by Deck Davis
I’ll skin them alive. I’ll cut them apart piece by piece and make them eat it, make them eat themselves. I’ll stamp their bones into a paste and spoon it into their fucking mouths.
A hand grabbed his shoulder firmly, so firmly that it was dangerous.
But not dangerous for Studs.
The fury was on him now, and his soldier instincts and his inquisitor training met with his brawn and his reflexes, and the anger took over his mind.
He moved without direction, guided only by thirst for blood and revenge.
There were screams. Sounds of his blade stabbing into flesh. Wounded guards crashing into the water, blood splattering onto stone, cries of agony rebounding wall to wall and filling the tunnels.
By the end, when the mists of fury left him, Studs found himself all the way through the tunnels and back at the sewer manhole, blood all over him, and the tunnels behind him silent.
What did I do?
It was just seconds ago, but he could barely remember. He must have torn his way through the guards.
Did he leave any of the poor bastards alive?
Whatever had happened, it wasn’t their fault, but they’d paid for it first, and Studs had just put he and Hackett in danger.
His breathing started to even out now that he was thinking logically.
There were two things he needed to do now; go back and make sure there were no guards alive to speak about what he’d done, and then get rid of the bodies.
Next, find that gods-damned cleric and necromancer and make them pay for what they’d taken from him.
CHAPTER 53
Witas lived in a room in the northern edge of Dispolis. It was a building of rotten wood that looked ready to fall down under a strong gust of wind. The area wasn’t much better, either; they called this part of Dispolis Chancer’s Row, named for the fact that most of the residents lived their lives in a way that flirted with drawing the attention of the guardship.
Despite how shabby the area and the room looked, they had one thing going for them – they weren’t in the stinking Rat’s Palace.
Luckily, as shady as Chancer’s Row was, it also meant nobody had paid any notice to a cleric and a necromancer stumbling through, dripping wet, smelly, and looking left and right as if they expected a thousand guards to sprint out and arrest them.
Witas’s room was so pathetic it made Jakub yearn for his old private room in the academy. It was bare, cold, with nothing on the walls, no carpet, and just a single bed that looked ready to snap.
“The washroom is out in the hall,” said Witas. “It’s shared and it doesn’t lock, so you’ll need to tie a sock around the handle. That’s our system.”
“I might stink, but I’ll settle for being warm and dry right now.”
Witas was in the corner, sorting through a pile of clothes on the floor. He lifted a white shirt and black trousers and held them for Jakub to see.
“We’re about the same size. You’re a little skinnier, but you’ll just have to make do. Go wash up and get changed.”
Fifteen minutes later, dry and dressed in Witas’s cast offs, Jakub sat on the bed. It felt like now, away from the sewers and the necromancers, the rats, the guards, he could finally get himself together.
As soon as he let himself relax a little, everything flooded out; fear, nerves, tension.
“A necromancer baiting us into a trap, then a bunch of guards streaming through the tunnels. Who’d we piss off?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” said Witas. “Not that it took much. It’s pretty obvious we’ve got a bunch of people who want to kill you, and then we’ve got the guards, who want me. The question for both those things, is why?”
“Let’s break it down. The people who killed the pickpocket. We know that there was a man involved, because we saw him in the Last Rites. We can assume the necromancer was in on it too, since she was waiting for us. Now, I’d guess that the Last Rites guy knew I’d use that spell because the necromancer told him so.”
“That doesn’t lead us any closer to the why.”
“I can put us in the vicinity of the why; they’re targeting magic users. They tried to snatch Abbie, and Henwright set me up with the letter.”
“They could just have a grudge against the academy; it might be nothing to do with the magic side of things.”
“Even so…hang on – I asked Mason D’Angelt about what happened to Abbie. He said three robed guys tried to take her. We know the necromancer and the coin guy, and that leaves a third.”
“You think they’re working with the guardship?” asked Witas.
“You know the guards better than me.”
“That’s the problem. I’m going over it again and again, and I don’t see Lloyd Blackrum being involved. The guy is straighter than an iron dildo. That was his thing when he became captain; he promised to cut out the rot from the guardship.”
“Then he must genuinely believe you killed the pickpocket.”
“And where would he get that idea?”
The answer hit Jakub. He stood up. “From the guys hunting me. They must have given him something. Made up a clue, given him dodgy evidence.”
“We still don’t have a why.”
“Two things, then,” said Jakub. “We go check out what’s in the necromancer’s mana storage box. Then, I need to go to the Racken Hills.”
“That’s fifty miles west. It’s bumpkin town; what does that place have to do with anything?”
“I told you about my friend in the Greylands. He told me a way we can find out Mr. Coin’s-”
“Thought we settled on Baron Moneyfingers?”
“Whatever. I can get his name, then, we go to the academy with everything. If there’s proof in the mana box, and if I have a name, the academy will have to listen.”
Witas walked over to the window and looked out, and he stared for a few seconds. “I told you that I don’t want to see Ian.”
“You need him. He’s an academy instructor, and you’ll need someone with influence on your side.”
“Gods-damned Lloyd Blackrum. He’s always had it out for me. I’m not saying he’d make something up, but he’s grabbed the chance, hasn’t he? The first chance he got to pin something on me.”
“We shouldn’t have come back here, Witas. This is the first place the guardship are going to check. We better leave, and I think it’s best you get out of Dispolis too.”
“Do you think I’m stupid?” said Witas. “This isn’t where I live; I rent a place in the Smithy quarters. Nobody knows I pay for this place as well as that.”
That made Jakub feel a little better. Even so, he didn’t relish the idea of having to find the mana storage building while having half the guardship looking for him.
“We get to the box, and then get the hell out of Dispolis. Are you coming with me?”
“It looks like I’m out of better options,” said Witas.
He turned around, and then he stared at Jakub intently. The expression on his face was unnerving.
“What?” said Jakub.
“Holy shit. We might have to make another stop.”
“What is it?”
Witas searched around the room, before finding a square mirror. He passed it to Jakub. “Take a look.”
Jakub lifted the mirror to his face, and he felt his stomach turn to water.
CHAPTER 54
“I’m turning green and slimy! I look like a fucking frog.”
“A fucking frog? Never heard of that species before. Listen, how do you take your bad news?” said Witas. “On the rocks, or do you need me to dilute it a little?”
“Just tell me.”
“Well, your little swim gave you the blight. You must have chugged down too much of that sewer water.”
“What does that mean?”
“Don’t hold out on getting a girlfriend, at least until you get fixed up. If you get fixed up.”
“If?”
Witas stood over him and put his hand on his shoulder. �
��I’m trying to lay this on you gently.”
“I told you, just give it to me.”
“It’s poison, Jakub. Back when people lived in the Rats’ Palace, they used to have a whole section of it closed off where they’d keep the blighted people. The place was hell, if you believe the stories.”
Jakub felt his pulse start to race. He didn’t know if he was imagining it, but the longer he stared at the mirror, more green seemed to spread through his flesh.
He stood up and paced.
“You’re gonna get a blinder of a headache,” said Witas. “Then your arms and legs will start to swell. Then you’ll shit yourself…and that’s the nicer part of it. You ever bled from all your orifices?”
“We need to get to a mender.”
“We’ve got murderous lunatics and the guardship out there looking for us. The only menders in the city set up shop on the Royal Mile.”
“In the busiest gods-damned part of the city. Great,” said Jakub.
“I might know a guy,” said Witas. “He’s expensive, and not because he’s good at what he does – it’s because he knows when to keep his mouth shut. And the only way to shut it is to stuff his mouth full of coins. How much gold have you got?”
Jakub tried to think, but all he could imagine was blood dripping from his mouth, his nose, his ears.
Now his head was throbbing. Just like that, out of nowhere, a thudding in his temples.
“I’m gonna be sick.”
He ran out of Witas’s room and into the hallway, where he found the door to the shared bathroom. There was a sock tied around the handle.
His stomach gurgled, and he sank to his knees and vomited a stream of green water.
Soon, a hand grabbed his shoulder. He blinked through watery eyes, and saw Witas.
“Come on, kid. Let’s get you to the mender. How much have you got?”
Jakub went into Witas’s room and checked his inventory bag. He was shaking now, and this coupled with his pounding head, made it hard to count. It was as though he could feel the blight in his mind now, clouding his thoughts.
He tipped the coins onto Witas bed, went over to the window and cracked it open and breathed in the air of Dispolis, but the air of Chancer’s Row was rotten, and it made his stomach weak.
He heard the chinking of coins. “You don’t have enough. What else have you got? Mind if I have a look?”
“Go ahead.”
Witas rifled through Jakub’s bag, taking everything out.
“Okay, we can pawn some of this stuff, and then we might just have enough. We’re gonna have to go see Archie.”
CHAPTER 55 – Lloyd Blackrum
What was taking them so long? It had been hours since he sent Heath out, and the guards should have gone into the sewer and brought back the cleric by now. Lloyd wasn’t used to this feeling; he wasn’t used to waiting. He liked action, movement.
He should have gone down there himself instead of putting a young recruit in the thick of it. Heath was a good kid, and Lloyd had high hopes for him. Even so, he was greener than a lizard’s cock.
There was a knock at the door.
Lloyd settled in his chair and tried to look relaxed. “Come in.”
“Captain,” said the guard.
It was Blakely. Pushing sixty-five years old, he was too decrepit for active guard duty and should have been retired years ago, but Lloyd had persuaded him to stick around. The man was arrow-straight and utterly incorruptible, and Lloyd had wanted him to stay on for a while and be a good influence around the guardship.
“Come in, Blakely. How’s your knee?”
“Sore, sir. It’s the cold.”
“You look pale.”
“Sir, I have to tell you-”
“You seem worried, Blakely. When an old dog like you gets worried, it spreads. Take a breath and tell me.”
“It’s the men you sent into the Rats’ Palace. They were gone hours, and we didn’t hear anything. We sent Jenkins and Gorren down there, and…oh, shit. They found them dead.”
Lloyd leapt to his feet. “What?”
“All of them.”
“Ten armed guards killed?”
“Eleven.”
“Gods, I sent Heath went with them.”
Blakely nodded.
“Send a message to the academy. I want a necromancer out here now, and I want them to use their spells and find out what the fuck happened down there. Next, I want every single guard in Dispolis out looking for the cleric and his friend.”
“Sir, the parade…”
“Fuck the parade. If the Queen’s uncle wants security, he can pick up a sword himself. Find the cleric, beat the ever-loving hell out of him, and bring him back. I want him alive, but I want his and his friend’s faces swollen beyond all recognition. Then we’ll heal him, and I’ll beat it all over again.”
Blakely looked alarmed now, and Lloyd knew why.
The word he’d used, the things he’d said.
Beatings, blood, bruises. It was the way the guardship used to work before Lloyd had fixed things.
Maybe there was a time when a man had to act that way. Morals couldn’t fix everything.
CHAPTER 56
Although Archibald’s shop was on the Royal Mile, Witas knew a path through the warren of Dispolis alleyways that kept them out of sight. They edged along each alley and checked for movements, and they listened for the sounds of guard boots.
On the way there, Jakub drained soul essence from a pigeon that had met its end at a cat’s claws, then he drained a cat that had been run over by a cart. Finally, he found a rat which had been pelted to death by stones by local kids.
It filled his soul necklace half-way. Not great but it was something, and right now he needed it.
He stopped for a second and rolled up his sleeve to show his glyphline tattoos. His Resurrection tattoo was bigger and darker than the others now, which was a sign of him choosing the Raiser shade.
“Not the best time to stop,” said Witas.
“It feels like something is trying to pound its way out of my skull with a tiny warhammer.”
“We’ll get you fixed up, I promise.”
“That sounded like an actual, genuine show of concern.”
“Blight is bad, Jakub. I don’t want to see blood dripping out of your eyes.”
Jakub cast Health Harvest, changing some of his necklace essence to a healing mist. It washed over his skin, smoothing the parts that were turning green and taking away the soreness. The thud in his head faded to a dim tapping.
“Do I look any better?”
“Still green.”
“Health Harvest can’t cure it then.”
“A spell? We’re not talking about a paper cut or a common cold, Jakub. You need a mender. C’mon – we’ll try and stop Archie completely screwing us on price, then head to the quack.”
They reached Archibald’s pawn shop after another ten minutes of alleyway threading, arriving at his back door. The shop itself was blocked from view by a ten-foot-tall gate.
Witas clambered over it, and landed on the other side. Jakub couldn’t see him, but he heard his voice. “Don’t be shy.”
Feeling feeble, Jakub climbed over the gate and dropped into the back yard of Archibald’s shop. Unlike the shop front, which had a pristine window and a sign that advertised his trade, the back of the building had been ignored.
In the corner there was a pile of old wood and steel parts from all manner of trinkets, while an oil stain on the stone gave off a pungent smell.
“I don’t think he’s going to be best pleased with us coming in this way.”
“Archie has three types of customers; the type who walk in the front door, those who walk in the front door and then ask him to close the blinds, and the type who have to climb over his wall. An old pawner like that, he can’t afford to get snooty.”
Witas approached the back door of the shop, raised his hand to knock, and then stopped.
He turned around and patted
his pockets.
“What’s wrong?” asked Jakub.
“This can’t be right.”
He put his hand in his trouser pockets, then his coat, and finally the inside of his coat.
“Holy hells, I forgot about this.”
He held the pickpocket’s finger in his hand. The finger was curling and then uncurling on its own, making a ‘come here’ gesture.
Jakub remembered seeing Witas’s clericism in the basement of the guardship headquarters, where he’d made a deal with his demon contact from the Blacktyde.
“The demon, whatshisname…he said it’d tell us when we were near to where the boy died.”
Witas’s cheeks had turned white. “This can’t be right.”
Near the door, Jakob saw movement in the shop window. He couldn’t see who it was, but he guessed it was Archibald.
He ducked down, and Witas did the same. Out of view, Jakub looked at the finger again. It was pointing now, and when he followed its direction, he saw a discoloured patch of stone in Archibald’s yard.
“Archibald? Really?” he whispered.
Witas shook his head. “Got to be a mistake. Pankratz is messing with me, that’s how Blacktyde demons get their kicks. It’s a problem of being a black cleric versus a white one – at least you can trust divine powers to do what they promise.”
“I know Archie is your friend, but I’m not going in there until we look around here.”
“Whatever it is, assuming it ain’t the demon getting his kicks, Archibald doesn’t know about it. He fixes wind-up ducks, for god’s sake.”
“Does he collect coins?”
Witas shook his head. “Oh no. don’t go down that street. The guy in the Last Rites was taller than an elm tree.”
“We already agreed there could be more than two of them.”
“I’ve known Archibald since I was a kid. When I was at the academy, a bunch of used to go to Dispolis on weekends, and we’d always come here. He used to sell-”
“He used to sell artificed joke stuff. I know, Witas, because I came here too. The guy went out of his way to put stuff on his shelf that academy kids would want to buy. Not just the jokes; he sold vials, mana-rings, spell-reference books.”