ I replied with a smile. ‘Where is the Chaos Club? Have they arrived with my blightpowder yet?’

Malyka’s hand was creeping to a bottle of green rum now. ‘Haven’t seen any sign of Kost yet. There’s still a lot of today left.’

‘They’re slowing me down. I’ve got things to do.’

Malyka waved the bottle she had claimed. ‘Like selling powder.’

I didn’t answer her.

Malyka waved the bottle under Rocaresh’s nose but the intellect shook his head.

‘Mother says I shouldn’t drink. Clouds my mind.’

‘Clearly, your dear mother hasn’t tried Canarva’s best emerald rum before,’ she told him, but Malyka somehow missed her mouth and wet her collar instead. ‘Fuckery.’

Rocaresh cleared his throat. ‘Forgive me for asking, but are you… are you going to hurt me?’

‘Absolutely not!’ I reassured him. It was the truth. I hadn’t yet made any plans or been given any reason to do otherwise. ‘Malyka, tell those idiots out there that if anyone touches a hair on Rocaresh’s ahead, I’ll whittle their bones into cutlery.’

Tasparil was also attempting to steal my ingredients before I had a chance to cook them. I poked him on the snout.

With a metallic chime, a small clockwork contraption told me my other creations were ready to escape the oven. With a grunt, I retrieved and placed down a bubbling pie.

Wearing my most winning smile, I pushed it towards Rocaresh. ‘Careful. It’s hot.’

‘It’s all mine?’ he asked.

‘As long as you can keep Scramp away from it.’ The furry bastard was already licking his lips.

Grothu came bumbling into the kitchen as if the pie had summoned him somehow.

‘There’s people here,’ he grumbled.

‘Chaos Club?’ My excitement grew.

Grothu shook his head. ‘Others. They smell like upper city.’

‘Interesting,’ I replied as I removed my apron and reached for my steel mask of Midnight’s disguise. ‘You wait here, Rocaresh.’

Swaggering out into the main space of the Dark Harbour with Tasparil on my shoulder, I found three figures of night-blue and black standing waiting in the centre of the tavern. They wore white metal masks across the lower half of their faces and hoods low over their brows. None of my idiots looked as though they dared to go near them. Scramp, Malyka, and Grothu took up their normal places spread around the room as I stood leaning against a table.

‘Welcome to the Dark Harbour,’ I bade them, enjoying the part I played.

The central visitor looked around. ‘It has changed much since last I stood here. Some of the stench has gone.’

‘Still stinks,’ muttered one of the others, a tall figure with a voice of a woman who gargled gravel. A voice I recognised.

‘Who are you and what do you want?’

The visitors revealed themselves, unhooking their masks.

I almost drew my cleaver right there and then at the sight of Prosecutors Crabluck and Gurt standing in my tavern. The third figure took his sweet time, and as he showed his face, I saw the patterned spots across his neck. It was the markings of one born past Midfire in the south and east. That also explained his tufted ears and abundance of facial hair, groomed as it was. Their kind was rarely seen in Canarva.

The man adjusted his collar officiously. Though he tried to keep his eyes on me, he seemed very interested in the look of Scramp, as if they shared a distant ancestor.

‘Pious Sturstrom is my name.’

‘And bothering me unannounced seems to be your game,’ I added.

I watched Sturstrom’s patience plucked like a lyre, and the reverberations were slow to die. ‘Quite,’ he answered. ‘We know you to be called Midnight, and we are here to offer you an opportunity, as it happens. An opportunity to continue running this business of yours without interruption and unforeseen… mishaps, shall we say.’

‘And I’m imagining that you can help ensure that. As concerned members of the Venerance.’

‘It’s the Venerance you want to be careful of, Lady Midnight.’

‘Is that so?’

Sturstrom nodded. ‘My colleagues and fellow servants of the Great Watcher are often too eager in their pursuit of justice. I can make sure they look the other way when it comes to your dealings.’

‘And why would you care to help a humble tavern such as this?’ I asked.

Sturstrom offered a smile. ‘All in return for a modest fee, of course.’

‘Of course,’ I replied. ‘Problem is, I have no need of your services. I run an honest business.’

‘Do you? Is that why you were seen dealing with Dor’Jiri the Brute yesterday? A known peddler of stolen Blight and trader of banned goods?’

I tutted. ‘Words travels fast in the Guttervale.’

‘That it does, and all the more reason that you, just like many others, should pay for our protection.’

‘You know, Sturstrom—’

‘Pious Sturstrom.’

‘Congratulations. Now, it sounds to me like this is more of a threat than an opportunity.’

Sturstrom smiled wider. ‘You’re young, it seems, behind that mask, but at least you are smart enough to understand me.’

I saw Crabluck eyeing me, squinting as if trying to put two and two together.

There was always – thanks to the excuse of choosing evil – the option of killing the three of them right there and then and crossing more nemeses off my hateful list. Malyka must have guessed at what was churning in my mind. She put her hand on my shoulder. She didn’t say a word, but I understood her perfectly. I’ll admit, I wasn’t used to being touched, but I hid my flinch quickly and nodded. The pious was an unknown. Likely Lectra’s pet, and one she might come looking for.

I looked between Crabluck and Gurt. ‘These are the ones that’ll be doing the protecting?’ I asked. ‘They look too long in the tooth for my liking. Too interested in themselves.’

‘You better watch your filthy mo—‘

‘Gurt!’ Sturstrom snapped. ‘You should know, Midnight, that my prosecutors are capable. Connected. Watchful and wary of everything that happens in the Vale.’

‘How much for this protection?’ I asked.

‘Two out of every ten shells of your business. You earn us enough and we might discuss lowering that number.’

‘Hmm.’ I made a show of thinking about the offer. ‘Well, while that is a generous offer, I have a counter proposal for you. Instead, here’s an idea: how about you go fuck yourself? And once you’re done, go fuck those you work for as well.’

I felt the silence that followed. I felt it in the shuffle of Malyka’s feet, the furious indignance burning in Crabluck and Gurt’s eyes.

Sturstrom worked his lips. ‘It is your kind that insists on violence and crime. Innocent souls aplenty die to pay the price. Beggars and the diseased litter the streets. We wear ourselves thin trying to fight it. This way, we can keep more of the peace. All of the Vale knows the benefits of our protection.‘

‘Putting a spiked leash around the necks of the Guttervale for profit is not protection. Let’s not dress this up with all this grand air to make what you do sound benevolent.’ I said with a yawn.

‘I wonder what the Watcher would think, if our god could see ’is servants now,’ Malyka grumbled.

Pious Sturstrom’s demeanour of refined charm died on his face. ‘Call it what you want. Call it a leash. Call it a toll. Call it despicable if you please, because it doesn’t matter. None of you foul, dust-breathing subterranean squabblers, not even that mad bastard Barcalos, could stand in the face of the Venerance’s true might. That’s what awaits you if you say no to us.’

If he’d hoped to cower me, I had a smile for him. ‘My my, Pious Sturstrom. You must work for some incredibly powerful people.'

I watched his every move, waiting for proof. But the pious began to replace his mask to cover his smile. Crabluck and Gurt did the same.

‘Much better,’ Sturstrom sighed. ‘Think upon it, Midnight. Perhaps you will come to your senses and have a change of mind. I would strongly advise it.’

‘And I’d strongly advise that you leave now,’ I warned them.

‘Gladly. This reek becomes too much,’ Sturstrom chortled as he sauntered out of the Dark Harbour.

It was a hooded Captain Kost that passed the pious in the doorway. Sturstrom threw me one last knowing look and a fetid smile. In that moment, he found himself on my list of death.

‘Was that Sturstrom?’ Kost grunted to me once the corruption had left my tavern.

‘The very same.’

‘Then you’ve met one of the biggest pricks ever to walk the Vale,’ he said. ‘He come to talk about the toll?

‘You got my powder?’ I asked him, trying to sequester my irritation.

‘Rolling around to your cellar in sugar barrels.’

‘Impressive.’

Kost sneered. ‘Just because Sturstrom gives us information and pulls a few strings doesn’t mean he’s not the only Venerance out to make a name for themselves. Some are even… law-abiding. Honest. Out for justice.’ Kost shivered and stuck out his tongue as if tasting something rotten. ‘They’re the ones you watch for. As much as I’d like to skin Sturstrom alive in a battlering, his toll cuts trouble in half. Bloody hate it.’

‘So does Dor’Jiri, I bet.’

‘So does everyone, but we’re stuck with them. Better that than fighting the whole Venerance.’ Kost stuck his hand out. I could see the quiver of a lie in his face. ‘It’s customary in the Vale to pay the deliverer.’

‘No, it isn’t, Kost. I’ve been around far too long for that trick,’ scoffed Malyka. ‘Get gone.’

Kost bared his filed teeth, looking as if he would come swaggering forwards for a fight. Grothu and Scramp dissuaded him.

‘I know you, mercenary,’ Kost snickered as he left. ‘Took me a while but it’s come to me. I heard about you before, Iron Zephyr.’

‘And you better not speak another word about it,’ Malyka warned him before he sauntered out into the street.

I crossed my arms. ‘Well, colour me curious.’

Malyka patted Adavir and Arenin across her chest. ‘You tell me why you ’ate your brother so much and I’ll tell you my story.’

‘Another time, then,’ I muttered. I was in a foul mood, plain and simple. There was no need to dress it up as Sturstrom had: the Venerance were hypocrites, just as corrupt as those they trod on. And to suffer the toadish stares of Crabluck and Gurt was like a slap in the face after being stabbed. Even though they had given me a thread that led to the Venerance’s hold over the Guttervale, the fact I had to pay for the privilege cut me like blades.

‘Lectra has to be at the top of it all. I saw the hint in Sturstrom’s face,’ I said.

Malyka shrugged. ‘Like I said, nobody knows for sure. If it is true, then she keeps her ’ands mighty clean.’

‘I know it. And if I have to drag her out into the daylight to prove it, then I will.’

‘You know they’ll be back, Dwellin. Sturstrom and his cronies won’t stand for your cheek,’ said Malyka. Scramp nodded solemnly.

‘I know.’ I said, removing my mask and rosing from my chair. I was too eager to see the blightpowder I had bought to dwell on the Venerance. I had a curiosity that I yearned to sate. The younger gutter rat in me ignored the surrealism and madness of what I had in mind. I didn’t have the heart to tell her there was more madness to come.

Malyka and Scramp followed me to the cellars where the Chaos Club had left three barrels in the middle of the chill room.

With a knife from Malyka’s collection, we opened the first barrel. For a moment, when I saw only a pile of pink sugar, I almost chased after Kost and gave him the fight he so clearly pined for. Fortunately, Malyka was more used to such business than I was. She dug a hand deep into the sugar and pulled out a rope handle. With a pull, a layer of wood came scraping upwards and revealed a faint emerald glow from within.

I stared at my blightpowder, all stacked in surprisingly neat piles of vials for a supplier they called Chaos Club. Reaching for a vial, I held it up to the light knifing through the thin windows. It was the length of my palm, wrist to fingertip. Venerance script had been carved into the thin glass. Four six-pointed stars showed me its quality. Good enough for what I wanted to try.

‘Now what?’ Malyka asked me. It was a damn good question for a villain such as me, and she knew it. She and Scramp stared at me sidelong and cautiously.

‘Am I going to sell it, you mean?’

Malyka nodded, and all I gave her was a smile.

I clutched the vial. ‘I have my lair. My lackeys. All I need is power, Malyka. Not the kind of power that lifts buildings and aircraft into the Watcher’s sky, or sends bullets screeching, but the magical kind. And I want it.’ More than that, I needed it. Ever since seeing what a chosen one was capable of, I knew that to be true. Call me greedy if you want, my dear reader. You wouldn’t be speaking a lie.

‘You’re not going to…’ The realisation was dawning on Malyka like the eastern sun. ‘Watcher’s arse. I didn’t take you for somebody that breathed powder.’

‘How many people find themselves with abilities after they take the Blight?’

‘Far too few. One in a hundred. Maybe a thousand, they say.’

I stared at the vial. All the stories I’d ever heard of addiction and lives wasted clamoured to be heard in my head. Doubt assailed me. And yet, amongst all the noise, I saw my brother in the Academy grounds smiling at the woman that had stolen him from me. ‘Then there’s a chance, isn’t there?’ I said obstinately.

‘At what cost? Even if it does give you a power, most alchemages and rawcerers are cursed by its effects. And if you aren’t magic, you’ll be chasin’ the euphoria until it claims you. I’ve never sold my blades to a Blighted and I won’t now,’ she said with crossed arms.

I took my chances. I had to know, and while I’ll tell you the price of knowledge can be more than life itself, and even though my years are likely shorter than most, I’ll also inform you that sometimes such a gamble pays off. I was ready and willing.

‘Keep this guarded. Not a vial leaves these barrels without my say so.’

‘Yes, Dwellin,’ replied Malyka in a quiet voice.

I turned before I left them both in the cellar.

‘Though you might think it’s a madness to do so, continue to trust me, Malyka.’

‘Why do I get the feeling that’s not the last time you’ll tell me that?’

I laughed as I walked up the stairs, barged past several of my lackeys who were all trying to replace a blightlamp, and took the stairs. The coil of creaking wood took me into the upper reaches of the Dark Harbour. Once used for whatever delights and debaucheries Do Larasta could afford himself, I’d had them cleaned out into rooms for my lackeys. One and final floor above was my true lair. I’d claimed it once it had been pilfered bare. The roof was the ceiling, angled sharply down two sides of the room, one half smooth and seamless Augur stone, the other half grey wood. Above the roof tiles, the rattle of the carts racing on suspended tracks was intermittent but loud. A bed, desk, and wardrobe were all I’d kept. Frugal, you might say, but as a gutter rat I had no idea what to do with a room of furniture when all I’d known were cots and empty spaces of floor.

Tasparil’s roost was atop one of the roof beams, and he flew to it with a squawk. He watched me as I trod a circle in the floor, second-guessing myself just like I hated to do. My entire life was becoming a gamble, but this one stuck in my throat.

I stared at the vial again, watching the fine green powder shift about. From my circular windows, I could see Blighted in the streets of Turrow, heads bowed or limbs quivering. I could see dirty hands pleading for scraps and shells, or those the powder had turned to madness, yelling nonsense at walls and passersby.

Tasparil hissed as I raised the vial and undid its brass cap. There was a slight smell to blightpowder: one of mould mixed with ash, and it filled my nostrils just like the doubt filled me.

‘Power,’ I whispered to myself and my empty lair.

I knew what to do. With a curse under my tongue and closed eyes, I threw the vial under my nose and breathed the powder as it spilled, just as I’d seen the Blighted do.

Now, I don’t know if you have ever tried to breathe sand, but that’s the closest comparison I can give you. The fine green mist of Blight clogged my mouth and throat so that I coughed raggedly, all moisture gone.

My second breath brought the powder deep into my lungs. I let the vial fall as I collapsed to coughing. With each heave, my vision became ever more warped. Within heartbeats, my furniture started to swim about my lair. I felt my chest grow tight and a quivering tumble into my limbs. Colours grew brighter and shone. A bubbling feeling climbed my body from toe to fingertip.

Trapping my breath and trying my hardest to stay standing, I spread my hands out towards the bed, trying to channel whatever I felt into something that resembled magic, rather than a trip into a world I didn’t recognise.

I strained until my heart pounded like Venerance guns. Whatever words I mumbled I heard in other voices that weren’t mine. Tasparil’s keening became a shrill and echoing drone. Shadows groped for me and covered my eyes. I yearned to see fire, or lightning, or the bed break into splinters, or light pulse from my palms. Or anything that wasn’t wavering fingers that didn’t look like mine. With all of my mind, I ached to prove a power that I didn’t understand.

I don’t know when my eyes rolled up, or when I fell into an abyss of swirling shades. I flew across Canarva’s chimneys and sharp roofs. I fell through a Bélegan forest with crows scraping at me. I climbed the highest of Bashkar’s towers.

By the time my knees and arse met the floorboards, jolting me out of my spiralling vision, there was nothing to show for my gamble. I looked around, but a blinding headache and nausea were all that I owned. There was nothing burning, nothing broken, nothing smoking or scarred. Not a magical ability in sight.

I felt the vomit rising and did nothing to stop it. Blinking his three eyes at me, Tasparil waddled across the floor with a whine and put his scaled head under my chin.

‘It didn’t work, did it?’ I breathed to my drake. I stared out of the window. Living a life underground keeps you in the dark – quite literally – as to what time of day it was. I heard distant bells chiming an hour that confused me. Hours had been spent in this lair of mine.

The vial of blightpowder sat beneath my knee. It took me several moments to focus on it and keep my eyes from swimming. The powder had spilled into a green smear across the wood. Ponderously, I reached for it again, refusing to accept a failure. Tasparil’s grumble beneath my chin dissuaded me.

There was no choice but to face it: I was not one in a thousand. I was no different from the plagued and dejected that sat outside my window, and no amount of lying or killing would change that fact. Sometimes, my good reader, the world is unflinching in its disappointments.

With my fist, I broke the wooden face of the wardrobe. It was my last defiance before I fell sideways to the floor and let the dizziness consume me.