by Greg Benage
Chapter 7
By the following afternoon, the spiked heads were already attracting flies. The plump black-and-green insects buzzed around, crawling in and out of nostrils, mouths and ears, and massing around the severed stumps.
Mara eyed the heads dubiously. “It lacks charm, but at least it’s stupid.”
“Why’s it stupid?”
“You poke a hornet’s nest, I guess you know what happens next. You might have your reasons, but you’re still gonna get stung.”
“I’m sending a message.”
“What message? ‘Kill me?’”
Big Odd and Quinix chuckled, and Thorn scowled at them. “We can’t be everywhere at once. There are only five of us—”
“Six,” said Blind Tom, “if you count the wizard.”
Thorn looked at him. “I was counting the wizard, but not the dog. I stand corrected. As I was saying, we can’t be everywhere a wight could be, so we got to train them to stay off the scavs.”
“So we only kill a wight if it’s feeding on a scav?” asked Mara.
“I didn’t say that. We’ll kill a wight when we see one, same as always, but we’ll only stake out the heads when we catch one feeding.”
“What makes you think the wights care what you do with their heads after you kill them?” said Mara. “If anything’s going to get them riled up, I guess the killing will.”
“In that case,” Thorn said, lifting an eyebrow, “we ain’t poking the hornet’s nest and there’s nothing stupid about staking out the heads.”
Mara opened her mouth to argue and then slammed it shut so hard her teeth clacked. She wheeled around and stormed off back to the camp.
“The message does seem mixed,” said Big Odd, waving the tip of his spear at one of the heads to shoo the flies.
“Do you really think the heads will convince the wights to stop feeding on the scavs?” asked Quinix.
Thorn shrugged. “I don’t think they’ll learn by dinner time, if that’s what you mean. But I do know we’re never getting out of these ruins unless we figure out how to keep the wights off the scavs. Seeing how I don’t speak Wight, I’m looking for other ways to communicate. Thus, these here heads on spikes. If you got any better notion how to train a wight, I’d love to hear one. Otherwise, maybe you could all shut your damn holes about the bloody heads.”
Thorn glared at each of them in turn, and no one had anything to say. “All right, let’s go fetch Mara and have a look around. Maybe we can find a wight to kill, give you all something to do besides criticize.”
They walked down the line of men and women working the stone, the scavs too craven or too smart to wander far from the herd. They were scraping the same rock a thousand scavs had worked a thousand times. Still, Thorn guessed it was easier to nurse your dreams of riches without a wight chewing on your neck.
Thorn spotted Jem up ahead standing with his cap in his hand and staring down at his dusty boots. As the crew approached, a bravo slammed his gloved fist into Jem’s face and the scav went sprawling in the dirt. The man stepped forward and kicked the scav hard in the ribs. “You holding out on me, Jem?” the bravo said. “A quint a week, that’s all I ask. It could be more, but I’m not a greedy man. You expect me to believe your pockets are empty? You expect me to care?”
The bravo had the busy hands and jittery voice cowards always got when they bullied the weak. Excited, having a good time, but still scared deep down. Thorn stopped a few paces away and let his hand fall to the hilt of his sword. “Swing your leg at that man again,” he said, “and I’ll have it off at the knee.”
The bravo’s head popped up, the surprise evident on his face. When he saw Thorn standing there, some of the orneriness went out of him. Not all of it, though. “Bugger yourself, scav. This business ain’t got nothin’ to do with you.”
Thorn walked up to the man and got between him and Jem, so close their noses were almost touching. “I ain’t a scav,” he said, “and that one you were beating is my employer. Maybe the way you see it, you’re just stealing from him. The way I see it, you’re stealing from me.”
The bravo smiled and took a step back. He looked at the three other toughs who stood behind him, and he looked around at the gathered scavs. “All right, then,” he said, and reached down to offer Jem a hand up. “We’re all just trying to do some commerce, and fighting ain’t no good for it.” The bravo dusted off Jem’s jacket and patted him on the chest.
“I see you here again, I’m going to hurt you, boy,” Thorn said. “I won’t make an effort to talk it through first.” He nodded and turned to walk back to his crew. He saw Quinix’s eyes get big and round, but it wasn’t like he needed the warning. He knew the bravo would come after him as soon as he turned his back.
Thorn wheeled and caught the bravo’s wrist as he brought his dagger down in an overhand strike. Thorn twisted and felt the tendons stretch and pop under his fingers. The bravo dropped the knife and opened his mouth to let out a howl, and Thorn’s fist smashed into his jaw. The man’s mouth snapped shut, and some broken teeth and a bloody sliver of tongue went spinning into the dirt. The bravo fell to his knees, and Thorn kicked him in the face.
Thorn straddled him and slammed his fist into the bravo’s nose. One of the other toughs started to step forward, reaching for the sword at his belt. Thorn paused, his bloody fist drawn back, and gave the man a hard look. He froze in his tracks and let his hand fall away from the hilt of his sword. Thorn nodded and punched the fallen bravo in the face again.
There was no shortage of brigands and thugs in Eldernost. They followed the smell of gold but were too lazy and too mean to work for it themselves. It was easier to take it from the weak. Thorn figured the bravo wasn’t so different from the Grays, except he didn’t have a noble title or tax collectors or soldiers to do his stealing for him. If he was honest about it, Thorn had to admit there wasn’t a great distance between the bravo and himself. He’d followed the smell of gold, too, but at least he offered something in return for what he took.
“Caleb,” Mara said softly. Thorn looked up to see her standing over him. Only then did he realize he was still beating the man. The bravo’s face was an unrecognizable mask of blood and broken bones and torn flesh. Thorn stood up, opening and closing his hand to work out the pain. He looked around at the horrified faces of the scavs. He saw fear and resentment and even hatred—but mostly fear. That was good. He looked down at the unconscious bravo and nodded. “Well,” he said, “I guess he couldn’t wait ‘til the next time.”
Jem stepped forward, wringing his woolen cap in his hands. “Thank you, Master Thorn,” he said, though Thorn couldn’t say the scav looked all that pleased. “They’re always coming around, trying to take what ain’t theirs, threatening us and our children. Do we, uh, that is, should we…what can we give you for the service?”
Thorn felt a surge of anger rise up his neck to his face. He gritted his teeth and waited for it to pass. “You pay me for killing wights, and that’s it,” he said. “And maybe if you learned to stand up for yourselves, you wouldn’t need someone like me to do your fighting for you.”
Someone came pushing through the crowd and Thorn saw Viorno’s man-at-arms step into the circle of onlookers. The soldier looked down at the bravo, and then his eyes fastened on Thorn. “Who attacked this man?” he demanded. His eyes never left Thorn’s.
Jem cleared his throat and spoke up. “Master Ebertus, this man tried to take—”
“Shut up,” the soldier said, still staring at Thorn. Ebertus—that was his name. No wonder Thorn could never remember it. He had a sharp face and beady eyes that made him look like a rat. Or maybe it was living like a rat that did that to a man’s face. You make attaching your lips to a Gray’s ass your life’s work, it’s bound to leave its marks. “Maybe you’d like to tell me what happened?” he said to Thorn.
“Not really. You want to ask him about his day, he might be able to tell you once his jaw heals up.”
Thorn saw the blow
coming, but he didn’t flinch away. The soldier’s fist hit him on the point of his chin and moved his head sidewise a bit. He leaned over and spat blood in the dirt. “You want to break my jaw, you might need to pat me a little harder.”
“I could hang you for attacking Symus.”
Thorn looked from Ebertus to the bravo lying in the dirt. “Symus, is it? I’d love to hear the story about how you two came to be on a first-name basis. Then again, might be I can guess. It doesn’t seem like the scavs get much protection from Viorno’s men when thugs come sniffing after some gold.”
Ebertus’s eyes darted nervously and he looked around at the scavs. “Not sure what you’re getting at, Thorn, but you best remember who you’re talking to.”
“Sure, I see it,” said Thorn. “You can’t steal from the scavs yourself—that would be stealing from the Gray. Maybe you’re not that stupid or maybe you just ain’t got the stones for it, but you’re not about to pick Viorno’s pocket. Instead, you let unscrupulous folks like Symus here do the banditry, and you take a piece of what they get.”
Ebertus’s sword was halfway out of its scabbard when Thorn’s hand clamped down on his wrist. “Look here,” he said, trying to keep his voice low and reasonable. “You draw the rest of that iron, I’m going to kill you. Once I’ve done it, one of two things will happen.” He raised his free hand and extended his index finger. “One, these folks will tell Lord Viorno what you been up to, and the Gray won’t do anything more than shake my hand.” He lifted a second finger. “Or two, the Gray will try to hang me for killing you. Maybe he will and maybe he won’t. Either way, you’ll be just as dead.”
Ebertus didn’t speak. He jerked his arm free of Thorn’s grip, spat on the ground and stalked back into the crowd the way he came. Thorn wasn’t sure whether the soldier was wise enough to shut his mouth, in the end, or whether he just couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Ash and air, Caleb,” said Mara. “You sure know how to make friends.”
“Always did have a knack for it.”
“I guess you gave him a score he’ll be looking to settle.”
“I expect he’ll get his chance, if he wants it.”
Mara glanced at Thorn as they made their way back to the rest of the crew. “You ain’t alone, Caleb. I guess you don’t care how many enemies you got. Just remember, every time you find a new one, the rest of us do, too.”