VII: At the King's Court

Levi

"If you ever get to the surface, look up. That blue thing you'll see is the sky, and as far as we know, there's no end to it."

In the Underground, people said stupid things like that as if it was something wonderful. They would speak of birds soaring high above, and of clouds meandering through that immense openness. But whenever Levi tried to picture it, he felt as if a weight pressed down on him. If the sky was endless, that meant you could spend your whole life reaching for it, and yet, you could never touch it. How was that a good thing?

He weaved through the crowd, people shoving in on all sides, the clamour almost deafening. The air stank of sheep and soiled clothing until they came upon a street corner heaped with garbage and slimy, putrefying stacks of offal. There the air stank of, well, offal. Trying very hard not to touch anything around, including the people, Levi leapt over a wet heap of something that smelled strongly of manure. A moment later, as if he didn't see it at all, Kenny's boot sank deep into the pile of shit, squelching as he pulled it free. Just a bit further now, and they would reach The Purple Lily. The ladies of The Lily said they were the finest in all the lands, but it wasn't a fair competition, since they were the only ladies of their kind as far as Levi knew. Madame Loretta was one fine lady as far as he was concerned, as long as no one tried to run out on their tab. If someone was stupid enough to try, she would roll her sleeves up, and lift them off the floor while Tilly or Agnes rummaged through the patron's pockets.

"Might I inquire what sort of establishment this Purple Lily is?" asked Laurens, tugging at his cravat as if it squeezed him too tight. His face had turned an unhealthy shade of grey as they passed the place where the butcher dumped his waste.

"It's a house of merriment," Levi said because that's what was on the sign out front. "They serve drinks, play music and dance, and there are rooms on the second floor. The ladies are really boys wearing dresses, but they put on makeup and wigs, and everyone pretends not to notice."

"Oh, how interesting. I must admit that I never imagined such a place existed."

Maybe Laurens would like to try it. He seemed to like wearing nice clothes, after all.

Levi gave Kenny a sullen look. "You looking for someone, since you want to go there?"

Kenny's eyes flickered to Laurens before he answered, and Levi got the feeling they decided something, even though none of them said anything out loud.

"Ya gone deaf? Told ya not to ask questions."

Levi grit his teeth. "I'm not deaf."

He didn't ask any more questions after that.

Madame Loretta welcomed them into the foyer and Levi discovered there was something, other than people trying to escape without paying, that would ruin her good mood.

"Good evening gentlemen," she trilled, "You here to join in the festivities, I take it. Mince pies are a'cookin', music to delight the ear, and lovely girls to stoke your fire. Come in, come in."

In the next room, beyond Loretta's beckoning hand, Levi saw a great crowd of dancers spinning and bouncing through the billowing smoke, a jaunty tune playing. People were shouting, laughing and clapping their appreciation, almost completely drowning out the vocalist standing on one of the tables to the side of the room. Heat wafted out into the foyer, and with it came an intense odour of ale, tobacco, and perfume.

"Actually Madame, I was hoping you would let us take a look at your register of customers," Laurens said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. When they first entered he had stared at Loretta's girls dancing and laughing with open-mouthed astonishment, but he had quickly schooled his face back into blandness. An expression he now aimed at Loretta.

The Madame's eyes narrowed to slits. "An' why the fuck would I do that?" Her voice instantly dropped four octaves, plunging into a manish growl.

"Pardon me," Laurens said and bowed with a flourish. "I have not introduced myself. I am First Medicar Laurens Theil, at your service, and currently engaged in an inquiry into the death of a young man who might have been a customer of yours. Now if you would just please let me-" Madame Loretta bulled forward, gripped the front of Laurens' jacket and hoisted him off the floor. He let out a frightened squeak.

"Now look 'ere little man, ya wan' to die, that much is clear. But I'm a gentlewoman, so I'ma give ya an honest chance. Either ya piss off right this second, or I punch ya a new one." She shoved a fist the size of Laurens' head up into his face. "What's it goin' to be?"

"I'll go! I'll go, just let me down!" Laurens' face had turned white as a sheet.

"Good," Loretta growled and set him back down. Kenny stepped forward and pushed the doc in behind him, giving Loretta a smile that showed too many teeth.

"Don't mind this numbskull, he ain't from around here. One of 'em uppity surfacers, ain't got no common sense, as ya well know," he said, and Loretta's huge fists relaxed.

"Just where do you get off, asking that sort of question 'round here?" the madame grumbled, the angry scowl had begun to mould into an entirely different expression. "Just one name, you say? I give you one, sure, what's a name after all? But if anyone hears it they'll all set off like their britches are burning."

"Forget the name," Kenny says, flashing his teeth at Loretta. "There's this fella, mid-twenties, average height with light brown hair, blue eyes and a little goatee, nice hair—he might have been lookin' for a certain kind of company. If he did, someone might remember him, because of the fancy clothes, and this-" Kenny took the cane from Lauren's hand and showed it to the madame.

Loretta gave it a cursory once-over before her narrowed eyes settled back on the old bastard's face. There was a gleam in them now that hadn't been there before. Her red lips made the shape of a smile.

"Sorry, I'm sure someone would remember a man of his calibre. We only get so many good ones, after all."

"Shame, guess we'll get goin' then. Thanks for your time."

"What's the hurry? Come in, sit down," Loretta purred and gestured.

"I'm sure this here's a fine place, but my heart's somewhere else," Kenny replied, straight-faced.

"Oh, how romantic," Madame Loretta replied because she didn't know that Kenny Ackerman doesn't love anything, or anyone.

They set out south, through lazily winding streets where languid buildings leaned on each other like drunken patrons. People diced and brawled outside shady bars and shoddy boarding houses, and powdered women beckoned them from open doors and windows, shouting bawdy things as they passed by. A right turn brought them onto the metal court, where blacksmiths struck sparks against their anvils while the smoke rolled out from their forges, and slowly through the trembling air. By the time they made it through, Levi's shirt was soaked in sweat, and he pushed his sopping tangles of hair out of his face. Dirt ran in rivulets down his neck and across his chest and arms, looking black as tar against his pale flesh, and it was as if he could feel the dirt in his pores, unable to clean it off. All he could do for now was to pretend it wasn't there, so he grit his teeth and counted the minutes until he could find a well with a pump, and stand beneath the icy spray. Not there, not there, not there.

The King's Court was the only place Levi had come across that had been built entirely out of wood. It looked very much like a pile of mismatched wooden boxes stacked unevenly on top of each other. The whole thing sort of leaned back against the rockface, like it might fall over at some point. The sound of spirited music flowed from its open windows, and laughter intermingled with the cheerful chirping of some kind of string instrument. Kenny and Laurens traded a grave look Levi pretended not to see, and then they huddled close together, stepping through the slanting front door. A woman stood in the foyer, clutching a writing pad in her gloved hands. She was small and sharp looking, with slanted cat eyes that narrowed as she watched them step onto her blood-red carpet.

"I don't believe I've seen you here before. Welcome to The King's Court, you pay for one hour up front with the option to extend your stay. I am your delighted host, Queen Anne—any questions you have, you address them to me."

She did not look delighted at all. More like she was ready to stab someone if they gave her trouble. Her eyes slid back and forth from Kenny to Levi, narrowing almost to slits. Her mouth hardened.

"I don't take them at that age. If that's all you're here for I suggest you turn right around."

"We ain't here about the brat. We wanna talk to ya," Kenny replied.

"Until talking pays by the hour, I am not interested." She made a move like she was going to turn away from them.

"Please," said Laurens. "We seek a young man, well dressed, with brown hair with a little goatee. He would be thin, but round around the waist, good teeth and well-mannered. He might have carried a cane."

A door closed somewhere on the upper floor. Heavy boots thudded against the naked floorboards over their heads, coming closer. A man appeared on one of the balconies above, adjusting his necktie while he walked. With a gaze that was firmly planted on the ground, he descended the stairs, paid the madame, and hurried past them on his way out. Queen Anne counted the coin before she slipped it into the pouch attached to her wrist.

"Just what sort of game do you think you're playing, Mr.-?" she asked Laurens.

"I have the honour to be First Medicar Laurens Theil. This man here is my associate um, Kenny, and the little fellow is Levi. This is no game madame, I assure you, and nothing will happen to you whether you have seen him or not. There will be no names mentioned, if you could just, please, help us."

"Kenny?" she said. " That Kenny?"

"Probably," said Kenny.

Queen Anne's eyes opened wide and she looked even less happy than before, which should have been impossible, but apparently wasn't.

"There might have been someone like that. What about him?"

"'Might be' ain't good enough. Try harder." Kenny replied.

"Fine. There is a gentleman, a regular." She held her hand out. "But at this establishment, we hold to the principle of 'pay before play', gentlemen."

The old bastard grumbled and dug through his pockets. He put a half-silver in her palm.

"You are welcome to seek your information elsewhere, Ripper ."

Kenny grinned. "Nah, I better not." He put another half-silver in her outstretched hand. Then another.

"A pleasure doing business with you. Follow me please."

Queen Anne led them up the grand staircase. They turned left onto the balcony and then right down a narrow, windowless corridor. Lanterns with orbs of red leaded glass hung from the ceiling and lit the very warm, cramped space. The floor beneath their feet leaned up and down, and then up again, groaning audibly as they trod across its boards. Muted conversations intermingled with ecstatic squealing and dubious slap-slapping sounds Levi tried very hard not to hear. Or think about. She sauntered up to one of the closed doors and raised her hand, giving it a taste of her fist. The creaking and soft murmur from within stopped abruptly. Seconds later, Queen Anne turned the doorknob and stuck her head inside.

"Wrap it up Zinon. Hart, you get a whole night on the house if you get out before I count to twenty."

She pulled her head back out, slammed the door shut and began to count very loudly. From inside came a series of soft thuds, followed by a lot of shuffling noises. On the count of nineteen, a ruffled young man came tumbling out the door. He slunk past them, pulling on his socks as he scurried down the hall. Perfumed air wafted through the open door, and Queen Anne motioned for them to step through.

"He will tell you all you wish to know, won't you Zinon?"

Levi didn't hear any reply from inside, but the madame seemed satisfied. They stepped into a small, busy-looking room packed with old stuff. The small chairs in the corner were heaped with colourful quilts made from some sleek, shiny fabric. A huge chest stood open before a set of heavy drapes that obscured any light that might have found its way through the open shutters. The man stood in front of the bed; a very big bed, with nice, dyed sheets and many pillows. The man's skin was darker than anything Levi had seen before, a deep amber which made him think of the ale the barkeep served at The Rusted Hinge. Zinon crossed his arms over his chest, his black eyes trailed on Kenny as he entered the room. Queen Anne closed the door behind them, and the sounds of her footsteps faded as she receded down the hall.

"How can I help you?" said the man in soft, liquid tones. His fingers picked at the vest he was wearing, tugging at the fraying seams. Unbuttoned as it was, it revealed his bare chest underneath, dark and almost completely hairless. He looked younger than Kenny, closer to Laurens' age.

"Help us? Ya can start with helping yourself—if ya tell the truth," said Kenny.

"About what?" Zinon's fingers found a loose thread and pulled it. There was a low snap and the thread came loose. He threw it away without even looking at it, fingertips searching for something new to grasp. Eyes shifted nervously from Kenny's hands to his left hip, where his long coat displayed the tell-tale bulge of a concealed weapon.

"We have come to ask you about Joachim von Rohr," said Laurens.

"Who?"

Maybe Zinon thought it was a good idea to deny everything, but it really wasn't.

Kenny sucked some happy spittle through his teeth. He liked it when people played innocent, even though he told them not to. Or maybe he just liked what usually came after.

"Hey Doc, gimme that would ya?" said he, and gestured vaguely. Levi couldn't see what, but something was put into his hand. "Let's try again. I think you'll remember better now." He raised the walking stick, gripping it as if it were a cudgel.

"Tell us about von Rohr," he said cheerfully, and let the cane hover at an angle over Zinon's head as a silent threat, just in case the answers given did not suit him.

"Why…" Zinon glanced between them. A moist, pink tongue darted out to wet his lips. The whites of his eyes with their branching webwork of blood vessels stood out bright against his dark irises. "Why do you carry his walking stick?"

"So ya do know him! He a customer of yours?"

"Not anymore."

"What then?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business. Does Queen Anne know you came here to threaten me?" Zinon's bottom lip quivered, a little droplet of spit trembling at its centre. "Where is Joachim, and why in the name of Sina do you have that?"

There was a gleam in the shitty bastard's eyes as he bared his teeth. Neat rows of pearly whites, small, sharp.

"Ain't like he needs it anymore."

"Mr. Ackerman," said Laurens. He shook his head, and like a kid who's just been told off, Kenny lowered the stick.

"Joachim von Rohr is dead. We seek to bring his killer to justice," Laurens said to Zinon.

The handsome face slackened to a blank expression, eyes losing their focus. His mouth opened, low breath hissing out. No words. He sank down onto the edge of the bed.

"Dead." He said, like the word held no meaning. Some nonsense people kept repeating just to hear their own voices. "Murdered?" His mouth twisted like it wanted to smile, but the corners kept pulling down. He clenched his trembling hands and looked up.

"Ask me anything. I'll tell you all I know."

"How did you know Joachim?" said Laurens.

"Know him… well, he came to The King's Court one evening, three years ago now, wearing the most ridiculous disguise. He said the moustache was made from cat hair, but I always thought it looked more like rat hair. Bought it from that man Feuelstock he said, and that man would give you a kernel and call it an egg."

One of the Tin-boys had told Levi the story of Frazzlefrock selling someone a rat hair moustache. Guess it was true after all.

Zinon sucked in a quick breath. His smile wobbled, but he held onto it. "After that first time, he kept coming back. I think his betrothal to Traute was what drove him here. He wanted to discover his true nature before their marriage, but even when he did, he could not turn her away. When people began to inquire whether Traute was with child or not, he came to me, despair pouring from him with every word. The pressures of society, the guilt. Despite what you might think he never meant to harm her. Though of course, if any of this was to become official, nothing could hurt her more." He smoothed the crinkles on his trousers and began to button his vest with fingers that fumbled and lost grip on the buttons.

"I suppose that what I am trying to say is that I love him. And I think he loves… loved me. Once Lady Traute was expecting, I was to be employed at one of his textile mills in the countryside. I'd get my papers and move to a secluded place close by, and there we would have a secret life together." He broke off.

Kenny and Laurens exchanged a look, and Laurens made some little gesture with his hand. Levi couldn't take his eyes off the sad man. His head hung like he couldn't hold it up anymore.

"Did he have any enemies?" said Laurens.

Zinon shook his head. "He never spoke of any, but… I could believe he might have had some. He always liked to say it's a dog eat dog world."

"Oh… uh, alright," said Laurens, frowning.

"It means the strong killin' the weak is the natural order of things, Doc," said Kenny.

"Ah! In what way would you say this aspect of his personality manifested itself?"

"Joachim was kind, which made some people think they could use him, but I doubt he struck a deal in his life that had him coming out with less than he went in with. Few things bring out the ugly in men like money does."

"True," said Levi. Everyone needed money, and money turned people bad whether they had it, or didn't have enough of it. The old bastard threw him a look over his shoulder like he'd forgotten Levi was there at all.

"Ya know if he skinned anyone in particular?" Kenny asked Zinon, who shook his head.

"No."

"And he hadn't changed his mind and decided to cut ya off?"

"What?"

"Wash his hands and toss ya out like yesterday's garbage?" Kenny's smile was like a knife.

Zinon's dark eyes contemplated him. Dirty hair hung in greasy tressels from Kenny's head. Three days worth of stubble covered cheeks and a chin whose skin resembled a topographic map, scarred and pockmarked. Deep grooves beneath hard, seditious eyes.

"You think that if he decided he did not love me, I would want him dead? What a wretched man you are."

Kenny took this in stride, shifting his attention to Laurens.

"Should I smack him around a bit—might change his tune. Whaddaya think?"

"No, absolutely not! We are only making enquiries, and besides, this man has rights."

Kenny chuckled, shrugging. "Yeah, right."

"Zinon, where were you between nine and twelve, the day before yesterday?" Laurens asked.

"I can't believe this is happening." Zinon's head dipped and he caught it with his hands. His glossy black locks poured like water over his shoulders, shrouding his face in smooth silken ringlets. His next words were a thready whisper, one last lamenting note, the end of a story.

"I was here, of course. There's no place else for me to be. Queen Anne knows, ask her."

Laurens gave Kenny an impatient look. "See my friend—ask, and the truth shall reveal itself to you."

"Hate to break it to ya Doc, but people lie all the time. Better check it with the madame, see if she confirms his story."

"I agree with you there. My sincere condolences to you Zinon, thank you for speaking with us. We may return to ask more questions at some point. I want you to know I am confident we will catch whoever killed Joachim," said Laurens, and prepared to leave.

The man winced at the mention of his lover's name, like the sound of it hurt him. He blinked his wet eyes like he was trying to push the tears back in. Incongruous laughter drifted through the half-open door, and Zinon's words came hoarse and quiet.

"Do you swear it?"

At first it looked like Laurens might not have heard, but then paused on the threshold.

"I swear to do everything in my power to bring those responsible to justice," he said and left the room.

Kenny tapped his heel against the floor and motioned for Levi to follow him, but before they reached the door, Zinon spoke again.

"What do I do now?"

Kenny halted.

"The fuck do I care?" He raised the walking stick, and with a flick of his wrist, he flipped it in his hand, offering the top end to Zinon. "There. Come kiddo, we're done here."

Zinon's low whimpers seemed to follow them down the hall. In the foyer below, Queen Anne confirmed that Zinon had been working on the day in question, scoffing at the suggestion that he might have snuck out. Above their heads, the wooden planks moaned and creaked in what sounded much like a tortured reverberation of grief.