by Isabo Kelly
“Captain Adams has filled you in?” the king asked, motioning Jacob over to the desk.
“Yes, Majesty. Goblins in Karasnia Forest.”
General Thack twisted the end of his beard and pursed his lips. “We’ll have to patrol the road, Majesty. An army garrison?”
“I’d recommend king’s soldiers,” Jacob added. “If word spreads, we’ll have considerable panic on our hands. The King’s Guard are more likely to be discreet.”
“I agree,” King John said. “General Thack, hand-pick the men to go. I want the travelers on that road protected all the way to the Bthak border. If anyone asks, there’s been a run of bandits and we’re just being cautious.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” General Thack bowed his head and left the room.
“Well, Jacob,” King John said, sitting heavily into his seat. “What do you suppose all this means? Goblins for the first time in three hundred years.”
Jacob studied his king. Worry showed heavily in his eyes and the creases deepening his brow. Goblins could be as unpredictable as they were strong, and as cunning as they were deadly. Jacob could well understand his sovereign’s fear. “I don’t know, Majesty. Have you sent a dispatch to Baroness Georna?”
“He left just a few minutes ago. She sent word of goblin movement last month, but she gave no indication that it was this bad. I’d assumed it was just the usual movement—early winter storms pushing them down into upper Georna.”
Jacob ran a hand through his hair. It was nothing new for goblins to be pushed by storms into Karasnia. But they usually kept to themselves in the high reaches of Georna Barony and moved back to Bthak with the spring. They were territorial creatures. It would take a great deal of motivation for them to move this far outside of their territory. “Sire, I think it best to assume something is driving them down from the north. Something besides early winter storms. Unless Baroness Georna says otherwise, I don’t think we should try to force them back just yet. If they’ve been driven this far for the first time in three centuries, they’re likely to fight rather than turn around and go back. And a goblin war…” He let the sentence drop.
They both knew the outcome of the last goblin war.
Deraun Gip stared at the wall over Vic’s shoulder for long minutes. The news of Tracker’s men in town was unusual enough to warrant added thought. “You saw only the three?” he asked, still staring past her shoulder.
“Yeah. Only the three. But one was that bastard, Malkiney.”
“Tracker’s right hand still in Karasnia. I’d heard word of their leaving two months ago. Tracker supposedly had a run up north and was going straight down to Depnie from there.”
Vic shifted her feet. “Any other news, Gip?”
“Brad Ruf heard rumors of goblins in the forest. Kritta says there’s a big hush over at the Magic Guild. And there’s rumors that the Browan ambassador’s been called back to Browan immediately. Nothing else out of the ordinary.” Deraun took a deep breath and met Vic’s gaze. “Something’s happening, Vic. I can’t nail it down, but…something’s happening.”
Vic bit the inside of her lower lip. Deraun didn’t look nervous often, but at that moment a shadow behind his eyes looked scared. If Deraun was scared, bad things were about to happen in Dareelia. “I’ll keep nosing around, Gip. As I can’t play my game for the next few weeks, I might as well make use of this being a woman thing.” Her grin brought a reluctant half smile to Deraun’s thin lips.
“You just stay away from Big Charlie. He’s still fuming over that last hand. Seems he lost almost as much to you last night as Xank lost today.”
Vic’s eyebrows arched, her attempt to look innocent fell flat. “Thanks for the warning, Gip.”
Deraun nodded at the sentence’s double meaning.
Vic fled his office. Night had fallen over the city. A cold breeze hinted at the approach of winter. It was coming fast this year, another sign that didn’t sit well with Vic. She pulled her cloak over her shoulders, suppressing a shiver that had nothing to do with cold. After only a brief pause, she turned and followed the streetlamps to her favorite pub. The need to appear around town as a woman, while not being noticed by any of Big Charlie’s men, limited her options. The last thing she needed was trouble with some drunk in a crowded commons to draw attention to herself. So she had to go somewhere safe, a place where she had friends to back her up.
She was still in her new tunic and breeches, as they were the only clothing she had that didn’t make her look like a boy, but she’d replaced the white cloak with her long, hooded black cape. If she had to be bright, she could at least dim the colors under the cape’s heavy folds. The glow of the bright white breeches in the lamplights made her cringe. Tomorrow, she promised, she’d find something dark. Just because she had to look like a girl didn’t mean she had to make herself a walking target at night.
She turned down a small street, keeping as close to the shadows of the buildings as the streetlamps would allow. Going to one of her favorite haunts was a bit risky, but she’d practically been raised at the Screeching Hawk. Before her dad disappeared, they’d lived in a room above the tavern with the lady owner. Even after her dad’s disappearance, Peggy had let her stay at the Hawk for a few more years. It was in the dark corners of the smoky pub where Victoria had learned how to be Vic Flash. She’d be as safe there as anywhere in Dareelia. She had friends, she had options, and, best of all, she had credit.
As she stepped through the door, the familiar smells of spilled ale, smoke and greasy pub food made her smile. Home. A glance around the room confirmed the absence of Charlie’s men. So far, so good. With luck, he wouldn’t have anyone stationed here until later that night. By that time, she’d be safely tucked in a bed with a full belly.
She was feeling quite relaxed and secure as she walked to the bar when a strong hand shot out from one of the tables to grab her arm and she nearly screeched. Ready for a fight, she spun, only to find Jacob Marin smiling up at her.
“What are you doing here?” she said harshly, the moment of surprise making her heart pound. She hadn’t meant to snap at him, but the last place she’d expected to see him was in her sanctuary. In fact, Vic hadn’t expected to see the King’s Own again at all, except maybe in a parade.
“Drinking,” he answered easily. “Sit.”
“Why?”
“Have a drink with me.”
“You buying?”
“I know how much Xank carries in his purse.”
Vic raised her hand in surrender. “All right, but for that little reminder, you’re getting the slop ale, Marin.” Vic motioned over a barmaid as she took a seat across from him, unfastened her cape and let it drop over the chair back. “One gold, and one bright, Mar.”
“Right with ya, Vic,” she answered brightly. “You got any money or is this on Peggy?”
Jacob chuckled.
With a scowl, Vic told the barmaid she had money.
Mar nodded, shot a suggestive glance at the King’s Own and moved back toward the bar.
“I take it you frequent this place?” Jacob asked.
His smile made Vic’s stomach clench. She sat back in her chair and propped her legs up on the table, defiantly casual. The last thing she wanted this rake to know was that he made her pulse quicken. “Yeah. The Hawk’s like a second home. So I know you don’t come here much. Slumming again?”
Jacob no longer wore the dark green and gold tunic of his office, but his cream shirt was of a heavy silk and his snug brown trousers were soft, supple leather. His dark brown boots bunched down around his well-muscled calves, drawing her attention to powerful legs she was trying not to notice.
“Something like that,” he answered.
Damn the man anyway, she thought sourly. All he had to do was sit there and talk with that deep quiet voice and her body started to tingle in new and disturbing ways.
Mar returned with their ales.
“The gold’s mine, Mar,” Vic said through a cat’s grin, locking eyes wit
h Jacob. Remind me of getting caught with Xank’s purse will you, General?
Mar raised a mildly amused brow, but placed the bright ale down in front of Jacob.
Jacob stared back into Vic’s eyes until Mar had finished setting the drinks down, then with a sexy half smile looked up at the barmaid. “Thanks, Mar,” he murmured.
Mar’s mouth opened slightly as her gaze roved over him. “Anything else I can do for you?” Her implication was obvious. In the tradition of truly great barmaids, Mar was a full-figured, flirtatious young woman with an attractive if not beautiful face. She also had a healthy appetite for male flesh and was never at a loss for someone to help appease that hunger.
Jacob returned her stare easily, without so much as a twitch. “I’ll let you know.”
Vic crossed her arms over her stomach and watched in disgust as the barmaid edged from the table. When Jacob looked back, she was shaking her head. “I’ve heard about you, Jacob Marin, but I’d never have believed half the rumors if I hadn’t just witnessed that little scene.”
He chuckled. “It’s a gift. Thanks for the drink.” With two gulps, the King’s Own swallowed half the jug.
“Uck,” Vic said, before taking a healthy swig of her own ale. “How can you drink that slop like that?” She curled her lip at the idea.
“Easier to swallow if you can’t taste it.” He laughed. Sitting back in his chair, he said, “So what have you heard about me, Victoria?”
“I’ve heard that the flower merchants drool every time you walk toward their shops. As for the rest, I think I’ll let ya guess.”
Along with his notorious reputation for seduction, Jacob Marin was also known for sending each of his former lovers a single flower on their birthday. Word on the street was that the flower merchants had standing orders that filled each day of the year and then some. Vic had always suspected that bit was exaggerated. She wasn’t so sure anymore.
“How old are you, Victoria?”
“How old are you?” she challenged.
“Older than you.”
“Then I guess that would put me somewhere between birth and your age.”
“That sounds about right.”
His steady gaze was starting to make her fidgety. “So why are you really here, General? There’s lots of pubs closer to the castle.”
“You can call me Jacob. And I like the pubs farther away from the castle. Better atmosphere.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re hunting for information.”
“Something like that.” He swallowed the last of his ale and motioned Mar to the table again. “Make that two golds this time, please. This round’s mine.”
Vic smiled and downed the rest of her jug. When he raised an appreciative eyebrow, she said, “Can’t let a free ale just sit in front of me, can I?”
Mar returned quickly with the two drinks. Smiling down at Jacob, she hovered over the table until Vic pointedly cleared her throat. When Mar reluctantly turned back to her other customers, Vic snapped, “Am I getting in the way of your night, General? I don’t have to stay.”
“I invited you to sit for a reason, Victoria. And no, you’re not in the way of any plans.”
“What reason?”
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table and studied her face closely. “Why were you hiding from Tracker’s men today? You said the trouble between you and he was some time ago.”
She shrugged. “The man in the center with the silver detailing on his tunic? His name’s Malkiney. He’s one of the few people in town who knows me on sight no matter how I’m dressed.”
“That doesn’t explain why you didn’t want him to see you.”
“I’m in hiding from Big Charlie, remember? Can’t have a lot of people knowing I’m about like this.” She glanced down at her attire. The gesture sent Jacob’s gaze wandering over her outfit, too, and it was all she could do not to squirm. “And Malkiney and I don’t get on so well,” she said, trying to get his gaze back to her face and away from her legs. The look in his eyes made her uncomfortably aware of being a woman. And, damn it all, she liked the feeling. Dangerous. Very dangerous. “He’d sell the information to Charlie just to spite me.”
His gaze was firmly on her face now. Studying. “You’re not telling me the whole truth, are you, Victoria?”
“Why do you keep calling me Victoria? No one’s used that name in years.”
“You’re changing the subject.” He grinned and relaxed against his chair back again, ale in hand. “I like the name Victoria. It suits you.”
She snorted into her mug. “You don’t know me very well.”
“I’ve got time.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Listen, Marin, I don’t know what you’re after here, but—”
“Why you were ducking Tracker’s men,” he interrupted.
“I already told you as much as you need to know.”
“I need to know what Tracker’s men are doing here. I think you can tell me.”
“You want information about Tracker? Tell me about the Browan ambassador’s sudden call home.”
“You’ll have to ask the Browan ambassador.”
“You’ll have to talk to Tracker.”
Jacob chuckled and shook his head. “Gamblers. All right, you little thief. You’re going to insist on an information trade?”
“Well, you aren’t gonna get it for free. And a gold ale is too cheap for payment.”
“How do I know you know any more than I do?”
“You don’t. I may not know any more than I’ve told you.” She took a long swig of ale then met his gaze. “But I have ways of finding out.”
“What’s the going rate for borrowing one of the Hole’s street spies?”
Vic dropped her feet off the table. “What do you mean?”
“You must not think highly of me if you think I couldn’t figure out who you worked for.”
Her adrenaline shot up, making her pulse race. “If you’re trying to find the Hole through me, Marin, it won’t work.” There were few things in this world that held her allegiance, but she was unerringly loyal to those who had it. Thieves’ Hole had given her a place to belong. She would defend its secrets with her life.
“I told you already, Victoria, I guard the king. It’s the city guard’s job to fight street crime. I’ve no interest in ferreting out the Thieves’ Hole.”
She licked suddenly dry lips and studied the man sitting across from her. He was dangerous in more than one way. She should cut her loses and leave. But Gip might want the connection. Working for a King’s Own could be useful to the Hole. “I’ll have to talk to my boss. He may not be keen on helping a King’s Own.”
“Tell him I’ll pay well. There’s something happening in Karasnia. The king needs to be ready for it.”
She exhaled slowly, nodding her head. “My boss thinks something’s building too. Not knowing what it is makes him nervous. And whatever else, he’s loyal to the king. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you, Victoria.”
Jacob smiled one of those heart-stopping smiles, and she found herself grinning back.
“When will you know if your boss will trade?”
“I’ll let you know tomorrow night. That’s not saying I’ll have information, just whether we can deal or not.”
“That’s all I ask. Do you know the Winnow Tree Inn?”
She nodded.
“I keep a room there. Meet me tomorrow night an hour after midnight.”
Vic narrowed her eyes. “You want me to meet you in a private inn room? You better not be getting any funny ideas, Marin.” Because, she added silently, I’ve enough for the both of us.
“So suspicious, Victoria. Now, I’m curious about the rumors you’ve heard about me.”
A quick retort died on her lips as Mar shuffled back to the table.
“Can I get you another, sir?”
She couldn’t miss the way the barmaid ignored her to focus the full force of her adoring eyes on Jacob.
“If you’re buying.”
Jacob smiled and ordered two more gold ales. Vic had forgotten to order food before she started drinking, and as she gulped the rest of her second ale, the alcohol rushed to her head and started her lips tingling. When Mar returned with the drinks, she ordered a bowl of stew and a chunk of bread.
“You hungry?” she asked Jacob. “Peggy makes a pretty good beef stew. Her meat pies are a little greasy, but still tasty.”
“I’ve eaten already. Thanks.”
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table and settling her chin on laced fingers. “So, Jacob Marin…” The alcohol was also starting to relax her professional detachment. Curiosity once again got the best of her when it came to this particular King’s Own. “How’d you know where to find me?”
“I asked around.”
She raised a brow.
“You don’t think I have spies around town?”
“Yeah, I guess you would, wouldn’t you? Probably have half the women in Dareelia spying for you.”
“Not quite. Is that one of the things you’ve heard rumored about me?”
“Hey, it’s none of my business, Marin.” She waved a hand expansively and missed knocking over her ale by inches. “By Mar’s reaction, I can see you can’t help it. You just sort of draw them, don’t you? Until they’re slobbering around your feet.”
“You don’t have any problem with that, Victoria.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not an oversexed barmaid or a silly merchant’s daughter.”
“How long have you been on the streets?”
“Never been off the streets, so to speak.” She cupped her hand around her mug.
“There’s a story under that tough, cocky exterior, isn’t there?”
“Everyone’s got a story, Marin. Some are just better than others.” She finished off her third ale in three large gulps, averting her gaze. When Mar appeared with her stew, she ordered another round of drinks. The beef stew was chunked with mushrooms, potatoes and carrots, and its heat warmed her stomach even as it dampened the effects of the ale.
Jacob quietly watched her eat, leaning forward on the table, resting his chin in one hand.