The Drowned Leviathan and Other Stories

By L L Watkin

A collection of twelve fantasy, science fiction and horror stories originally published as independent ebooks or in society magazines. With tales ranging from ghost stories to hi-tech warcraft, the collection includes the stories “The Drowned Leviathan”, “Love in the Dawn”, “Forgetting”, “Mesrin Station”, “The Boy in Blue”, “Stealing Salt” and “A funny thing happened on the way to the Festival”.

• Language: English
• Publisher: L L Watkin
• Release date: Dec 9, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311246776

L L Watkin

LL Watkin is the pen name for writing partnership Liz Smith and Louise Smith, two sisters from the North of England who've been writing together since, well, forever. We write a mixture of short stories and full length novels in the science fiction and fantasy genres, and while some stories may be more Louise's and others more Liz's, all spring from a collaborative process.In summer 2022 we will publish our new four part novel series, The Snowglobe, which is a double-stranded narrative set in a multi-dimensional universe. It concerns a criminal investigation by Divine Law Enforcement (DLE), which aims to locate and arrest a psychotic demi-god, Kaelvan, who is determined to murder a specific human child. Although the plot includes fantastical elements, most often ESP and telekinesis, the settings are all post-industrial societies, some of them more technologically advanced than our own and others steam-punk in feel.

Book preview

The Drowned Leviathan & Other Stories

By L L Watkin

Published by L. L. Watkin at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 L. L. Watkin

Table of Contents

Love in the Dawn

Another Day at the Office

Forgetting

Technicolour Dreamer

The Drowned Leviathan

The Court of Benwick Street

The Daclin

The Boy in Blue

Mesrin Station

The Mother of a Hundred Sons

Stealing Salt

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Festival

About the Author

Love in the Dawn

Huren was nervous. It was the largest flaw in his performance, he knew. The three men watching him might decide it was strange and put him through further checks. His gold was genuine and in good supply, his clothes were well-tailored but discreet, his hair and beard had been recently clipped to match current fashion. His papers, however, were worth only what he had paid for them a month before and they would not stand much scrutiny.

There had been men assigned to watch this establishment, surveying the usual customers, and though he had spent years training he had been chosen primarily because he fitted in with them. He was the right age and right wealth. He had practiced an expression that suggested a weak and shallow nature. There was little violence in his bearing despite the muscles across his shoulders. Still, this was the sum of almost a year’s planning and a lot of effort and he was nervous. He could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead and if Dill didn’t accept the money soon…

I am sure you understand the caution, my lord. the whoremaster said unctuously. Huren wasn’t noble, and nor was he pretending to be, but he acted as though the compliment pleased him nonetheless. Lady Isella is the rarest attraction my establishment has to offer and I cannot possibly take any risks with her safety.

I have heard much of her.

Of course you have, my lord, and all of it justified I assure you. Dill smiled evenly, managing to ignore the pile of coins on the table between them. The two bodyguards behind him flicked glances at it whenever Huren wasn’t claiming their full attention. Nothing else in the small, plushly decorated office came close to distracting them. But then nothing else had cost so much in blood and steel, not that the guards knew that.

It is our usual policy, Dill was saying, to allow access to Isella only to regular customers who have proved their reliability by treating our other ladies respectfully.

I will pay for your extra trust.

You do not have enough gold to compensate for the loss of Lady Isella, my lord. The words were spoken quietly and smoothly, but there was no mistaking their seriousness.

I do not intend to harm her. Indeed, if her reputation is correct, no man could bring himself to it.

Dill flashed a toothy smile. No, that much is true. She has me somewhat enamored also, if I care to admit to it. I am, after all, only flesh. Perhaps this is leading me to be over-protective.

Then you agree?

The whoremaster pretended to think it over but Huren knew he had won. They both knew the price was extortionate, twice what a better known man might pay. They also knew that, special as Isella was, she was not the only girl in the city. There was a house in the Avenue which boasted three Shifters and several with a pair, perhaps a dozen like Dill’s own with only one star attraction. And then there were normal women two for a silver. A man could easily settle for that when it left gold in his pocket. Dill could not afford to push the cash away.

Very well, my lord. I will allow this exception. I must insist, however, that Bregan here wait in the next room. If he hears anything untoward he will interrupt you. Dill spread his arms wide apologetically. A precaution only.

He won’t be given any need. Huren assured him, letting his relief and excitement show. To force himself to remain calm might raise even more suspicions.

I expect not, no. Dill agreed. Leaving the gold on the table he ushered Huren out of the office and back into the lavish waiting area. Here men were plied with wine by women pretty enough to please but, for various reasons, unwilling to go further. As he was seated, waiting for Dill to inform the Shifter and for her to prepare herself, Huren tried to guess what those reasons were but he was given little opportunity. He had already paid his dues and was no longer of much interest to the servings girls, apart from the one curved like a mother who deposited his drink and moved quickly on.

He waited for half an hour for Dill to return. In that time other men were summoned upstairs. Men approaching middle age, as he was, or slightly past it. Very similar, in fact, to what Huren’s rich merchant family had expected him to become. At home would be a wife, arranged for him in the fashion of the nobility his parents aspired to, who would have provided the contracted three children before letting her indifference win out. He had seen it all at the age of eighteen and had changed his path so much that he had thought he would never set foot in a place like this. It was funny what the young would believe.

The staircase was well lit with dozens of small, scented candles. At each landing a neat desk half hid a series of wiry young men with cheeky, inoffensive smiles. Huren noticed they all wore swords, but the threat was more subtle than the hulking bodyguard following him and Dill upwards. It wouldn’t do to scare the customers unnecessarily.

On the third storey, brightly painted and high ceilinged despite being in the shadow of the eaves, they stopped. Dill gestured to Bregan, who settled himself in the spare chair provided and struck up a friendly conversation with the youngster in charge of the two corridors housing the most expensive of Dill’s ladies.

This is the door you want, my lord. Carefully Dill removed a brass key from his pocket and ceremoniously turned the heavy lock of the first door on the left, whose windows would overlook the stables and yard. It was exactly the room intelligence had expected. The one most difficult to escape from unseen.

Shut inside Huren’s first instinct was to check the lock was still open. He resisted the urge. It spoke of more military experience than he was admitting to, and was a worthless gesture anyway. Dill would never lock him, or more precisely the whore, in. It would slow the guards too much.

The bedchamber was large and showed signs of the life being passed in it. There were clothes chests and a gilt wardrobe, a full length dressing mirror and a sideboard covered with a tidy array of small, expressly female boxes. The oak floorboards were polished but two of the three cream and gold carpets were rucked slightly, as though the wood beneath them was badly scuffed or warped. A double layer of fine cloth shielded the windows and softened the remaining traces of daylight.

Nice to meet you. The Shifter sat near the foot of her bed, legs curled under her and hidden beneath the folds of her full, soft skirt. A heavy silver belt separated its pearly grey gauze from her lightly tanned stomach, which gave way in turn to a tight fitting cropped bodice as his gaze roved upwards. Her arms and shoulders were smooth and toned, the curls tumbling behind her hazel and shining. Huren didn’t have to look to know that her features were strong and regular, the face dominated by large, bright eyes.

He was impressed. In his three weeks in the city he had paid for nearly a dozen Shifters and Isella had just come the closest to his fantasy on the first attempt. There was still some fine tuning to do, though.

If you’re quiet they won’t come in. she said, a genuine looking smile touching rosy lips. They’ll even think twice if you’re not, provided the noises are of the right sort.

Why do you think I care?

I’m empathic, don’t you know. Bare, athletic legs pushed out and Isella stood up, a mass of fabric soon recovering the exposed flesh. But that’s not why you’re here.

Her eyes were purple, Huren noticed. A vivid, imperial shade. All of the others had chosen green. Curious. Doesn’t everyone come to you because of your skills?

Yes. she said simply. And since that is my function, my training and my livelihood, I am hardly in a position to mind. You are a strange one, though. Every glance thrills you, yet you are determined not to look. Firm fingers with neatly trimmed nails brushed his chin and pulled his face towards hers. It was almost flawless, her face. Close enough that he knew the imperfections were deliberately done to increase the humanity of her expression. Shifters learned to do that to set their clients at ease, but there was enough spirit in the depths of her purple eyes it probably wasn’t necessary in her case. He hoped that was real and he wasn’t just seeing what she wanted him to.

What do you want Huren Darlis? To talk. Is that all?

Yes. he said, choking back the thought that he could fall in love with her so easily. It was her way of speaking, how it was perfect for easing his fears. That was the danger of Shifters – that they could make their minds seem as appealing as their bodies.

Then you might as well sit down. Fitting action to words she sank down on the bottom edge of her bed and tossed her hair back over her shoulders.

I prefer standing.

It’s up to you.

Are you happy? he blurted, unsettled by her calm. Surely she had realised by now that he wasn’t a customer? He watched carefully as she considered, trying to decide if her answer was genuine or based on his wants. He had asked the same question a dozen times this month and while the answers had all varied in form they had all meant I’m content enough not to be taking risks.

What Isella said, however, was Sometimes. coupled with an uncomfortable shrug.

I’m not a test. Dill seemed the sort of man who would sacrifice a night’s pay now and then to make sure the Shifter’s loyalties weren’t wavering, that she couldn’t be tempted out of the building to another house. Huren’s own purpose wouldn’t have crossed Dill’s mind. You can tell truth from fiction, can you not?

Yes. she said. There was tension in her arms as though she wanted to push herself away from him and was struggling against the impulse. That doesn’t mean I can trust you.

Dill did.

Dill is an idiot. There was an encouraging malice in her voice, as if she knew that actually, however repulsive, her master was nowhere near stupid but she said it anyway.

I have an offer for you, he said, but you have to decide quickly because we don’t have much time.

We have till morning. No one will expect you to leave before dawn.

Maybe not, but we could be miles away by then.

Who are you? she teased, leaning back to show her breasts to better advantage.

Do you think I’m joking?

I think you’re being honest, but that doesn’t make you wise. I live here, and with all the guards I’m not going anywhere. Come to bed.

You’re losing your touch.

You’re frightening me. She frowned. Men have suggested escape before. Some were hired to test my resolve, the others thought they loved me and wanted more than they could afford to buy. You don’t strike me as either type, so why should you ask me to abandon my life for you?

Not for me. For the cause.

Deep purple eyes went even wider and the Shifter sat upright. Before she had been languid, poised even when affecting uncertainty. Now her voice lifted a couple of tones and took on a native accent rather than the husky drawl. He found it even more appealing so he doubted she would change it back. Terrorist?

I take action against the feudal system, yes.

She nodded, rising to move aimlessly around the room as she thought. If you’d ever been caught you wouldn’t be here.

If I’d ever been caught I’d now be a pile of ash somewhere on the heath.

And so will I be if the Duke’s men find out about this talk. We Shifters have to be very careful. I’m not trusted outside alone as it is.

I can change that. He grabbed her wrists to stop her panicked pacing. The movement didn’t pay Dill good gold for me to bed you. We could use a woman of your abilities. We’ve been trying to recruit one all year, but they’ve all had the strength beaten out of them. None wanted to know any more than I’ve already told you.

I’m not sure I do either. she stammered. But you think I have more promise, don’t you? I can feel it in you now. Hope and determination. You really want me to help.

Huren nodded. I welcome any and all aid, but you... You could be special. I came here hardening myself against your charms and I’m falling in love already. Have you any idea how valuable an agent you could be? You would know who to trust and who not, and the watch wouldn’t stand a chance of catching you. Any description they had would be obsolete before they’d finished reading it.

I’m not that good at shape-shifting.

Are you only saying that because I want someone to stamp on my enthusiasm?

Someone has to. She pushed up onto her toes and kissed him. Their lips meeting reminded him of Sophia and the first time he had realised that he loved her. There was the same sense of recognition and meaning behind the physical sensations. His mind was blooming with plans and visions, hardly connected to the present at all.

All that relies on you trusting me. Isella whispered.

I know. he whispered back. He wanted to say things like of course I do or always, but he held back. It was too early to make promises and Shifters were unreliable anyway. More than one had showed keenness but called their keepers when he turned away. He was lucky none of them had called the watch. Are you willing?

Yes. Once more her lips brushed his, bodies pressed close together as though it were seduction they whispered of. I would follow the Lord of Hell if he took me away from this place.

You trust me?

Every nuance of your heart is written on your skin for my fingers and lips to find. She smiled against his cheek and bit gently. I don’t think you have anything left to hide.

Then you’re faster and surer than your peers.

I’m younger. The young are always more inclined to take risks. It occurred to Huren that he was delaying, that having gained her consent he should explain the plan and go. But he couldn’t tell her to stop, and there was nothing else to do while they waited for night to fall.

*

The candlelight reflected in the long mirror and caught Isella in silhouette. She was naked and stood with her hair caught on top of her head with her right hand, swirling the left absently to one side. Huren watched her move slowly, swaying to one side and the other, and wondered what the Shifter saw in her reflection. Surely there couldn’t be the same sense of self he felt, not when the self in question was so malleable. He wondered if Isella recognised the face she currently wore or if it surprised her at every glimpse.

He had sent the signal, casting one of Isella’s many cosmetics boxes (all of which were empty) out of the window and into the alley. It had been a good throw, landing exactly where he’d aimed it, but so far there had been no response. As he watched his new lover showing off he listened for the fight that should be starting. Their departure must be timed perfectly. There were already too many chances being taken.

I wonder what they’ll put on my wanted poster. Isella murmured. She laughed sharply. Travelling in company of such and such, I expect. Have any Shifters ever run away before?

Are you having doubts?

"Yes. You