The Vespus Blade

by Scott Baron

  “Denna?” the orange-haired woman asked. “I’m no denna. I’m not part of a visla’s family.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. My mistake,” Demelza replied. “But you are Kalama, yes?”

  “Yes. But what delivery do you have? Those are usually dropped with the man at the front reception area and brought up by Marisko.”

  “Marisko called in sick today.”

  A look of surprise crossed the woman’s face, then a split-second later she attempted to slam the door in Demelza’s face. The Wampeh’s reflexes were far too fast, and she, along with her three associates who had been waiting against the wall out of sight from the doorway, all rushed into Kalama’s home.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Do you know who I am?”

  “We do, actually,” Bud said with a grin as he grabbed her by the arms. “Kalama. Not Denna Kalama, though, right?”

  She flashed a hateful glare at him but stopped struggling. She knew the odds were horribly against her and a fight might just make it worse.

  “Please, have a seat,” Hozark said.

  Kalama obliged, sitting quietly in the offered chair. Her chair. Bud strolled through her home, admiring the trappings of wealth in every room.

  “Nice digs you’ve got here,” he said, meandering across her main living space in the direction of the lift they’d taken up to her floor.

  The flustered woman glared at him as he looked around.

  “You’ve already broken in. Just take what you want and leave.”

  “We do not want your possessions, Kalama. We want information.”

  A perplexed look blossomed on her face. “Wait, isn’t this a robbery?”

  “Nothing of the sort. If you cooperate with us and tell us what we wish to know, we shall leave you and your possessions as they are.”

  “What do you mean? What kind of information could I possibly have that would be of any use to your sort of people?” she asked with disdain.

  “Hey, watch it. I like my sort of people,” Laskar said.

  “You performed a task recently. Delivered a message to a Fakarian. A man named Tikoo. Does this refresh your memory?” Hozark asked.

  “The one on Obahn? Yes, I remember him. But I don’t know him. Whatever he did, I can assure you, I had nothing to––”

  “Who hired you to deliver your message to him?” Hozark said, cutting her off.

  “That? Just a man named Bitz. He runs a local import shop. Shoes, clothes, that sort of thing.”

  “And where can we find this Bitz?”

  “He has offices at the distribution building. It’s the big white one a few hundred meters from the arena.”

  “Well, shit. That was easy,” Bud said, walking toward the door.

  “It was,” Hozark agreed. “Too easy.”

  “Just truss her up and let’s get out of here,” Bud said, reaching for the door.

  “No! Bud, don’t!” Hozark called out.

  But it was too late. The door burst open as soon as he touched it, and a team of burly men swarmed into the space, weapons at the ready.

  Despite his natural instinct to fight, the point of a blade immediately thrust up against his back convinced Bud that perhaps this was not the time for heroics. Hozark could take them, sure. But he was not Hozark. He was good, but not that good.

  Hozark, Demelza, and Laskar all had their weapons in their hands in an instant when the men burst in, ready to go. But they paused at the sight of Bud with a dagger pressed against him. Further inspection confirmed Hozark’s initial concern. These were not building staff. Not by a long shot. These were professionals.

  “Drop your weapons,” Kalama said with a knowing smile.

  “This was a trap,” Bud realized. “No wonder it was so easy.”

  “And now you are my prisoners,” she replied. “Gantz said someone might show up after I did his job. I thought he was being paranoid, but who argues with him? But it seems he was right. And now my debt to him is paid in full.”

  “And this Bitz person?” Demelza asked.

  “There is no Bitz, idiot.” She turned to the mercenaries. “Bring them to the cells, and go fetch your master,” she said.

  “Cells? Who the hell has cells in a luxury residential building?” Bud asked.

  Kalama raised a brow and grinned. “Oh, you’d be surprised.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  The cells within the luxury tower were both immaculate and well stocked, as one would expect of so high-end a building. If one were to expect in-house torture facilities as part of your housing package, that is.

  It quickly became apparent that the entire thirteenth level of the building was empty but for its lone resident. But so far as Hozark could tell as they were ushered down the hallway toward an imposing double door, the other residents were likely moved to other levels in the building, judging by the faint signs of moving scrapes to the door frames.

  There was no appearance of forced relocation, though. Nothing broken, no telltale marks from a scuffle as people resisted. That meant they moved willingly, and likely to nicer units higher in the building. And recently. Likely only a few weeks prior, when Master Prombatz had been attacked. To move that many so quickly meant a lot of coin had been spent to achieve that goal.

  Someone had gone to some length to ensure that Kalama was backed up by a team of men of action who would complete their tasks regardless of the woman’s competence. The way things were set up, even if she had failed horribly in her job, the mercenaries under her would have stepped in and completed it anyway.

  Whoever had paid for all of this had anticipated the eventual backtracking of Tikoo’s contract. And that person had left Kalama where she was as a honey pot. And she had done as intended, pulling in her victims like flies to honey. It was all perfectly arranged, and the would-be interrogators were now captive. Captive and about to be tortured, more than likely.

  Only there was one small flaw in that plan. The enemy did not realize something of the utmost importance. They had no idea who exactly they had captured. Two of their prisoners were Wampeh Ghalian. And they were only prisoners because they chose to be for the moment.

  “You thinking what I’m thinking?” Bud asked as he sat in his cell waiting for the torture to begin.

  “That you really must learn when to listen to my warnings?” Hozark replied with a wry grin.

  “Ha-ha. Very funny. But no, I’m talking about what comes next. I mean, look at all the gear on the walls. And on that table we passed on the way in.”

  “Seriously. These guys are ready for some serious torture sessions,” Laskar agreed.

  “Nothing of the sort. It is merely for show,” Hozark said.

  “Really? ‘Cause it looked pretty damn real to me,” Laskar shot back.

  Hozark smiled at him as one would a child. “Dear Laskar, if you’d more carefully inspected the items on that table when we arrived, you’d have noticed all were not only new, but also possessing not a speck of dust on them. The equipment is real, no doubt, but it is merely there to evoke a visceral fear response. A response you are presenting at this very moment, I would add.”

  Laskar was about to say something, but Bud caught his eye with a little head shake, and he thought better of it. This was not the best time for snark.

  “So, what do we do now?” Bud asked.

  “Now? Now we wait.”

  Five hours had passed before the door to the holding cell area finally swung open. A short, stocky man with enormous hands for his size and leathery, brown skin, strode in, flanked by a pair of Tslavar mercenaries. By the look of them, they were the largest he could find.

  “Well, well. What’ve we got ‘ere?” he drawled. “A buncha wannabe tough guys tryin’ ta be cute. And in my town, no less,” he said, surveying his captive audience. “Pathetic lot, all of you. Pain in my arse, you are. But you’ll be makin’ me some good coin at least.”

  “Excuse me, but there must be some mistake. No one will pay a ransom for us,
so you might as well just let us go,” Hozark said.

  “Let you go?” the man said. “Let you go? You’ve gotta be pullin’ my leg. And it’s not a ransom I’ll be seekin’.”

  “But, if not a ransom, then what?”

  “Hell if I know. I was just to catch whoever came and messed with Kalama. But once I hear back from my contact, I know he’ll pay me a handsome bonus for snarin’ you an’ your friends.”

  “So, you are in charge here?” Hozark said.

  “Damn proper, I am.”

  “Not many people have your kind of clout around here. You must be Gantz.”

  “The one and only.”

  A Tslavar mercenary strode through the doors in a bit of a rush. “Sir, there’s been a little incident at the warehouse. A shipment is light.”

  Gantz went from jovial intimidation to unmasked rage. “It’s what?” He spun toward the door. “You skree Tormal and Trisk. Have them meet us there.”

  With that, the angry man stormed out of the holding cells, his interrogation interrupted by something apparently far more interesting.

  The prisoners remained silent a long moment before finally speaking.

  “So, that was him,” Bud said.

  “Yes. The one who hired Kalama,” Hozark confirmed.

  “And he just showed up like that.”

  “Indeed. It seems, in his case, that his overconfidence saved us a bit of searching.”

  “But we still need to get out of here,” Bud noted.

  “Obviously, Bud. And once we do that, we shall have words with Gantz. On our terms.”

  “Guys?”

  “Hang on, Laskar,” Bud said. “All of our stuff was taken, Hozark. Our weapons and konuses. And we’re locked in here. We’re kinda screwed, unless you have some secret Wampeh Ghalian trick to get us out.”

  “I am working on it,” Hozark replied. “A solution is bound to present itself if we but open our eyes to it. There is always a way, if we are willing and able to see it.”

  “Uh, guys?”

  Bud flashed an annoyed look at his copilot. “I said, in a minute.”

  “Whatever,” Laskar grumbled, then walked to the cell door and placed his hands over the magical lock.

  He stood there like that for a good, long minute, his hands held in place. Then, without warning, the door unlocked and slid open.

  “How did you do that?” Bud marveled.

  “Just a trick I learned a while ago when I was running with some guys who got caught more often than not.”

  “Impressive, Laskar,” Demelza said. “Quite a skill you possess.”

  “It’s nothing, really. Just a little manipulation is all.”

  “It is not nothing,” she persisted. “You just saved us a great deal of time with that ‘little manipulation.’ Well done.”

  “Indeed. What Demelza has said is correct. Well done, indeed,” Hozark added. “Now, we have things to do.”

  “Yeah. Get revenge,” Laskar said.

  “No, not revenge. We stalk our new target, acquire him, and have a little chat with him on our own terms.”

  “I hope that includes at least a little revenge,” Laskar griped.

  An amused smile tickled the corners of Hozark’s mouth. “No revenge. That is an unproductive path. But rest assured, the implements at my disposal are not for show only.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Hozark led his team out of the building through a service lift, avoiding prying eyes that might report them to Gantz, tipping him off to his captives’ escape. The door panel opening to the small floating disc shaft was invisible to the eye, its seams perfectly blending in with the lines of the wall where Hozark ran his fingers.

  There was an inaudible click, the only confirmation of his hunch slightly moving beneath his fingers. The panel slid open without a sound, and a moment later, the lift disc dropped to floor level and stopped, awaiting its passengers.

  “How did you know that was there?” Laskar asked. “No one could have seen that, and you’re still not wearing a konus.”

  “Years of training,” Demelza answered for Hozark as he checked the shaft door for any hidden traps or wards. “Just one of many things we have drilled into us from an early age.”

  “It is safe,” Hozark said, turning to the others. “And to answer your query, Laskar, if you look carefully at the floor, you will notice the slight difference in texture from wear and foot traffic. The way the light catches it. Do you see?”

  Laskar squinted and scrutinized where Hozark had pointed. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Hang on a second,” Uzabud said. “I see it! Holy shit, I can actually see it.”

  “See what?”

  “Look, right there. Unfocus your eyes and just let the blurry highlights steer your gaze. You see it?” Bud asked.

  Laskar stared a long moment. Then a bit more.

  “Gentlemen, I appreciate this is a novel learning moment for you, but we really must go.”

  “In a second,” Bud replied. “Come on, man. You see it, right?”

  Slowly, a grin spread across Laskar’s face. “I see it! No way! There it is!”

  “Nice for you both,” Demelza said. “Now, get on the lift disc. Time is wasting.”

  The two men piled in with them and shut the panel. Hozark cast the descent command, and they dropped all the way to the service area of the building, a level below the lobby. From there they quickly exited the building, walking as if they belonged there and were above questioning as to their presence. And dressed as they still were in rich people finery, the servants averted their eyes and made a clear path for them as they walked.

  Whatever it was that had brought people of their status down to the service level, no one wanted to fall under that umbrella of scrutiny. More likely than not, someone had screwed up, and there would be hell to pay. That was the usual reason for such a visit, and more than enough reason to steer well clear.

  “The warehouse. It would likely be in a central location. Gantz strikes me as too much of a control-obsessed individual to allow its operation far from his watchful eyes,” Hozark mused.

  “Yeah, but there have to be a bunch that fit that description around here. Looking at all the shops and commerce?” Laskar said. “I bet there are dozens of them.”

  “How do we figure out which one it is before he finds out we’re gone? We don’t have time for this,” Bud said. “Do we track down Kalama and pry it out of her?”

  “You are making this far more difficult than it needs to be,” Hozark replied. “Come.”

  He led them to the nearby thoroughfare and flagged down a hovering conveyance. “Excuse me, sir. We’re seeking a particular item the shops don’t seem to have. My wife, here, is absolutely set on its acquisition. I was told that a fellow by the name Gantz likely had possession of one in his warehouses. Might you know how to get there? We are in something of a rush.”

  The driver looked at their attire and was thanking the gods for such a good fare. “Gantz? Of course I know him. A lovely fellow. Most delightful,” he lied.

  He did know him, of course. Everyone knew him. Namely, what a tyrannical asshole he could be to any who worked for him, and the wrath he would rain down on any who crossed him.

  “That’s fantastic. Could you take us to him?”

  “Of course. Please, step aboard.”

  Hozark held out his hand, chivalrously helping Demelza––his ‘wife’––into the conveyance, then climbed in with her. Uzabud and Laskar boarded behind him and they were underway. It was a several-minute ride, but given the layout of the city, the warehouse wasn’t really all that far from where they’d been captured in Gantz’s trap.

  “That’s the place,” the driver said, pointing to the building they’d stopped in front of.

  “Thank you ever so much. What do I owe you?”

  The driver relayed the price, and Hozark dropped coin in his hand, plus a healthy tip for his assistance.

  “Where did you get coin?”
Laskar asked as the man drove away. “They took everything from us.”

  Uzabud laughed. He’d known Hozark a long time, and there were certain Ghalian tricks he’d seen on several occasions, and this was one of his favorites. “Let’s just say if he ever wanted to give up the assassination game, our friend here could have a very lucrative pickpocketing career.”

  Laskar stared at the Ghalian master with a questioning look. Hozark merely smiled and shrugged. “Come, we have work to do.”

  Entering the warehouse through the front would have been the fastest and most direct way, but as they were most certainly unwanted guests, a more surreptitious entry was warranted. Hozark and Demelza split up while their friends tucked into a shop, pretending to examine the wares.

  They returned a few minutes later from opposite directions. The pair joined up and stepped inside, acting as though they were a couple once again.

  “There is a rear entrance, but it is warded,” Hozark said quietly as they walked past Bud and Laskar. “Too many layers of protections for our needs. But there is another way in. A small worker’s access on the near side down the side alley. Meet us there in five minutes.”

  Hozark turned to Demelza. “Come, darling. I want to check out the shop we passed down the road earlier.”

  “Of course, my love,” she replied with a radiant smile, wrapping her hand through his arm and strolling out of the establishment like a pair of lovebirds.

  Bud and Laskar shared a quick look. Say what they might about the cold and stoic ways of the Ghalian, their friends had to admit, these two could really turn it on when they had to.

  Five minutes later they joined up with the pair at the side entryway.

  “We move fast. Stay behind Demelza and I. We take down Gantz as quickly as possible, then clean up his men. Clear?”

  “Clear,” the men replied.

  Hozark didn’t wait a moment longer and plunged right into the building, the far weaker wards disabled before their friends had joined them. It was a thing to see, a pair of Ghalian moving with speed and precision, laying out over a dozen henchmen without breaking stride, and with no weapons to boot.