by James Shade
Ortelli went to the bar and poured himself a second drink. He looked to refill the other glasses but saw that Jaeron still had not touched his.
“I’m not sure what happened in the weeks that followed. Perhaps Henri persuaded Liadee to see things his way. Maybe she had a falling out with Gerlido’s associates. The next thing I heard was that she and Henri were gone. Amidst so many others at that time.”
Jaeron asked, “That time, sir?”
“Ah. Well, a hell of a lot of things were going wrong, weren't they? Rosunland declared war on Bormeer. Or we declared war on them, depending on whom you believe. The Queen was killed by members of the Undeified churches. Mennat abolished the monarchy which caused the self-exile of Admiral Sevenson and half the Bormeeran fleet went with him.
“And the Thieves’ Guilds of Dun Lercos... we were hit hard. Between the army, the city militia, and the Church of Teichmar scouring the streets looking for traitors and heretics and the sudden exposure to foreign spies, pirates, and smugglers… No one was being choosy and no one was taking prisoners. I lost half my men in less than two weeks. It was the most bloody violence we had ever seen.”
Ortelli faced Jaeron again.
“Not that you're here to learn about that.”
Ortelli walked to Jaeron and sat in the wingback chair next to him.
“The next time I heard word of Liadee, it was almost a year later. I moved my guild to Islar, not knowing that she had come here with Henri, married, and set up a home, adopting the three of you. I heard she was looking for guild work, but she never came to see me, and I never tried to reach her. It probably would have all worked out, but then a year or so later Gerlido moved here from Dun Lercos, too. I always had my suspicions that he was working for a more powerful Guildmaster in the capital, but I never found out.
“Anyway, his guild was in operation only a few months when I was informed that Liadee was… killed.
“I don’t know if that answers your questions, son,” Ortelli said. If Coatie was surprised to see his old master not trying to hide his emotions, he did not show it. Victor sighed and wiped away the tear that was making a slow run down the length of his nose.
Jaeron finally took a drink from his glass, and with a barely perceptible nodding rose from his seat.
“So you don’t know why,” the boy said. The voice was calm, if a bit strained from the tightness Victor saw in his throat.
“No, Jaeron,” Ortelli said. “I don’t know why. “If I had known… really known… had proof. I’d have killed the son of a bitch myself.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll see myself out.”
As Jaeron made his way to the study door, Coatie moved with him. Victor confirmed with a silent signal that he should go with deAlto. He had not held much back and now he was sure where this was leading.
Perhaps a vendetta by the deAltos against the Black Fangs would accomplish what Ortelli wanted. Revenge for Liadee after so many years. Still, he could not help feeling he could have given the boy further insight into what they were facing.
Victor watched Shaels wave off his guards and staff as they walked out the garden door. Jaeron glanced back at him through the windows. His eyes lifted out of the anger and sadness just enough to show his appreciation. Then Jaeron turned away to look over the garden wall to the view of Islar Bay and the city next to it. Victor saw the determination build in the youth’s shoulders.
He had given the deAltos more than insight. Ortelli had given them Coatie Shaels.
~
The basement of the deAltos’ apartment had been transformed. Jaeron looked around in satisfaction at all they accomplished in only a few weeks. The discarded boxes and scrap lumber was gone. The walls had a fresh coat of whitewash, thanks to Avrilla’s instance that she needed a brighter environment in which to work. Karl had refurbished the canning table, which they had decided to keep, first because it was a sturdy piece of furniture, and second because Chazd pointed out multiple times how difficult it would be to get it up the stairs.
New weapon racks lined the wall opposite the staircase. Clean oil lanterns hung in the four corners of the room. They had even found a way to fit in a varnished cupboard and four dining chairs from Ardo Tabbil’s home. Jaeron was still shocked that Ardo had left him his entire estate. Chazd and Coatie were still working out what that meant with deMiraglia, but all seemed to agree that at least his house and the possessions inside were Jaeron’s. Unfortunately, that knowledge was public, so except for a cursory exploration and retrieving some key items, the deAltos avoided the place.
Jaeron walked around the center table to the side wall. There hung a large placard that represented most of the work they accomplished since Ardo’s death. On the surface of the four by six foot board were neatly pinned almost a dozen sheets of paper and parchment. They overlapped and several were positioned at odd angles, but together they pictured a comprehensive and detailed map of the city of Islar.
The best pieces were meticulous copies Avrilla had made of maps in the Cathedral library. Matteo had given her an access key and she spent many evenings sneaking in to work. Jaeron found the map of Dockside in Ardo’s belongings. Coatie had procured the map centered on Governor’s Ward from a source he would not discuss. And Chazd had obtained three drawings of the walls, gates, and towers from the City Guard house using means Jaeron did not want to think about.
The maps were not all the same scale or the same style, but Jaeron had made it work. He and Avrilla sketched in some of the overlap or the missing sections by hand. Now the real work begins. Several pins adorned with colored cloth flags were embedded in the map. They marked the guild holdings of Henri’s Hands and the sparse information they had on the Black Fangs and other guilds.
Soft heels clicked down the stairs behind him.
“Everyone’s here,” Avrilla said. “Except Matteo.”
“Bring them down.” It was time to fill in the rest of the map.
Avrilla returned in moments with the rest of the guild. Everyone but Sten had been by to help with the basement in one way or another. Jaeron almost smiled seeing his reaction to the makeover.
“You all know or have heard rumor of how and why Henri’s Hands was formed. A rival guild… a powerful guild attacked our family, our father. We formed the Hands to honor our father and find the ones responsible for his death. We now know it was the Black Fangs.
“The Fangs have a reputation in Islar. I mean to take that guild apart and destroy it. I intend to see that their guildmaster, Gerlido Krosch, and his lieutenants get the retribution they deserve.”
“You mean to kill them?” Danine asked.
Jaeron looked at her. Defiance showed in her stance, and a proud flash of superiority in her face.
“Yes, I mean to kill them.”
He turned to the map, drawing all of the eyes in the room.
“The challenge is how to find the Black Fangs and dismantle them without getting overwhelmed ourselves.”
“Or the rest of the guilds just taking us out as a way to gain some favors with the Fangs,” Sten interrupted.
Jaeron glanced at the man. He needed Sten’s support in this. The man was the oldest and most experienced thief in the room. He took in the rest of the faces, giving each of them a measured look.
“Sten is right. Normally a plan like this would pit us against the Black Fangs and every guild willing to help them. It could put us up against the Grandmaster’s guild… but it won’t.
“We are taking steps to be admitted as a second rung guild and we’ll have the Grandmaster’s approval on our request for a vendetta against the Black Fangs. We’ll be able to act without interference.”
Jaeron saw their eyes widen at that. Even Danine raised an eyebrow.
“But until then, what we need is information. We know the Fangs run an illegal gambling hall and fight club. They move both around between several locations. One of those buildings is here.” Jaeron pointed to one of the pinned flags.
“We know
that the Fang lieutenants, Brale and Sukul, spend some time here at deBenn’s Boarding house. We also know that the Fangs run protection and are Islar’s main supplier of gindi. We don’t know the extent of their territory. We don’t know where, or even if, they have a headquarters. Or where Gerlido lives.
“We need you to find out what you can without raising questions. The last person who was discovered by Brale and Sukul looking into Black Fang business died on the steps of this building.”
Jaeron let that sink in. He also made sure that he turned around and faced the map. His guild was not going to see the emotions his face currently betrayed.
“Questions?”
There were none.
Jaeron stayed in the basement while Chazd and Avrilla escorted the guild back upstairs. He took the brief period of solitude to sit down and sharpen and oil his sword. During the motions he recited the Litany of Resolve.
Ortelli’s admission kept breaking his concentration. It was likely that Gerlido had given the orders that killed both of his parents. He struggled with the injustice of that. To take away the second family of an orphan and not be punished for it? Jaeron knew there were worse things going on in his city, but he had not seen those things. He had not felt them.
He wondered if he could do it again. He closed his eyes and saw deLocke’s body bleeding on the street. Lifeless and empty. Had he been someone’s husband? Father? Jaeron had not bothered to find out. Yes, the man had come after him, intent on killing him. Jaeron had defended himself. But this thing with Gerlido was different. He was making the decision to kill the man.
Woe be unto those who take a life.
Cursed be the soul of he who takes a life by inaction.
Cursed be the soul of he who takes a life in anger.
Cursed be the soul of he who takes a life in ignorance and neglect.
But thrice-cursed be the soul of he who takes a life in avarice for he shall be dealt with by my Hand of Justice, and his life shall be forfeit.
The passage came to Jaeron suddenly. It was not one of his or Matteo’s favorites. He set his sword down on the polishing cloth and rested his hands on the table.
Henri’s Hands. Jaeron’s mind was stilled. A calm suffused his body. Was it possible they were to be Teichmar’s Hands as well?
~
Larsetta’s servant brought the main course to the table, serving Gerlido first and then his master. Gerlido felt a surge of primal hunger when the man lifted the lid off of the silver platter. It was laden with shaved slices of raw meat, venison by the smell, drizzled in sweet vinegar and a sauce concocted of local spicy peppers. It was accompanied by thick wedges of deep-fried honey potatoes and creamed kale. The meal was an obvious ploy by Larsetta to stir his corrupted senses. Gerlido reined in the emotion, calmly refolded his linen napkin, and waited for Larsetta to begin.
Gerlido had been quiet thus far during the evening, content to exchange the expected pleasantries on how Larsetta’s trip had been, how were things in the capital, and news of the guilds in Dun Lercos. He was careful to skirt questions about her visit to Islar, how long she was planning to stay, or what it meant for his guild's operations.
He watched her as she let a long strip of the meat fall to her tongue. Her head was back, eyes half lidded. She was savoring the flavor, but still in full control of her beast. She made it look effortless. When he took a bite and tasted the blood, Gerlido’s primal side exploded, threatening to take control. He fought it down and took a long drink of the dark wine served with the course.
This dinner is going to be trouble, regardless of the conversation.
“It’s hard for you still?”
Gerlido choked on the wine. He had not thought she was paying attention to him.
“It will get easier with practice. And after the kelistra.”
Gerlido could hear it then, the hint of a taunt in her voice. She was goading him with her mention of the second ritual.
“When–”
“Witaasen has agreed to my terms regarding the silver mine,” Larsetta cut him off.
Gerlido tried to keep up and focus on the new topic.
“I thought Mennat had his interests in the Islar silver. You told me the mine was off limits.”
“Mennat has his hands full with running a country and maintaining his pathetic little war. I think it’s become more of a burden than he anticipated. And my warning did not stop you from trying to get your hands into the silver production, did it?”
Larsetta’s gaze pinned him to his chair, a knowing smirk grew on her lips.
“Wha… but…”
Thrice-damn her to Malfekke’s hells! He felt his features shift, his teeth grow and sharpen against his lips. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. Gerlido drove his Tainted form down once again. He was close to having it fully under control when he felt Larsetta at his back.
Her bosom pressed into his shoulders. Her breath was hot against his ear. She leaned down and bit him where his neck met his shoulder, her teeth sharp. Blood welled in the wound. Gerlido’s self-control vanished. He rose from the chair and spun on her. He grabbed her under her arms and flung her across the room. She landed cat-like on all fours.
He charged across the room after her, but never reached her. She lashed out with a sweeping kick taking his feet out. Gerlido landed hard on his back knocking the air from his lungs. Faster than he could move, Larsetta was on him straddling his waist. Then her lips were on his, pressing his head into the thin rug. Her mouth was feasting on his, lustful and hungry.
Frenzy beat in his chest and stirred in his groin. A heated rush of blood and something darker swept through his body. As he grasped her, all feeling paled to a sudden sizzle at the base of his skull. He felt like he was losing himself, and then he knew no more.
When Gerlido woke up, he was naked on a bed in what he assumed was Larsetta’s bedroom. He ached. A glance down at his body confirmed that the sex had been as violent as the kiss that began it. He had new bruises and felt the burning pain of deep scratches on his shoulders, back, and buttocks.
The room was lit by a couple of candles and the feeble beginning of the dawn. Gerlido found what remained of his clothes and got dressed. A folded note was in the breast pocket of his leather surcoat. Gerlido brought it close to one of the candles to make out the fine, looping script.
Have all of your books and records delivered tomorrow. It’s time to take an accounting of whether my investment has been worthwhile. Please be gone before I return. I don’t expect to be alone.
There was no signature. Bitch. Gerlido wondered again how Larsetta so capably manipulated him. Angry and worried, Gerlido pulled on his boots and left the apartment.
Fifty-Eight
“Come on down,” Jaeron called out in response to the knock on the cellar door.
“How did it go?” If Coatie were impressed with the improvements to their cellar, it was not obvious.
Jaeron shrugged, still focused on the city map.
“I’m not sure. No one raised any objections once I told them we were going to petition for second rung. You know their resources better than I do… how much do you think we’ll learn?”
“This group may surprise us. It’s an interesting mix. You made it clear – no direct action?”
“Yes, until we’ve been established. Which brings me to our next question. How do we go about doing that?”
Coatie moved to the table and sat down. “I’ve given that a lot of thought, Jaeron, and I think your best approach is doing someone a favor.”
“We’ve already done one favor, and while I appreciated the new start Ortelli gave us, it was not financially favorable. The guild will want to make more money on the next one.”
Coatie nodded. “I understand. There is an option for the promise of a favor.”
“Tell me.”
“There is always a certain amount of inter-guild bickering. A robbery pulled in the wrong territory. A protection scam on the wrong block. My black market ware
house was looted… You see the picture?”
Jaeron nodded. He could understand both the accidental and the purposeful backstabbing that could be taking place.
“Sometimes it comes up at the Guild meetings. Most of the time, though, it’s just rumor and bar side complaints. No one wants to involve the Grandmaster directly.”
“Why not?” Jaeron asked.
Shaels rocked back in his seat and waived off the question.
“Jaeron, that is… well, not that it is unimportant. Eventually, we’ll need to have that discussion. It’s enough for now to understand that the Grandmaster has the power to eliminate any of the other guilds. Maybe all of the other guilds. There are reasons why there is only one first rung guild and reasons why deSwan has held that position for over twenty years.
“So, the rest of us try not to annoy him too much. He sets the agenda for what will or won’t be discussed at the meetings. And he generally thinks that such issues are beneath him.”
Jaeron did not feel satisfied with the answer, but the expression on Shaels’ face told him to move past it for now.
“Okay, go on.”
“It turns out nearly every guild has a complaint about the Black Fangs. Gerlido has been pushing his boundaries, bumping into most of the other guilds. And when he hasn’t been giving the orders to do it, his guild members tend to have a unique way of making themselves unwanted.”
“So, you’re suggesting we help out another guild as part of our overall agenda to strike against the Fangs?”
Coatie fanned out his hands. Synchronicity.
“You have something in mind?”
“I had a couple of thoughts, but as I sat here with you, I came to the conclusion that only one of them makes sense. It aligns better with your…”
Jaeron could see that Shaels was searching for a word and was worried it may insult him.
“Don’t hedge with me, Coatie. Say it.”
“Ah, well… sensibilities come the closest. I won’t say chivalry.”