“Keep it shut, halflin’, if you don’t want a nasty lump on yer head.”
The bear of a man hugged Lefty tight to his chest, and his meaty hand engulfed Lefty’s entire face.
“Did you hear me?” a deep voice said.
Lefty mumbled the best he could.
Yes! Yes! Yes!
The man hooked his hands underneath Lefty’s armpits and held him out like a toddler.
“Mood?” Lefty said, cocking his head.
The dwarf with the blood-red beard streaked in white shook him and said, “What do you know of the king of the dwarves?” He gave him another rough jostle. “What, fair-headed one? What?”
“Stop shaking me,” Lefty blustered.
Still holding him tight to the chest, the big dwarf’s arms steadied. He was big and broad, the same as Mood, a bit smaller, heavier, and older. His face, weathered and tanned, had more wrinkles, too. He wore buckskin leather dyed in deep red and green, similar to what Mood wore. And there were two heavy swords, more like machetes, strapped to his hips.
“Are you a Blood Ranger?” Lefty asked, swallowing.
“I am,” the dwarf said, cocking an eyebrow. “You seem to have particular knowledge of such things. Tell me more about it, halflin’, else I shake yer guts out.”
“He’s a friend. Er, was a friend. I don’t know. It’s been a long time since I last saw him,” Lefty said. He became dejected. “And Chongo.”
The dwarf’s brows lifted.
“Ye know the King and the pooch?” He grunted. “Now that’s somethin’.”
“Uh … I’m Lefty. Will you put me down now?”
The dwarf dropped him and started to wander off.
“Excuse me,” Lefty said, catching up. “Where are you going?”
“To kill those underlings. I’ve been tracking them for weeks. Dirty fiends are sprouting up like hair on an ogre’s back.”
“Can you get me out of here first?”
The dwarf turned on him. “What did you say your name was?”
“Lefty. Lefty Lightfoot. And what is your name?”
“Pall.”
“Pall?”
“That’s it.”
“What do you say, Pall? Can you get me out of here?”
Pall shook his bearded head. “It’s not safe out there for the likes of you. I think you are better off in here.”
“I want to leave,” he pleaded. “The wart-nosed dwarves are hunting me.”
“Wart-nosed, you say?” Pall said, rubbing his chin. “Why are they hunting you?”
“It’s a long story, but I was their prisoner, and I escaped.”
“Wart-nosed bad,” Pall said, scanning the murk.
Lefty could see a hint of blue in his eyes.
“Bad, bad, dwarves.” He started marching off again.
“Wait,” Lefty said, “where are you going?”
“To kill them.”
“Kill who?”
“The wart-noses. We don’t tolerate that brood.”
“What about the underlings?”
“Er, well,” Pall shrugged his heavy shoulders, “I’ll kill them too.” Pall set back into his stride.
Lefty cut him off.
“Will you move before I stomp you into the swamp?”
“Please, Pall, take me out of here.” Lefty’s voice cracked. “Mood always looked after me, and you should too.”
Pall took a knee. “Listen. I’ll kill them, and then I’ll take care of you.” He rested his hands on Lefty’s shoulders. “It’s the best I’m willing to do. Come, wait, or go on your own.”
“But there are so many, and there is only one of you.”
Pall slipped a hand axe out of his belt and handed it to Lefty.
“Come,” Pall said, “Now the odds are better.”
Shoulders slouched, Lefty followed along.
Will I ever embrace the madness?
CHAPTER 9
The City of Three reeled. Doors and windows were boarded up and the streets abandoned. And not long after that, the bickering began.
Why did the underlings attack?
Who made them mad?
That was one side of it.
We need to flush them out!
Kill the black-haired vermin!
That was the other.
All the people sitting at the table inside the Magi Roost preferred the latter. The Magi Roost was closed.
Boon, usually cheerful, had the most serious look about him that Melegal had ever seen.
Billip leaned over the table, cracking his knuckles and stroking his black goatee.
Fogle’s eyes drifted through the room, searching for Kam.
Men have no shame, especially wizards. Heh, and thieves, Melegal thought.
Georgio and Nikkel shared a pot of coffee. A week ago, they had returned banged up and coated in dried blood, having carried Brak a mile through the streets. Their lips had been wild with stories about underlings attacking and Brak going berserk and walking again.
Now the mannish teen sat beside Georgio, who kept having to prop him up. Brak’s left arm lifted a shaky spoon of stew to his lips, but that was all he was good for. Georgio had dragged him inside with holes and cuts all over him. Kam and Joline had spent hours stitching him up. It had been a rough night, but Brak lived.
He should be dead, yet he lives, much like his father. But quieter, thank goodness.
Melegal rubbed his eyes. They’d been talking about the underlings for days. It seemed half the city wanted to flee. Maybe a quarter wanted to fight. The bloody assault on the City of Three had been something never seen before that anyone could remember. He took a sip from his goblet.
“Melegal,” Boon said, “you are an observant man. Do you have any insight to share on this?”
He lifted his thin grey brows, parted his lips, and said, “No.”
I’ll let you fools start the work. For the moment, I’m only out for myself.
“Oh, come off it, Me,” Georgio said, glaring at him. “You have something. You always do. Quit being a puckered arse!”
“Stop fuming, child!”
Georgio started up out of his chair. “Fuming!”
“Don’t be so excitable,” Tarcot said from the opposite end of the table. “You have too many loose tempers in your ranks. Striders don’t argue. They plan. Plot. Avenge.”
“Well said, Tarcot,” Boon added. “And I agree.”
Billip yawned. “So what are we going to do? The Royals have declared martial law and have forbidden any action. We seek, we strike, we get put in shackles.”
“It’s as if they are protecting the underlings,” Nikkel added. He rapped his fist on the table. “I say: if we aren’t going to fight them, then I’m going back to Two-Ten City. They don’t put up with this sort of slat down there.”
“I don’t think there is still a down there,” Billip added. “Though I wish there was.”
Indecision. Such a strange place to be in. At least the big oaf never had this problem.
Even Melegal was uncertain what to do. Going outside only brought hassle by the City Watch and soldiers. Staying inside was always the same company. All the barmaids had stayed home. There was no place to go. No place safer than where he was. And then there was Jaen and the tower she’d tossed him from. He had no desire to be transported there again. Yet he felt eyes were watching. And ears were listening, perhaps.
Mages know too much. Share too little. He eyed Boon. I bet he knows much more than he lets on. He took a sip. Well, I do too.
Melegal remained tight lipped about his dealings with Jaen and Venir in the Snake Pit. It being him, no one asked him questions. They understood his dour demeanor. Georgio was the only one who knew him well enough to pick his brain, and the oversized boy wasn’t smart, just nosy. And Jasper, a mystic sneak herself, kept to herself. So far.
This wouldn’t be so bad if I had Quickster.
He tilted his head back and sighed. Nothing tasted good right now. Not the wine. Nor the food. And the compa
ny was becoming stale. Most interesting of all, no one spoke of Venir. He didn’t understand exactly why, but it seemed everyone had become accustomed to Venir’s comings and goings. Even Georgio didn’t mention him.
“I think it’s time I turned in,” Fogle said, yawning. “We can resume our fruitless discussion on the morrow.” He scooted out of his seat.
“Good idea, Grandson,” Boon said. “You’ll need good rest for tomorrow’s journey.”
“What journey?”
All eyes fell on the two magi.
“We must return to the Outland. There is a war to be fought, and we have an army to tend.” Boon shifted in his chair toward Fogle. “Did your titillated mind forget about that?”
Fogle’s face darkened. “No! But I’ll be going nowhere anytime soon.”
“There is nothing for you here.”
“Nothing for you, maybe! Sorry if I don’t embrace your insane obsession with underlings, but I think I had best stay here and defend my home.”
“So be it,” Boon said, turning away. “Nestle all you want, the result will still be the same. A true champion of Three would take the fight to them. Eh … and I’ll be needing my spellbook.”
“Your spellbook? No no no,” Fogle said, wagging his finger. “It’s mine by right.”
“Do you plan on reading it to the ladies? Letting them rub your shoulders while you study it late at night? Pah!”
Melegal tapped his fingertips together. Interesting. That old man is not so bad.
Tarcot stood up. “I’m ready to depart as well. Now is better than later.”
Boon had spent much time talking about the army that was being raised: jungs and giants, allegedly. Striders and pitchfork-wielding farmers. It seemed plenty of people wanted to fight, except for the Royals.
“Agreed, Tarcot,” Boon said. “And as much as I’ve enjoyed my stay, I’m ready to get back at it. I’m a Boon.” He glanced at Fogle, eyes intent. “This is what I do.”
Fogle turned away.
“Anyone care to join us?” Boon added.
Billip spoke up. “I’ll go.”
“Billip,” Georgio said, surprised, “really? You can’t go.”
“If I’m going to fight those fiends, I had best fight with a group that’s leaving the City of Three.” He cracked his knuckles. “I’d probably get arrested here for doing it.”
“I’m going too,” Nikkel said.
“What’s gotten into you?” Georgio said.
“I want to fight. Fight in an army. My father did all the time, and I’ve always wanted to.”
“Pickings are slim to none out there,” Georgio said. “Remember the trip up here?”
“I know, but that was only because you and Brak ate all the food. Seeing how you won’t be with us,” Nikkel said, glancing at Brak. “I think we’ll fare much better.”
“But …” Georgio started, then his chin dipped to his chest.
Brak swung his good arm over and hit him in the head. “You go, Georgio. I’ll make do. I’ll walk on one arm if I have to.”
“I’ll watch Brak,” Jubilee piped in. She’d peeked in from around the other side of the fireplace. “And what I can’t help with, Joline and Kam will.” She glared at Nikkel. “Even though I think going is a stupid thing.”
Oh, they grow up so fast, don’t they? Melegal tilted the goblet to his lips. When he set it down again, all eyes were on him. “You know I’m not going.” He refilled his goblet and raised it high. “I’ll keep you in mind from time to time.”
CHAPTER 10
“May I join you?” Fogle said to Melegal.
Hunkered behind the warmth of the crackling fireplace, Melegal scooted a chair over with his foot. “Sure.”
It had been several days since Boon, Tarcot, Billip, Georgio, and Nikkel had left, and their departure had been ugly. Kam’s voice had shaken the candles out of the chandeliers, and Joline had blubbered for two days. Even Melegal had felt a little water stir in his gaze.
Fogle drew up his robes and took a seat with a sigh. He was cleaned up now, new dark-green robes with intricate designs. His hair was cut short, and the rugged beard was gone. His expression was deep, his eyes penetrating.
“Should I feel guilty?”
“Huh,” Melegal laughed. “For preferring life over death? I don’t think so.”
“Hmmm…”
“Here’s some advice: don’t let guilt kill you.”
“I don’t take your meaning.”
Melegal shrugged his narrow shoulders. “You know, I don’t think it’s not going that bothers you.” He glanced at the bar, where Kam and Jubilee were working. “I think the reason you stayed here is what makes you feel so guilty.”
Fogle swallowed.
Melegal nodded. “Women are beautiful and dangerous things.”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Fogle said, glancing toward Kam. Their eyes met with twin smiles and slid away at the same time.
“You do know he’ll return,” Melegal said. “He always does. He’s like a fungus that keeps growing back on your foot.” He took a gulp. “Not that I would know.”
“I know,” Fogle said, “and I like him, but … may I?” He gestured to the pitcher of wine.
Melegal filled another goblet and slid it over.
Fogle gulped it down. “As I was saying … well, never mind.”
“You were going to say that you like him, but you hope he doesn’t come back.”
Fogle’s eyes widened on his scholarly head.
“Don’t feel bad,” Melegal continued. “I’ve felt that way plenty of times before.”
“You’ve known him long.”
“Since we were children, and if I had more friends like him, then I wouldn’t have any enemies.”
“Why’s that?”
Melegal laughed. “He’d kill them. That’s the kind of loyal friend he is when he’s around, and I’d say he’s pretty loyal to old Fire-top over there, too. And let’s not forget his daughter.”
“Slat,” Boon said, sagging down. “She’s not even mentioned him, though.”
“And you haven’t either, I’ve noticed.”
Fogle laughed until tears rolled from his eyes.
Melegal refilled his goblet.
Fogle drank it down. “Am I a dog?”
“No, you are a mangy cur.”
“Well, how come I feel so much better?”
“Because you’ve accepted the truth—and you’re drinking some pretty strong wine.”
Chatting back and forth, they shared another goblet.
Fogle opened up some more. “I tried to kill him once, in a mind grumble.” He pointed toward the bloodstain on the floor. “See that spot?”
“I heard about it.”
“Well, you’ve never heard this.” Fogle leaned forward. “He strolled in here, brawny and brazen, and Kam melted all over him. Jealousy enflamed me.”
Melegal raised his eyebrows.
Fogle nodded. “For years, I’d tried to garner her attention. Impress her with my mind, my powers. She was drawn to none of it. Then, this gigantic oaf comes in, Titanic—and full of slat.”
Melegal laughed.
Fogle filled the thief’s goblet. “Kam was enthralled by his boasts and empty words, and she wasn’t the only one, either. The crowd, my crowd—all of whom had challenged me and been defeated—took note of him as well.” He straightened up in his chair. “So I chose to make an example of him. A mistake that nearly cost me my life.” He eyed Melegal. “I’m a wicked arse, aren’t I?”
“No, just an arse, like all the rest of us.”
“Kam is not his kind,” Fogle said. “She’s my kind.” He shook his head. “And she notices me now, the way she didn’t back then. Why is that?”
“Women like men who have been in dangerous places, is all I can say. Gives them a thrill, somehow.”
“Do you feel that way about women who have been in dangerous places?”
Melegal shrugged his brows and said, “Do you?
”
“I have no idea.”
Whack!
The front doors slammed open, and Quickster stepped into full view.
“What in Bish?” Melegal said.
Fogle turned his shoulder.
Joline screamed.
“Get that beast out of here!” Kam yelled from behind the bar. Her expression froze a moment before another word came forth. “You!”
Melegal was already on the move when Jaen stepped into full view. Her eyes were locked on Kam’s before they slid over to Melegal. She wore a dark red bodice, and a ruby gleamed in her exposed navel. Her long, cinnamon-colored hair was straightened.
“I brought your ass back,” Jaen said, shrugging and shaking her head. “I’m surprised you survived. Shocked, actually. But when I received word of it, well, I found myself a bit relieved. You are charming company.”
Melegal took Quickster by the reins, checked his teeth, and rubbed him behind the ears. Then he said to Jaen, “Even though I hoped to never see you again, I must admit, you are as enchanting as ever. I guess we are calling things even.” He gestured to Joline, who sighed heavily and took Quickster out to the stables.
“Ha!” Jaen replied, checking her nails. “I didn’t come here bearing a gift. I have greater business in mind, business which requires your attention.” She turned her focus to Kam. “And your attention as well, half sister.”
“I’ll have none of you, witch. Now get out of here.”
Jaen didn’t look impressed. “Oh, Kam, will we ever get along?” She strolled through the tavern, eyeing everything. “My, what a quaint spot this is.” She stopped in front of a fireplace, tossed in a log, and dusted her hands off. “Rugged. It suits you, Kam. You always were a bit of an Outland girl, just like your mother.”
“Don’t you speak of my mother, Jaen. At least I’m no spawn of a whore!”
“Oh, please,” Jaen said, rolling her eyes. “Your father, my father, my mother, your mother, pfft, who cares? So long as I get what is mine.” Jaen noticed Fogle sitting at the table. “Oh my,” she gasped, “is that Fogle Boon?”
Fogle broke out into a smile the likes of which Melegal had never seen. He stood up, pulled his shoulders back, and made a polite bow. “It is good to see you Jaen, eh.” His eyes drifted to Kam. “But I had no idea either of you had a sister.”
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