“We just got here,” Venir said. “Odd that you arrive in such a timely fashion. I’d say you’ve been waiting for us to arrive.”
No fooling him. Why is that so surprising?
“Yes, well, I’ve been exercising caution in these matters. For your safety as well as my own. I’ve been waiting for you to arrive, but it’s only been a few hours.” He cleared his throat.
“Have a drink,” Joline said, offering some wine. “And what of these lies?”
“Yes, tell us of these lies that you boast about,” said Venir.
“The tower that fell… it was empty.”
“What do you mean?” Brak asked, finishing off his last spoonful of stew.
“The wizards knew that it would fall.” He rapped his fist on the table. “They planned the entire thing.”
“I’m certain the underlings were behind that attack. I felt it myself,” Venir said.
“Yes, they did it with help from the Royals. Don’t you see? The city is divided. Now they are uniting it under the Royal banner. They don’t want us fighting the underlings. They want us under control.”
“It’s madness!” Joline said.
“Agreed,” Jubilee said. “He’s just blowing magic smoke up our arses.”
“Jubilee!” the woman cried.
“What? It’s true.”
Fogle sighed. He turned and faced Venir. “And what do you think, Venir? Do my words ring true, or do I speak lies?”
The jaw muscles in Venir’s face tightened. His fingers drummed on the table. He said, “I hate to admit it, but I believe you.”
“You do?” Brak said with astonishment. “But the Royals, that means they’ve killed their own people. Hundreds of them. Maybe a thousand.”
“Yes, but remember, they are Royals. Some good, most bad. They’ll do anything to maintain power. It seems that this civil war is getting to them.” The maple chair cracked when he leaned back and smiled.
Fogle lifted his brows. “And you’re pleased… why?”
“Because we’re doing something right.” He slid his long hunting knife out of his belt and thumbed the blade. “We need to keep up the pressure.”
“We are not an army,” Fogle said. “They catch us and stick us in a hole with no bars, no windows, and no doors. I know this.” He tapped his finger on the table. “You have to listen to me and go.”
“And what of Kam?” Venir said.
“Yes, what of her?” Joline added. “We can’t abandon her.”
“She’s safer in there,” Fogle said, shifting in his seat. Buckled brows bore down on him. Bish, they all want to kill me. “And it is her wish.”
“But you haven’t seen her in a month. Perhaps her mind has changed,” Venir said.
“I can’t even get in to see her,” Fogle said, not hiding his irritation. The order of wizards had told him not to leave, that there would be a trial, but there had only been delay after delay. Now, he’d been cut off from his sources. “Listen, her concern is Erin’s safety. I pledged to do what is best for the child.”
In an effortless heave, Venir’s massive arm flipped the table aside. He snatched Fogle by the collar and pulled him up to his toes. “She is my child,” he growled.
Poor choice of words on my part. “Sorry, I meant no disrespect. I’m only honoring Kam’s wishes.”
Venir lifted Fogle clear off the floor, holding him in a grip of iron. “Does she not think I’ll take care of my own?”
“You have a bit of a reputation for not being there when needed,” Fogle said. His thoughts raced over a protective incantation. “I don’t think you can deny that.”
“Venir,” Joline said, putting her hand on his arm. “Put him down. This resolves nothing.”
“No,” Venir said. “It doesn’t.” He dropped Fogle.
The mage straightened his robes.
Venir poked him in the chest, knocking him backward a full step. “You do know what tower she is in, don’t you?”
“I know the last tower she was in,” Fogle said, “but they might have moved her. Why?”
Venir picked Helm up off the table, placed it over his head, and buckled the leather chin strap. “Because I’m going to get her.”
“You’re a fool.”
Venir hefted his axe over his shoulder and said with burning eyes, “And you’re a coward.”
***
Kam lay strapped to a slab of white marble. Her auburn hair was matted to her face. Her cotton robes were soaked with sweat and clung to her body. The fullness of her body was gone and replaced with a bony frame. Her cheeks were sunken, and she was hollow eyed.
Don’t break. Don’t break.
One minute she’d been surrounded by robed figures, and in the next they had all gone, only to return as a cluster of ghostly apparitions. They probed her mind. Her body. They assaulted her with question after question that were both meaningless and meaningful. She fought. She cried. She screamed.
Don’t break. Don’t break.
Dried-up tear streaks were on her face. Her mouth was dry. Her body shivered. Her mind was scrambled. The group of inquisitionists showed no kindness. Day after day, hour after hour, they took pleasure in it. How could her father do this to her? It angered her. It frightened her. She needed to get out of there.
“Submit!” they said a thousand times.
“I won’t!” she fired back ten thousand more.
Don’t break. Don’t break. Don’t break.
CHAPTER 11
The other man at the table spoke up. “Here’s Slat for Brains now.” He smiled at Melegal and Jasper. “Poetic.”
Melegal sized the man up. He must have been fifty or older. His clothes were made from fine linen. The jewels on his fingers were polished.
“They call me Satchel. A master thief, not unlike yourself.” He reached for a jug on the table. “Wine? It’s some of the finest in all of Bish.”
Jubbler walked over and took the bottle from Satchel. “What’s left of it anyway, you sot. Huh.”
“Do I look like a sot?” Satchel said to Jasper.
“Just because you don’t look like one, huh, doesn’t mean you aren’t one.” Jubbler snatched up a couple of crystal goblets and poured the dark-purple wine. “Sit and drink, huh. We can eat if you like. If you want rest, huh, there is a bedroom behind that corner.”
Melegal and Jasper took their chairs. She whispered in his ear, “Is that a golden bath tub?”
He gave a little shrug.
Jubbler filled his own glass and raised it high. “A toast, huh. To your new home below the, huh, city, Master Thief.”
“New home?”
“Aye,” Jubbler said. “This is your home, huh, as in your apartment.”
“As in my gold?”
“You can dispense of it as you will, huh, but the pickings have been much leaner these days, huh, thanks to those black rodents. We expect you’ll, huh, resolve it though, Master Thief.” Jubbler drank. “Ah. Of course, huh, you can’t enjoy it if you aren’t free to spend it all, huh, now can you?”
“I see.”
“Humph,” Satchel said. “Of course, you don’t have to accept the honor. After all, there are many who would be willing to take your place. Me, for one. But the Nest has voted. By their decree, they want an outsider to take charge. A hero. The vanquisher of Palzor.” He flicked a red grape high in the air and caught it in his mouth and chomped down. “It’s foolishness.”
“It’s final? I’m in charge?” Melegal said with a little doubt in his voice.
“Eh, almost, huh,” Jubbler said. “Of course, that’s why you are here, huh. To find out if you want to take on the Mantle of Rogues or not, huh. There have been votes, huh. You have them. But there are, huh, challengers.”
“Yes,” Satchel said, cocking a brow. “Many. I’d enjoy yourself and this place while you live.”
Melegal sipped his wine. No problem enjoying this. He reached over and squeezed Jasper’s knee. “If this is my place, then I want that bab
bling mass of flesh out of my sight.” He frowned. “Why is he even here? Let him rot in the dungeons.”
“The dungeons are, huh, full,” Jubbler said.
“Then unfill them.”
Satchel sat up in his chair. “Are you saying let them loose?”
“Send them down the black waters. Let them roost with the underlings for all I care. Now, begone.”
Jubbler and Satchel glanced at one another and back at him. Jubbler said, “There is much to, huh, discuss.”
Melegal narrowed his eyes on him. “Begone, the lot of you.”
***
“I have to admit, this isn’t what I expected,” Jasper said, soaping her body in the golden tub. “But I like it.” She blew a handful of bubbles out of her hand. “Why don’t you join me? That furrowed brow”—she rose her leg up out of the tub—“needs to be unfurrowed.”
“Perhaps,” Melegal said. He sat at the end of the table nearest the fireplace. His clothes felt like a warm blanket on his back. Strange turn of events, indeed.
“You’re missing out,” Jasper said, giggling.
Am I? Or am I missing something? The campaign for Melegal’s invitation to the Nest had begun within a week after Palzor’s head was delivered. Slom and Zurth had spoken of the account. The pair of them, respected guards of Palzor’s, were guild members as well. They had made their case for Melegal. The rogues had listened, responded, and ushered him into the guild.
With their forces divided, the rogues beneath the city had been ready for a change. Melegal had seized momentum, telling them everything they wanted to hear, with a tongue as swift as a politician in Bone. The majority had eaten it up, and now he sat on the edge of the throne of the under city.
He grabbed three coins and juggled them with one hand. I wonder if I could spend it all as quickly as I acquired it.
“So,” Jasper said, “how are you going to bridge the ties with the Towers? And what about the challengers? No offense, but you aren’t exactly the fighting type. Can they name a champion? A brawler, perhaps?”
One thing at a time. “That’s where you come in, Jasper.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. You didn’t think I’d bring you along just because you’re pretty, did you?”
“You think I’m pretty?”
“Gorgeous.”
“Irresistible?”
If you were made of gold, maybe. “Absolutely.”
“Then why aren’t you in this tub with me?”
Good question. “Stay on point, dear. Now tell me everything about everyone you know in connection to the Towers.”
“Not unless you bathe with me first.”
Melegal kicked his boots off the table and started to undress. “Oh, all right, then.”
Knock! Knock! Knock-knock!
He sighed. “Enter!”
The bald, one-eyed man pushed the door open.
I really should have locked that.
Jubbler and Satchel entered.
“What is it?”
“Underlings. Huh.”
“What about them?”
“A barge full of them sits out on our, huh, waters.”
“Then sink it.”
“We tried. Huh. We can’t.”
CHAPTER 12
The Magi Roost was rife with tension.
“Venir, you can’t just barge into a tower. You’ll be deader than stone the moment you knock on the door,” Fogle said.
“Just point it out.”
Brak started buckling on his sword belt.
“What are you doing?” Jubilee said to Brak. “Do you want to get killed too?”
“Better to die on my feet than on my arse.”
“You are an arse.”
Brak made his way over beside Venir.
They’re both mad! I suppose I should be used to it by now.
Fogle folded his arms together. “You can’t go anywhere unless I tell you where she is. At least, where I think she is. And I’m not going to let you get yourselves killed. You might not like me, but I don’t want to see you dead either.” He eyed Brak. “At least not him. You, well, you’re difficult.”
“At least I’m not indecisive.”
“Indecisive!” Fogle’s hands turned into fists. “I’ve been risking my neck too, you know! Irritating oaf!”
Eyes all on him, Fogle felt something stir inside his gut. His blood started to race. It wasn’t anger or irritation, rather something uplifting. The urge to do what was right. He’d been playing by the Royals’ rules long enough. It had gotten them, most of all Kam, nowhere. “Slat. Give me a moment.”
“For what?” Venir said.
“You’ll need my help,” Fogle replied. He removed a tiny leather tome from inside his robes. “Whether you like it or not. Joline, Jubilee, be still. I’ll take care of the three of you first.”
“And then what?” Brak said.
“Then,” Fogle said, opening and closing the spellbook, making it larger and larger, “we are going to stick it to the arseholes in the towers.”
***
“You haven’t enough supplies,” Fogle said to Joline.
“A week’s worth,” she said, meeting his gaze. “You’re certain this will work?”
“So long as you don’t leave.”
“Let’s go, then,” Venir said. He looked at Brak. “You don’t—”
“I know, but I am.” The oversized teenager leaned his head side to side, cracking his neck. “It’s best for my sister.”
Jubilee walked over to Brak and wrapped her slender arms around his waist. The top of her head rested against his stomach. “You come back, Brak. You hear?”
“I will.”
“It’s the three of us, then,” Fogle said, collapsing his spellbook and hiding it back inside his robes. “So, what’s the plan, Venir? I suppose I show you the tower, and you chop it down with your axe?”
Venir’s firm jaw allowed a sliver of a smile. He’d only had one plan, and that had been getting Fogle stirred up enough to help them. Now, he’d have to rely on Fogle and venture into the unknown of the towers. “You read my mind. Well done, mage. Now show me the tower.”
“It’s broad daylight out there.”
Venir shrugged.
“Can we at least be a little more discreet?”
Venir looked up at Brak and back toward Fogle. “Do you really think it will make a difference?” He took his helmet off, plucked a cloak off a nearby hook, and wrapped up Brool’s blades with it. “Better?”
“Fine.” Fogle then said to Joline and Jubilee, “Remember, the spells hold so long as you don’t leave. And the doors are sealed tight until we return. Be safe.”
“We will.”
Venir kissed Erin on the forehead. “I’m bringing your mother back.”
“Dah!”
***
Venir gazed into the sky. A tall tower made of black brick and highlighted in white marble stretched toward the clouds. “That’s it?”
“That’s the one,” Fogle said. He sat on a crate and scratched his cheek. “Give me a moment, and I’ll see if I can find her.” He put his fingers to his temples. “They have mystic eyes and ears everywhere in that tower. Very private, they are.”
“I’m sure you’ll find some way around it once you put your mind to it.”
Perched on top of an apartment building, Venir glanced down into the streets. The people milled about in a swarm of activity. They fought for food, supplies, and tools. It was chaos. The City Watch was out in full force, maintaining order. Night sticks cracked disorderly skulls.
“Probably a lot more peaceful in the Outland,” Brak said, sitting on the edge of the roof with his legs dangling over. “This place is about to fall, isn’t it?”
“It’s fallen already, but that doesn’t mean we have to fall with it.” He glanced over his shoulder. Fogle’s eyes were closed, and his face was strained in concentration. “You get anything yet?”
The mage didn’t flinch.
“He’ll probably be hours.”
“He might be asleep,” Brak said. “He looks tired.”
Fogle’s eyes popped open. “A little quiet would aid my efforts, if you don’t mind.” He took a deep breath and stood up. “Never mind.”
“So do you know where she is?” Brak said, swinging his legs back over the side.
“There are too many wards guarding the tower. I can’t see inside without being noticed.”
Venir put his fists on his hips. “Just get us inside. We’ll do the rest.”
“I’ve another angle. I know where to find someone who does know where she is.”
Venir cocked a brow. “And who might that be?”
“Ruut.”
“Another wizard,” Venir grunted.
“A mage who’ll know where she is.”
“And he’ll help us?”
“No,” Fogle said, “not right away. It’ll take some convincing. That’s where you two come in.”
“What do you want us to do?”
“Squeeze out of him the information that we seek.”
“Let’s go, then,” Venir said. “Where is he?”
“In the same tower, and I can take you right there if you let me.” Fogle pulled back his sleeves. “Do you consent? It takes a willing mind to do this.”
Brak’s heavy eyes were on Venir.
“It’ll be fine.” Venir had some idea what Fogle was talking about. It turned his stomach queasy. “Just keep us all in one piece.”
Fogle put his fingertips to his temples and sat down. His face became a mask of concentration, and he started to mumble. Seconds later, the air shimmered, and a door blacker than night appeared behind them. Forehead beaded in sweat, he turned and faced the portal. “I’ll go first.”
Venir pulled him back by the shoulder. He untethered the burlap over Brool, strapped on the helmet, and readied his shield. “No, I will.” He stepped through. His body spun like a top. He landed on his hands and knees on a smooth, cold floor. The room was spinning. He glanced behind him. The black portal closed. Helm started to throb. I’ve been betrayed. Bone!
The Darkslayer: Series 2 Special Edition (Bish and Bone Bundle Books 1-5): Sword and Sorcery Adventures Page 47