Anyway, I shouldn’t be talking like this.”
“You
afraid of them?”
Guyan
shrugged his broad shoulders. “There have been some ... disappearances. People
that speak out against them don’t speak out for long, if you get me. And
they’re spreading like fungus. I thought they’d be satisfied when they had
their own church. Not only were they unsatisfied, but they’ve taken over
several other churches since then. Remember the House of the Laug ? Theirs. The Laugians vanished overnight, killed or driven off, no one knows which. Same with the
Satherists. And the Church of the Vygun-Iss .”
“Might
be time for you to set up shop elsewhere.”
“And
abandon the sacred trust? No. I’m in Muscud for the long haul.” Darkly, he
added, “One way or another. Anyway, it’s good to see a friendly face. Been
awhile since you’ve been around this kink of the Stink. Heard you were
topside.”
“I’m
only back temporarily.”
“You
know, we could use you. You brought some color to this place.”
“It’s
colorful enough.”
“What
happened to you, anyway? You don’t look the same. You’re not still ...” Tavlin
just watched him, and Guyan dropped his gaze. “Oh.”
“Listen,
I was hoping to look through the public records, see who owns a particular
piece of property.”
Guyan
made a face. “You know how sketchy the records are, but I’ll do what I can.
Which property?” Tavlin gave him the address, and Guyan yanked out a ledger and
thumbed through it, dust pluming upward as he cracked the pages. His eyes
scanned a page, then another. Finally he slammed the book closed—triggering an
explosion of dust—and looked up. “Do you know anything about the public
property records, Two-Bit?”
“Can’t
say I do.”
“Well,
we didn’t used to have any, but as the city grew, over time parts of it would
shift, break away from other parts. Much of it was made of trash and cast-offs,
and it wasn’t meant to last. Whole sections would sink, or break away into
little islets. Finally we elected a mayor and got some organization, and
properties had to be approved before they could be built, and more of them were
built of stone and wood, and pillars were sunk into the lake bed. Well, it’s
been hundreds of years since then and the mayors aren’t what they used to be.
Mayor Jensen, well ...”
“Yeah.”
Jensen was deep in the pocket of the mob; Boss Vassas had done quite a bit of
business with him.
“You
have to get his permission to build or renovate, but he gives permission out of
his wallet, if you know what I mean, and the more money’s exchanged the less
likely he is to report the sale.”
“So
someone paid him off.”
“Must
be, because it’s not here.”
Tavlin
nodded slowly. “Well, at least I know where to start looking.”
“Don’t
expect Boss Vassas to tell on the mayor. People at that level know how to keep
their lips sealed, at least about others at the same level.”
“We’ll
see.”
“Is
there anything else I can help you with? I just got a new series by Marcus Synn . Wasn’t he one of your favorite writers? This one’s
about that detective in the tropics. And only slight damage to the pages.”
“Actually,
I’m looking for more information on one of the old races. Pre-human.”
“Which
race?”
“The
Iuss’ha.”
Guyan
indicated with his chin. “Upstairs in the far corner. You’ll find them in the
Arcane History section.”
Tavlin
climbed up the creaking, peeling ladder to the platform that encompassed the
upper half of the building, lined by thick, sagging bookshelves exuding the
stink of mold, age and, yes, there it was, sewage. Tavlin donned a pair of
gloves to read by, a common practice down here, and selected a volume that was
so crumbly he feared it would disintegrate in his hands. The tome covered a
span of years long before man had evolved, back during the age of the Iuss’ha.
Tavlin
sat down at a listing table, swept the dust from it with a brush of
“You
afraid of them?”
Guyan
shrugged his broad shoulders. “There have been some ... disappearances. People
that speak out against them don’t speak out for long, if you get me. And
they’re spreading like fungus. I thought they’d be satisfied when they had
their own church. Not only were they unsatisfied, but they’ve taken over
several other churches since then. Remember the House of the Laug ? Theirs. The Laugians vanished overnight, killed or driven off, no one knows which. Same with the
Satherists. And the Church of the Vygun-Iss .”
“Might
be time for you to set up shop elsewhere.”
“And
abandon the sacred trust? No. I’m in Muscud for the long haul.” Darkly, he
added, “One way or another. Anyway, it’s good to see a friendly face. Been
awhile since you’ve been around this kink of the Stink. Heard you were
topside.”
“I’m
only back temporarily.”
“You
know, we could use you. You brought some color to this place.”
“It’s
colorful enough.”
“What
happened to you, anyway? You don’t look the same. You’re not still ...” Tavlin
just watched him, and Guyan dropped his gaze. “Oh.”
“Listen,
I was hoping to look through the public records, see who owns a particular
piece of property.”
Guyan
made a face. “You know how sketchy the records are, but I’ll do what I can.
Which property?” Tavlin gave him the address, and Guyan yanked out a ledger and
thumbed through it, dust pluming upward as he cracked the pages. His eyes
scanned a page, then another. Finally he slammed the book closed—triggering an
explosion of dust—and looked up. “Do you know anything about the public
property records, Two-Bit?”
“Can’t
say I do.”
“Well,
we didn’t used to have any, but as the city grew, over time parts of it would
shift, break away from other parts. Much of it was made of trash and cast-offs,
and it wasn’t meant to last. Whole sections would sink, or break away into
little islets. Finally we elected a mayor and got some organization, and
properties had to be approved before they could be built, and more of them were
built of stone and wood, and pillars were sunk into the lake bed. Well, it’s
been hundreds of years since then and the mayors aren’t what they used to be.
Mayor Jensen, well ...”
“Yeah.”
Jensen was deep in the pocket of the mob; Boss Vassas had done quite a bit of
business with him.
“You
have to get his permission to build or renovate, but he gives permission out of
his wallet, if you know what I mean, and the more money’s exchanged the less
likely he is to report the sale.”
“So
someone paid him off.”
“Must
be, because it’s not here.”
Tavlin
nodded slowly. “Well, at least I know where to start looking.”
“Don’t
expect Boss Vassas to tell on the mayor. People at that level know how to keep
their lips sealed, at least about others at the same level.”
“We’ll
see.”
“Is
there anything else I can help you with? I just got a new series by Marcus Synn . Wasn’t he one of your favorite writers? This one’s
about that detective in the tropics. And only slight damage to the pages.”
“Actually,
I’m looking for more information on one of the old races. Pre-human.”
“Which
race?”
“The
Iuss’ha.”
Guyan
indicated with his chin. “Upstairs in the far corner. You’ll find them in the
Arcane History section.”
Tavlin
climbed up the creaking, peeling ladder to the platform that encompassed the
upper half of the building, lined by thick, sagging bookshelves exuding the
stink of mold, age and, yes, there it was, sewage. Tavlin donned a pair of
gloves to read by, a common practice down here, and selected a volume that was
so crumbly he feared it would disintegrate in his hands. The tome covered a
span of years long before man had evolved, back during the age of the Iuss’ha.
Tavlin
sat down at a listing table, swept the dust from it with a brush of
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