Book 2 Dead Man's Hand: The Knights of the Golden Dragon

by Troy Reaves

  Mama Bear’s direct words caught Boremac off guard. “How did you know about the bounty hunting and why do you assume there is a woman?”

  “You have become known outside the city of Verson, my boy, and when is it not a woman that stirs a man to do the most stupid things? You should not have come to Travelflor. There is no good for you here. I have not been the only one that was affected by your absence these past two years and the twins are not nearly as forgiving of your transgressions as I where ladies are concerned. I find it telling that Flora has come making inquiries of me, me no less, wanting to find you. I hope your visit with us will be a brief one. The twins are well thought of in Alchendia’s Path. There would be trouble for you either way if Flora finds you here, and I think if she has an interest of a personal nature, she will find you.”

  “Ah, Flora.” He regretted his tone as soon as he spoke but Mama Bear tensed with understanding immediately. He thought it best to distract her from that line of questioning. “That is over and done, whether she has let it be or not, and I am certain her interest in my whereabouts is now a professional one. I am seeking a server at one of the other taverns in the city. Her name is Cerinta, a family member of one of my… um, clients. Do you know where I can find her?”

  “You know something, Boremac?” Mama Bear smiled mischievously at him before continuing. “You are practiced at the arts of stealth and thievery but you cannot lie to me worth a tin penny. What is your real interest in the lass?”

  Boremac shook his head by way of acquiescence. He told her the whole story of his encounter with her cousin Toca and the promise he had made to the boy concerning his cousin in Travelflor. She shook her head when he finished, piquing Boremac’s interest with her words as she answered with what she knew about the lass’s current situation.

  “She works in the Governer’s house now as part of the staff. This is not an accident. She is a lovely girl. There are rumors that she has captured the heart of a landed relative of the master of the city so… Boremac, do not bring trouble to the child. The man who favors her is not scarred by scandal. Keep it that way.” Mama Bear punctuated her last words by grasping his hands with her own so tightly that it was painful, as if making certain he remembered just how strong she was despite the fact he and she both knew he would forget her warning on the way out the door.

  Boremac took only a moment to shake the numbness from his fingers. Despite Mama Bear’s best intentions, Boremac had no intention of finding the young woman without possessing full use of his hands. Cerinta had been located easily enough with a minor amount of coin shared among the street children. It turned out she had become something of a hero to the boys and girls who worked the streets, both for making her way into a good position and the charity she shared out because of it. It took no effort to have fall right into his arms in the market, quite literally. Two well set urchins, one speeding across her path in a presumed effort to escape entrapment by a mark that was shouting after them in obvious pursuit and the other bent behind her on hands and knees as if looking for some treasure, were more than happy to help for a couple of coins. It was only a minimal effort to positon himself nearby and slid in to receive her as she nearly tumbled backward in the crowded market. It may have not been completely necessary to spin her basket of foodstuffs in a full circle while he held her as he rescued it from impact on the pave stones but he could not restrain adding a bit of show to the event. She was dutifully thankful, as intended, and remarkably appreciative, which had become an unexpected bonus.

  ***

  “You are blessed with remarkable dexterity, Angelos, and a mixed blessing to say the least.” She now lie across him like a warm, comfortable blanket. The wash of flaxen hair and her startling green eyes made her the more blessed appearing of the pair but he was in no position to argue with her. “You have given me a choice, which was all too easily made, but I think in this instance it was the correct one. Toca chose his messenger well though I doubt he understood the trial I was suffering.”

  Boremac only drew his fingers gently through her hair, not wishing to interrupt the flow of her delicate confession. He had not known she was suffering any misgivings, motivated solely by his own desires, and felt somewhat less guilty as she made her feelings known.

  “My sister,” Certinta continued, “will be less than pleased. The coin will be a salve to her lost hopes for a better future through my promised gentleman. You have brought me enough to purchase a home outside these walls, or even a very nice one within, if I choose.” She must have sensed Boremac had stopped breathing for a moment as she spoke because she quickly corrected the error of his assumption. “No, Angelos, which I doubt is how my cousin knows you, I am not expecting you to remain and make a house with me. There is another who captured my heart long ago but pulled away because he could not promise me any security for the future. That is no longer an issue and he will accept me as I am now. He cares for me for who I am and not how I look on his arm or what others may say.”

  Boremac found his reassurance at her words a bit too convenient, and entirely too comforting, for his mildly troubled conscience. “No harm done then… I am glad to have been of service to you and your cousin. It has been my great pleasure in both instances. I should probably be going before I overstay my welcome. It has been my experience that, given enough time and just the wrong set of circumstances, a pleasant meeting can turn sour fast.” He slid out from beneath her and dropped his feet to the floor at the side of the bed, reaching for his clothing. Unfortunately she was stronger and faster than she had appeared and pinned him before he was certain what was happening.

  “Don’t think you will be getting away that easy,” Certinta smiled wickedly at him before dragging him back into the disheveled sheets and blankets.

  39

  Pointed Discussion

  Boremac had escaped from Certinta’s ravenous clutches mostly intact and was making his way through the streets of Travelflor to The Shadowy Pint in order to check in with Mama Bear before he left. He did not want to delay after the previous evening, knowing that despite what Certinta had said, more than likely the man she to wed would not be nearly as accepting of the new turn of events. Wealthy nobles had a habit of being spiteful and also had the means of punishing those who drew their ire. Travelflor was not his home anymore. That thought lingered longer and hurt more than he felt it should but one who faced truth tended to last longer, or at least that had been his experience. He did not have to agree with it, or even change his plans because of it, but he did have to acknowledge it. Ignorance got you killed in the circles he traveled and he rather enjoyed not being dead.

  When he reached The Shadowy Pint he was surprised to find that Mama Bear had received a sealed message from Jun for him. Jun was not one to communicate through couriers and Verson was not that far away from Travelflor, at least not that far on a fast horse. The whole thing made Boremac nervous from the start, his agitation only worsening as he reread the note twice more.

  My dear son,

  It is well that you have made your way to Travelflor. Your brother has been poaching the wrong noble’s game and has received a mark against him. He bears a treasure that must be returned or the consequences of his misbehavior will be dire. The ranger of the forest, who appears to have no love for the land’s master, has asked that the prize simply be returned so that he can make necessary excuses in failing his lord. Contact your brother with all haste and return to Verson.

  Sincerely,

  Jun

  “Bit of trouble?” Mama Bear stared at Boremac with a furrowed brow as she inquired. “Don’t look so surprised, child. The look of a problem is all over your face. It’s Rinoba, isn’t it?”

  Boremac reread the short note once more, his mind already preparing to meet with his brother. “Of course…” He forgot Mama Bear, forgot Travelflor, forgot everything, as he turned sharply and moved out into the streets of the Thieve’s Quarter. There was work to be done.

  ***

 
Life is pain, Sgaina mused as she stared down the night-cloaked alley watching the two men from her past chat. She had known that one important fact as long as she could remember. Life is pain. You could be either the one hurt or the one responsible for hurting, there was no in between for her. Shamshir stood at her side while Sgaina felt all the pain that seeing Rinoba again brought back. She wondered if the Overseer was toying with her, making this contract Shamshir’s Blooding. The assassination that would make Sgaina’s protégé a full member of the Black Hand served the secondary purpose of dismissing Sgaina’s desire for revenge. Sometimes Sgaina wondered if pairing her with Shamshir had been a test of its own. The two women could not have been more opposite. Shamshir was slight and tall with a grace so natural hunting cats would have envied her. Her beauty was without match in the Black Hand which said a lot, considering the number of women chosen for their ability to blend in with the elite of the lands. Sgaina, for her part, was almost clumsy by comparison and had spent years training to kill brutally and quickly despite her small size and buxom figure. She did not even merit being refered to as petite, more unremarkable and plain than most would think kind, despite her full figure. Sgaina had learned to use this to her advantage, of course. No one ever considered her a threat and her targets rarely lived long enough to regret that mistake.

  Sgaina felt her hatred boil up as the two men began to dance with their blades. So many years, almost twelve years since the three had become first aquainted in that barn so long ago, where their fates had been intertwined. They might have choreographed the whole fight if their respective egos had allowed it. The pair must have sparred often enough to anticipate one another without error. There was one thing that neither of the fighters could have anticipated. Shamshir jerked slightly in surprise as the dagger left Sgiana’s hand and became the instrument of Death for her lost lover.

  “Kill the other if you can,” Sgiana’s whisper carried the promise of doom if Shamshir questioned her. “I do not care what the Overseer wants. Kill him if you can.”

  “but..” Shamshir felt duty bound to at least voice a concern about violating the Overseer’s orders, or at least the loss of her intended target. She turned to look down at Sgiana and found Sgiana’s blades resting at either side of her waist, the slightest pressure cutting into the exposed flesh that was all that was between the points and Shamshir’s kidneys. “Going now.”

  Sgiana released the pressure enough to allow Shamshir to back away without tearing her bare skin and turned to watch Boremac searching the darkness for a new threat. Shamshir had wasted no time in presenting herself to him. Sgaina noted something odd in the way Shamshir had moved toward him and even how she now stood, teasing him. It was very strange to witness considering what Sgiana knew of Shamshir’s past. A past that had left the beautiful one scarred and distrustful of all men kept Shamshir well outside their reach, normally. Sgiana filed this away to question her about on the journey home, climbing adroitly to a near balcony and making her way higher to better view the exchange. She was not disappointed. Shamshir teased Boremac, receiving some amount of trouble for her efforts and acrobatics, but despite multiple openings did not strike a killing blow as instructed. Sgiana sensed Shamshir had enough good sense to know that orders directly issued in defiance of those of the Overseer should be politely ignored, especially in light of Sgiana’s state at the time of the issuing of said order. Sgiana was known to be somewhat impulsive when pissed after all, even going so far as killing fellow assassins during sparring.

  Shamshir appeared to be getting the worst end of things in the continuing melee, moving Sgiana to action. The Overseer had said that Boremac was a talent worthy of the guild, but the speed and precision of his movements impressed even Sgiana, making her regret she had not faced him in Shamshir’s place. The error was easily corrected. Sgiana dropped between the combatants. She prodded Shamshir a bit, bringing a violent attack that was visited on Boremac, displacing his shoulder. Sgiana took a measure of pleasure readjusting it for him and taking the opportunity to educate Shamshir in proper graces before slamming her balled fist into Boremac’s groin. She was disappointed when he blacked out almost instantly.

  40

  What Darkness

  The two female assassins had loaded their prize and begun the trip to their home without incident. Sgiana, for her part at least, had hoped Boremac would have tried to escape, but he decided to give her no such satisfaction when he awakened. He needed no more reminder of her potential cruelty than the sharp pain that was his constant companion.

  Boremac awakened at some point with a steady pounding pressure in his nether region brought on by the rutted road he and his captors traveled. He noted there were bindings on his feet and hands that trussed him up neatly, as well as a sack loosely draped over his head. He also noted that he had not been gagged. He could only assume the smaller of the two women wanted an excuse to kill him if he attempted to flee or cry out. He decided quickly he would give her no such satisfaction. It had been easy enough to take the measure of that one by her actions where he was concerned. Best he could reason, Rinoba had been their target and he had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time with a similar errand. Why were there two of them? If the Black Hand was half as effective in their chosen occupation as rumors stated, then one should have been more than sufficient, even if Boremac had not eliminated Rinoba’s bodyguards. Since there were a few puzzles to be solved already, and it appeared that he was being taken alive into a hive of paid killers, he might as well just make the most of the time he had to rest.

  Rest would have been easier if the slender assassin that had challenged him would have allowed it. He found himself unable to control an involuntary shudder as slender fingers pressed lightly a little too close to his damaged goods. He warmed reflexively as the grasping hand gripped his inner thigh more tightly, nearly to the point of pain. Abruptly the hand withdrew and he heard the voice of this slender would-be killer for the first time.

  “He is awake.” Her voice suited her grace and form, almost musical, though it was light. He would have expected a higher pitch but found the sound of her simple words bordered at the edge of sultry. It had a liquid sound rarely heard among common women and very difficult to affect intentionally. You almost had to be noble born and well-bred to have such a voice. Boremac was glad for the sack that hid the fire in his face.

  The shorter one sounded like an angry small dog growling through small sharp teeth as she whispered by way of reply. “Well, do shut up and stop touching him. It looks like he might just make it all the way home after all so let us not do anything to cause him more trouble.” He could tell by her tone that she was disappointed she could not just slit his throat. Something in her tone and affectation when she spoke called to a memory buried in his head. He felt like he knew her though he could not for the life of him remember why. Boremac filed it away with the other mysteries to explore if he survived the trip to wherever he was being taken.

  ***

  Boremac awakened with a start, twisting the bedding of the cot where he rested into a virtual cocoon in the process. “Come on! The Overseer is ready to see you now and he prefers not to be kept waiting!” The owner of the gruff voice was standing over Boremac, gripping the edges of the covering where Boremac had managed to knot himself. The man appeared to have survived many hard winters by daring the cold to try to kill him. Every bit of his exposed flesh, hands up to the shoulders and face from ear to ear, was covered with dry and cracked flesh that resembled tree bark more than skin and the man’s deep set eyes were nearly black within the shadow of his brow. Boremac found his comparison to a weathered tree all the more appropriate when the man bodily yanked the blanket from around him and spilled his naked body on to the cold stone floor.

  Fully expecting a wave of pain, Boremac was pleasantly surprised to find he was more embarrassed than hurt. His bruises had been tended and all that remained to indicate the abuses he had suffered during his abduction was a fair amount of m
uscle stiffness. He stretched lazily before springing onto his feet and facing the man who had come to fetch him. “How long have I been here?”

  “Hells if I know, boy. You do not check in with me when you arrive. I just fetch who the man says needs fetching. You want to get dressed or you want to go as you are at present to the Overseer? He does not care how you come before him, and neither do I, but you might be more comfortable in some leathers since you will be meeting the man who decides your fate. Of course, the ladies responsible for your introduction to our little family will be present which could influence your decision a bit. Myself, I prefer that a woman meets me clothed before she judges me.”

  “If you mean the two that knocked me out to steal me away, I am pretty sure they both have their own opinions set. I am also thinking it is safe to say, the two have some contradictory opinions to boot.” Boremac grinned at the hulking figure before continuing. “Where should I find clothing that suits me?”

  The man turned toward the lone piece of furniture that sat in a near corner of the room, a chifforobe that looked unused. A quick inspection revealed form fitting leathers more supple than any Boremac had ever encountered hanging in one side with undergarments that appeared to be silk within the drawers. A set of sturdy boots sat under the leather pants and jacket. Boremac noted the footwear had no metal buckles or decorations of any kind. He dressed and was pleasantly surprised to find that all the articles fit as if made for him.