“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“But that’s all that matters,” Tarlak said, walking unsteadily about his tower, inspecting the damage both he and Nicholas had caused. “The Bloodcrafts are a fabled bunch of mercenaries from Mordeina. They’re ruthless, powerful, and apparently have terrible taste in fashion.”
“You mean there’s more than one like him?” Brug asked, giving the corpse another kick for good measure.
Delysia kissed Haern on the cheek, then went to her brother. When she tried to inspect the growing bruise on his forehead, he gently pushed her away.
“I’ll be fine,” he said. “And yeah, there’s more than one. If what I’ve heard is true, there’s always five.”
Haern scooted until he could sit with his back against a wall. Leaning his head against the cold stone, he watched as Tarlak knelt beside the corpse and inspected the sword. With a frown he grabbed the crystal in the hilt and carefully twisted it until it broke free. When he lifted it up, Haern saw that it had turned gray.
“A damn expensive enchantment,” Tarlak said, peering at it. “Banishes all magic in the area, at least until the crystal’s thoroughly filled.” He looked at Nicholas’s body, and after a thought, pulled off the cloak, then removed his shirt as well. Tattooed all across the body were hundreds of runes, some still shining a soft blue, others faded down to just black ink. Noticing this, Tarlak grunted.
“Let’s see, strength, more strength, speed, a few blade enchantments, here’s one for balance… these tattoos were impervious to the effects of the crystal. He banished all magic about him except for his own.”
“Clever,” said Haern.
“I’d call it cheating,” Tarlak muttered.
“Will the others be like him?” Delysia asked, cleaning Haern’s blood from her hands.
“I don’t know,” Tarlak said. “But someone wants us dead, and they brought out the best. We need to be careful. If there’s more Bloodcrafts here, we’re all in severe danger.”
“If they’re here, why aren’t they… well, here?” asked Brug.
“Again, I don’t know.” Tarlak chuckled. “But we might not be their only target in Veldaren. If so, I feel bad for the other sorry bastards they’re after.”
“Wonderful,” Haern said, closing his eyes. It suddenly felt like a perfect time for him to sleep, his chest pain ebbing away and his headaches returning. The last thing he wanted to think about was more frighteningly powerful men running about the city, not to mention whoever had brought the expensive mercenaries to bear against them.
“Just… wonderful.”
CHAPTER
22
Half a mile outside the walls of Veldaren, Grayson inspected his three wagons, particularly their cargo. All around him were gathered his fellow Suns, thirty in all. Each man and woman sported at least two earrings in their left ear, for he would consider no less for such an important job. The first few days would be crucial, and not a time for amateurs.
“Not sure I’ve ever seen so much leaf in one place,” said Boggs, the hefty man in charge of operations in Grayson’s absence. He scratched at the dark stubble on his face, then sniffed. “How much we charging per pinch? Four silver? Five?”
“One,” Grayson said as he hopped down from the last of the wagons, inspection complete. Several others scoffed at that, and Boggs shook his head.
“That’s insane. This trip to Veldaren will cost us a fortune.”
“One silver on the first day,” Grayson repeated. “Two after that, until all of the crimleaf is gone. The Trifect won’t be able to match, and neither will any of the guilds. We’re spending money now to make it all back later. Consider it an investment.”
“Don’t understand why we need to go through all this,” said Pierce. He was a thinner man, and often complained, but his ear was full of rings and he’d proven himself an adept killer for the Suns. “You hear what they say back home? Every guild here’s weak, full of pussies too frightened to go after a coin purse lying on open ground. If we want territory, I say we just take it, and anyone who gives a shit can die.”
“I give a shit, Pierce,” Grayson said, grinning at the man. “You gonna kill me?”
“Only if I get to take your earrings afterward.”
Grayson laughed. “We’ll have our share of killing, and pay no attention to the rumors you’ve heard. Even with their balls chopped off, the thieves here are dangerous. But we’ll be better, won’t we? We’ll kill everyone we need to kill, but for now, no reason to fight. When the money starts running dry, the underworld will turn to us. It’s only a matter of time before the other guilds crumble. Now ready up the oxen. I want us at the gates before the midday trade is done.”
“Get ’em harnessed!” Boggs shouted.
The thieves scattered about, gathering the few supplies they’d broken out for their rest and preparing the wagons to move. Grayson hopped into the front-most wagon and leaned back in the seat, hands behind his head.
“Think it’ll be easy getting through the gates?” Boggs asked, taking a seat beside him and grabbing the reins. Grayson fingered the medallion in his pocket, then shrugged.
“We’ll find out,” he said. “No reason to panic until then.”
“Never a bad thing to be prepared,” Tracy said, hopping up to join them as the wagon shuddered into motion. Tracy was Boggs’s half sister, and far more pleasant to look at. Her brown hair was tied into a tight ponytail, clearly showing her seven dangling earrings as she took a seat behind them.
“If the guards give us trouble, just show them your tits,” Grayson said.
“And if they’re not into that?” she asked, flashing him a wide smile.
“Then I’ll show them my dick. Hardly complicated.”
Boggs let out a laugh, and Grayson shot him a look. “Care to share, Boggs?”
“Don’t you see?” Boggs asked. “We’re the most dangerous men Veldaren’s seen in ages, and they’re going to let us through their walls because of some tits and a dick?”
“Don’t forget a little help from on high,” Grayson said, pulling the medallion from his pocket by its bronze chain.
“Just seems shameful,” Boggs said. “Shouldn’t we be climbing over walls at night or something?”
Tracy kicked him in the back with her heel, the hilt of the knife hidden in her boot jamming him hard in the kidney. “Just shut up and steer.”
“Yes, Sister.”
They followed the road through the shallow hills, enduring the jostle of the wagons. Grayson lay back so his eyes were free of the sun and did his best to relax. Getting through the gates would be trickier than he let on, and a crucial part of their plan. In the nation of Neldar, the Trifect had arranged so that only they were allowed to grow and sell crimleaf, the drug of choice for the lowborn. This had allowed the price to rise by gross amounts, yet in the west, where the Trifect’s influence was far lesser, the simple leaf could be grown in abundance by any farmer regardless of station.
So the guilds in Veldaren had taken the natural course: they bought absurd amounts of crimleaf from the west and smuggled it east. They then undercut the Trifect’s sellers, but only a little, given the trouble they went to to get it past the guards and walls. It was that easy coin that fueled much of the thief guilds, Grayson knew. It was that easy coin he wanted to disrupt, if not permanently take away.
But that meant getting into the city with their wagons untouched.
“Remember,” Grayson said, sitting up as the walls of Veldaren grew closer. “You keep your mouths shut and let me do the talking. Don’t want anything to draw attention to us.”
“Not our first time smuggling,” Tracy said.
“And all things considered, I’d prefer it not to be our last, either,” Boggs said. “Guards are crawling everywhere. Well, Grayson, I hope you’re right about your little helper on high.”
Grayson grunted. He hoped he was right as well.
The wagons approached the west side entrance,
the portcullis open for the daytime traffic. Boggs stopped the lead wagon at the behest of two guards who approached with hands raised.
“Been here before?” asked the first, an older man with his gray hair mostly hidden behind his helmet.
“Can’t say we have,” Grayson said.
“Need you to register your cargo, as well as pay a fee if you’re not with the merchant’s guild. I’ll let you know the tariff once I look it over.”
“Not sure that’s necessary,” Grayson said, leaning closer to the guard. He lifted the medallion, given to him by Laerek to ensure entrance to the city without incident. The guard’s eyes widened upon his seeing it, and he glanced about.
“Back to your post,” he said to the other. The man looked unsure, but did as he was told.
“You’re asking a lot,” the guard said when they were alone. “We allow the temple to bring in supplies as necessary, but three wagons? And you’ve yet to tell me what you carry.”
“What I carry is of no concern to you,” Grayson said, reaching into his pocket. He’d worried the priests of Karak might not have enough sway to get his men and crimleaf through. But of course power wasn’t the only way to get what one wanted in the world…
“This, however,” he said, tossing a bag of coins at the guard, who caught it. “I think this is what will most interest you.”
The guard opened it, saw the gold within. The yellow sparkled in his eyes. Closing it, he pocketed the bag and then nodded.
“I’ll still need to inspect it,” he said. Grayson motioned to the others so they knew to leave him be. The guard climbed into the back of each wagon, giving only cursory glances and not once opening a crate. After the third, he returned to the front.
“Your tariff plus merchant fee is seventeen silver,” he said. “Going rate for such low-quality wheat.”
“You heard him,” Grayson told Boggs. “Pay the man for our wheat.”
Boggs grumbled but pulled the demanded coin from his own pocket. That done, the guard waved them through, then went back to his station to hand over the tariff.
“So much for your help from on high,” Tracy said as the wagons rolled forward.
“We’re through, and untouched,” Grayson said. “That we had to grease the wheels a little shouldn’t be much of a surprise.”
“Just preferred we used your grease instead of mine,” Boggs muttered. “Where to now?”
“Head south. I already have a contact there waiting. Once we’ve claimed the hearts of the city’s most poor and desperate, and established our territory, we’ll worry about moving north.”
The quality of the roads steadily deteriorated as they traveled deeper into the southern district, the neglect apparent with potholes and even gaps where the brick had been covered with long swaths of dirt in halfhearted attempts to smooth out the passage. The wagons slowed, and the jostling increased. Grayson saw Pierce hop out of the second wagon and come running. At first he thought him just tired of the rough ride, but that turned out not to be the case.
“We got a tail,” he said, walking beside them.
“To be expected,” Grayson said. “I doubt too many merchants travel this far south. Did you catch which guild?”
“I don’t know them well enough to say for sure,” Pierce said, shaking his head.
“Just keep your eyes open,” Grayson said. “And don’t let them know we see them.”
Pierce nodded. “They’re running ’long the rooftops,” he said. “Watch them if you can.”
He returned to the second wagon. Grayson leaned back, imitating his relaxed position of earlier. As he did, he looked to the rooftops, trying to see out of the corners of his eyes who shadowed them.
“Any of them a threat?” Boggs asked as they shifted to one side to avoid a nasty stretch of mud.
“Not really,” Grayson said. “Spider Guild’s in ruins, which just leaves the Ash Guild as any real danger. But if that’s who’s tailing us, well, they might have a tail of their own soon…”
They continued until they reached their contact, one of the few merchants still maintaining a presence in the far south of Veldaren. He was an overweight man, sweaty and with his shirt overstuffed with his own fat.
“Afternoon, Billick,” Grayson said as they stopped the wagons in front of his shop.
“I assume no guards followed you?” Billick asked, furtive eyes bouncing among the wagons.
“Guards?” Grayson asked, hopping down from his seat at the front. “No, guards are the least of our problems, my friend. Where can we store our merchandise?”
“Space for everything,” Billick said, gesturing toward the open door to his shop. “Carry it in, and put it in the back room.”
“You heard him!” Grayson roared, amused at how the fat man jumped at the volume of his voice. One by one the wagons were unloaded, his Suns lugging the crates into their place of storage for their time in Veldaren.
“I won’t be handling any of it,” Billick said as he watched. “You know that, right? Don’t tell me what it is, and don’t make me sell it. I’ll let you get it in, and I’ll let any of you Suns get it out. Just make sure the pay is on time.”
“Good man,” Grayson said, smirking at him. “So brave, so noble. You’ll get your pay. Just keep an eye on our wares. I don’t take kindly to those who help themselves to what isn’t theirs.”
Billick got the message, and he nodded fast enough to make the fat of his neck bounce.
“I have business elsewhere,” he said. “Shop’s all yours for the rest of the day. I won’t come back until morning.”
Once the crates were stored, Grayson gathered his men and began handing out smaller bags.
“One silver per pinch,” he told them. “Stay close, and stay together. No one’s sold crimleaf this cheap for decades, so let them come to you. And I’ll drag back to Mordeina in a bag anyone I hear of charging more and pocketing the top.”
The men began to scatter, each eager for his first step in taking over the streets of Veldaren.
“Pierce,” Grayson called out, stopping the man.
“Yeah?”
Grayson grinned at him.
“Go find someone in a different guild, don’t care which, or how old they are. Just find someone, and then gut them. I want to send a message that we aren’t to be messed with, understood? So make it brutal.”
Pierce’s grin was from ear to ear.
“That I can do,” he said, twirling a dagger in his hand.
“Good. Go get to work.”
As the rest scattered in groups, only Boggs and Tracy remained behind.
“Not many places to stash three wagons,” Boggs said, climbing up into the first.
“We aren’t leaving for a while,” Grayson said, glancing up and down the street. “Should be an inn nearby desperate enough for coin to let us hole up all three for a few months. At worst we can sell them at market.”
“Come on, lovely sister,” Boggs said as Tracy climbed up to join him. “Let us find some clean, comfortable beds for our companions.”
Tracy snickered. “So not too much lice in them, then?”
Before they could move out, the back two wheels of the wagon exploded, and with a loud bang the wood hit the ground. The oxen jostled, startled, but Boggs kept them calm.
“The fuck?” Boggs asked, looking back. Tracy hopped down to take a look, but Grayson could already tell what had happened. Smoke rose from a magical fire that burned out into nothing. Grayson drew his swords as a man in a gray cloth mask approached from down the street. Ash swirled about his face, hiding his dark features. Grayson recognized him from the failed attack on Alyssa’s mansion. He gripped his swords tighter.
“Grayson…” Tracy said, also seeing him, but Grayson raised a hand, gesturing for her to remain calm.
“Well, now,” Grayson said, approaching the intruder in a way that positioned him nearer to the first wagon, and therefore cover. “This is a surprise.”
“Perhaps,” said Death
mask. “But your arrival isn’t. I’ve been expecting one of the guilds from Mordeina to arrive for years. Honestly, your delay proved irritating.”
Grayson let out a laugh.
“No more than your interference. What is it you want? If you’re here to protect your territory, you might as well give up now. Our money, leaf, and coin are pouring in from Mordeina like a flood. You won’t stop us.”
“I’ve stopped you twice already,” Deathmask said, crossing his arms. “I stopped you when you sent mobs and thieves after Alyssa Gemcroft’s mansion. Or have you already forgotten the fun my guild had on that night?”
Of course Grayson hadn’t, but he kept his smile going, kept hoping whatever conflict he faced he could resolve without a fight.
“You were an inconvenience, nothing more,” Grayson said. “But I only count one time you’ve stopped us.”
The strange wizard gestured to the broken wagon.
“I consider that number two. But the biggest one that matters is number three… but I don’t mean to stop you. Not unless I must. Your Sun Guild may think it can move into Veldaren easily, but they’ll encounter resistance soon enough, and not just from me. The guilds won’t go down quietly, not unless things change. Not unless you have my help.”
“I can’t decide if you underestimate us, or overestimate your own worth,” Grayson said. “Speak plainly, wizard.”
“I am no wizard,” Deathmask said, and Grayson was surprised to see the anger glowing in those mismatched eyes. “And my offer is plain enough, even for you. Let me help your guild take over the city, every single brick and stone. In return you split your profits with me, and give me a portion of the city to remain under my direct control.”
“Is that so?” Grayson asked, honestly intrigued. “How much of a split would that be?”
“What else would a split be? Half.”
Grayson’s curiosity died amid his laughter. “Do you think I need you so badly that I’d sacrifice a fortune for a victory I’m already certain to win? Show some intelligence. Besides, my master won’t share power, not with the likes of you. He’s decided to make Veldaren his, and nothing will prevent it.”
A Dance of Shadows Page 23