1. CHAPTER ONE #2
A grim smile pulled her mouth as she climbed up the ladder. She’d chased plenty of fugitives through narrow streets and across rooftops in low city. It seemed that even though she was on the other side of the world, some things were not all that different.
As she got to the top of the ladder she paused, lifting her head cautiously over the side, wanting to check where her quarry had got to.
Her reward for caution was being able to duck back down again as a large, heavy looking object swung towards her.
The swing missed and she launched herself up the rest of the ladder onto the rooftop, just in time to find the object hurtling through the air towards her.
She had enough time to recognise it as a plant pot, painted a cheerful bright red.
Hallie side-stepped, the pot landing on the roof at the top of the ladder with a dull thud and crack as the pot split open.
The man was already running away from her at a full sprint across the rooftop garden, hurdling over a low bench and then launching himself into the air and landing, light as a cat, on the next rooftop over. He was proving every bit as difficult to get hold of as she’d been told.
Hallie set off after him, running around the bench rather than over it, and digging into her reserves for more speed as she saw the gap between the buildings ahead of her.
She landed, more heavily than her quarry, on the next rooftop and set off after him.
He was almost across the roof to the next building.
This roof was bare and badly maintained.
Hallie slipped a little on a loose tile as she gathered herself to jump and lost momentum so that she barely made it across the gap to the next building, hitting the edge of the roof with her mid-section, breath forced out of her, scrabbling to get a handhold and drag herself up onto the roof.
There were upright metal spikes at intervals along the edge of the roof and Hallie seized the nearest one, almost letting go at once as the painted metal scorched her skin.
But she had no foothold and the ground was quite a distance below her so she clung on grimly to the metal spike, sweat making her palm slip until she managed to get a grip on the edge of the roof with her other hand, and, using the toes of her shoes as extra traction, dragged herself up, bruised and wheezing, onto the roof.
There was no time to catch her breath. As she rolled onto her back, another dark object swung out of the air near her and she yelled, twisting away and scrambling to her feet as another plant pot smashed onto the roof where she’d been lying.
The man had more ammunition ready, though, and was already aiming yet another pot at her as she whirled to face him.
She sidestepped the worst of the blow, and reached forward, grabbing the man’s wrist with her hand as the pot slammed into her side.
It didn’t quite take her breath away again, but it did hurt, landing on the fresh bruises she’d just got from the roof edge.
She twisted the wrist, forcing the man’s arm up and back, the pot falling from his fingers, falling to the roof where it bounced and then cracked open, spilling dark soil and small, hard pebbles out as well as the plant.
The man shoved forward, trying to force her off balance, but stepped in the soil and pebble mix and lost his footing, stumbling.
Not wanting to let him go, Hallie moved with him, the headscarf she was wearing sliding forwards, halfway across one eye.
She muttered a curse. She should have put more hairpins in that morning to hold it in place.
Her captive didn’t wait for her to gather herself, but struggled against her hold.
He was a scrappy fighter, and determined, but with ten years as a skip tracer behind her, where her entire job had been catching people who didn’t want to be caught, Hallie held him with relative ease, putting more pressure on his arm until he dropped to his knees.
With him on the ground, Hallie took advantage, turning his arm again so that it was behind his back and pulling the flexi-cuffs off her belt with her other hand, a familiar and practised move only slightly hampered by the fact she had to burrow through extra fabric to find her belt.
With both the man’s wrists securely fastened together, and him still on his knees, she stepped back, pushing the fabric off her head so she could see better.
They were on the roof of quite a large building, all of it laid out as a well-maintained garden.
Mostly for food, Hallie realised as she spotted some fruit trees and a herb patch.
Distracted by the sweet citrus scent, Hallie took a closer look around, admiring the effort that had gone into the space.
Even with plants adapted to the climate, they would still need water to survive.
Hallie wondered how the householders managed to get enough water up to the roof to keep all the plants alive, then spotted a large metal barrel at one side of the roof, next to a door that must lead down into the building, the barrel mostly shaded by sheets of heavy tarpaulin. They must collect rainwater there.
The man in front of her shifted his weight as if he was going to try to run and her attention snapped back to him.
“Manju Nayak, you are being detained for questioning on the authority of the Conclave,” she told him, still a little out of breath. She pressed a hand to her side and winced. Her ribs were definitely bruised. Not broken, though, which was something.
“Nah, lady, you’ve got the wrong man,” her captive said, in flawless common tongue, and an accent that would have been perfectly at home in low city. “I’m not Manju. Don’t know him.”
Hallie had to admire his skill at lying. If it hadn’t been for the truth sense that was her particular gift of magic, she might have had some doubt that she’d got the right man. His voice and body language were consistent in portraying surprise and just a hint of outrage.
“I don’t think so. Come on, we’ve got questions for you,” she said, and put her hand under his elbow, urging him to his feet.
He rose to his feet far more easily than she had expected and whirled, spinning on one foot, aiming his shoulder at her midsection.
Hallie sidestepped, sweeping her own foot out and sending him off balance.
He stumbled a few paces but came to a halt, swaying a little on his feet.
She’d used a shoulder-charge on a few people before now, and felt a grudging respect for the man as he kept fighting, even with his hands cuffed behind his back.
“Look, we could keep doing this and destroy this lovely roof garden, or you can come with me to a nice, quiet room, we’ll have some chilled drinks, and you can answer a few questions.
Doesn’t that sound like the better option?
” Hallie asked, brushing a few strands of damp hair off her face.
She really hoped he didn’t try to escape.
She would catch him easily enough as he was still in cuffs, but she would rather not run again.
She’d decided four days ago that she wasn’t made for this kind of heat, and nothing had happened since to change her mind.
She badly wanted a shower, and a long, cool drink.
And while she was making a list, air conditioning would be nice, too.
Manju appeared to consider her words, head tilted, a thoughtful expression on his face. She could see the subtle tension and flex of his shoulders, though. He was testing the cuffs, seeing if he could get out of them.
“They are flexi-cuffs,” she told him. “The only way they are coming off is if I release you.”
“That hardly seems fair,” Manju said, and smiled at her. The smile took her by surprise, as it was filled with charm, transforming his rather ordinary face. “Or do you always cuff men you invite to have drinks with you?”
Hallie had to laugh at the audacity, and while she also admired his calm, she kept her guard up.
He’d been caught but he was staying cool-headed and thinking hard.
That suggested she was far from the first person to have put him in cuffs, and yet he’d been wandering freely through the streets of Minamaan, so no one had been able to keep him in custody for long.
That wasn’t necessarily her problem, not today at any rate.
She really did just have questions for him.
“Come on, let’s go,” she said, and steered him towards the door she’d spotted earlier. She wasn’t going to get Manju down a ladder, not with his hands bound, and she wasn’t going to free his hands, not now that she’d finally got hold of him.
As they headed towards the door it opened and a woman burst through, dressed in what looked like a tangle of vivid coloured scarves, her hair showing thick strands of silver and white through her dark braid, face lined with age.
She was tiny, barely taller than Hallie’s waist, but fierce with it.
Her hard gaze swept across the roof, taking in the broken pot and plant.
She flung up her hands, a torrent of angry words pouring out of her.
“I’m sorry,” Hallie said, as gently as she could, when the woman paused to draw breath, “I don’t understand.”
“She’s very angry,” Manju said, with every appearance of a man thoroughly enjoying a show.
“I can tell that,” Hallie said, an acid edge to her voice.
She turned back to the woman, who was shouting again, and put her hand over her heart, bowing slightly.
It was a gesture of respect Hallie had seen often in the past few days.
“I am sorry, madam, that we have caused damage here.” She kept her voice low and calm, much as she thought Girard would have done, if he’d been here.
“I am working for the Conclave. This man is wanted for questioning. He took shelter on your roof. I will see that you are compensated for the damage.” Working as a skip tracer, Hallie had never compensated anyone for damage to property when she’d been on a hunt.
Just one more reason why low city residents didn’t like skip tracers.
But she’d quickly learned that the Conclave Investigators operated differently and had no doubt that the woman would be given more than enough money to buy a dozen more plants and several plant pots in whatever colours she chose.
Rather than calming the woman down, the mention of compensation only seemed to enrage her more. She kept shouting, flinging her hands up.
“Do I get compensation, too?” Manju asked.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hallie told him, and turned back to the woman just in time to see a far more welcome figure arrive on the roof behind her.
Girard. She’d had no doubt he would be able to find her - he might have been embarrassed by his own magic, which was the ability to find almost anything, but she’d always considered that to be an extremely useful skill.
Relief quickly turned into concern. From the way he was holding himself, slightly hunched over at one side, arm tucked against his side, Hallie could tell he was hurt.
There was an open wound on the side of his head, drying blood on one side of his face and on the front and shoulder of his tunic.
His eyes were clear and focused, though.
“There you are,” he said, sounding relieved, “and you got Manju Nayak, I see.”
“I tried telling her she’s got the wrong man,” Manju said.
“Didn’t believe you, eh?” Girard asked, wry humour in his voice.
Whatever else he might have said was cut off by the woman turning her anger on him and yelling at him.
Pleased to no longer be the target of her fury, Hallie watched as Girard listened to the woman with every appearance of serious attention.
When she paused for breath, he put his hand on his heart and bowed, much as Hallie had done, and then spoke in his calm manner, in the same language that the woman had been using.
Hallie could not understand what he said, but the effect on the woman was extraordinary. Her temper cleared as if it had never existed and she clapped her hands together, a broad smile crossing her face.
She then said something to Girard that made him blush and drew a laugh from Manju. Without pausing, the woman reached up, patted Girard on his cheek - the one without bloodstains - and then disappeared into the house.
“What did she say to you?” Hallie asked, curious.
“Oh, nothing,” Girard said, but he was still blushing.
“She told him that if she’d been twenty years younger, he would have made a marvellous fourth husband,” Manju said, grinning.
Hallie laughed and raised her brows. “Fourth husband? My goodness.”
“She’s outlived all the others, it seems,” Girard said lightly. He turned his attention to Manju. “If you’ll come with us, we have questions for you.”
“I’m supposed to believe that you work for the Conclave?” Manju asked, not moving.
Girard glanced down at the bloodstains on his tunic and grimaced. “Your little stunt with the market stall caused some damage.” He pulled his badge out and held it up. “Special Investigator Abbott. Miss Talbot and I both work for the Conclave Investigators. Now, let’s go.”
From the barest hint of temper in his voice, Hallie guessed that Girard was hurting more than he was letting on.
He’d heal quickly - it was one clear advantage of being hochlen - but he’d heal faster if they could get to a safe place with some medical supplies and food.
So she steered Manju towards the door again, somehow not surprised when he moved without protest. He was smart enough to know he couldn’t escape.
“I’ve called for a car. It will be at the end of the street,” Girard said as they started down the stairs.
Hallie just nodded to show she’d heard him.
She hadn’t been looking forward to the long walk back through the city to their temporary office.
Minamaan was sprawled across several large hills, so everywhere away from the seafront was uphill, one way or another, and thoroughly unpleasant in the heat.
It would have been an even more unpleasant walk with an unwilling captive who would doubtless take every chance he could to escape.