by James Evans
She stared at him, mouth open.
“You don’t want much,” she said, shaking her head in amazement, “but I’ll ask around. I think the house behind this one might be free. It’s certainly big enough - used to belong to a successful merchant, before his ship sank - would that do?”
“Sounds perfect. Arrange that tomorrow and I’ll move in with the twins. We’ll need servants, a housekeeper, butler, that sort of thing.”
“I’m not your bloody slave,” she said, getting angry now and planting her fists on her hips, “and I’ve got my own business to run. How do you expect me to arrange all that, just magic a bunch of servants out of thin air?”
Marrinek grinned at her, completely ignoring her anger.
“You’re a resourceful woman, use those resources.”
He fished around in his pack and took out a roll of silver coins, part of the wealth he had liberated from Hitton. He tossed the roll to Madame Duval.
“That should cover expenses for a while. I have more if you need it,” he hefted the backpack, “but I wonder,” he stopped, thinking, “actually, just take the lot.”
He passed over the rest of the silver and the gem stones he had taken from Hitton’s stash, keeping in his bag only the rings and charms.
“That ought to be enough to buy the bloody place. Spend what you need but please, get a decent bargain.”
He looked at her, then reached out to tilt her head back so that he could look into her eyes.
“I can trust you, can’t I?”
She nodded, not wanting to speak while she held so much money in her hands.
“Good. Use the silver, hold the gems. Fencing them today might be risky and I’ve got an idea that some of them might come in handy.”
He adjusted his near empty pack so that it hung almost flat against his back then he flung his cloak around his shoulders and picked up Bone Dancer.
“That staff,” said Madame Duval, a tinge of horror in her voice, “there’s something odd, something wrong, about it. How do you stand it?”
“Bone Dancer?” said Marrinek, tilting the staff toward Madame Duval, “Yes, you’re right. Want to hold it?”
He offered her the staff but she backed quickly away and Marrinek grinned, a strange expression on his face.
“If it helps, think of it as a magic staff, dark and dangerous, angry and unforgiving. It won’t bite, it just feels to you like it might.”
He grinned again and rested Bone Dancer on his shoulder.
“I’ll be back in the morning. Have fun. And don’t worry about the Watch, I’ll deal with them tomorrow.”
Marrinek opened the front door and stepped out into the warm night air. There were fewer people on the streets now but the area still bustled. The doors along the street were open and brightly lit, welcoming customers and throwing little patches of golden light into the dark. Only Madame Duval’s door was closed but even as Marrinek watched from across the street it opened and Elaine stepped out, ready to greet patrons.
He turned and headed down the street, away from the bright lights and towards The Jewel. Lost in his plans, he didn’t notice the men following him as he entered an alleyway. It was darker here and the ground was shadowed so he didn’t see the step that caught his foot and sent him stumbling suddenly forward into the deeper dark of the alley. And it was just luck that he stumbled out of the way of the club, which caught him on the shoulder instead of the back of the head.
Marrinek yelped, staggering forward and turning to try to get his attacker in view. He backed away down the alley but all he could see was the outline of dark shape. Several dark shapes with stealthy feet. He swung Bone Dancer one-handed as the first dark shape fell toward him. Something wooden cracked against the staff and he backed away, off-balance, toes aching from catching the step, hand ringing from the half-caught blow. Another shadow moved quickly forwards. Something else moved, half-seen, swung rapidly towards his head and all he could do was fall backwards out of the way.
He landed on his arse and pushed backward with his heels, still holding Bone Dancer in one hand. He could see them now, dark figures dimly outlined against the clear night sky. The lead figure, still swinging his club, with two more following dark shapes just behind. He scrabbled further back, Bone Dancer waving in front of him like a shield.
“What do you want?” he shouted, his shoulder aching where the first blow had landed.
“Captain wants a word so you’re coming with us, mate,” said the lead figure. The voice was recently familiar.
“Snitz?” said Marrinek, peering into the gloom. His back hit a wall and he pushed himself quickly to his feet, Bone Dancer held out before him like a talisman.
“That’s right,” said Snitz, “but it’s Sergeant Snitz to you. Are you coming quietly, or do we get to break some bones? Captain won’t care either way.” Marrinek, his eyes finally adjusting a little to the dark, could see Snitz hefting his club and behind him his two fellow watchmen, both with swords drawn.
“I think quietly,” said Marrinek, rolling his shoulder to test for damage, “although, and for this I apologise, not right now.” He dropped Bone Dancer until her head was pointing at Snitz’s chest and flicked the control sliders to the lowest intensity setting. The shock wave knocked Snitz backward and he backed into his companions.
“What the hell…?” he said. He rubbed at his aching chest, confused, then Marrinek hit him with a stronger shock, knocking him to the floor of the alley where he collided with his colleague, taking him down in a clatter of falling weapons. The other watchman rushed forward, swinging his sword. Marrinek switched his grip on Bone Dancer and stepped away as the watchman attacked. He leant back to let the sword whistle harmlessly through the air in front of him then surged forward, smashing Bone Dancer into the watchman’s arm. There was a sharp crack of breaking bone and the sword fell to the floor from the man’s suddenly useless fingers. As he drew breath to scream Marrinek flipped his staff again and took the man’s legs out from under him, dumping him onto the ground next to his colleagues. The man yelled as he fell on his broken arm, rolling away to take the weight off it.
Marrinek took a step forward to stand over Snitz as he struggled to push himself upright. He pushed Bone Dancer into Snitz’s chest and forced him back down to the ground so that he lay tangled in the legs of his uninjured companion.
“Don’t follow me, Snitz,” he hissed, leaning forward to put more weight on Bone Dancer. Snitz groaned as he struggled to breath but Marrinek ignored him. He glanced at the other watchman, frozen between his sergeant and his injured colleague, then he turned to look at Snitz again.
“And if I hear that you’ve been anywhere near Madame Duval I shall be violently displeased. Do you understand?” He pushed Snitz again for emphasis.
“Stay out of my business, Snitz,” said Marrinek, then he stood up straight and took Bone Dancer with him. Snitz drew a ragged breath and stared at Marrinek. There was fear and hatred in his eyes but he didn’t try to get up.
Marrinek turned and walked away down the alley.
“This ain’t over, Bay,” said Snitz as loudly as his crushed lungs would allow. But he didn’t follow Marrinek onto the street.
The Jewel was mostly quiet by the time Marrinek reached the back door of the inn. A solitary maid was still tidying up, yawning as she worked, but the last of the day’s guests had left and the common room was empty. Marrinek picked up a candle from the behind the bar then took the stairs one at a time, sending subtle lines of power ahead of him to search for intruders or other assailants. He reached the door to the suite without incident and lifted the latch, entering noiselessly. It was empty and quiet, just as he had left it that morning.
By the light of the candle he packed his possessions and those of the twins, checking that he’d got everything. Once he was happy with the pack he went through to his room, leant Bone Dancer against the door and flopped down on the bed. He stared at the wall for a few minutes, thinking over the events of the day,
then he extinguished the candle and went to sleep.
The early morning sounds of the kitchen coming to life woke Marrinek shortly after dawn the next day. He lay still for a few minutes then he rolled out of bed. There was a jug of water outside the door to the sitting room and he used it to freshen up before changing his shirt. He ran his hands over his beard and peered at his reflection in the water bowl; tired but free, so he was better off than he had been last week.
He picked up his kit, checked that he hadn’t left anything behind, then stuffed his cloak into his pack and threw it over his shoulder. He patted his pockets, grabbed Bone Dancer from its resting place against the wall and stepped out onto the hallway.
Downstairs the kitchen was buzzing as the innkeeper and her staff baked bread, tended the ale, turned the cheese and generally prepared for the day ahead. Marrinek filched a loaf that was cooling on a rack by the door and strode out into the inn’s courtyard, where the stable hands were feeding the animals and tidying up.
Marrinek walked quickly through the waking city, heading for The Narrows and the dubious attractions of Trike’s. He stopped at the window of a small bakery to buy a mug of weak ale and one of the local dishes - a hot roll stuffed with cheese and some sort of white fish - and stood for a few minutes eating his breakfast.
Trike’s was quiet when he arrived, shutters down, doors closed, fires unlit. The streets and alleys of the Narrows were busy with early-morning traders and workmen but the inn itself was strangely subdued, almost as if it were hibernating. Marrinek walked to the back of the building and let himself in through the kitchen. In marked contrast to the bustle of The Jewel, Trike’s kitchen was quiet and dark and empty.
Marrinek wandered around the back rooms of the inn, inspecting the brewery, such as it was, the pantries and the storage rooms. It was clear that Trike’s wasn’t aiming to support travellers or serve discerning diners; it was a gang meeting place serving simple food and a single style of light beer. He grabbed a candle from the common room and headed down the stone stairs from the room behind the kitchen.
In the cellars Marrinek found what he had been hoping for; a locked and guarded door. He set the candle down on a barrel and examined the door. Both lock and guard were charms, the first requiring a matching key, the second a pair of nasty traps similar to the one that Hitton had used on his room door. Marrinek set down his bag and leant Bone Dancer against the wall beside the door, then squatted in front of the first of the two traps.
He used slender tendrils of Flow, carefully directed to investigate the nature of the traps. They were not subtle or even carefully hidden. The first would produce a sudden flame at chest height if the door was opened without being correctly unlocked. The second would send more fire at anyone still eager to enter the room after being singed by the first trap. He widened his search to look for further traps, monitors or devices and was about to begin work disarming the first of the traps when he noticed something suspicious in the ceiling.
He stepped backward, away from the locked door, and focussed on the ceiling itself, using his power to feel his way through the plaster and paint. He found an iron wire running through the ceiling, just under the surface of the plaster, and forming a circle maybe four feet across above the spot where he had stopped to examine the door. Sitting just outside the circle of iron was an even thinner copper wire. The two wires were linked by a large piece of lead installed between the joists of the inn’s floor. Another trap
Marrinek stepped further back and checked carefully for more metals; nothing. He checked again until he was sure that the only charms in the room were the lock and the three traps. He looked again at the third trap, which was unlike anything he had seen before and far more cunning than the two very obvious traps in the wall.
He raised his eyebrows in surprise and not a little admiration when he saw how the three traps worked together. The first two were placed not only to prevent access by untalented burglars but also to present an obvious target that would become the immediate focus of any talented intruder. Focussing power to disable the first two traps would have triggered the third, producing a downward shock that would have killed anyone standing in front of the door. Clever.
Marrinek stepped further away from the door and checked again for hidden metal. When he was sure he was safe he pulled out his dagger and jabbed it into the plaster of the ceiling to make a hole he could fit his hand through, then he pulled out the block of lead, yanked it free from the copper wire and tossed it into the corner of the room. He looked at the copper wire, dangling free from the ceiling, then gave it a sharp tug and pulled it out onto the floor. A small cloud of plaster dust came with it.
He walked back to the door and focussed on the first two traps. They were simple enough devices, both powered by a net of copper and a block of lead. He disabled them swiftly then turned to the lock itself. The easy option would be to use Bone Dancer to destroy the whole lock but the noise would certainly be heard upstairs and, in any case, he rather wanted to leave most of the cellar intact. Instead he placed his hands on the lock and focussed, concentrating until he could see the underlying nature of the materials used in the charm. He searched slowly through the lock until he found the part that would respond to the key, then he pushed and twisted, forcing the lock to operate. It clicked
Marrinek opened his eyes and pulled handle so that the door swung gently open.
“I’m impressed,” said a voice behind Marrinek, “but you could just have asked for the key.”
Marrinek spun around to find Fangfoss standing in the shadows behind him, leaning against the wall.
“How long have you been there?”
“Only just arrived. Saw you open the door, missed the rest, although I can have a guess at what you’ve been up to,” said Fangfoss, gesturing at the ruined ceiling, “I think you’re the first person ever to open the door, let alone get through the doorway.”
Fangfoss stepped forward and pushed the door fully open. His fire charm lit the first few feet of the room.
“I hope it was worth the effort.”
Marrinek grunted and lit a lamp from the shelf inside the store room then looked around. It was a long, low room lined with shelving along both sides. At the near end the top shelves held a few dusty bottles - spirits, by the look of them - and boxes of what appeared to be cigars. Beneath this were small chests of silver coins - a modest fortune but of little interest to Marrinek. Further in, Marrinek was surprised to see shelves of weapons; swords, daggers, a few spears, shields and various bits of armour.
“You’re expecting a fight?”
Fangfoss scratched at his chin through his beard.
“Well, more sort of planning for one. This city has a violent history and I’m a careful man.”
Marrinek grunted again and kept looking until he found the small chests he had been searching for. They were locked but Fangfoss offered him the key without being asked. Inside he found gold and gems. He looked at Fangfoss.
“Is this all of it?”
Fangfoss snorted.
“Of course not. Like I said, I’m a careful man. This is all I keep in the inn but I have other caches and other properties.”
Marrinek nodded.
“Good. I need funds but I actually don’t want to bankrupt you or destroy the gang. I’ll take some of this now and leave the rest for later.”
He picked out some of the smaller gem stones then closed the lid and handed the key back to Fangfoss.
“I’m going to take some of the silver as well, but I expect you can replenish that quite quickly.”
Fangfoss shrugged, aiming for casual disinterest but not really succeeding.
“I’d rather you don’t take anything at all but you’re the boss.”
He was clearly not pleased but Marrinek wasn’t going to lose any sleep over a gangster’s discomfort.
“And if you come through with your side of the bargain it’ll be worth the cost,” he said, trying to find a bright side to being robb
ed blind. He stopped, scratching at his chin again.
“And I suppose I can always take it off your worthless corpse if something happens to you in the meantime,” he added, somewhat more happily than Marrinek would have liked.
Marrinek pushed past Fangfoss back to the entrance of the room. He grabbed a large bag of silver coins and added that to his pack. Behind him Fangfoss sighed.
“Occupational hazard, in my line of work, but getting robbed while you’re in the room is a new experience for me. I wish I’d stayed upstairs.”
Marrinek turned to face him.
“About that. How did you know I was here? There were no monitors, no further traps and the lock wasn’t rigged as an alarm. What did I miss?”
Fangfoss shrugged again.
“Nothing, it was blind luck. I came down to grab some cigars - I have them shipped in from a small farm I own up the coast - and I arrived just as you were doing your lock-picking trick. How did you spot the trap in the ceiling?”
Marrinek raised his eyebrows.
“Luck, eh? Seems we were both lucky today, then. I was about to start disarming the traps in the door when I felt the ripples of the copper pulling power into the lead. Very subtle, that third trap, very nasty. Good bit of work.”
“You felt that?” said Fangfoss, eyes wide, clearly impressed, “How? I’ve never heard of anyone being able to do that, not even the Duke.”
Marrinek settled the pack on his shoulder and shrugged.
“It’s all about strength and training, sensitivity and practice. Trust me when I say that you really don’t want to get on my bad side.”
Fangfoss nodded.
“I’d pretty much worked that out for myself but if you can sense the copper wire pulling power into the lead then I think I’ll just play along with whatever you’ve got planned.”
“Wise man. And speaking of plans, how are things going with the Flank Siders?”
Fangfoss scratched his head.
“Shall we go back upstairs? I could use a drink and something to eat if we’re talking business.”