363 lines
15 KiB
HTML
363 lines
15 KiB
HTML
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<link rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml" title="episodes" href="http://tilde.town/~dozens/clericthief/episodes.xml">
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<link rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml" title="journal" href="http://tilde.town/~dozens/clericthief/journal.xml">
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<body>
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Cleric + Thief
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| <a href="index.html">Episodes</a>
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| <a href="journal.html">Journal</a>
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| <a href="about.html">About</a>
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<header id="title-block-header">
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<h1 class="title">00005. Dead Ringer</h1>
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</header>
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<p>The Index sits alone at the round, stone table. They skim over the
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lines of a large book with the aide of with a small wand, a pointer
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tapering into the shape of a small closed hand with an extended
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finger.</p>
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<p>They are dressed for the meeting in voluminous, jet-black robes lined
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with fur. And a black velvet mask with gold trim. The face depicted on
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the mask has large, owl-like eyes, and no mouth: they see all, and keep
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all the Hand’s secrets.</p>
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<p>They look up as the door opens and the other four file into the small
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room beneath the wine cellar. All wear the same robes, and each wears a
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unique mask.</p>
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<p>The masks are mostly for ceremonial purposes at this point. The true
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identities of the Hand are a fairly well-known secret within the inner
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circle.</p>
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<p>Except for the Dead Ringer, of course. The current spymaster, nor
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their predecessor, have ever been unmasked.</p>
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<p>The sit in order around the stone table. The Thumb to his right, the
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Tall Man to his left, then the Dead Ringer and the Pinky.</p>
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<p>The Index marks their place in the book, closes it and sets it aside.
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They then produce another book from a bag under the table and opens it
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up.</p>
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<p>“We can begin,” they intone after finding their place.</p>
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<p>Pinky has been compromised again,” rumbles Tall Man. His mask depicts
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a face twisted by anger, or in anguish. He is an imposing figure. Many
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enemies have assumed that his large physique must mean a lack of smarts.
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They were wrong.</p>
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<p>Pinky’s mask has hooded eyes and a smile, a face of indulgence and
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merriment. “It’s to be expected,” she retorts. “I’m the most public
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member of this organization. My businesses operate in the open.”</p>
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<p>“When they come back,” interrupts the Thumb. “They can contend with
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the Ringer.”</p>
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<p>The Thumb is a fat man. His mask has plain, straight lines for the
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eyes, mouth, and nose. A study in neutrality.</p>
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<p>Dead Ringer sits back in their chair, half in the shadows. Their mask
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is unique in that it has no facial features. It is blank, with gold trim
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only around the neckline, uncomfortably like a noose. They don’t speak
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in meetings.</p>
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<p>They nod to the Thumb.</p>
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<p>It is settled.</p>
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<p>“We’ll up your protection in the meantime,” the Thumb says, turning
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to Tall Man, who grunts and agrees to allocate some muscle.</p>
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<p>The Index makes some notes in their ledger. “Very good. I think that
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concludes unfinished business, yes? Very good, on to new business…”</p>
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<pre><code> ~ * ~</code></pre>
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<p>Iofi makes herself busy building little shrines to Janice. Small
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altars with incense and dried flowers and tiny stone carvings of
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two-headed turtles. She leaves little offerings of brass hinges, keys
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with no locks, locks with no keys, bits of shell, small vials of colored
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sand, and bits of dried seaweed. She is fasting in preparation for the
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first of the month and the rites she will perform.</p>
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<p>There seems to be a perpetual secret scrum of Maddoxes in this corner
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or that, whispering intently amongst themselves.</p>
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<p>Meadowgloom has given up on trying to serve them tea after they keep
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emphatically passing their illusory hands through the cup. He almost
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spilled the entire tea set once, expecting some of the weight to shift
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from the tray to them. “Let them just come and get the tea if they want
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it,” he grumbles to himself. “Assuming they can even lift the cup and
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saucer!”</p>
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<p>Soon it is time to return to Madam Walker’s Supper Club.</p>
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<pre><code> ~ * ~</code></pre>
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<p>Her information network is comprehensive.</p>
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<p>Even if one doesn’t actually use her services, it is possible to
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construct a basic profile based on the “you” shaped hole in the
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information provided by her existing customers and her runners and
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spies.</p>
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<p>Nothing is really private.</p>
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<p>It doesn’t take long to build a basic profile on Blackguard. He is an
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importer of goods, and an investor in trades and ventures. Which can
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mean good money in a busy port city like Kriteach. He doesn’t frequent
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any of the brothels. Never married. No children. Has a cousin in Coopers
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Kettle that he writes. Usually takes supper at the Yeoman’s Club.</p>
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<p>Recently gone missing. House recently burned down.</p>
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<p>She puzzles over that last detail, not for the first time. Each of
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her colleagues has assured her that they played no part in the arson.
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This suggests there may be another player with stakes in this game. She
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taps a pencil pensively on her desk.</p>
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<p>Early last year Blackguard appeared to divest himself of most of his
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portfolio. It is assumed that he subsequently focused his full attenion
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and all of his capital in a single venture, but it remains to be known
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what that venture is. He went completely below ground around the same
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time. Stopped going out. Ceased correspondance. Refused visitors.</p>
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<p>Some things, after all, do remain secret.</p>
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<p>Madam Walker sits at the desk in her library trying in vain to
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concentrate on the memo in her hands. She keeps glancing up at the door
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and resisting the urge to get up and look out into the hall.</p>
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<p>As an experiment, she kept the door open. Light from the reading
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lamps in the library spills out into the hall on the other side. Until
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suddenly it doesn’t.</p>
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<p>The hallway goes dark, as though a curtain has been drawn across the
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doorway. Walker stiffens. The darkness recedes and she catches a glimpse
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of an unfurnished room on the other side as the short thief walks in,
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closing the door behind themself.</p>
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<p>“You have the information we were promised?” they ask in a quiet
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voice.</p>
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<p>Walker nods and slides a folder across the desk to them. They glance
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at it but make no move to pick it up.</p>
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<p>“Will you read it to me?” they ask.</p>
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<p>Walker raises an eyebrow and smirks a little, and tells them a
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summary.</p>
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<p>“He’s not one of my customers,” Walker concludes. “As I told you when
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we first met, I don’t know him. And I don’t know where he is.”</p>
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<p>“Is that true for the rest of the Hand? None of you know where he
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is?”</p>
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<p>Walker presses her lips together and smiles. “I don’t know what the
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rest of the Hand does and doesn’t know. That’s not how we operate.”</p>
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<p>Maddox grunts. “Sure, I–” but the they cut themself off abruptly with
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a sudden intense look, and they snap out of existence.</p>
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<p>Madam Walker blinks a few times in surprise at the abrupt departure.
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She stands up and crosses the library and opens the door to the hallway,
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only to see the hallway.</p>
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<pre><code> ~ * ~</code></pre>
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<p>Meadowgloom is walking back from the grocer clutching a bag of bread
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and fruit for dinner.</p>
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<p>He passes under the etched wooden sign of the Bone and Feather
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bookstore and cafe: a rook perching on top of a skull. He turns the
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corner of the shop into the alley and walks up to the side entrance, the
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stairway that goes up to the apartment above the bookstore where he’s
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been living with the cleric and the thief.</p>
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<p>He reaches into his coat pocket and fumbles around for the key. It
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took a while to even get him a key to the place. Not because they didn’t
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trust him, but because neither of them uses the front door. Iofi seems
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to be able to connect arbitrary doors, so she can walk into the upstairs
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closet and arrive at her destination. Maddox either uses Iofi’s doors,
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or else they just teleport around between their different illusory
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selves.</p>
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<p>“Meadowgloom?” a voice from behind him asks.</p>
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<p>Meadowgloom startles, and fumbles and drops the key just as he pulls
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it out of his pocket.</p>
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<p>Standing behind him, between him and the entrance to the alley, is a
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backlit figure wearing a coat and scarf and a flat crown hat with a
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brim. The figure is backlit, its face hidden in shadow.</p>
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<p>“Yes? Who’s there?” Meadowgloom answers, and stoops down to fetch the
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key.</p>
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<p>The figure steps forward out of the shadow revealing a lined,
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determined face wearing glasses and a mustache and goatee.</p>
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<p>Still crouched down, Meadowgloom stops with his hand hovering over
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the key. He says in surprise, “Mister Blackguard?”</p>
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<p>Blackguard’s seems about to break into a smile, but instead raises
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his hand in alarm and shouts, “Meadowgloom!”</p>
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<p>For when Meadowgloom bent down to retrieve the dropped key,
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Blackguard was able to see a shadowy figure clad all in black with a
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black mask over their face step out of the gloom. It lifts an arm up
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over its head, a long bladed dagger gripped in its hand.</p>
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<p>When it hears Blackguard’s name spoken out loud, it pauses for a
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fraction of a second, blade suspended in air, and tilts its head
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slightly. And then it plunges the blade into Meadowgloom’s back.</p>
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<pre><code> ~ * ~</code></pre>
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<p>Upstairs in the apartment Iofi and Maddox hear a man scream in
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anguish outside in the alley. They look at each other and leap up and
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rush toward the stairs. Two other Maddoxes appear at their side as they
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go, running alongside them.</p>
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<p>Iofi quickly unlocks the door and throws it open and a bunch of
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Maddoxes flow through the opening out into the alley.</p>
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<p>They find a man sitting hunched over on the ground cradling
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Meadowgloom in his arms, rocking back and forth, both of them in a pool
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of blood.</p>
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<p>Two Maddoxes dash away toward either end of the alley as the third
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steps forward, daggers in hand, surveying the immediate area. There is
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no assailant to be found.</p>
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<p>Iofi stoops down and touches Meadowgloom. His face is frozen in one
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of curious surprise. He doesn’t respond or react. He doesn’t breathe.
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There is no pulse.</p>
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<p>The man is crying. He looks up at Iofi and takes a couple breaths to
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compose himself.</p>
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<p>Iofi squeezes her eyes shut and, hands on Meadowglooms chest,
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whispers forcefully, “<span class="smallcaps">The tide goes in, the tide
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goes out. All things come to an end, but not for you. Not here, not now.
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Your story isn’t over yet. Come back to us.</span>”</p>
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<p>She opens her eyes and peers expectantly at Meadowgloom’s face. Her
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countenance falls in defeat when nothing happens. But then his eyes go
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wide and he takes a violent gasp of air.</p>
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<p>She sighs with relief. “Get him upstairs,” she commands the strange
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man. “He’s still gravely injured. We must tend to him if he is to
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live.”</p>
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<p>The man nods and together the two of them lift Meadowgloom up to his
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feet.</p>
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<p>“Who are you?” Iofi asks.</p>
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<p>“My name is Dedric Blackguard. I heard you were looking for me. I
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need your help. I’m in danger and there’s nobody I can trust.”</p>
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<p>EOF</p>
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