by Mike Truk
“Simply implying my own awareness as to the specific pitfalls of your line of work. Say you decide to lean on Matteo here, and friends of his object, and those friends, well, they weren’t born yesterday. They know what it takes to stop this line of inquiry, know that it’s not enough to knock your proverbial hat off your head but rather we’d need to pass that hat through your intestinal tracts, one orifice to the other, to really show you we mean business. And that we’d then have to immediately escalate, go find this Jessie who seems intent on taking her shitty business skills out on the innocent, and wrap her lower jaw up over her face so that she swallows her ugly mug and spends the rest of her life looking down into the contents of her stomach. And we find your friends and family, we find your homes, your hangout spots, and we burn them all to the ground. We kill everyone, and don’t stop till you and your gang are just a warning to everyone around that you don’t fuck with our gang, you don’t fuck with our friends, and you most certainly don’t do it while wearing ridiculous yellow suspenders.”
Bennie was gaping at me. Actually, everybody was gaping at me.
I reached out, oh so slowly, and in the complete silence that had befallen the Mermaid snapped one of Bennie’s suspenders. “Now, do you understand what I’m saying?”
Bennie stepped back and glanced at my hip. At my obvious lack of a weapon. Took in Cerys and Tamara. Tried to add up the component pieces with his rational mind, to construct some kind of logical narrative, but failed.
“Unwise,” he croaked. “I don’t know who you are, lad, but you’ve made life very difficult for yourself and Matteo here. We didn’t want any trouble, but it looks like that’s been made inevitable now.”
“Want me to cut off his fingers?” asked the large, looming fellow.
“No, no, I don’t think that would be wise,” said Bennie. “Let’s bid everyone good day. I’m sure new opportunities will present themselves.”
“But there’s just the one of him, and he ain’t even got a sword,” said the large man, clearly confused. “Why don’t -”
“Good day, Matteo.” Bennie’s eyes glittered. “We’ll talk soon.”
“Bennie,” began Matteo, “I don’t know who these people are -”
But Bennie took three steps back, turned smartly, and led his people out the door and was gone.
“- or why they’re… oh fuck me.” Matteo stared forlornly at the front door. Then, shaking his head in disbelief, he turned to me. “What by the Hanged God’s withered asshole was that for?”
“Kellik?” Cerys’ own tone was rife with disbelief. “What did you just do?”
“What did I just do?” Gone was that sense of mastery, that sense of overwhelming power. “What you wanted me to do!”
“Wanted you to do?”
“Yes, I saw the way you were looking at me. This was a test. You were waiting to see if I had the goodness of heart to intercede, and if I didn’t, I knew you’d take it as a sign -”
“I never said any such thing, I mean - a test? You’ve just started a war with a local gang - we don’t even know how big they are, how strong -”
I felt anger and bewilderment rise up within me. “Then you shouldn’t have given me that look -”
“What look?!”
“That look! I - I - oh fuck.” I sat on a barstool and pressed the heels of my palms to my temples. “Fuck.”
“Fuck,” said Matteo.
“Fuck,” said Cerys.
“What just happened?” asked Tamara.
Chapter 7
Matteo pulled out a bottle of gold liquor and poured himself a stiff drink. “Tell me you have a plan. Tell me you’re not going to just run away and leave me to handle this disaster.”
“Not going to run away,” I said, grabbing my good heavy and taking a deep draught. “We’re going to deal with it.”
“I can’t believe…” Cerys scrubbed at her face. “You honestly thought I wanted you to take on a local crime syndicate to prove your character?”
“I’ve been nervous since our talk.” I stared morosely down into the black drink. “Thought… I don’t know what I thought.”
“Well, you had better start thinking,” said Matteo. “Jessie’s not one to take that kind of insult lightly.”
“I know, I know.” I raked my fingers through my hair, rubbed my scalp, then sighed. “I actually do know how this works. I just don’t want to have to go through all the steps to resolve it. We’ve other concerns. Which!” I raised a hand, forestalling Matteo’s protests, “isn’t your problem, and obviously I should have considered that first.” I shot Cerys a troubled look. “We’re working our way through things. Communication is a little… off, right now.”
Tamara crossed her arms. “We definitely need to clarify some issues before going much further, but right now we’ve got a situation on our hands. Matteo, what can you tell us of Jessie?”
Matteo took a sip from his drink and winced. “That’s right. You don’t know anything. Fresh off the boat and already… never mind. Jessie’s all right. She replaced Hookbill a couple of years ago when he and most his crew died of pustule fever. She runs a lighter operation, doesn’t ask too much. Keeps out of our business otherwise. Has perhaps ten or fifteen enforcers on her payroll, operates out of a warehouse down the far end of the docks. Word is she’s been trying to transition out of the protection racket and into being an honest merchant, but… you heard about the Lovey.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” I said, brightening up. “So here’s what we do. We grab Pony, head over to her warehouse, and have ourselves a little chat. I apologize for being rude, and ask her to leave you alone moving forward. We reach an understanding, and go our separate ways.”
Matteo was giving me a deadpan look. “A little chat.”
“Sure,” I said. “Make things clear.”
“Pony is a war troll,” said Tamara helpfully.
“A war… what?”
“War troll. I know.” Tamara gave an apologetic shrug. “It’s a long story.”
Invigorated, I drained my good heavy and shoved the mug away. “That’s what we’ll do. Not without risk, of course, but if Jessie’s heart isn’t set on becoming the unofficial dock master and instead has pretensions of respectability, she won’t want to draw undue attention to herself from the authorities by getting into a murderous fight with a war troll.” I paused. “What about the authorities, actually? How involved are they in the day-to-day business of Port Lusander?”
“Magistrate Beauhammer?” Matteo snorted. “He lets us take care of ourselves. He and his ‘paladins’ get involved only if there’s a real danger to the city itself, or if anybody insults him. You should have seen how quickly he had Rathbone’s street theater closed when they lampooned his rise to power. He’ll not get involved unless things get out of control. As for the companies? They stay out of everybody’s business as long as nobody threatens their bottom line.”
“Fair enough. So that’s what we’ll do. Wait till dusk aboard the Bonegwayne, then pay the warehouse a visit. Tidy up this issue, then come tomorrow morning we’ll head over to the magistrate’s office to inquire about Beauhammer’s licenses.”
Matteo set his glass down and stared at us in wonder. “Just who are you guys? A professional ruin exploration team? Amateur historians?”
“Something like that,” I said. “I’m sorry for getting you all mixed up in this, Matteo, but I’ll sort it out. And it’ll even save you money in the long run.”
“No offense, but I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Wise man,” said Cerys. “Now, I think we’d best be going before Kellik here decides to improve any other aspects of society.”
“Ha ha,” I said. “But fair enough. We’ll see you soon, Matteo, and hopefully with some good news.”
“I - yes. See you soon.”
We let ourselves out the front door and emerged carefully onto the docks. The afternoon light was flat and gray, bleaching everything of color, but the fre
netic activity on the docks was bracing all the same after the calm of the Mermaid.
“Look sharp,” I said. “I doubt it, but Bennie might be waiting for a word.”
“At the very least he’s probably left someone to watch the door,” said Cerys.
“Back to the Bonegwayne?” asked Tamara.
“Yes, indeed.” I led the way down the ramps to the water’s edge, then circumnavigated the knots of activity till at last we reached our ship’s gangplank. Goods were still being offloaded, Jonas watching with a careful eye. There was no sign of Maestria, but he nodded to us as we came aboard.
Gathering our friends, we retreated into Maestria’s cabin, and there I recounted what had taken place, pacing as the others listened.
Yashara shrugged. “It sounds simple enough to remedy. A show of force should quell a small group of dock thugs. There may even be some benefit to this.”
“Benefit?” asked Cerys, brow rising archly. “How so?”
“This Jessie will be very aware of the local scene,” said Yashara. “We can interrogate her for information. Ask about the ruins beneath the castle. If anybody knows of alternative means to enter, it will be a criminal and smuggler like her.”
“See?” I turned to Cerys with a grin. “My move was inspired after all.”
“Not inspired,” said Pogo. “Simply salvageable.”
“Thank you, Master Pogmillion,” said Cerys.
“I would like to see my old house,” said Iris, chin on the base of her palm, gazing out the windows at the rear of the cabin at Port Lusander.
“Excuse me?” It took me a moment to make sense of her words. “Your old home?”
“Yes,” said Iris. “I’m sure its contents have been sold at auction, and the house itself might have new owners, but… I find myself in a sentimental mood. I’d like to see it soon.”
“Soon?” The thought of Iris wandering Port Lusander by herself in the dark was a chilling one. “All… right. How about this? If you wait for me to resolve this issue with Jessie, I’ll, ah, escort you to your home?”
Her smile was equal parts sad and amused. “How noble of you, Kellik. I accept.”
“Great.” What had I just agreed to do? Should I bring Pony on this mission as well? “Then, ah, it’s a date?”
“It’s a date.” She smiled once more, then turned away, expression turning pensive.
We all exchanged nervous glances.
“We need to scout out Jessie’s warehouse first,” said Yashara. “Once we know the layout, we can estimate where and what her defenses will be and plan our strike accordingly.”
“We’re not looking to kill everyone,” I said.
“Understood. But we need to display overwhelming mastery of the situation to ensure she doesn’t consider retribution. Cerys, you are our most qualified scout and spy. I suggest you change into different clothing, find a cloak with a hood, and then investigate the warehouse’s environs an hour or so before we strike.”
“I can do that,” she said. “After all we’ve been through, this should be tantamount to child’s play.”
“Don’t be overconfident,” said Yashara. “That is precisely when accidents occur and good people die. Treat this as you would any other serious engagement.”
“I know how to do my job,” said Cerys. “No need to lecture me.”
I winced, but Yashara simply nodded. “Good. We are only a few hours from dusk. I suggest you go forth as it gets dark, and that we plan our attack immediately after you return. Much later, and the odds of Jessie’s retiring to her home for the night will be too high. If its the standard setup, then there will be a sentry posted on the roof, a couple at the door, and if Jessie is feeling exceptionally cautious following Kellik’s threats, a fourth posted across the street to watch for people casing her warehouse. Our approach will be simple. With Netherys’ blessings, we can neutralize the lookouts, then march up to the door with Pony and intimidate our way in. Shock will do all the work for us from that point on.”
“Sounds good,” I said. “I feel like we’ve already pulled this off. Is it too early to celebrate?”
Everyone fixed me with a flat stare.
“Too early,” I concluded.
Tamara rose to her feet. “I think you and Cerys need to have a conversation. Alone. So that we don’t find ourselves in this predicament again.”
“I… right.” I gave Cerys a sickly smile. “Lovely.”
“I don’t think I’ll be getting involved,” said Netherys. “This sort of dockyard scuffle doesn’t warrant my revealing myself, and to be honest, feels beneath me. I shall reserve Mother Magrathaar’s blessings for when they are truly needed.”
Yashara looked to me.
“Fair enough,” I said. “Can’t really argue with that.”
The others rose and exited the cabin, leaving Cerys and I alone. I sat, laced my fingers behind my head, and pushed back onto the rear two legs of the chair. “So.”
“So,” said Cerys. She crossed her arms over her chest, chin lowering, acidic blues eyes narrowing as she considered me.
I rocked back and forth. Neither of us spoke, and the silence was disturbed only by the sounds of Port Lusander from without.
Her smile was mockingly sweet. “Perhaps we can settle this matter by your agreeing to not be an idiot moving forward.”
“Idiot?” I let the forward legs of my chair drop to the floor with a thunk. “I was trying to do right by you. It’s not my fault you’re completely erratic in your morality -”
“Erratic in my morality? Excuse me?”
“Sure, you’re against slavery, but you’re fine with extortion. You don’t trust me to behave myself, but planned to spend your life assassinating people.”
Her freckled face darkened. “You know nothing about why I entered the Crimson Noose. And you know why? Because you’ve never even asked.”
That stopped me. She was right. I’d never asked about her past, what had led her to join that dreaded Carneheim organization. But I was too angry now to be derailed. “Regardless. How am I supposed to know what you’ll consider suitable behavior and what will indicate my sinking into king troll depravity? I feel like I’m on a tightrope, and one false step will see you crying foul. Even this might be getting me in trouble - can I even argue with you without your declaring that I’m becoming corrupted?”
“I can handle an argument, Kellik,” said Cerys, eyes narrowing further. “What I can’t handle is this posturing insecure bullshit where you claim not to know what’s right from wrong and seek to divorce your actions of basic common sense. Killing children? Wrong. Interfering with low-level racketeering in a foreign city? Stupid.”
I stood up, pressing my fingers to my temples as I scowled and tried to process the roiling emotions that were surging through me. “I only acted out because I was afraid you saw it as a test.” I ground out each word. “You don’t see me anymore like a normal person, someone who’s faced with normal tests of character. So I don’t even know how to act around you anymore. I’d say I can see it in your eyes, that you see me as a monster, but that’d be a lie. Back there, in that tavern? I couldn’t read you at all. Didn’t have any idea what you were thinking. And that terrified me. I acted for fear that not acting would ruin things between us. And what do I get as a result? Scorn and insults!”
Cerys also rose to her feet. “I appreciate what you’re saying but it’s because you’re correct - you’re not Kellik, the charming rogue I thought I knew back in Port Gloom. You’re Kellik, son of the Grandfather, a fucking king troll and possible threat to civilization and everyone around you. You wonder why I look at you like that? It’s because every moment I have to ask myself if you’re about to work your power, if you’re going to turn me, begin turning everyone before I can catch you at it. You think I like thinking this way? I - I was beginning to care about you, Kellik, and then this happened, and now - now I just don’t know what to think. I’ve already been in the thrall of one half troll. Already forced
to work against my will for a man who was growing increasingly monstrous, using me as little more than a tool, forcing me to dance to his tune for fear he’d murder a sister he’d already killed!”
Her voice rung out in the cabin, her face pale, her fists clenched.
“I am not Elias,” I ground out.
“No. You’re not. But neither was he when his blood first began to betray itself. If there’s a chance you’ll turn out like Elias, or the gods forbid even worse, is it my moral obligation to run to the White Suns and tell them what you are? Can you even control your power, or will you turn it against me without realizing?”
“I’ll never do that,” I said, voice dark with anger. “I swore that I wouldn’t.”
She raised her chin, eyes flashing. “You swore, but oaths can be broken, and all it would take is one mistake, one moment of anger or pride and suddenly I might not be myself anymore. I’d be back to being a slave. Something I swore when I discovered my sister was dead that I’d never, ever allow myself to return to. That’s what I have to live with. That’s why I stare at you that way. And you know what’s really driving me crazy?” She began to walk around the table toward me.
“What?” I asked, crossing my arms and leaning back on my heels.
“I’ve started wanting to push you to the edge. See how far I can provoke you before you snap. See what your breaking point is. Force you to break your oath, so as to get your betrayal out of the way. Force you to confirm my fears once and for all.” She stopped right before me, looking up at my face, crimson hair falling back over her shoulders. “And that instinct fills me with horror. It’s the same as the impulse I used to have to leap off the tops of tall buildings. Around you, Kellik? I feel a suicidal urge to destroy myself.”
I stared down at her in horror.
“And…” Her voice had dropped to a shaky whisper. “What does it mean for me to still care for you even after your revelation? That… that I can still have feelings for a monster? Doesn’t that make me a monster, too?” She pressed her hand to my chest, eyes wide, staring as if expecting dark tendrils to emerge from me and wrap around her arm. “That I have it within me to care for someone born of such darkness, such horror?”