Chapter 6

Growing Pains

My fountain pen scratched over the paper as I added more notes. I'd made my deal with Gareth Bryne, but now I had to get everything going. And quickly because I couldn't stay in Caemlyn. I had other places to be. So while the city outside quieted down, I worked on in the glare of an oil lamp. At least I had a decent pen now to write my instructions with.

A knock on my door offered a brief escape, and I took it. "Come in. Anything wrong, Gemiad?"

"Hagaidhrin wanted to let you know he can't print that interview with the Green Man after all. He said he'd reconsider if you could tell him which Aes Sedai could vouch for you?"

I let out a breath. "And he knows I can't."

Gemiad shook her head. "This is ridiculous. You two aren't even talking to each other anymore."

"Hagaidhrin isn't happy I landed a big contract for a competitor. And am helping them to improve their printing press so they can meet the demand. He's not wrong, exactly, but we need that paper as much as everybody. He'll come around."

"Might help if you apologize," Gemiad said as she picked up the example of a finely woven brass wire screen that would help improve the quality of the paper.

"For what?" I put the cap on my fountain pen and placed it in its case. "I got out of that meeting with Gareth Bryne without our business shut down and a way to secure our paper supply."

She gave me a look. "But you didn't tell him that you had this plan. At least I didn't hear it," Gemiad said.

"I…" Thinking back on it, I couldn't recall that I had. "I didn't go in with a full plan as I didn't know why Gareth Bryne, of all people, wanted to see me. I had some possibilities. But you're right; Hagaidhrin is my business partner. I should have told him." And I shouldn't have gone native and be all mysterious. Secrets had their time and space and I should keep that in mind.

So not only an apology, but I should also let him know I'm heading west. Because there is now talk of some sort of trouble in Arad Doman or Tarabon. And about what I'm hoping to set up in Baerlon.

"I know," Gemiad said. "Now you need to tell him that." She hesitated, then came over and leaned over my desk using one hand to support herself. "Did you hear yet about Roul Melolrin?"

I frowned as it took me a moment to place the name. "No. I hadn't heard anything about him since I came back and I've been too busy with this," I said, gesturing at the papers on my desk, "to put my ear to the ground. What happened?"

Gemiad grimaced. "He got murdered. Way I heard, it was as bad a death as Lynir's so it's probably the same killer. But Melolrin's the one that hired him to kill Lynir and Saninas."

I sat back. "And it's unlikely he would have paid for his own murder. A power struggle in his own organization, someone under him using the assassin to make room for themselves. Or make it look like it?" I rubbed my chin. "Or the assassin is tying up a loose end." In the grander scheme of things, this was a very small thing. "You're digging into this?"

"I want to, but Hagaidhrin's told me to stay out of it." She started pacing. "He's worried the murderer might kill anybody that gets too close. But I didn't take this job to stay safe. What you started is important, and I think there's more going on. Melolrin's got enough cutters of his own, but he hired an outsider. And you were never able to figure out who he was or where he came from."

The fingers on my chin stilled. "When did Melolrin die?"

"They found his body nine days ago. He'd gone into hiding not long after you left since the Queen's Guard was looking for him. I think he died shortly after. They found him on account of the smell."

Could this be some sort of Shadowspawn rather than a human? I wouldn't put it past Melolrin to be a Darkfriend and if he was killed as punishment for Rand's escape that would explain some things. But what could do it? A Trolloc would be this brutal, but they didn't work alone and they couldn't move through the city without notice. A Myrddraal could, but why would it help Melolrin clean up a minor problem within his own gang?

It couldn't be a gholam. Only one ever showed up in the books and it had been stashed in a stasis box. It drank blood, if I recalled right, so it would need to kill regularly and it was strong enough to tear a human apart. But again, why would it work for Melolrin and where had it come from?

I was missing something.

"Missing what?"

I hadn't realized I'd voiced that thought loud enough for Gemiad to hear. "That's the, uh, thousand gold marks question. I-I wonder if this has anything to do with the reason I left Caemlyn. The Aes Sedai and her party were being chased by Darkfriends. Melolrin would be in an excellent position to help catch them if he were a Darkfriend. And given that he failed to do so …"

"A Darkfriend?" Gemiad gave me a wide-eyed look. "Melolrin?" I considered mentioning the possibility of Shadowspawn, but she appeared to have trouble even believing the idea of a Darkfriend. Such things were so far away to the people of Caemlyn they might as well be tall tales, even after the article on Tarwin's Gap.

I stood up. "It's a possibility we should investigate." I took my coat off its hook.

"We?"

"Like you wouldn't investigate on your own if I went out alone. Safer to do this together."

"Good," she said, one hand tight on the handle of her belt knife. "So where to first?"

After a moment's thought, I also equipped the short spear and baton I'd forged back in Fal Dara. "The scene of the crime."

VVVV

That turned out to be a room above a bakery in East Town that they rented out. At least, that's the owner's story to the Queen's Guard when they came along. That bakery was closed at this time of night, but the bar across from the bakery had light and song spilling from it.

So rather than trying to enter from the front, we went around to the back. There was some moonlight to navigate the broad, soggy alleyway and there was a door. Two, in fact. One was a big one and I figured it was for the bakery itself. But to its right, there was a narrow door with an old iron lock in it.

"Why don't we wait until the morning and ask the baker if we can't have a look around?" Gemiad asked, keeping her voice low.

"Because he might say no." I rummaged in my pockets. These days I carried little pieces of metal and wood to have something for my power to work with. "And because following in the footsteps of the murderer might reveal something," I said, putting my lockpicks to work.

They were just for show, I could open the door with nothing more than my intention but that would create awkward questions.

"And what if the murderer just asked to be let in?"

I froze for a moment. "Then I'll feel real silly about going through all this trouble." The lock clicked and I slowly opened the door. It was dark inside, dark and silent. My hand returned to my coat pocket to make a candle as well as something to light it. "Come on."

The candle gave little, just enough to see the steps of the narrow stairs. I had to lean but a little to the right or left to touch the wall with my shoulder.

Behind me, Gemiad grumbled as she followed me until we reached the top of the stairs.

The light of the candle bounced off the whitewashed walls where that hadn't flaked away. "Which room?" There was no police tape or anything that would mark the scene of the crime.

"Third from the stairs facing the alley."

I crept towards it, wondering about every little sound. There were Gemiad's steps, however quiet she tried to be. Faint singing from that bar, the creak of a bed. Was someone waking up? Snores came from another room and those kept going.

I waited for Gemiad at the third door. "Door doesn't look new or damaged. Either the murderer picked the lock, they got invited in, or they used the window."

"The window?"

"It's the only other entrance." I tried the door and it swung out, it wasn't locked. And the reason why became apparent when I saw the room. It wasn't big, but it looked bigger as there was basically nothing in it.

One small table in the corner, everything else including the bed had been cleared out so they could redo the floor, the walls, even the ceiling. A mixture of sawdust, paint, and a hint of iron flooded out with the door open.

Even so I could see dark stains, especially on the floor.

"I'd heard it was bad," Gemiad said as she followed me into the room. I closed the door behind her just in case. "But it must have gotten everywhere. Wouldn't the killer have gotten covered in blood as well?"

I looked around. There wasn't much here then. "He should have." It did look like they were having to redo everything. They hadn't gotten to this side of the door yet and the spray of blood spatter that ran up it spoke of savage violence. The door knob was covered in old blood as well, but hard to say if it had been transferred by a bloody hand belonging to a murderer fleeing the scene.

Behind me, I heard the soft clattering of wood. Turning, I saw Gemiad opening the shutters and leaning out the window. "What are you doing?"

"Seeing if you were right. If the killer came in through the window, why not leave the same way? And there's less … bring the candle. Hurry."

I came over and handed her the candle. She took it and examined something on the outside wall to our right. I had to grab her when she tried leaning even further and almost toppled out of the window. "Careful," I warned her.

"Right. But you're right. I got a bloody handprint here and I think one more up there," she said, pointing up and even further to our right. "He must have used a rope to lower himself down from the roof, then used the same way to get out without anybody seeing him."

Her eyes glittered in the candlelight as I pulled her back into the room. "That's a clue!"

"Shhh, not so loud."

"Right. But this is a lead. The killer can't be so old because he wouldn't be limber enough and light or he'd fall through a roof."

"Roofs aren't that fragile." I gave the room another look, but even scrutinizing it with my power I got little. If the killer had left anything behind, it was gone now. "They can support the weight of a grown man."

Gemiad put a hand on her hip. "Did you think the room would still be as they found it?"

"I … didn't think they'd cleaned everything already."

"Right. You know, I read your notes for the article about Saninas' and Lynir's murder."

I threw my hands up. "Is everybody reading my papers now?"

"You're training us to snoop. Of course we'd read your notes. The ones we could find anyway," she said.

"Oh, so it's not just you. But what made you think about those notes?"

"There were some names in there. Men working for Melolrin you thought knew more but they wouldn't talk. But Melolrin's dead and his organization's falling apart."

I closed my eyes. I was a dummy. "Some of them might talk now. Especially if they're angry with the murderer. Did you have anybody in particular in mind?"

VVVV

The noise in the Sniffing Dog dipped as we came in and didn't climb back until I ordered a drink for me and Gemiad. I grimaced at the smell of the ale. I was no fan of the drink and this looked to be a cheap backroom brew to boot. Not to draw more attention, I pretended to take a sip as I glanced around while turning to Gemiad.

"I think that's him. The one sitting alone at the back with a bull's head tattoo on his left arm."

Gemiad gave a little laugh as if I had said something funny and used that motion to scan the room again. She was better than I was at this sort of thing. "Are you sure?"

"No. Never met Athiaw myself. But he matches the description and Athiaw is supposed to frequent this bar. I'm sure that was in my notes as well."

She nodded. "He does look like it. But then how do we play it?"

I swirled the ale around. "We go and ask him. Come on."

"Wait, what?"

But I'd already turned away. There was a girl singing on the stage and most were looking at her. Or pretending to as I caught a couple of rough men tracking me as I made my way to Athiaw. He himself looked to be deep in his cups and only reacted when I took the seat opposite of him.

"Evening," I said as Gemiad caught up and, after a brief moment of hesitation, took up a position behind me. One hand rested on my shoulder.

"Get lost," Athiaw slurred before blinking heavily. "You!" He reared back as recognition trickled into his expression.

Frowning, I tried to place the man. As I told Gemiad, I hadn't approached any of Melolrin's core crew as I worked on the article about the murderer. The only ones I ever met face to face were— "Well now, guess we won't need introductions."

Gemiad's hand on my shoulder tightened. "I thought you'd never met him before?"

"We weren't properly introduced, but as it turns out, we have bumped into each other before. Leaving now would be rude, Athiaw," I said as the tough pushed himself up. "We're just here for a talk. No need for this to get unpleasant."

He bared his teeth. "I got friends here. None of them like people like you who put their noses in their business."

"How well did that go for you last time?" I cracked a smile. "Besides, not here for them. Or you really. This is about Melolrin's murder."

He glanced at some of the people in the room, then collapsed back into his chair. "You're here for that."

"Yes. Terrible business. Especially since it looks like the man he hired to take care of Saninas and Lynir turned on him. Is anybody looking for him?"

Athiaw shivered, then took a big swig of his ale. "No. I … No."

I gestured to the server to order him another ale. "Why not? I know you and Kenar were tight with Melolrin. You started out together. Had each others' back as you clawed your way to the top of East Town. And now Melolrin's dead, everything you fought for has fallen apart. And you're going to let the one responsible go on their merry way?"

The server filled Athiaw's cup and I gave her a silver mark for her trouble. Athiaw's glare transferred to the cup, then back at me. Then he picked it up and drained half of its content in one go. He slammed it back on the table.

"Cause I ain't a crackbrain, that's why. You don't know what killed Melolrin."

I noticed his choice of words and so did Gemiad. "What, not who?" she said from behind me.

Athiaw glanced up at her, then around, before leaning in. "Yeah. It, it was Melol's idea. We used him to dispose of some bodies, you see. We weren't the only ones to do so, but he thought we could cut out the middleman. Have the Butcher take out the trouble himself instead of having to cart the bodies to him."

I leaned in as well. "And why are you so scared of this Butcher?"

"Cause he's a channeler," Athiaw hissed. He found his cup and took another good swig. "A Light-forsaken blasted channeler. That's how he tore those bodies up. It's how he stays hidden. Light, we should have stayed away and got word to the witches. They'd have dealt with him and we would still be the kings of East Town."

"And why haven't you now?"

He shrugged. "Melol and Ker took the bodies to him. I only know that you don't find him; he finds you. So what good does that? None and nobody, that's what," Athiaw told the cup as he drained it.

A serial killing male channeler in Caemlyn? That wasn't in the books. But was Athiaw right? It was clear he only had accounts from other people, those witnesses might have mistaken what they saw and experienced. Only one way to find out, really.

"Tell me," I said, ordering another refill for Athiaw. "If you want to be found by the Butcher, how would you arrange it?"