Tyler Kyle's Arc

Chapter 7 of 7

Tyler left the industrial strip before dusk. The one-eyed umbrella hopped beside him for three blocks, then peeled off down an alley without a word. He walked until the pavement gave way to a quiet lane of stone-and-timber houses with red tile roofs. He needed a hand that was not his to carry paper between the factions. Speech was burned. Rashid had seen to that. Written notes could still do the work, if he found a courier who did not know his face and could not be traced back to him. He stopped at a low garden wall behind one of the timbered houses. A performer stood on the grass in the yard, balanced on one leg, spinning a jeweled baton. Purple and yellow motley. A full mask with eyes that glowed even in the daylight. Tyler had seen the jester once at a street corner near the market, drawing a crowd of forty from nothing. A jester belonged to no faction. A jester traveled. A jester spoke to everyone and answered to no one. "You're leaking off the wall," the jester said without turning. The baton kept spinning. "Come or go. Don't hover." Tyler came over the wall. He kept his scarf high. He pulled a folded paper from his jacket and held it out. "Two deliveries. Same night. Different hands." The jester caught the baton and looked at him. The glowing eyes did not blink. "Names." "No names on the paper. I'll tell you the doors." "Pay." Tyler set three coins on the wall. Then a fourth. The jester tilted the mask. "I don't carry for hunters," the jester said. "I don't carry against them either. I carry for the stage. Who's this for?" "Two hunter dens. One note each. Sealed." The mask stayed still a long moment. "The stage at the old chapel has never let a jester perform. I want it. Hunters own the burgomaster who owns the chapel. Turn them on each other and the seat opens." The baton tapped the wall. "I'll carry. One night. After that we don't know each other." "Agreed." Tyler gave the two doors. The tall hunter with the blue turban. The short one in the blue cap. He did not say Rashid. He did not say Lucas. The jester repeated the doors back once, flat, then took the notes and the coins and vaulted the wall. Tyler watched the motley disappear down the lane. His hands were empty. The lie was moving without his voice on it. An hour later a bell rang three streets over. Then a second bell, further out. Two dens waking at once. Tyler pressed his back to the timber wall and listened. The notes had landed. Both factions would move tonight, each certain the other had struck first. And a masked stranger now knew two hunter doors and Tyler's paper hand, and owed him nothing past sunrise.