Page 22 of The Dagger and the Flame
That was the day after Ransom’s mother had fled Fantome with his little sister. Papa had caught the three of them at the entrance to their village, and panic had made Ransom foolish. Slight-framed and trembling at just ten years old, he had turned back. While his mother ran, Ransom made a shield of his body and grabbed a brick, ready to fight. When he came to in an abandoned stable six hours later, he still had the brick in his hand. Mama and Anouk were long gone.
Gaspard Dufort found Ransom the following morning, sitting alone on the banks of the Verne with a gruesome split lip, begging for scraps of pastries. He looked him up and down, then tossed him a cinnamon bun. Ransom devoured it in seven seconds, wincing through the pain of each bite. When he finished the last sugary mouthful, Dufort crouched down and asked him one simple question:
What do you want to be boy, brave or broken?
That night Ransom had his first taste of Shade.
And then he killed his father.
With ten short words on the banks of the Verne, Gaspard Dufort had turned Ransom from a boy into the youngest Dagger in the history of the Order. He had been watching over him ever since, grooming him for greatness. Ransom owed his life to Dufort, and he would not soon forget it. Neither would Dufort.
‘Good,’ he said now, smirking. ‘Let me know when it’s done.’
Ransom was about to excuse himself when a shout echoed down the tunnel and exploded into the Cavern. Nadia arrived a moment later, still trying to catch her breath. Lark was behind her, wearing a look of such horror, Dufort leaped to his feet.
‘Pascal Loren has been murdered,’ said Nadia.
Ransom started at the name. Though Pascal himself was a brash man, with a proclivity for drinking and gambling which had more than once carried him to the brink of destitution, the Lorens were long-standing friends of the Crown as well as stalwart allies of the Daggers. They paid handsomely for the Order’s services, which had ensured their protection over the years.
Dufort stalked across the Cavern, dragging his cape of shadows with him. ‘Pascal is untouchable.’ His silver eyes were wild, their expression violent. Nadia stiffened as she noticed them.
‘We came across him ourselves,’ said Lark, subtly positioninghimself between Nadia and the nearest of Dufort’s shadows. ‘He was down by the harbour. A crowd had already formed by the time we got there. He was grey, from head to toe. His eyes were black. His lips too.’
Ransom followed Dufort to the huddle by the door. ‘So, it was a Dagger, then.’
‘Of course not,’ snapped Gaspard.
Ransom frowned. ‘Do you think a Cloak decided to try their hand at murder?’
Dufort bristled. ‘Cordelia Mercure wouldn’t dare move against the Lorens.’ He sounded unsure, unsettled.
Nadia and Lark shared a meaningful glance.
‘The locals…’ Lark began, nervously. ‘They spoke of a monster…’
Dufort curled his lip. ‘What kind of self-respecting Dagger believes in monsters, Lark? Repeats the stuff of fairy tales?’
Nadia cleared her throat. ‘They said it came up from the sea, crawled from the underside of that abandoned ship…’
‘That ship is none of our concern,’ said Dufort, waving a hand in dismissal and sending his shadows skittering up the walls. ‘Neither are its dead sailors.’
‘Missingsailors,’ said Lark. ‘There were no bodies retrieved. And now we hear of this monster…’
‘Then show it to me,’ barked Dufort. ‘If you are sosureof this delusion.’
‘It was gone by the time we got there,’ said Nadia. ‘This can’t all be a coincidence. The supply chain of Shade has been compromised. With Sylvie Marchant out of action…’ She swallowed thickly. ‘Who knows what happened to her storeof Shade? Anyone in Fantome could have got their hands on it.’
Dufort spat, ‘Do you really think I would have left anounceof Shade behind at that farmhouse?’
That was clearly a rhetorical question. It occurred to Ransom that the problem might have originated with an ambitious smuggler. This wouldn’t be the first time a trader decided to deal outside the ranks of the Daggers and Cloaks, despite the underworld’s strict rules. But whenever that happened, it usually ended swiftly in death and witlessness. The former for the smuggler who dared to sell the Shade, and the latter for the untrained patron foolish enough to consume it. And that still didn’t explain the sightings of a monster. Or thirty missing sailors.
‘It doesn’t matter where the Shade came from,’ said Lark. ‘If there’ssomethingout there, killing our allies—’
‘Sloppily,’ Nadia interrupted. ‘And inpublic.’
‘—then don’t you think we should find them?’ Lark finished.
Dufort clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Finally. A good idea from one of you.’ He took a vial from his pocket and pressed it into his hands. ‘Twenty silvers for the rogue by morning. A gold sovereign if you find them before midnight.’
