The light of the moons fell through the window, draping their cold fingers across the thick covers. Off to the side, Amaini, her daughter's child stirred as the second tap at the window informed Bilain that it was time to rise. The Time Knocker did not tap a third time, moving on to the next home to rouse a worker for the coming day. If someone didn't hear them after the second tap, that was their own responsibility.
Bilain slid out from beneath the covers and shivered, scratching her backside as she stifled a yawn, not wishing to disturb Ranaie, her husband of long, hard-suffering years. They had met as children, grew up close by, drifted apart and then found each other again before Bilain had joined the army. Ranaie had remained at her side through those years, fathering two children that survived, two that did not. He had said nothing as she returned to her soldierly duties after the births and had said nothing when she had joined the Watch. He was a good man. A good father. A good husband and she loved him deeply.
The child had awoken, staring up at Bilain as she dragged on her clothing, ready to depart across the street to the Watch House to begin her day. Half-dressed, Bilain crouched beside the cot and tucked Amaini's growing hair from her forehead. Paying for a wet-nurse for the child had stretched them, but it was yet another duty that Bilain could not shirk. Things had eased on the money front since Amaini had started to eat solid food.
Not six months ago, the child's mother, Bilain's daughter, Alaien, had died from an outbreak of typhus. She had died alone, her husband having disappeared one day, no-one knowing whether he had died or run away. Bilain, of course, had had her duties with the Watch keeping her busy. Ranaie, the tavern. Only a kindly neighbour had saved the baby, too, hearing her cries in the night. Bilain had never expected to lose a daughter at this late age, nor of becoming a parent again, but, sometimes, expectations rarely tied with the realities of life.
Amaini didn't appear about to cry and wail and, if she did, Ranaie would stir himself from bed and see to their granddaughter. A good man. Bilain leaned in to the cot, kissing Amaini's forehead before looking out the window. Still dark, the first fingers of sunlight a good few hours away, the city could almost look peaceful. That, as she knew, was an illusion.
Out there, while people slept, others continued with their nocturnal lives. Thieves would ply their trade, prostitutes would still search for that one last punter before they turned in for the day, sleeping while others awoke. Bakers would have started their day at an even earlier time. Dung collectors would wheel their carts down to the riverside, there to drop the waste into the waters that would carry it far away, only for more to await collection before the day had dawned.
Bilain had slept little. Tossing and turning, getting up to drink a finger or two of Yürzlend rum, hoping it take her to sleep and stop her mind from wandering back to the events of the previous day. She fastened her boots, sitting upon a rough wooden chair, and paused as her husband stirred, turning in his sleep, hand reaching out to the side of the bed she had left. She resisted the urge to kiss his forehead, also, not wishing to disturb him any more than she had.
Even at this hour, people milled about in the streets. Many of these people had no jobs, a number of them no homes. They moved from one end of The Sprawl to the other for no other reason than they needed to keep moving. To keep warm, to work muscles that threatened to collapse beneath them through want of food, or from illness. It wasn't Bilain's job to care for the vagrant population, but it burned not to. She had little money of her own, let alone to give to the many hands that needed it.
Inside the Watch House, no-one would know it still night outside. Candles blazed, people passed from room to room, sat around the small hearth, heating up hands and bodies before returning to patrols, or home after long shifts. The cells were full, as usual, but would empty as each of the occupants sobered up enough to wend their ways home, or to wander the streets awaiting the moment they could enter their local again, ready to start the process of drinking to excess, only to end up here, in the cells, once again.
The Sprawl had more than its fair share of bad folk, more than its fair share of good folk, all lumped together in an area that any other city would have cleared out and demolished years ago. She accepted the offered coffee, grimacing at the bitter taste, but it was hot and wet and it would serve to wash away the cobwebs of sleep from her mind. With a rub of her hands near the fire, she passed a few words with the other Watch members before heading to her office and dropping into her chair. Another long day awaited.
"Captain, more reports of this killer, Sir." Ilivno hesitated at the door, holding more sheets of paper in her clawed hands and only entered when Bilain rolled her own hand at the girl. "Not as many as last night, though enough, and some survived, Sir. They're not talking, but a survivor is a survivor."
"Have the survivors brought here, put them in the cells and leave them there 'til their tongues loosen." It was too early to deal with reticent folks more willing to suffer than speak to the Watch. Ilivno continued to stand after handing Bilain the reports. "Anything else?"
"Yes, Sir." A last piece of paper, a scroll, hovered in the air, held by Ilivno's hand. It bore the Senate seal upon the wax. "It came only moments ago, Sir."
She dismissed Ilivno and dropped the scroll on top of all the other sheets of paper. How she regretted ever learning to read! Yet, if she hadn't, she would still have languished in the lower ranks of the army, forever waiting for orders instead of giving them. She didn't regret learning, not really, but, sometimes, she wished people would talk instead of writing things down. She downed the coffee and shouted for a Watchman to refill it before she dared to open that scroll.
With a fresh mug of steaming coffee by her elbow, Bilain pushed the scroll aside and began to look through the reports. Only seven deaths by this mysterious shadow in the night. A landlord, well-known among the watch for charging too much coin, among other less salubrious charges, for rooms not fit to house rats. A couple of bruisers that swore blind they weren't accosting people for money, though their bloodied bully sticks spoke otherwise. Those two were among the lucky survivors. The other deaths fitted the pattern.
Beaten to death, some tossed around by someone of great strength. Shadows that crept out from their normal spaces, covering a face, clothing, hands, giving nothing that the scant few witnesses could offer to identify the culprit. This man, or this gang, had interrupted the murder of a Senator. If nothing else, other than stopping this murderous spree of their own, they may know the reasoning behind the Senator's death.
Little Mim had said something about the Senator needing 'ammaminuss' votes for some legislation. Unanimous, obviously, votes for what, exactly, she had not heard and, in fact, had heard little that could prove telling enough to shed light on the case. A 'Chief' was mentioned, which reminded Bilain of Trenna, the day before. Trenna was a man of Eass and they called everyone above them in the social order 'Chief'. Could the 'Chief' that the ruffian and the Senator mentioned come from Eass? And, if so, what did that mean?
Her mind had wandered and her finger had rubbed beneath her nose, as she thought, that she had rubbed it a little sore. A habit, for certain, but no worse than any other. Better than most. She pressed both hands against the surface of her desk, flattening out the papers. None of it told her anything. She needed something more substantial, something solid to work with. Words were all good and well if they said anything of consequence. These reports, excellent though they were, were not telling her what she needed to know.
After delaying it long enough, she broke the seal upon the scroll and read the contents. Of course Asnarrus had summoned her to give her report, as though she had all the time in the world to make the trip to the Municipal Ward to tell a pampered fool that she had found nothing and probably never would. An admission that could very well spell the end of her time as Watch Captain and she and Ranaie needed this money more than ever.
"Ghusz! Ghusz!" She waited for the Steppes dweller to arrive, taking his time enough to prove he jumped at the orders of no-one. "How would you like to take a trip across the Ban? A nice visit to the lovely Municipal District?"
"I'd rather have crabs burrow through my eyes into my brain. Sir." Ghusz showed no sign whether that was a joke or not, his beard and moustache hiding any smile he may have. "Any particular reason I should need to go?"
"Yes. While I bow my head and tug my forelock to the Secretary, I want you to speak to as many servants as you can within the Senate." Bilain stood, taking a drink from the coffee, only to find it had gone cold. "I want to know if anyone has heard anything about Yiladry pushing for a vote on something. I feel that may prove useful."
She considered taking the Senate Seal she had found upon the dead Larissan. Her eyes fell upon the candlestick where the key to her desk drawer remained hidden. She thought about it, but decided against it. The last thing she needed to do was accuse members of the Senate of being accomplices to murder. She could bring that evidence forth later, should she find anything that corroborated that fear. Until then, she would keep that knowledge to herself.
"Oi, Bil-Hook. What you doin' about this killer, then, eh? Some say as it's Rürazar, hisself, come back to seek revenge, so they do." A man, a regular occupant of the cells, pressed his head between the bars, skewing his features. "Mebbe 'e's comin' for us all, eh? Shadows're comin' for you, Bil-Hook. Shadows are a'comin'."
The man pulled his ruddy cheeks back from the bars and stepped back to the bench, staring at her. It wasn't Rürazar, for revenge or not, that was for certain. Dead was dead and nothing and no-one returned from that final journey. Besides, why would the Lord of Shadows lay his revenge upon a city that had no part in his downfall?
It did beg the question, though, if not the Lord of Shadows, then who else could cause such shadows to flow across faces and clothing like blood flowing from a wound? And, if it were a new Shadow Mage, did the madness of the last one follow suit? Was Adrasusk about to face a mage with the ability to control people through their shadows, enter the shadows of their minds, or was it all only a fancy of frightened, superstitious folk?
-+-
For the sake of a short walk across rickety wooden bridge, the denizens of The Sprawl could pass beyond the confines of their stinking, filth covered streets to a place that stood as different as night stood to day. Few, however took that crossing, for many reasons. Not least of which because those who called The Sprawl home were ill-judged in other areas of Adrasusk with only one other Ward, The Fell, suffering greater prejudice.
Bilain could almost feel Ghusz's back stiffening as they set foot upon the embankment of the River Ban, into the Nothest Ward, there to travel around and about the walled environs of the High Ward, following the thin isthmus of buildings still considered outside the Municipal Ward and into the very centre of the city's administrative heart. The old Steppes dweller liked this place only a little more than he liked sifting through dung heaps.
Though she always thought of him as a Steppes dweller, in truth, Ghusz's family had lived here, in Adrasusk, as long as, if not longer, than Bilain's own family. The Vaurj family had left the Steppes, passed through the Hraalfeld, before it became a deserted, infested land, and had arrived in Adrasusk without a Bone to their name, only to find they never passed any further away from their homeland. A story told a thousand times, from a thousand families, ranging from all across the world. Adrasusk welcomed everybody and wanted none of them.
The only other place that could even begin to compare clung to the bones of an enormous bridge, sitting above a drop of tens of thousands of feet, between two sheer precipices. Bilain had visited Tarkar's Bridge, once, and would take The Sprawl, close as it was to the ground, every time. Though she had admired their strict adherence to laws. They had laws, here in Adrasusk, but they benefitted the rich more than the many. Say what she would of the Bridge, their laws encompassed all, rich or poor, landlord or beggar.
"All I'm saying, Sir, is that I do not doubt this Bridge you speak of has many citizens. What I doubt is that it is more populous, per foot, than our own Ward." Ghusz looked back toward the towering, tilting buildings of The Sprawl and Bilain could swear a tear darkened the corner of his crow-footed eyes. "In there, there's families atop families atop families. Show me a place as full and I'll give you a full Claw for your troubles. Nay! A full Talon!"
"Remind me, Sergeant, to take you along the next time I visit Tarkar's Bridge." She leaned in, adjusting the roll of reports under her arm, lowering her voice to conspiratorial levels, pretending to be wary of twitching ears. "Though you would do well to pack a number of undershorts for the journey. The Bridge is as high as a mountain and not half as safe."
Ghusz cleared his throat, his chin lowering to his thick chest and he appeared to weave a half-step further away. It never seemed fair, but Bilain did so enjoy pricking the nerves of Ghusz's prudish nature, something his parents had instilled him despite their removal from the Steppes many years before. Put most Steppes dwellers in the centre of the bloodiest battle in history and their hearts would swell, speak of intimate matters and they would blush like children.
As they passed from the Nothest Ward into the Municipal Ward, the architecture changed once again. From the one and two-story housing of the Nothest Ward, inspired by the buildings of Tandar, into the wide avenues and large, imposing buildings designed and crafted by native Adrasusk people, a style of the city's very own. White marble, transported by river boats from the Strass mountains to the east, reflected the light of the Sun in such a way as to highlight a different part of the manicured garden walkway that stretched the entire length of the Ward, leading to the circular Senate, at the far end.
Great carved columns held up roofs consisting of white slate, transported all the way from Eass, a material that the Eass tribes had no use for and sold for a pittance, but the great and the good of Adrasusk prized above even the richest of spices. Bilain didn't see the appeal and she doubted Ghusz gave the buildings a second thought. They had come to this place for other reasons than to admire mouldings upon the buildings and statues that lined the long, perfectly maintained garden park.
Instead of heading for the Senate, itself, they veered away to the west of the Ward, toward a building that almost looked out of place, but which held the actual offices of those members of the Senate that sat in deliberation of their policies and of their underlings and servants. The pomp and ceremony occurred in the Senate, the shouting, the debates and the concessions, but the real work happened here. Bilain could almost smell the bureaucracy.
Dismissing Ghusz to head down into the bowels of the building, where servants rushed and busied themselves in service of the thinkers and lawmakers above, there to ask questions of those who the mighty gave only bare glances toward, but who were never too far to miss the important things worth gossiping about.
Bilain turned, instead, to the curving, grand staircase that led to the upper floor of the building. She tried to stop herself from calculating how many people she could house within this wide, open space. Many. A great many. She needed to know no more than that. She knew the way to the Secretary's office, a little room at the very far end of the building, and headed that way, ignoring the stares and curled noses at her passing. She hadn't changed to come here. She had neither the time, nor clothing good enough to make a difference and, of course, the stink of The Sprawl lingered.
A lackey met her and ushered her to wait upon cushioned seating in front of a wide trellis wall, actual glass filling the squares giving a view out, to the west, taking in the spread of the docks, where tall ships sat against the quays, unloading and loading wares from throughout the Western nations that surrounded the Akaean Sea. And there, beyond the docks, the sea itself, stretching out into the distance, promising adventure and discovery.
She distrusted the comfort of the seats, favouring, instead, the view from the windows, a marvel of modern engineering. There were few windows within The Sprawl. Her husband's tavern one of the few that had glass within the frames and that glass a bubbled, melted mess that any would have difficulty seeing out of unless they found one clear spot among the poor quality. She liked glass. It hid nothing. Most other windows within The Sprawl were nothing more than shuttered holes in walls, easier to close against inclement weather, but affording little light for those within.
Another lackey appeared, inquiring whether Bilain required a drink, or something to eat while she waited. She considered, for a second, whether to decline, but she knew Ghusz would do no such thing in bowels of the building. No doubt the old grump had already got a maid sat upon his knee, regaling her with stories from his homeland and wheedling in little, prying, pertinent questions as he held a raucous audience in his thrall.
Grumpy, he may be, but the man could get anyone to talk once he set his mind to it and, if offered, he would eat and drink his way through half the kitchen supplies before a Senator saw so much as a fig for lunch. She knew very well that man's talents and hadn't brought him along for a walk and to look at the sights.
After a few, long moments, the girl returned with a tray, upon which sat a bottle of Larissan wine, a tall, thin chalice and a plate of assorted meats and biscuits. That plate, alone, she could sell in The Sprawl and have enough money to buy drinks for all Ranaie's patrons for the entire night. She doubted she would eat it all and expected the leftovers would see a midden before the hand of another.
By the time she had finished her first cup of wine, about to pour her second and turn her hand to another of the choice meats, she began to wonder if this had become one of those times that those in power took to calling for those in the lower echelons, only to leave them waiting for hours and then dismiss them without ever meeting them at all, all for their own merciless amusement. Bilain did not have the time nor the inclination to play those kinds of games.
All the while, she had seen dozens upon dozens of people passing through the building. Senators, engaged in hushed whispers among themselves, scribes rushing past, pens and paper in hand, runners carrying notes and letters from office to office, or out, back into the city. One of those runners had crossed into The Sprawl in the early hours and she could imagine the runners fighting among themselves to decide who gained that pleasure.
Shadows from the trellis windows fell upon the white stone flooring, travelling across the floor in opposition to the direction of the Sun as it clambered up into the sky and early morning became mid-morning, threatening to become mid-day and Bilain had had enough. Downing the wine, cramming a couple of handfuls of biscuits and meats into her pockets, she straightened her jacket and prepared to find one of those lackeys and urge them to remind the secretary that she, unlike him, had important work to return to.
"Ah, Grasall, thank you for waiting. I trust I didn't keep you long? I've been welcoming one of our newest, and, after a fashion, one of our oldest citizens." Asnarrus had caught her before she could make her justified escape. She turned to see Asnarrus sweeping his hand toward a woman. "This is Kaluun En Lutar. Her family were of the first Orususk settlers of these lands and she has come to reclaim her family's holdings within our city. Paying well for that privilege, too, I must say. This is Captain Bilain Grasall of the Ward Watch for The Sprawl."
"Captain Bilain." The woman gave a slight tilt of the head, her eyes never leaving Bilain's, a slight smile curling the corners of her mouth. "My ancestral home sits across the Shcnep from The Sprawl, in the Old City. I trust I can rely on you to keep any villains from The Sprawl away from my home? Good. Secretary, we shall meet again."
With a sharp, formal bow, Kaluun En Lutar began to move away and only then did Bilain notice an old Kannai woman that followed in her wake. Unlike Ilivno, however, this Kannai had never suffered the indignities of slavery, her tail flicking as she trailed after the tall Kaluun.
As the new citizen disappeared among the throng of people, Bilain narrowed her eyes. Few of the nobility from the Old Empire ever returned to Adrasusk, fewer still to stay and decide to live here. Too much water had flowed beneath that bridge. A light cough from Asnarrus brought her out of her thoughts and she allowed him to lead her to his office.