by Mike Truk
No. With great reluctance I restrained myself.
Gremond turned his attention to Elsa and smiled warmly. “Will you join us, my dear?”
Elsa again curtsied. “I will find you soon, Master Gremond. I’m going to bring Naveric a special drink to help ease his pain.” She smiled shyly at the son. “He’s being so wonderfully brave.”
“Hmm.” Gremond briefly examined Tamara and Cerys, then inclined his head. “I look forward to speaking with you. But be careful, my dear, with whom you associate. You wouldn’t want to give more credence to the troubling rumors that are already swirling about you, would you now?”
And with a smile, he inhaled from his cheroot and walked away. Naveric stared at me with gloating delight and followed, the two guards then falling in line.
“Charming,” said Cerys.
Elsa clenched her jaw as she stared after the Nautilus group, her hands opening and closing. Then, with a stiff inhalation, she turned to us once more. “And that was the Nautilus group, to whom I’m meant to be wed next season. Perhaps now you appreciate my desire to escape a little better.”
“I don’t know,” said Tamara. “It sounds like he’s having second thoughts.”
“Oh no. He’s just letting me know that I’m walking too close to the line. He’s well aware of my habits and friends, where I spend my free hours and how it scandalizes my father. He doesn’t care, as long as I don’t embarrass his company. He’s confident that once I marry Naveric all that will end. I’ll be under his power then, not my father’s, and will probably spend the rest of my life cooped up in their mansion like some songbird in a gilded cage.” She shuddered.
“They seemed far too pleased with themselves for my liking,” I said. “See how Naveric was all but grinning at me? As if they’d already won some victory. And what was with that arm brace? We never touched him.”
“Agreed,” said Cerys. “We can expect trouble from them, and soon.”
“What do you think they’ll do?” I asked Elsa, voice low. “Try to kill us?”
“I doubt he’d go that far. You threatened his son and dealt a blow to the Nautilus image. He’ll probably settle for ruining you and running you out of town.” Elsa bit the corner of her lip. “I think.”
I watched Gremond as he greeted an old man in outdated clothing. He was all smiles, clapping the other’s back, and then bowing his head seriously as he listened, projecting to all and sundry that he was giving the older man his full attention.
“He actually is dangerous,” I said. “Some people like to believe they are. He’s the genuine article.”
“You have no idea,” said Elsa. “We’re going to have to hurry. Luckily, the ruins open tomorrow morning. We’ll get our license tonight, be underground first thing, and then out into the ocean before Gremond can react.”
“You’ve no idea how good that sounds,” I said. “I’m in full agreement.”
A stir spread across the crowd like a ripple across a pond, and everyone turned toward the back room. A man in a bearskin robe had emerged through an archway, a resplendent bear mask covering the upper half of his face, his chin shaved clean under a thick mustache that connected along the sides to lamb chop sideburns. A thick necklace of gold hung around his neck, and he had his arms raised as he moved forward, a smile upon his thick lips.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” The music stopped. “I have most excellent news! The final license to explore the haunted ruins of Beauhammer Hill has been purchased by a most august company. They have hied here all the way from Port Gloom, where word of my little contest has penetrated even that mighty city’s halls of power! Yes! Word of our ruins has spread across Khansalon, drawing the very best to try their hands against the dangers below!”
The team filed out behind him, arranging themselves behind their pale leader. He was a striking man, his skin as pale as bone, his hair lank and the color of milk, his face powerful, with an air of faded glory, like the sun seen when it lies just over the horizon, shorn by thin cloud cover of all its normal radiance. He wore a great wolf pelt over his shoulders, black as coal, and an iron breastplate beneath that, trimmed in gold. He gazed upon the crowd with detached curiosity, as if we were animals within a cage, and he visiting us at a nobleman’s private zoo.
“Allow me to introduce Baleric, an Exemplar of the Hanged God himself!” Beauhammer swept his arm to the side, and the audience gasped as they realized just how deadly the pale man was.
I knew firsthand. I’d fought beside another such exemplar not so long ago. Neko. He’d been a friend, I’d like to think, toward the end. Utterly lethal with a blade, I’d seen him do the impossible and behead a gloom knight in fair combat.
Baleric looked to be twice Neko’s age. I didn’t know if that made him twice as deadly, but to have survived that long when filled with the Hanged God’s yearning for blood and death was a truly formidable feat.
Beside him stood a young woman, an albino like Baleric, and with a striking similarity to the exemplar that marked her his sister or daughter. Her pale tresses tumbled down over an old dress, and her eyes appeared to be all white, without iris, so that her gaze was ghostly and fey. Her lips were as ashen as his, and if he gazed at us like a man peering at curious animals in cages, she looked through us completely, as if she stood alone in this vast chamber.
Beside her, looking dreadfully bored and eager for trouble was a young lad with hair so crimson it had the hue of freshly cut meat. His pale skin was covered in thick freckles, and his features were saturnine, alive with a quick, restless intelligence that I guessed nothing could interest for long. Slender and short, he had the lean build of an acrobat. I’d not have blinked twice to see him lounging in the Sodden Hold back home, at peace only in the company of other thieves and cutthroats.
Behind this trio stood two more; one a muscular woman with hawkish features and a shock of black hair that seemed to lift up from her scalp like tongues of ebon flame, the sides shaved clear all the way ‘round, and the other a living avalanche of a troll, so muscled that I couldn’t make out his neck. His shoulders alone were as massive as boulders, his arms as thick as my thighs and corded with veins, but most striking of all was how his entire head was encased within a spiked sphere of iron, a wide, horizontal slit across the front his only means of seeing forth.
“Baleric, as per the terms agreed upon within, I hereby officially present you with your delving license, and wish you the best of luck with the terrors below. No!” Beauhammer swung around to the crowd, a self-satisfied smile twisting his broad lips. “It is to the terrors that I wish the best of luck! They won’t know what hit them!”
The pale man took the envelop from Beauhammer’s thick fingers and handed it to his sister, who slipped it inside a worn satchel that hung from one shoulder. I hoped he would speak, give a brief speech perhaps of his own, but all he did was incline his head.
Beauhammer also waited, clearly expecting the same, but then slapped his thighs with both meaty hands as if saying, ‘what can you do,’ and turned back to the audience. “Well, music! Laughter! Let us celebrate these doughty heroes, who come dawn shall dive down into that awful dark, and there do battle with their fates!”
The musicians set to with a will, and Beauhammer stepped forward, hands raised once more as if to embrace the whole crowd. Conversation immediately leaped up, everyone around us commenting and analyzing the new group, which remained still at the rear of the group, warily eying the crowd as if unsure what to do next.
“I say we stay out of Baleric’s way,” I said.
“Agreed,” said Cerys.
“Agreed,” said Tamara.
“Ah look,” said Elsa. “Aurora’s walking over to greet him.”
I watched, fascinated, as the golden-haired Exemplar of the White Sun approached the white-haired Exemplar of the Hanged God. More than a few other people in the crowd watched as well, though no one as overtly as I. Baleric inclined his head, and soon they were speaking quietly amongst themselves, not as
friends, but politely, with great reserve, as if observing some alien formalities I couldn’t hope to comprehend.
“Over there,” said Cerys, nudging me with her elbow. “That looks like another one of the teams.”
Four brawny men were standing by one end of the table, jovial, their gestures expansive as they spoke over each other, each with a large goblet of wine in hand. Their hair was worn long in gleaming tresses down their backs, and all sported luxuriant mustaches that hung down past their chins.
“The Ellosaint knights,” Elsa agreed. “They’ve come to prove their worth. My father’s right. The fame of our ruins really is spreading.”
“They look strong enough,” said Tamara. “But somehow I don’t think they’ll be a problem. Is that arrogant of me to say that?”
“No,” I said. “We have a war troll. And Iris. And - well, everyone else. I think we can handle four strong men in suits of armor.”
“Hmm,” said Tamara, running the rim of her goblet back and forth over her lower lip.
“We should approach my father,” said Elsa. “Each minute I spend in your company is a further provocation to Gremond. No sense in upsetting him further. Are you ready?”
Cerys slipped her hand inside her purse and nodded. “Alas, yes. Let’s go deal with your daddy.”
“We’ll be right behind you,” I said. “If he tries to yank down your dress, I’ll step back so you don’t get blood on me as you stab him.”
Elsa pursed her lips and led us through the crowd to a large knot of people who were listening politely to Beauhammer hold court. He had a large gold goblet in hand, and was sufficiently inebriated already that he was splashing people with it as he gestured.
“… and so I said to the count, my good sir, my good sir! Stop! No, just stop, and listen to me, me, Magistrate Beauhammer. Now, I know a magistrate isn’t as impressive a title as count, but they are my ruins, and as such, if you wish to purchase the rights to them, you have to go through me, and your offer of twenty thousand gold crowns is a paltry sum, especially when you consider how much I earn off them each year - ah, Elsa! The light of my life, my star of my moon.” He turned back to the crowd. “Can you all believe I made her? I did! Me! Oafish me. Look at this divine creature. What is it, my dear? What do you want?”
Elsa smiled warmly at the gathered circle, and then leaned in to whisper in Beauhammer’s ear.
He startled, raised an eyebrow, and then considered Cerys. “Indeed? Well, that does bear investigating. If you will all excuse me?” So saying, he strode back toward the archway through which he’d emerged with Baleric, and led us into a small chamber beyond, lit by a much plainer fire and dominated by a stout, circular table.
“Now, you have an offer for me, do you?” Beauhammer turned around and linked his hands behind his back, rising to the balls of his feet before lowering back down. “Most interesting. I receive many offers, I’ll have you know. Offers for all kinds of different things. Of course, that’s me assuming you mean a financial offer. Maybe that’s not the case?”
And he actually leered at her.
So much for respecting the presence of the light of his life, who stood to one side struggling not to look mortified.
“Magistrate Beauhammer, it is a pleasure to finally meet you at last.” And to my astonishment Cerys reached out and took the older man’s hand in both of her own, raising it to her lips and allowing them to linger over his knuckles. She’d become a different woman; sensual and alluring, her eyes gleaming wickedly as she gazed up through her lashes at him. “You are far… larger… and more impressive in person than I’d have thought.”
Beauhammer just stared at her with his mouth parted for three or four seconds before catching himself. “I, why, yes, I am considered - well, you should have seen me in my prime, young lady, clad all in silver plate! I was known as the Silver Killer - well, Silver Death, I think it was, but yes, yes, I have retained most of my youthful muscle, it’s all under here still, haha.” And he gave his belly a slap.
“Mmm,” purred Cerys, allowing her gaze to move slowly up and down his frame. “Of that I have no doubt. But yes, I have an offer for you. We heard that long ago you suffered a misfortune. You lost something of great value.”
Beauhammer pulled his heavy hand from her grip and considered her quizzically. “It has been a long and storied life. I’ve suffered many such losses. What are you referring to?”
Rather than respond, Cerys drew forth the locket from her purse and allowed it to hang from the gold chain.
Beauhammer squinted at it, and for a horrifying second I thought he might have forgotten all about the locket - until his eyes widened with shock and he took the locket with trembling fingers. “This - why - I lost this years ago - decades even, and - how? Where did you find it?”
Cerys gave a shallow curtsy. “At the bottom of the bay, where The Hammer yet lies. And I’ll tell you this. Even now, thirty years later, one can tell she was a beautiful ship. She’s in perfect form down there, my lord. As if she could rise and sail again tomorrow.”
Beauhammer was turning the locket about in his fingers. Finally, he stopped and slid the edge of his thumb nail between the clasp. I thought him about to open it, but then he hesitated.
“What is it, Father?” asked Elsa. “You always told me of your first wife’s portrait within. Don’t you want to see it?”
“What if the water has ruined it?” he asked, voice almost a whisper. “I can see it now in my mind’s eye, the colors vivid, her perfect face - what if I open it and find it warped and made hideous by the sea?”
Nobody spoke.
Beauhammer stared down at the locket. His hands were shaking. “It’s been… it’s been so long since I’ve see her face…”
Cerys reached out and placed her hands over his own and the locket both. “My lord. If I may. Don’t open it. At least, not yet. Savor this moment. The potential of seeing her again when you do decide to act. You’ve waited thirty plus years to see her again. Now you can do so at your pleasure. Wait for the right moment, and only then open it.”
“Yes,” he said, voice low. “Yes. You’re right. There’s… there’s no rush.” He closed his fingers about the locket and swallowed audibly. “Thank you, Mistress Cerys. Thank you to you and your friends. This is no small boon. Long have I lamented this loss. Even more than all the bullion that went down with The Hammer. Thank you. If there’s anything I can do to repay this gift, let me know.”
Elsa placed a hand on his shoulder. “There is something within your power that you could do for them, Father.”
“Oh? Speak, girl. What is it?”
“Mistress Cerys and her friends here are part of a larger group. They’d like to try their hands at the ruins below.”
“They would, would they?” And like that Beauhammer went from maudlin to calculating. “Of course, the last license was just sold to Baleric and his people.”
Nobody spoke.
“Which would mean you’re after the discretionary license. Very smart. And Elsa, your role in this? Obviously, you told them of the locket.”
“I get a twenty percent commission on all treasure they recover,” said Elsa smoothly. “Payment for facilitating this meeting.”
Beauhammer grunted. “Not bad. Making money off my largesse.”
“You did get the locket back, Father.”
“That I did. That I did.” He narrowed his eyes. “Your commission just went up to thirty percent. Ten of which will go to me, in addition to the twenty percent tax that all licenses are subject to.”
Cerys frowned. Made a show of thinking it over, then nodded slowly. “Fifty percent profit is preferable to none. Very well. It’s a deal.”
“Very good!” Beauhammer beamed. “Then let’s shake on it, my dear. A pleasure doing business with you.”
“The pleasure has been all mine,” said Cerys, allowing Beauhammer to engulf her hand in both of his.
Shouts were suddenly heard from the hall outside. Frowning, B
eauhammer forded through our midst and back out the archway, to stand and glare at the crowd which was watching with avid interest as a messenger struggled to reach where we stood.
“Your lordship,” said the youth, panting for breath, face sheened with sweat. “There’s a fire. There’s a fire down at the docks.”
“A fire?” Beauhammer wrinkled his brow in confusion. “A warehouse?”
“No, your lordship. Not - not a warehouse.” With effort the youth drew himself up. “One of the ships, sir. One of the ships at dock.”
And like that a cold dagger slid into my heart, and I searched the crowd for Master Gremond and his son.
“Which ship, boy? Speak! A company ship? Or is it my Anvil?”
“No sir. A new arrival.”
I found him. Both hands on the head of his cane, cheroot sticking out the corner of his mouth, eyes gleaming as he stared through his domino mask right back at me.
“The Bonegwayne, it’s called, sir, or was. The Bonegwayne.”
Chapter 15
I turned to Cerys and Tamara. “Neither of you are dressed to run across town. Head back to where the others are. I’ll see you there.”
“We’re not leaving you,” said Tamara, taking hold of my arm.
“Nor are you going anywhere in that skirt. You can barely walk, and I’m not going to wait for a carriage.”
“The license?” asked Elsa.
“We’ll collect it on the morrow. I’ve got to go. Take care.” And I turned and sliced through the crowd, not caring that Gremond was smiling wickedly at me, that his son was laughing and shaking one of his guard’s shoulder. They’d get theirs. Oh yes, I’d see it done. But for now.
The docks.
I burst out into the bailey, searched for some sign of our carriage, and saw it stationed at the far curve of the road that led back down to Port Lusander, lined up with many others. Formulating a plan as I ran over, I drew my dagger and moved to the fore, laying my hand on one of the horse’s flanks as I studied the tack and harness.