“Ugh, I need to sit down now.”
I helped the woozy youth back into the inn.
Galina started apologizing as her beau sat next to her, but he held up a hand. “It’s fine, really. I’m sorry for yelling. It’s just a lot to take in.”
“Don’t worry,” said Lucetta, “she’ll be a good girl from now on.” The piratess then gave Myron a mug of mead to ease his anxious spirit.
I let him finish the drink as I explained what Myron and I spoke of outside.
“It’s simple,” said Lucetta. “All we got to do is send Ludomir a letter telling him that we have his son and that we need him to show up with a hundred gold standards to get him back.”
“Silver,” I said. “He owns silver mines, so that’ll be a more believable demand.”
“It’s not that simple,” said Myron. “No matter what you write, he won’t come alone if the letter doesn’t come from someone he knows will follow through with the threat. If it’s only the two of you, then his men will overwhelm your location. The best way to force him to come with a small force is to bring him to enemy territory, which means actually being in enemy territory. That will bring you a whole host of new problems.”
“Not unless we bring them in on the plan,” said Lucetta. “Know anyone who’ll jump at the chance?”
“Are you mad? That means meeting with an underworld chief, none of which will believe this sort of thing is happening.”
“Perhaps not,” I said, “but everyone by now knows Alslana ships are off shore, making imaginations run wild. If you had to choose the one chief most inclined to listen to us, who would it be?”
Myron’s head dropped to allow both hands to go through his black hair. Looking at the table, he said, “Tikhon. Tikhon Loktev. He and my father despise one another, but he keeps a cool head every time they meet.”
“I’m guessing Tikhon doesn’t enjoy your father’s hands in his business ventures.”
Raising his head back up, Myron answered, “Aye.”
“That could be the deal we offer,” said Lucetta. “He helps up set up the trap, and you promise to take your hands off the underground world when you take over.”
“Or he could take me hostage for real.”
“What?” asked Galina. “You can’t make him go up to Tikhon, or any other syndicate leader. They’ll kill him.”
“Having one on our side will make things easier,” said Lucetta, her voice becoming a higher pitch of pseudo sweetness.
“Where does Tikhon live?” I asked Myron.
“The area north of the temple is known as his territory. His home looks unassuming, but much of it lies underground.”
“Can we contact him beforehand so he won’t attack on sight?”
“We can use the courier office to send a late night message. Maybe he sends someone to arrange a face-to-face meeting if we can pique his curiosity.”
“We have to try. If he doesn’t agree to see us on reasonable terms, then we attempt another route. Agreed?”
With a big sigh, he said, “Very well.”
“Galina, you and your companions stay in a room and keep out of sight for the night. Myron, take me and Lucetta to the nearest courier office. We’ll think of exactly what we want to say on the way there.”
Myron borrowed the inn owner’s hooded cloak to hide his face better before stepping out. Our trio discussed the wording of the message as we headed for the courier office, which wasn’t far from the temple. The chosen sentences were written down in the shack of an office.
The missive was pretty direct. It described the desire for an Alslana representative to speak with Tikhon directly regarding a sensitive matter involving Myron’s father and a chance to be rid of him. If he did not take advantage, then it was implied someone else would get their turn. If he wanted to dip his toe in the water, he was to send a lone envoy on horseback to the temple, where Myron would be waiting to receive the reply, if any, until an hour or two after midnight. I also hinted at the importance of keeping this letter’s contents limited to as few eyes as possible.
We bought a courier on horseback and headed for the temple straight afterward.
On reaching the temple grounds, Lucetta summoned Kara and had her keep a lookout on top of the temple’s roof. She was instructed to warn us if she spotted a horseman heading our way. She yelped that catty bark of hers with every horseman she saw, so anything more than the one requested for broke the deal. I stayed beside Myron while Lucetta hid in the shadows to keep her sights on the road most likely to be used to get to the front of the temple.
A little more than half an hour after we arrived, with Myron looking as though he needed to take a huge shit to steady himself, we heard Kara give her signal. Lucetta ran up to us seconds later to tell us a single woman rider was coming. The rider turned the corner as soon as Lucetta hid behind the other.
When her horse slowed to a trot in front of us, Myron said, “Tamara? That you?”
The middle-aged red haired woman, carrying a tad of plump in every feature I could see, replied, “Nice to see you, too, Master Kosenko.”
“Who is she?” I asked.
“Used to work for my father’s bodyguard team before defecting. I thought Father had you killed.”
“Almost did. My right tit will never be the same. So where’s this Alslana representative?”
“It’s Mercer. This is him.”
Already braced for it, the woman laughed. “Him?! Are those ships full of kids!? I guess this is one big joke, huh?” I rose my scabbard, offering Aranath’s hilt to her. “What’s this?”
“Proof,” I answered.
The expected effect took a moment to materialize, but she did end up dropping it.
When I picked up the sword, the impassive dragon said, “Someday that won’t work.”
“What the fuck was that?!” asked Tamara, shaking the hand that had grasped the hilt. “What was that voice?”
“A mere joke, remember?” I said. “Go back and tell Master Loktev that he missed an opportunity to hear a fine jest.”
“Okay, so you have an enchanted weapon. How do I know you’re of Alslana?”
I opened my cloak to reveal the white Alslana emblem expertly sewn on its inner side. From its pocket I pulled out a little scroll and tossed it up to her. She unrolled it to read its official contents.
Tossing me back the scroll, Tamara said, “Very well, Mercer, Myron, you really wish to meet with Master Loktev?”
“Only I really do. Myron is here because it’s in a lot of people’s best interest.”
“Then when do you want this meeting?”
“As quickly as it can get done… Myron says Tikhon is relatively even-tempered, and he was smart enough to keep perpetuating your death, so am I right to say he’s wise enough to not attack an Alslana herald?”
“I won’t pretend he’s not a tyrannical man, but I would agree that he isn’t stupid. Why do you think he can openly defy someone like Ludomir and still operate less than a district away?”
“Then we’ll follow you to his home. I assume he won’t mind meeting us at the heart of his territory with his best men around him.”
“Right, then follow me.”
Below the sound of the trotting horse in front of us, Myron asked me, “What was the sword thing about? Was that a trick or real magic?”
“Wanna find out?”
“Er, no thanks. You sure this is a good idea? Meeting right in his home?”
“The removal of a powerful enemy is something few madmen refuse, and Tikhon sounds like a rational fellow. He’ll also feel safe knowing he has the advantage if we act up, which we won’t. There’s otherwise no reason for him to attack me and seize you.”
“I pray your assumptions are right.”
“Even if they’re not, I carry the certainty that I can get us out of trouble.”
“How?”
“Just hit the floor if shit starts flying.”
Our fast walk took us through a dis
trict half occupied by buildings that mercy said would have to be abandoned, but inequity told me many remained occupied. The barks and growls of dogs became louder the deeper into the district we infiltrated. A pack of them were seen outside the squat two story home Tamara said belonged to her master. Each dog appeared to be as enormous and dirty as the human masters superintending them. Two frothing and snarling Rottweilers came up close to me and Myron, but they backed off with confused whimpers when they caught a scent of the burned dragon stones I pulled out of my pockets.
“Tell Master Loktev I’ve brought him two interesting guests.”
“Yeah? Who are they?”
“He’ll know who they are. Get your fat ass moving, Ivan. I’m taking Oberon back to the stables. I’ll join you in a minute.”
Tamara galloped to the back of the home and Ivan strolled inside it. Meanwhile, the bundled up house guards tried unraveling why most of their dogs suddenly became so whiny and timid. Myron and I were left standing outside for what felt to me to be ten minutes, and based on his rattling teeth, what Myron comprehended to be ten hours.
The formerly described “fat ass” reappeared and told us to follow him. The guards wanted to bring their dogs closer to us as a show of intimidation, but they had trouble compelling their backtracking hounds to act on their instilled behavior. This made them look far more disorderly than menacing.
The home’s interior held basic furnishings, which already made it among the most extravagant homes in all Uthosis. A dozen armed men and women filled the cramped space, but instead of creating the predictable rowdiness one expected from a building packed with underworld regulars, they seemed mindful of three children sleeping near the central fireplace. One young woman was even just knitting a blanket.
Ivan directed us to stairs that led to the basement level. Another ten people inhabited this space, but with the basement being twice the area of the first floor, it didn’t appear as crowded. Three men and Tamara sat by the table at the end of the room. A fireplace was positioned behind them.
With a waning chatter still in his teeth, Myron said, “The short, stocky man at the head of the table is Master Loktev.”
On seeing us, everyone that had been sitting stood up and gripped their maces, axes, and short swords. Tikhon, a head shorter than the average sized Tamara, twirled a long knife in his left hand. Three of his men blocked the stairs behind us. Ivan motioned for us to stop walking when we stepped onto a rune carved on the stone floor. No doubt it was a paralysis spell ready to constrict us if need be.
With a voice raspy from an evident cold, Tikhon said, “I’m glad to see Ludomir’s eldest finally take the initiative in something, even if it’s at the behest of another. We all must start somewhere, I suppose. I only hope it isn’t the last one you take. As you can hear, my mood is extra prone to irritability, so I’m confident my rest is not interrupted by children simply looking to play.”
“I assure you, Master Loktev, Alslana and I did not sail thousands of miles to waste anyone’s time.”
“We shall see. So why do outsiders intrude on our affairs?”
“Outsiders? From what I gather, Uthosis is nothing more than hard-drinking northerners looking for cheap wine and whores, and greedy southerners coming up to cheat the drunks.”
“And don’t forget the westerners across the sea using their traders and bankers to belittle what economy we have. Those of us with the blood of the old lords will remember what plights gluttonous outsiders have brought us and will repay them in kind when the time comes. You’d do best to remember that, child.”
“At least I’m taller than one.”
The air tightened at my remark, bringing Tikhon and his men a few steps closer to me. This high-strung ambience reminded me of an old sensation I hadn’t sensed since my days working for Garf’s syndicate. It was surprisingly wistful. Maybe because things were simpler then.
“Choose your next words carefully, boy. You are no longer in the cushy confines of an Alslana beach house, but in the stinking bowels of Uthosis, ready to be struck down with a wave of my hand.”
“I’d actually wouldn’t mind experiencing how well an Uthosis man fights, or ten.”
An ugly grin grew. “You have the balls of a cat in a rat’s den, I’ll give you that.”
“Rats of the finest variety, Master Loktev.”
The grin opened higher to let out a coughing laugh. “I always hear Wregor, Wregor, Wregor! They’re the impetus of Orda’s civilization! Bunch of pompous, lacy milksops they are! Perhaps Alslana can prove to be a better paragon if even their youths know how to enliven an Uthosis room. Let’s get on to business. What is it you want from me?”
“A letter and a sacrificial building in your district.”
“I’ll ask about the letter first.”
“The letter is to be sent to Ludomir. It is to describe his son’s capture by your forces and your desire to trade his life for whatever silver he can gather this very night. I would even mention that you killed Galina in the scuffle to make it sound more credible. At dawn he is to come with the coin to a building I will use to trap him and anyone he brings. There he will meet his end. In exchange for your help, Myron will release all his father’s connections to the underworld, leaving you in a prime position to fill in the void.”
Tikhon scratched the hairy scabs stuck on his chin. “And what’s the benefit for Alslana in this?”
“My companions and I need to reach the mountains with a guarantee of our safety. We believe there’s an enemy there that requires destruction, and we do not wish to waste lives, time, and energy fighting ordinary louts in our march.”
“So, it’s more than a favor you’ll ask from a freshly empowered son. You will have to give him the coin to ensure everyone gets their piece. How much coin?”
“Enough.”
“Oh, I’m sure the wealth can be spread a little more than one merchant’s son. Taking Ludomir’s hands off my back is a nice gesture, and might buy you an invite to a dinner, but I’d venture to say actual payment might be in order.”
“Very well, if the transition is successful, then I don’t see how Myron would be averse to negotiating a bill each of you can be satisfied with. Isn’t that right, Myron?” I slapped his back to stimulate a response.
“Y-yes, of course. I can go as far as to say Master Loktev and I could continue finding common ground once we are both better ensconced in our respective positions. I imagine neither of us wants to interfere with each other’s ventures. And I know I cannot hope to find lasting security for my family without help from the underworld.”
“Excellent!” said Tikhon. “Kaspista will move a step forward if we two can stay sensible and cordial with one another. Bring me parchment and ink! And my pipe and flask!”
Myron and I were warned to keep within the rune, but Tikhon spoke what he was writing aloud, taking advice on how to word it from everyone in the room. He smoke and drank as he wrote. What stood out about his drinking was that it was done using a flask of steel whose front was overlaid with a thin layer of striking black pearl. Ghevont told me Clarissa liked pearls.
As a result of Tikhon’s familiarity with Ludomir’s past reactions, and vice versa, the overall tone of the letter turned out to be a casual frankness, as though kidnapping sons and trading them for coin was as commonplace and compulsory as the next sunrise. I couldn’t argue with that logic. In keeping with that reasoning, Tikhon didn’t even demand a specific amount of coin, only that Ludomir bring as much as he could gather that night. The ultimatum called for Myron’s father to come before the sun’s brim cracked above the horizon. From there they would discuss whether the brought coin was enough to save the son.
Per my insistence, the meeting needed to take place in a structure that was not only isolated from other buildings to reduce Ludomir’s unavoidable fear of an ambush, but so that my idea for a trap didn’t take down a whole district with it. Tikhon offered up a termite infested horse stable in the middle of a mud pit. If h
e ever did use it, it was to slaughter animals, not house them. Assuming my plan failed, then the next termite bloom in the summer stood a good chance of finishing it off.
Ludomir was instructed to bring no more than his bodyguard unit, four people Tikhon recognized by sight. The message stated Tikhon would match the bodyguard number. This presented a minor problem in Tikhon’s eyes. Ludomir would surely bring someone who could cast a prana detecting spell to confirm the number, and since I needed to go to enact the plan and make sure it went my way, that meant Tikhon could only bring three guards to back him up.
“What guarantee do I have that you’ll have my well-being in mind if something goes wrong?” asked Tikhon.
“If we setup how I want to, then I’ll be the first to meet any resistance whether things go right or wrong.”
“And what does this setup entail? I’ve yet to hear your masterful plan. Do you wish to meet them head-on?”
“If we have no choice, but it shouldn’t come to that. Which of your men here has the strongest flame?”
“I carry such a flame!” said a man with stubby legs, which looked too short to carry his blocky torso. “I’m not called Olek ‘The Dragon’ for nothin’!”
For the first time in our acquaintanceship, Aranath let out an unrestrained laugh, which was, for all intents and purposes, lots of little roars mashed together. I held it in better, but I still smiled.
Taking out a dragon stone and laying it beyond the rune’s edge, I said, “All right, Olek, I’m going to ignite a flame on this rock. I want you to stop the rock from burning as quickly as possible, got it?”
After getting a nod from Tikhon, Olek said, “Simple. Anything else?”
“No. On three. One. Two. Three!”
The disk-shaped rock kindled with the softest type of dragon flame I could muster. Olek’s expression creased more and more the longer the flame continued to burn.
“Anyone else want to try?” I asked.
Tamara was quick to join in, curious to further evaluate the youth carrying the talking sword. The dragon flame only burned brighter with their prana to feed off of.
Flight of the Dragon Knight (The Dragon Knight Series Book 3) Page 9