At some point in her musings, she’d begun walking in the general direction of the Old Town. It had not been a conscious decision; when her mind began to race, her legs had a tendency to move. She’d not moved more than two blocks from the manse before she stopped cold, staring like a startled rabbit into a very unwelcome face.
Jack Gherun and a man Skate did not recognize were walking on the same stretch of road as she, and now they stood less than five feet apart. Gherun saw her at almost the exact moment she saw him, and interrupted whatever conversation the two had been having with a shout of “You!”
The word stirred her to movement, but she had only taken a step before both feet were lifted off the ground by a hand around her neck. She flew into a nearby alley, where her back was slammed against the wall hard enough to knock the wind out of her. She looked down to see Gherun, wild-eyed with his arm outstretched. His friend’s hand was also out, making a clutching gesture, but they were several paces away. Magic, she thought stupidly as she clawed at her neck, trying to break the grip of something she could not touch; she was swatting at air. She could breathe, but it was a laborious process, and she did not doubt that the unseen hand could close tighter if the unknown wizard wanted it to.
“You know this one?” The companion’s voice was deep; she was sure she’d heard it before, but with her feet dangling several feet off the ground, it was not her most pressing concern.
“It’s her. She’s the one that stole from me.” The wizard gripped tighter. “The one who’s working to ruin my life.”
The unknown man had a wide, blocky face, like a statue of a brute left unfinished. “She’s young. I expected a lass of some sixteen years, the way you described it.”
“I may have exaggerated—look, it was dark, and it doesn’t matter. This is her. The oracle doesn’t lie.” Gherun’s face was warped with hate, and he sounded like he was struggling to keep his voice from shaking.
“Gonna let him kill me, Jack?” Skate asked, not bothering with addressing him as an adult. “Be a bad idea. You got a letter waiting for you. Go read it. I’ll wait.” She thought she sounded confident, but that was hard to tell at the best of times, and less easy to pull off when suspended by throat-restricting magic. Still, she must have done well, since she saw a waver in Gherun’s face—from unbridled hatred to a flash of fear.
“What are you talking about?” The shaking in his voice was obvious, and any attempt he was trying to make to prevent it was failing miserably. “What letter?”
“From my Bosses. Go check; I’m serious. I’ll wait here. Have whoever this guy is keep an eye on me if you want,” she said, pointing at Gherun’s friend before immediately returning to trying to take the invisible hand from her throat. “Or don’t, but either way, have him drop me, would you? This is less comfortable than you probably think.”
Gherun’s face spasmed, warping from rage to fear and back again in rapid order. He eventually said, “Let her down.” The wizard pulled his arm back slightly and lowered her, kicking and gasping, to the ground. The snow buildup was not so high here, so the fall was not padded much—but other than a shock through her legs as she landed, Skate was unhurt.
She rubbed her throat and coughed. There was still pressure there, but not nearly as much. Gherun pulled his companion close and whispered something in his ear before bolting toward his home and the unwelcome message waiting for him there. The friend turned toward Skate and held a splayed hand up in front of him.
“You move, and I’ll hurt you.”
Again, the sense that she knew the voice washed over her, and now that she had time to think, she intended to figure it out. “Sure, no problem.” She took several deep, steadying breaths and used the time to try to place that voice. “How do you know Jack?” she asked. “Family?”
“Shut up, thief.” The deep-voiced man spoke without much conviction. He was only irritated, not truly upset.
“Pretty sure I know most of his acquaintances.” She began ticking them off on her fingers. “His cleaning crew, the managers of his home, a group of thieves, a set of wizards—ah!” she said, snapping her finger and pointing at the man. “You must be Gemhide, right? Bakurin Gemhide, who lives in the docks.”
“How do you know my name?” Gemhide had tensed up, and the splayed hand gripped inward slightly, looking like a claw.
Skate took a seat against the wall and set her head back, looking up at the sky as snow continued to fall. The buildings protected against the wind and most of the snow. “We know all kinds of things.”
“‘We’? Are you…” He lowered his hand almost imperceptibly and was about to finish his sentence, but shook his head and thought better of it. “Shut up,” was all he said, and raised his arm back up.
Skate smiled and closed her eyes. He knows about the Ink. He might have been contacted and brought on as a client. The Ink, after all, did the bulk of their business in the docks and the slums, where they were allowed to operate more or less free of the Guard’s interference. For that reason, most of their protection clients were in the docks. The slums rarely contained anything worth protecting, so the Ink didn’t even bother trying to extort money in a systematic way there. It would be impossible, however, to live for any period of time in the docks and not be aware of the syndicate that ran vice.
They remained in their respective positions until Gherun returned. He was holding the note, opened but replaced in its envelope, in a quivering hand. He looked about to cry.
“Jack?” Gemhide turned toward his friend in concern. The broken man said nothing. He handed over the letter and stared at the ground, as if doing so would keep his problems safely away from him. Gemhide turned away slightly to better catch the gray light seeping through the overcast sky in order to read the words on the page. His brow furrowed as he reached the bottom of the one-page note. He folded it back to its compact shape. He looked up at Skate. “Are you one of them?”
“The ones behind that note? Sure, I’m one of them.” She climbed back up to her feet, swatting the snow off her clothes. “So, we’re done here, right?”
“Of course we’re not done!” Gemhide’s deep voice had become a growl. “You can’t just steal from a person and leave a threatening letter without dealing with it.”
“You know who sent that letter. You know that I can do whatever I want so long as it’s with permission.”
“There’s a sign.” Gemhide’s voice had become somewhat strained, restricted by nervousness. “If you’re one of them, show me a sign. Each member has to pierce a bone somewhere on their body.”
Skate snorted. “Liar.” She rubbed her arms to stave off the cold.
Gemhide pursed his lips. “Fine. What’s the tattoo look like?”
“It’s too cold to show you mine. Here,” she said, drawing a rough sketch of the tattoo in the snow: a quill with a drop of ink at the end of the nib. The quill pointed to the left, positioned as if it were writing on a page. It had six divots in the feather. “It’s the same symbol that was pressed on the seal of that letter,” she said with a quick wave at the paper in his hand. She wiped the snow off her glove.