Chapter 1
The devil is not a metaphysical construct. He’s a big lump of a bloke, piggy looking eyes, red skin, little horns and a really angry disposition. I’m looking at him right now and he’s not happy.
“Look at the size of him, Val” said my companion, “I hope those chains hold.”
“Shut your mouth, Wilson,” I said “I don’t want them to know we’re here.” I was standing behind a wall, by peeking around the corner I could see the little tableau, the gypsies, the paying customers. Their camp fire light bounced off the walls of the City, they must have just made it in by curfew before the gates were shut. And the devil, he sort of drew the eye.
Pulling back into cover I grabbed the front of the tanner’s filthy shirt, “Tell me again, Wilson, tell me about the devil.” I slid down the wall into a sitting position and since I’m a fairly big bloke poor old Wilson sank with me. It’s not every day someone runs up to you and tells you that you can pay a copper piece to see the devil. Well, it does happen a lot in the City, just not every day. And this was the first time I’d seen something which really could be the devil. Child of Satan, demon, stuff like that.
It had been a long day and I was tired.
“Where’d he come from, Wilson?” I asked.
The tanner looked at my grip on his shirt and knew I’d never let go. I waved my other paw at him so he could see it, just a little wave but it told him I had a free hand and was more than willing to hit him. He sighed and slumped beside me. I didn’t let go, haven’t made that mistake since I was a recruit about, I don’t know, a couple of hundred years ago.
“You’re a mean man, Valentine” he said.
“My mum loves me” I replied, letting my head rest against the wall. My grip was still strong, so I gave his shirt a little shake to get the memory juices flowing.
“Look,” he said, “I’m coming home and I see their fire, you know how they build up a big burn when they’re putting on a show. Heard the music, bells and stuff, thought I’d have a look at some of their freak shows. Last year they had a half woman, half man – split right down the middle, one half a moustache and the other half had a big…” he hesitated, unsure of offending my delicate sensibilities.
“Tit, Wilson, it’s called a tit”, she had one big breast, I’d seen it on a patrol; poor woman, parading around for the sleazy types like Wilson. “Stick to the devil, how close did you get?”
The night sky sprinkled stars like silver, beautiful glints of glittering purity. And I sat with my hand in the greasy folds of dirty and smelly shirt. Better up there than down here, I thought.
“When I got to the edge of the camp they were just bringing it out, he had a ring around his throat and three chains linked to it. But strong! Val, he grabbed one of the chains and just yanked it out of the man’s hands, he was lucky he wasn’t dragged into the clutches of that devil monster. I took off. That’s when you found me.”
He was right about that. I was doing a quick circuit alone – the Night Watch never sleeps and all that – touring around a generally quiet street when Wilson came running down the road like a man on a mission. So there I was, a City Watchman doing his rounds, it’s night, I’m looking for break-ins and bad guys and what do I see. Some idiot head down and arms pumping, running. From what? I asked myself. Could be a crime. So when he came close enough I hit him with my halberd. Just a little tap, barely touched him.
“You didn’t have to hit me so hard” he complained.
“Shut up, you big girl, the bleeding’s stopped.” I thought for a moment, what to do? Better take this up the chain of command to Magic, he’ll know what to do. I hoped he would. “Did you see anyone else beside the guards?” I asked. He told me what he knew and when I thought I would get no more I let him go.
Time to see the boss, I thought.
**********
It wasn’t the brightest thing I’d ever done, going off alone in Westside, walking the streets of the Thieves’ Quarter by myself. Since we were undermanned, as usual, and Magic feels strongly about fulfilling his obligations – never bothered me much – someone had to do this little circuit alone. He had looked at me and said “Need a volunteer, Val, someone with experience, guts and talent.”
I preened until he said “Since we haven’t got anyone like that in the squad I’m sending you.”
“What about this volunteer stuff” I stuttered “Maybe someone else wants to do it?”
As he turned away he grumbled “You’re a real card, Valentine, now get lost; I’ve got real work to do.”
We had agreed to meet at the Dolphin Fountain Square and that’s where I was now, waiting for the rest of the squad to appear. In all honesty I was feeling a trifle edgy, a lone guardsman in this part of the city is like being a new toy, everyone wants to see who can break you first. To be on the safe side I found a nice dark corner with a deep, black shadow and pulled myself in as far as I could. Standing there with my boots in something soft and rotting I peered out into the square, if I was lucky no-one had seen me enter. Since leaving Wilson I had slunk from shadow to shadow just like a regular citizen; unfortunately, my halberd marked me as a guardsman. I considered tossing it away but the thought of explaining how I lost it put me off – the lads would know I had been terrified and, dear friends that they were, they would dump on me from a great height. At least, that’s what I would do if it was one of them.
The stupid thing clanked on a bit of stone, the only noise save for the odd crackle of burning materials from the flambeaux scattered around the walls of the square. They didn’t really give light – more like they gave shadow – but the illusion was there. If we found them out on our rounds we reported it and the Lamplighter was docked money. We used to have to light the damn things ourselves before the Lamplighters were formed – I don’t think they’ll last as a guild, stupid job. Some sections of the City had Lamplighters doing their rounds all night but not here; Westside got the one flambeau at the start of the night and that was it, the Lamplighters wouldn’t come back after that.
But we did, City Watch Guardsman, toiling through the dark and gloomy night, bravely keeping the streets safe; that was me, making sure no-one came out and pinched the square or stole the fountain. As time passed I waited and waited for the rest of the squad, my nerves jumping at every sound, nervous as a cat. I was terrified.
In the distance I heard the clank of metal and raised voices, this could be bad news. Then I heard Meataxe singing and knew it was the rest of the squad. Since I didn’t want to look like a nervous Nellie I ducked out of my little crevice and sat on the edge of the fountain. It took up the centre of the square and had a nice ledge running around the lip so I draped myself on it, looking all causal and unconcerned. Meataxe entered the square first, probably drunker than when I had last seen him.
He was dressed in the Guard uniform, sensible shoes with fake gold buckles, stockings and cut-off pants which ended just below the knee. The stockings should have reached the bottom of the leggings and made a neat line, complete with a little red ribbon. I say should have because Meataxe had trouble with neat, his stockings were rumpled down around his ankles, the red ribbons were untied and dangling beside the flapping, dirty and stained leggings. Around his neck was our badge of office, a bright yellow scarf, this particular one had only the memory of its original colour. His top was marginally cleaner, a billowing, shiny gold coloured blouse with lovely balloon like sleeves. These were slashed stylishly to reveal his white linen undershirt; it can look quite smart when the Day Watch does its parade.
Not so much us, the Night Watch, especially not Meataxe. He cut a bedraggled figure, topped off nicely by our huge floppy hat, complete with rakish red feather. The hat was a really nice touch, I thought, kept the serious rays of the sun off our tender eyes; of course, at night it was useless, falling across our already obscured vision and preventing us from scanning high rooftops easily.
“Val!” he exclaimed, seeing me and lurching to one side at the same time. Still, he did keep a good grip on his musket. “There you are! We been look… (hic)…look.. lookin’ ev’rywhere for you.” He staggered closer and sat down on the ledge beside me. “My ol’ pal, Valentine,” an arm snaked around my neck as he leaned in conspiratorially “You know, Val”, pause for breath, “you’re my bes’…my bes’ friend. You know so many big…words…you’re so clever and I’m so dumb….” I stayed where I was, embraced by a drunken colleague as he muttered a few more times “Bes’ fren, you…Val… my ol’ pal…so smart…”
As he continued to breathe noxious fumes I watched the rest of the Night Watch clatter into the square, more noise than threat. Saints above, we were hopeless.
Magic strolled over and asked for a report, most of the squad sat down against walls and chatted, a few pulled out bottles and took some serious pulls. I must have been the only thing keeping Meataxe erect; as I stood up to talk to our corporal he fell into the fountain. Magic just looked at his squad member, floundering in the waist high water, resignedly he said, “Teddy Boy, you and Horse drag that idiot out before he drowns.” Turning to me he asked “Anything worth reporting, Val?” he wasn’t really interested, just going through the motions.
I opened my mouth to speak but was interrupted by the clatter of hooves. Those guardsmen near the entrance to the square quickly pulled themselves against the walls, a horse always has right of way if you want to keep the ability to walk. Into the square came about half-a dozen men on horseback, they pounded to a halt at the fountain, steel hooves sparking against the cobblestones.
Us deadly Night Watch personnel looked on dumbly. I sighed and joined the few other guardsmen who at least prepared weapons for defence.
Fortunately the newcomers were not out to attack us; after recovering from the initial surprise I recognised the Captain of the Night Watch, Lord van Purmerland and his retinue. He was dressed all in black with just flashes of white at wrist and collar where expensive cloth beautifully set off his elegance. The Man in Black, our leader.
“Corporal!” he barked, “Which one of you is corporal?” his eyes swept the square, taking us all in, the drunks, the disorganised, the unready.
Magic didn’t look too happy but he pulled himself to attention “I’m corporal, my Lord”.
Another horseman responded, “His Lordship does not use his title while on duty for the Watch, corporal. Please address him as ‘Captain Franz’.” None of the riders had dismounted, The Man in Black edged forward a little “Thank you, Ensign, that’ll do. What’s your name, corporal? Is this second Squad?” he asked.
Meataxe chose that moment to lurch erect, spraying water in a wide arc, some droplets pattering off Magic’s hat. “Magic!” he proclaimed, “Name’s MAGIC!” he repeated before flopping to sit once again in the fountain.
Again Magic sighed “My name is Alfort, captain, Charles Alfort” he said, “and yes, this is the second squad.” Using his right arm he gestured to us, his command, noble keepers of the peace that we were. The Man in Black followed his movement, eyes taking in our state of presentation. I was reasonably close so I could see his face, waited for the sneer. It didn’t come, at least not from the Captain.
The ensign spoke up, “Your men are slackers, corporal, bring them men to attention!”
Magic looked at him, “Who’d you be, you’re not Watch?” he asked.
“I should say not! I am Ensign Briare of the Household Cavalry and you will call me sir. Now, carry out my orders!”
Before the situation worsened the Man in Black spoke, “Thank you, Ensign, I would prefer the men to stay as they are.” Turning back to Magic he said “Alfort, I know that name.” He began to dismount, “Yes, town in France, very pretty chateau on a hill with delightful woods. Your family, corporal?”
Magic held the Captain’s bridle “Not quite, we were poachers in those woods until my dad was hung. Seemed to be a good time to leave.” The two men stood together, chatting amiably about forests while Ensign Briare sent off waves of disgust.
The captain spoke again and I eavesdropped shamelessly, “Got an interesting situation here, corporal,” he said, “and I’ve heard your men might be the ones to help.” Over his shoulder he called to his escort, “Bring the man forward, Briare.”
Two of the riders dismounted and brought a third man with them. On closer inspection I could see that he was under guard, but a light one, he might not even have known he was being policed. Nothing outstanding about him, his complexion marked him as gentry, all pale and wan, skin didn’t look like it had seen a lot of hard times so I put him down as one of those rich younger sons who can swan about and call themselves poets. Useless drips.
His clothes were interesting, very fine indeed. A soft gray shirt with what looked like buttons of ivory was tucked into darker gray pants of a heavy material, again this was well made with strange fastenings and bits of metal. But it was his boots that caught my eye. I’m a walker, I don’t ride much so I am a fair judge of footwear. His boots seemed enormously supple and shone with a lustre I’ve only ever seen in expensive leather. He must have had it treated somehow to give it the softness for wearing plus the hardwearing needed for serious walking. And these boots had seen some work recently, they were scratched and scarred but still looked disgustingly comfortable.
Who was this guy?
Magic gave him the once over and asked “I’ve never seen him before. What do you want me to do?”
“I understand that your squad has a large number of men who speak other languages?” asked the Man in Black. “This fellow,” he went on, indicating the stranger “speaks in a tongue unlike any I have heard. He was brought to Watch headquarters for disturbing the peace – but something about him is odd. Perhaps some of your men can understand his talk.”
Magic looked at Captain Franz with new respect; he always told us a good Watchman develops a tingling sense that told you something was not quite right. Seems like our leader was a real copper. He pursued his lips before replying “Could be, we certainly attract the newcomers and refugees to the Night Watch, pay rate’s just a step up from gravedigger. I’ll see what I can do.” He turned and called out a few names, “Guido, Santini, Horse – get over here.” He called a few others and then saw me, hovering. “Val, do join us, you have some education.” He looked around to see if he’d missed anybody and caught sight of Right Honourable, “Right Honourable, how many languages do you speak?”
The tall, dark haired man responded, “About ten, dear fellow. Benefits of a private tutor and all that. Having trouble with your tavern conversations, Magic?” He somehow managed to walk over with a lounging gait, casual and regal at the same time; I’d tried to copy it but looked like a constipated pig. When he approached our little group he went on “How can I be of service, dear boy?”
My mouth took off without orders “Magic wants us to listen to this guy speak and see if any of us know his language. Good thing you can speak ten!” I sounded like the new kid at school.
Right Honourable patted me on the shoulder and said “Well done, Val, excellent summary. As a matter of fact,” he went on “I understand a few more and then of course there are the half dozen I can read. The classics, Latin poets, Hebrew scholars and, of course the works of Aristotle – all Greek to me.” He gave a little chuckle.
“But wasn’t he a Greek?” I blurted again, I was being a particular doofus tonight.
“It’s a joke, Val” said Magic, “Now shut up and listen.” He gestured to the stranger but spoke to the Man in Black “How do you turn him on, Captain?”
“Interesting, this” said the Captain, “I think he understands some of what we say but cannot speak our tongue. Knows enough to say ‘yes’ and ‘no’. Most bizarre.” He spoke to the stranger “Off you go, sir, talk to these men.”
We stood in a loose semi-circle around the strange man and he began to gabble in a language I had never heard. Our squad had a lot of foreigners, far more than any other section of the city; if you had no skills in a new town you found a low paying job, the left overs all seemed to trickle down to us. The Second squad of the Night Watch, pretty close to the bottom of the barrel. I can pick up languages easily but nothing he was saying made any sense, judging by the looks of my fellow Watch they shared my ignorance. After a few minutes of speaking he stopped and started again with dumb show gestures, acting out a message. He stuck his fingers against his head, waved an arm over his head, touched his skin and then pointed at a red stripe on Magic’s blouse.
“You’re looking for the devil, aren’t you?” I said. It just popped out when he put his fingers up, like little horns. Everyone stopped and looked at me, including the stranger.
He nodded, with a big smile on his face he said “Yes! Devil! YES!”
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