“It will all be right,” Kam said, taking a seat at the table in front of him. Her face was beautiful, but tired. She held a steaming bowl of stew in her hand and set it down to wipe his tears away with her sleeve. “You’re going to have to be tougher from now on, Brak. The road to healing’s never easy. No more tears.”
“I can’t help it.”
“Then I can’t help you,” she said, taking his chin and looking directly in his eye. “Understand?”
He nodded.
“I’m not a harsh person, Brak. Well, maybe some. But if you cry, I cry. If I cry, Joline cries. Then the girls cry.” She shook her head. “It’s horrible seeing all those crying faces. Just awful, and Joline’s the worst.”
Brak laughed a bit and said, “I know.”
“Tears are for when men come back dead. Be glad you live. There are no friends to entertain you in the grave.”
He nodded.
Kam stuffed some stew in his mouth and rubbed his head.
“I could kill Venir.”
“It’s not his fault. It’s that ogre’s fault. It broke my back,” Brak said, chewing a mouthful. “And I let my guard down.”
She tussled the straw hairs on his head.
“You’re a good boy, Brak. I hate to see this happen to you, but I don’t know that you’ll ever walk again.” She sighed. “You have to be ready for that.”
It was hard to hear. He squeezed his eyes shut.
No more tears. No more tears.
Chapter 17
“Twenty pieces!” Billip said, fuming. “That’s less than half what you paid the last time!” He grabbed the leather sack off the work table. “I can get more in the market.”
“That’s illegal,” the sergeant said. He was a royal soldier. A little soft in the belly, but ordinary. “You can only sell to us, or you get nothing at all.”
Billip looked back at Georgio and Nikkel. Their brows were buckled, and their arms crossed over their chests. They didn’t just go into the Outlands to hunt underlings because they hated them, but also because it paid well. Or it had, until now. They both slowly shook their heads.
“You’ll give us sixty pieces. Gold. One for every eye!” Billip said, banging his finger on the counter.
“Twenty,” the man said, his elongated face frowning. He scratched the thin long hairs on his flaky head. “Not a coin more.”
They were less than a mile from the City of Three’s main border, at a small royal outpost. A small tent city. Lots of soldiers and horses. It was the same one they’d been doing business with the entire year. Same long-faced soldier too. They stood inside a large tent with little more inside than a long table, a few chairs, and a dozen crates of supplies. Three soldiers in chainmail with swords belted on their hips had escorted them in and were still there, hands drifting on and off their hilts.
Billip leaned forward on the table.
“Listen, Cappy, we’ve been doing this quite some time. You hired us, remember? What is with all these changes?”
Cappy leaned forward to look down on Billip and said, “There’s been a change in management. They don’t think it’s fair that our soldiers don’t get the same payment you rogue hunters do.”
“Is that so? Well then, why don’t your soldiers leave the outpost? I bet you’d kill a lot more underlings and probably put a quick end to these wars.” He pushed Cappy back with his finger. The other soldiers inched forward. “It’s pretty risky to hunt underlings when you don’t have an outpost over you. Why don’t you try it sometime, Cappy?”
Cappy stayed the bristling guard with his hand.
“Listen, Billip, just between you and me, because we’ve been doing business for a time?”
Billip nodded.
Cappy said, “They don’t want to use hunters anymore. They want men like you to join the ranks.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Ha!” Billip said. “You chase shadows out there, the few who deign to leave this outpost at all. We’ve seen what’s going on. We’ve offered to scout for you, yet you’ll have none of it. Men, good ones, fall into one death trap after the other. And there’s more of us than them.” He rapped his fist on the table. “The royals should be glad of what we do. At least it’s proof some underlings can die.” He rattled the bag of underling eyes. “As for these, we’ll burn them. That’s what should be done anyway.” He turned and walked away.
“Stop!” Cappy said.
Billip turned.
“I can go as high as twenty five,” Cappy said. He gave a quick nod to his men, who blocked the tent exit. “I suggest you take it.”
Something tickled Billip’s spine.
“Give me forty. That’s half what you used to pay, and you’ll never have to see us again.”
Cappy rubbed his saggy chin and nodded a little. He set a small chest on the table and opened it up. He counted out thirty gold coins and dropped them into a small pouch. He tossed it to Billip.
“Take it,” Cappy said, “and consider that a favor.”
Billip slung his sack of gemstone underling eyes into Cappy’s chest.
“So be it.”
“What did you do that for, Billip? That’s not enough!” Georgio cried.
“Be silent,” Billip said. He shoved Georgio and Nikkel past the guards, through the exit, and didn’t stop until they arrived where the horses waited.
“What’s the hurry?” Georgio said.
“Just get on your horse and be quiet,” Billip told him. The hairs on his neck were bristling. He glanced back at Cappy’s tent. The glum sergeant and his men were leering at him.
“What’s going on?” Nikkel asked. “Aren’t we staying a bit like we always do?”
“Bish, no.” He hopped into the saddle. “Let’s go.”
While we still can.
Chapter 18
Venir glowered at the dagger stuck between the span of his fingers. The shining steel brushed the edge of his skin but did not make him bleed. Slowly, he turned. Melegal’s slim-faced dour expression greeted him. His eyes were tired, his movements a little sluggish for some reason.
“I’m already missing two fingers,” he said, “What’s a couple more?”
Still frowning, Melegal took the stool beside him. He plucked his dagger from the bar, and it disappeared in his clothes.
“How did you find me here?”
Venir’s stool groaned when he leaned back.
“I’m not looking for you. I’m avoiding—”
“Responsibility,” Melegal said.
“No.”
“Kam?”
“No, I was just out for a walk and happened into this place.” He took a drink. “No surprise there are rats in here.”
Melegal’s steely eyes narrowed.
“It’s good to see you too.” Melegal drummed his slender fingers on the bar. “I see you bought the robust strumpet a bottle. It’s about time you bought me one as well. Or did you want to be left alone so you could pout.”
“Watch what you say, Me,” Venir warned. “I’m in no dandy mood today.”
“You haven’t been in quite some time.”
“And you have?”
“I never am.”
“Ha.”
Venir dropped a coin on the bar.
“My palate’s finer than that,” Melegal said, lifting a brow. “And I know underling eyes go for more than that. How’s business been the past few months?”
Venir dropped another coin on the bar, and the bartender swept it away.
Melegal pointed to a bottle near the top of the rack and said, “The gold crest will do.” He eyed Venir’s squat bottle of grog. “Must have been a really bad day. Did Kam make you sleep in the stables again?”
Melegal’
s barbs didn’t bother Venir. If anything, they made him feel better. He missed his oldest friend’s presence and cold-natured understanding. And it seemed like it had been forever since the pair of them spent time exchanging barbs with one another. He took a long swig and drew his forearm across his mouth.
“You do belong in the stables,” Melegal said.
Venir huffed and spent the next several minutes drinking and explaining to Melegal everything that had happened since he returned.
“A pity for Brak,” Melegal said, removing his cap and holding it to his chest. “I’ve been through some things with that oversized lad.” He scratched his head. “I think you’d have been pretty proud of him the day he skewered that underling to the ceiling with a sword. Cut from the same stone, the two of you are.” He eyed Venir’s pack. “Did you try … you know?”
Venir nodded.
“Sorry,” Melegal said, watching the barkeep pour his wine. “Maybe Kam will think of something.
About then, the one-eyed man covering the door walked over, said, “They’re gone,” and sauntered back. Venir nodded. Some others entered, and a couple left. Melegal fanned smoke from his face. In the back and darkest corner, hefty men and women made haughty giggles.
“It’s not the Octopus, but it will do,” Venir said, taking a sip. “Is there a name for this place? I didn’t notice a sign.”
“The Serpent Pit.”
“Does it have rooms?” Venir asked. He didn’t see any stairs.
“I think not.”
“A basement, perhaps?”
“What am I, an innkeeper?” Melegal snapped.
“My, a little touchy, aren’t you?” Venir looked at Melegal’s belly. “Carrying all that weight around is making your skinny butt grumpy. You look like you lost Quickster.”
Melegal’s smooth forehead creased. Venir felt a tingle in his arms.
“You did lose him.”
“I didn’t lose him,” Melegal said, clenching his fist. “He was taken.”
“By who?”
Melegal’s smooth expressionless face was riddled in notable creases. Nothing ever rattled the sly man. Sleek. Confident. Now there was a restlessness about him. It had first become apparent on the trip back, but it had passed after their encounter with Scorch. Now it was back.
“Well?” Venir said, leaning forward. He reached for his bottle.
Melegal stayed his arm. Keeping his voice low, he said, “At least in Bone, you knew everyone was an arsehole. Here, it’s hard to tell who the arsehole is. I’ve got trouble.”
“What kind?”
“Royals, I believe. Wizards, here.”
“I suppose that’s my fault.”
Melegal shrugged his narrow shoulders and said, “Well, I can’t blame you this time.”
“So how’d this come about?”
“It seems this time they are just interested in me.”
“Good.”
“I might need some help.” His grey eyes flashed. “Do you have it?”
“Have what?”
Melegal lifted his brows.
“Serious?” Venir patted his backpack. “I don’t go anywhere without it anymore. Why?”
“I may need some help.”
Jaw muscles clenched and lower back tightened, Melegal choked down his pride.
Can’t believe I’m asking the lout for help.
Venir’s rugged expression didn’t change. Hard and scarred, he offered a single word.
“Sure.”
Melegal’s wiry muscles eased. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t felt relief when Venir walked into the Serpent Pit. He’d been expecting someone else, but he had no idea who. Jaen hadn’t given him a description. She had just said to start here and wait. Two days ago.
“What kind of trouble?” Venir added.
Still keeping his voice down, Melegal told him everything as the two gazed into the room. The skirmish in the streets. The meeting with Jaen. The trip to the tower. Jaen’s acknowledgement of watchers. The pick-up and delivery he’d been charged with.
Venir soaked it all in, nodding and grunting.
“We should tell Kam,” Venir suggested.
“Did you not hear me say that I was supposed to come straight here? Any diversion, and I’d never see Quickster again?” Melegal whispered.
Venir pointed to his missing ear.
“You can hear fine through that hole,” Melegal hissed, “Just not near as good as me.” He eyed the lout. “And since when do you make excuses?”
Venir shrugged his big shoulders.
He seems bigger than ever. Some of the fires in his sullen eyes are lit again. The hunter is back. And that’s just what I need.
“Melegal, do you think it’s worth it?” Venir said softly.
“Getting Quickster back? Of course it is.”
“I’m certain you don’t want to go through something like you did back in Bone with Lord Almen.” Venir propped his elbows on the bar and leaned back so he could whisper near Melegal’s ear without looking like he was. “You and I both know royals are not to be trusted. And we don’t encounter many that aren’t troublemakers. And truth be told, we don’t know much about this city. And Kam’s pretty prickly whenever I ask her what happened the last time I was gone.”
Melegal’s thoughts drifted to Lorda Almen. She was just as demanding as she was dangerous, yet he’d risked his neck for her anyway. Then there was the other one, Rayal. A fine piece of porcelain and nobility. Untainted by the royals’ hard edge.
I wonder if they live.
“It’s an errand. A test,” he said softly. “It will gain me knowledge of this city and its underworld.” He finished his glass and poured another. “In this case, I’m just as curious as I am greedy.”
“But you said Jaen wasn’t going to pay.”
“Ah,” said Melegal, pointing at Venir, “selective hearing, eh?”
Venir watched walk by an attractive golden-blonde strumpet in a violet gossamer gown that revealed almost everything.
“Sometimes my mind wanders,” he said. He watched as she waved goodbye, took a seat on a chestnut bearded dwarf’s lap, and combed her fingers through his beard. “It wanders to many things.” He turned to Melegal. “You were saying?”
Melegal eased forward.
“I was saying, if it were Chongo, would you not do the same?”
Venir’s stern face darkened, and he grunted a nod.
A woman walked up to Melegal and whispered in his ear. Jaen. Her hair, nails, lips and silk dress were midnight black. Frail and pale, she sneered at Venir and walked away.
“Your suitor suits you,” Venir said. “Do you have time to play?”
Melegal eased out of his chair, tied his jerkin, and said, “This is it. I’ve been summoned.”
“To where?” Venir said, getting out of his chair.
“The basement, she says.” He turned and followed the ghoulish little woman, Venir a giant shadow behind him. Around the end of the bar, a curtain concealed a narrow entrance he hadn’t noticed before. That’s strange. How’d I miss that? The corridor was long and sloping. A small torch lit one end and the other. She opened another doorway and passed through. Melegal ran his fingers along the wall. Dark oak. Absorbs the sound of many things. He could hear Venir breathing behind him and stopped at the door. He tilted his head. “Ready?”
“Aye.”
He went through. A host of men and women in a semicircle greeted him. The room was dim and otherwise empty. Rogues. An assorted lot: men, a dwarf, a halfling and a half-orc. Weapons concealed on some but not others. Their clothes were that of anybody: tradesman, merchant, watchman, or wine-seller. A few were rough-necked and so attired. But Melegal saw right through their veiled dishonesty.
A chill went through his bones.
Venir’s gone.
He felt his own presence alone. He kept his eyes locked on the rogues, fighting the urge to turn back to his friend. There was no point in that now.
Suck it up.
Underling Rider
Chapter 19
I must know at least one word in underling.
He glanced at Tarcot. The strider-turned-underling had a blank look in his eyes, and blades pointed at his chest. Boon started sucking for air, pointing his underling fingers back over his shoulder.
The underling soldier shoved him to the ground and chittered in his face. A spear point dug into his legs. He bit his tongue. Little fiends are a cautious bunch.
The underlings shoved Tarcot to his hands and knees. They chittered back and forth at one another in suspicious tones. The lead underling screamed in Boon’s face, its face angry and its red eyes narrowed.
Boon gasped and held up one finger. Buy time.
The underling drew a wavy dagger from its belt and slit his cheek. It chittered again.
Is my disguise so horrible? We should have walked right into camp as men. It might have been better. At least I wouldn’t be expected to speak Underling.
Boon kept gasping and pointing.
Tarcot started playing along, clutching at his throat and kicking.
Good. Make them think we can’t speak until they let go.
The underlings made curious sounds and spoke back and forth to one another.
The leader reached down, grabbed Boon by the hair, and jerked his neck back. Barking a command, it dug the blade tip into his shoulder.
Boon gasped and wriggled.
The underling held him tight.
Early in his life, Boon had taken ‘communicating in Underling’ off the table, telling himself the chittering language was nearly impossible for men to learn anyway. He regretted that now.
The Darkslayer: Series 2, Box Set #1, Books 1 - 3 (Bish and Bone) Page 24