by J. Hepburn
He does not realise until he has finished speaking what he has done, but by now he has experience enough at concealing his reactions from Kalle, and the horror chilling the blood in his veins does not show itself upon his face, which in any case is half-hidden by his tankard as he takes a swig.
Luckily, Kalle is also drinking. Zerris is under no illusion that he could make any gesture or any expression that Kalle would miss, but Kalle does not seem to have thought anything of it. Boldness, Zerris reminds himself.
"Blast it!" Kalle says. "I was sure there was more in this tankard. How are you placed, Zerris?"
Zerris, feeling sober after the shock of his mistake, glances into his tankard only to see the bottom staring back at him. He stares at it in such amazement he says nothing.
"I'll get us a flagon," Kalle announces, leaping to his feet.
Zerris lets him go without a word, feeling a flash of admiration mix with his wary caution as he watches the fluid way Kalle moves from sitting to standing. Every time he gets his thoughts back together and on focus, Kalle says or does something that causes them to scatter. He is almost paying Zerris the same attention he paid Tiglis.
Zerris starts silently cursing himself with an intensity and fluency he rarely employs for his most bitter enemies.
He feels an urge to hide his head in his hands, but he is too aware, all the time, of the image he needs to present to anyone who might so much as glance in his direction.
Of course he can't concentrate. Of course Kalle keeps distracting him.
He interrupts his mental self-recrimination to acknowledge the bitter thought that it has been far too long since Alia ventured into Molos. He closes his eyes for a second to steel himself against the moment Kalle returns to the table.
He has been able to manage his emotions for too long to let them sabotage him now. When he created Tiglis to be his true self, he gave her all his emotions, passions, and joys. Becoming Tiglis is not just a relief now, it is a release. He can lock up everything except anger and logic until he is safe to be herself again. But now they're leaking out.
He cannot shake the feeling that Kalle is interested in Zerris, as well as Tiglis.
No part of Molos, from Saradakh to the merchants to the guards who march out of the fortress, has any time for men whose interest does not lie in women, or in being themselves men. Zerris is doubly cursed and doubly threatened, but is not without experience. There are ways for rich men to gain the company of boys, and for boys to make themselves available. For one such as Zerris, with his experience, the risk is no worse than any other part of his life, and quite profitable.
Hence, there is Alia.
Yes, Zerris has experience at being desired, but Kalle is not easy to read. Or, rather, he seems easy to read but is so changeable that nothing seems trustworthy.
As Kalle returns to the table holding a large flagon, Zerris has the sudden idea that Kalle might be faking desire simply to put Zerris off-balance.
The thought brings him no stability at all, but his mind seems sharper, and more focused, now that he understands at least partly why he was so unsettled.
Kalle leans forward to fill Zerris's tankard with a courteous flourish, then fills his own, then takes a swig, all the time using his right hand, his left still hovering near a knife. Even now, he is expecting danger.
Zerris smiles in thanks, salutes Kalle with his tankard, and drinks.
He is not even flustered when Kalle leans forward abruptly, eyes bright, and asks, "What's the best prize in this city?"
"Prize?" Zerris asks. Is Kalle asking innocently, or does he know about the Egg?
"For any enterprising thief. There must be something in this city that is a prize bigger than any other."
Zerris fights a brief internal debate between innocent honesty and confrontation. "Any such prize would surely have many eyes upon it," he says. "Possibly a plan already in motion."
Kalle's grin brightens. "Ah! So that fat merchant—what was his name? Gabrio?—has just this prize, and has it secure behind a lock that not even abnormal skill can open?"
Zerris lets his anger show. "Remember your promise to Orianna, Kalle."
Kalle raises a hand—only the one—in a placating gesture. "Oh, I have not forgotten it, and I will honour it. I have hardly time to plan such an acquisition myself, have I? Do I not need to leave Molos before two nights hence? I wish Orianna luck. But I begin to understand your desire to ensure this key is returned to her. So tell me: What is this item, and how great is its value?"
Zerris glares at Kalle, who waits serenely for his reply.
"Its value is so great there is no way to sell it without an offer first," Zerris says in a voice pitched low enough to barely reach Kalle's ears.
"And Orianna—or you and she combined, more like—have such an offer, and therefore a contract," Kalle deduces. He leans forward again, to refill Zerris's tankard.
Zerris blinks in shock to realise it needed filling.
"So what is this thing to be found with the key I took from under Orianna's exceedingly pretty nose?" Kalle asks.
"Oh? Did you see her face, then?"
"Such a one could not have anything but an exceedingly pretty nose," Kalle replies, unruffled. He spits in his palm again. "I give you my word—again—that I will not take it from you, or your associates, or anyone else, but will leave the contract and the key to Orianna once I meet her." He holds his hand out. "Thieving is merely something I do to pass the time and make life more interesting."
Zerris glares at Kalle for several heartbeats, then sighs, spits, and shakes.
"The Egg of Valmong," he says grudgingly.
"An egg?" Kalle asks, incredulous.
"The Egg!" Zerris hisses in a voice that will carry to Kalle's ears and no farther. "It's the largest opal ever discovered, carved into the shape of an egg and inlaid with golden text so fine it must be read with a magnifying glass. Buying it nearly bankrupted Gabrio, but its fame has helped return his fortune many times over. He displays it to guests in a locked glass cabinet, but keeps it in a vault at all other times. It must be the most secure gem in the whole city, and there is more to its recovery than just the key itself."
"It is a most unusual key," Kalle muses.
Zerris's fingers itch, no matter that the key is not present. "It fits a most unusual lock."
"To which you have the secret?" Kalle asks, his whole face sly.
Zerris simply returns Kalle's look.
Kalle chuckles. "So, what is the rest of the plan? I can only imagine Gabrio had the Egg on display to his guests the other night. Taking it would have required rare skill!"
"I do not imagine such skill exists," Zerris says. "No, there is a second part to the plan, but it did not include Gabrio knowing his key has been taken." He says the last pointedly but not angrily, as Tiglis might, more so than Zerris. The thought might have given Zerris pause, but instead it only makes him feel more confident. He recognises it, and puts it aside. He is Zerris now, and must be wholly so.
Kalle looks, for possibly the very first time that Zerris has seen, chastened. "Orianna was to take a casting, then? Of course, I can see it might cause difficulties if Gabrio knew an attempt was to be made."
Zerris says nothing, only because it is the only way to stop an outburst that would attract far too much public attention.
"You will have to be bold enough to take him by surprise," Kalle declares.
Zerris's anger swings back to disbelief. "You mean strike against a heavily guarded, forewarned house?"
"Why not?" Kalle asks. "If entry can be found at all, someone of our skill could find wherever the Egg is being guarded. I could ensure the silence of any guards present, at least for long enough... A child could do it!"
Zerris bursts into unintended laughter that he muffles immediately.
The atmosphere in the Scarlet Scorpion, always uneasy, becomes unpleasant. Several sullen glares come their way.
"That may have been unfortunate," Kalle
says, head still but eyes swivelling.
Zerris is already checking their escapes as he shifts in his chair to make a fast exit easier. "There is a back way," he says softly, "but it must be taken at a run, with no delaying or uncertainty."
"If you lead, I can follow," Kalle says, as softly.
Two large men saunter towards them. Kalle, turning in his chair to watch their approach, gives himself two good lines of escape.
"I hear someone wants to be kept informed where you are, Zerris," one of the men says. "In case you don't make good on your debt."
Zerris glares up at him. "You're Kedar's man, Safu," he says. "What do you care what Melech wants?" He does not really need to ask. Any loyal follower of Kedar would not be in the Scorpion.
Safu glares back at him. "Not always Kedar's man, little flea."
Zerris's eyes become hard as diamonds. Before he can say anything, Kalle casually asks, "Does Kedar know you freelance?"
Both newcomers turn on him. "Keep your mouth shut, boy," the second man says, his voice raspy.
Zerris, watching Safu's drunken expression shift towards aggression, acts first. He slams his tankard into Safu's groin and the top of his forehead into Safu's chin. He jams Safu's knife hand with his left hand while drawing his own knife, but Safu collapses limply to the ground with no further assistance.
Safu's friend collapses with blood spurting from his neck. Kalle, still holding his tankard in his left hand, flicks blood off the knife in his right.
Every man there in desert robes surges to his feet, knives in hand. Every man in city dress leaps to Zerris's defence, not caring who he is or what he has just done.
The Scarlet Scorpion, always simmering on the edge of violence, erupts.
One glimpse convinces Zerris he is not going to reach the front door. "Follow!" he snaps as he bolts.
He sprints towards the bar, hurdling it too quickly for the heavily scarred barman to swing his wooden club in time.
Zerris, resident of Molos and well known in Saradakh, is desperate to avoid ever hurting any barman or tavern-keeper. Behind him, he hears the familiar thud of a wooden tankard against a face, a pained and furious curse from the barman, and Kalle's light feet following him without slowing down.
He goes through the kitchens too quickly to be recognised by the cook or her assistant, but hears Kalle still behind him.
The Scorpion's back door slams open as Zerris hits it, letting him into a grimy alleyway stinking with human refuse.
Zerris uses one leg and both arms to brace his impact with the opposite wall, the ground too uncertain to rely upon, then is off with renewed speed, putting his feet to ground in a determined sprint. He hears light feet behind him but does not even spare the energy to be grateful Kalle has managed to follow him.
At the end of the alleyway, Zerris turns right, arresting his headlong flight only barely in time to turn the corner, and fending himself off another wall with both hands. Kalle follows him.
By the next corner, Kalle's footsteps are slightly farther back. Zerris leads Kalle into Kedar's territory then back out, as distant angry shouts behind them confirm that yes, there are men prepared to chase simply because someone has run from a fight.
Zerris manages to pull ahead almost enough for Kalle to miss a turn, then slows so his feet will be silent.
Kalle, following his example, does not catch up until they have turned seven more corners and are comfortably back into Melech's territory, far enough from the border that anyone rushing to the commotion will be behind them.
"By all the Gods!" Kalle gasps, his hands on his knees as he fights for breath. "You are quick on your feet! Light on your feet I knew, but by the Gods you are quick!"
Zerris is himself struggling too hard for breath to gloat, but he is standing upright and knows he could run farther should the need arise.
Both men fall silent as they listen for any sign of pursuit, but can detect nothing.
Slowly, Kalle straightens.
He gives one short bark of laughter, then slaps Zerris on the back. "That is the most fun I have had since landing in Molos! By the Gods, Zerris, you..."
Zerris launches himself at Kalle with words piling up so thickly in his throat they choke him, and the only sound he makes is a hoarse croak.
They go over in the street, landing heavily, but with Kalle twisting enough to slow their descent and take the impact well.
Zerris tries to get a fist to Kalle's face, or throat, or anywhere, but despite being on top, he finds he can do nothing.
"Steady!" Kalle says. "I am all for a tumble, but we are not safe yet!"
"You have just ruined me in Molos!" Zerris says, struggling to keep his voice below a howl. "You had already put me in Melech's debt, and after tonight, he will want my blood as well as yours! If that were not enough, Kedar will demand his own justice!"
Kalle manages to throw Zerris off him. Zerris is back on his feet with a mongoose's speed, but Kalle is even quicker.
"Then don't throw away the rest of your life here and now!" Kalle says, hands raised as Zerris advances towards him with knife in hand. "Killing me may seem like a good way to pay your debts, but I assure you, you will not be able to manage it, and I would prefer not to have to kill you in defence."
Zerris controls himself with a mighty internal effort and stops advancing, but does not sheathe his knife yet.
"We did not get value for our drinks," Kalle says. "Let me make it up to you. Circumstances change, and we must adapt or be swept away like chaff. Come back to my lodging—I have wine from the south, and we can discuss finishing your contract for this Egg."
Zerris returns to disbelief, but, as nonsensical as it is, Kalle's suggestion is the only path he can see with light upon it. He sheathes his knife grudgingly. "Very well," he says, fighting to keep bitterness and rage both from his voice and not caring that he does not entirely succeed. "Where are your lodgings?"
Kalle taps his nose with one finger. "A little way away. Are you still able to run?"
"Better than you," Zerris says.
Kalle barks with laughter again, then sets off at a near sprint that Zerris matches easily.
Plans, Once Proposed, Must Be Made
Kalle leads Zerris across the city at a steady but not always rapid pace towards the Artisans' Quarter. They stay in darker streets and avoid people, but make good progress.
With Zerris grimly satisfied in his deductions, they end up behind a warehouse where carpenters gather.
They stop in front of a wall. Kalle gives Zerris another fierce grin. "You can climb, can't you?"
Without waiting for an answer, he is up the wall faster than a cat. Zerris is stunned to discover he can barely match Kalle's speed or prowess up the stonework.
The other side is a mess of abandoned building rubble and dust, with a few hardy desert plants eking out an existence away from goats and gardeners. In the middle of this wild space is what had once been a shed.
"They must have forgotten about this," Kalle says. "So I took it."
Zerris says nothing, but inside seethes with a mixture of satisfaction that he would soon have found this, and irritation that he had not done so already. But such a space in the Artisans' Quarter! This, he was not expecting. Artisans are usually too good at utilising their own rubbish, and have too good an eye to just abandon so much space.
How can Kalle have so much luck? He must have been blessed by Demons.
Kalle ushers Zerris inside with another of his elaborate bows. The outside of the building is crumbling stone and warped wood. Inside, Kalle had cleaned the walls before covering every gap with rugs, building a cosy, comfortable nest.
Zerris sits when instructed, feeling his head swirl. He expected to find Kalle in a rat-infested attic space. More accurately, he hoped to find Kalle in a rat-infested attic space.
But then, he expected to hate Kalle when meeting him as Zerris. He did not expect to find himself not just becoming friends in the face of all the mess that Kalle had
made, but standing side by side with Kalle in a fight, instead of matched against him.
He did not expect to find himself having to constantly contain his attraction for Kalle.
There is a brass coffee set on a bench made from a broken slab of marble, with coffee and wine glasses even Gabrio would prize.
Kalle pulls some rugs aside to reveal a small hiding space containing, at the very least, an amphora of wine.
"Now, let us be honest with each other," Kalle says as he prises out the amphora's cork, "although the deception has been great fun. Are you more comfortable as Zerris, or Tiglis? I'm guessing that Orianna is only for special occasions, but you seem more comfortable as Tiglis. More relaxed. More assured in yourself."
Zerris blinks slowly while he asks his ears to repeat what they heard. Then he strikes at Kalle like a snake, steel glinting in his hand.
Kalle leaps out of the way like a mongoose.
Zerris turns to follow him nearly as quickly, his knife flicking out.
His hand is knocked aside. He cuts again, his face rigid with anger, teeth bared but fighting in absolute silence apart from the movements of his body and the hissing of his breath.
Kalle's face is blank as he defends himself with short, choppy gestures, his hands open to catch or knock aside Zerris's limbs.
He doesn't fight back as he dodges backwards or sideways without tripping over any of the rugs scattered about the floor. The shed is so small he has to lead Zerris in a circle.
Zerris realises he has been doing all the attacking, but even with a knife, he hasn't been able to make contact. In a long knife fight, everybody gets injured. Even the winner bleeds. How in the seven Hells is this bastard not even bleeding, with no weapon of his own? Is he wearing a mesh undershirt? Does he have metal hands?
Zerris lunges forward recklessly, letting his hand get slapped aside as he brings his knee up, trying to knock Kalle over.
His body sails forward into empty air as his groin meets Kalle's knee.
He folds up so at least he rolls when he hits the ground. Then he has to lie still for a while.