Brenna sat on a stiff ottoman in front of the bed and crossed her legs. “We have traveled long to find you,” she whispered, leaning close. “We share a mutual friend.” She sat back and raised her voice, “Tell me of its people, their culture.”
Baylan shook his head, confusion wracking his brain. What was this? He continued. “The people of Helm’s Reach are principally divided between into halves, those who worship the Dragon and those who worship the Phoenix god.” He sipped from his glass. He felt like he needed about ten more of these before he would feel normal again.
“This is a rescue,” Brenna whispered.
Baylan took a long gulp from his glass. A rescue? he mouthed, then raised his voice once again. “The people often bicker about which god they believe is superior. On rare occasions, their bickering escalates to bloody altercations.”
“You have a friend in Tigeria, a friend we share,” Brenna whispered with a mischievous grin.
“All of my friends are dead,” Baylan replied in an equally low voice, shaking his head.
“Not all of them,” she voiced a soft laugh, switching her crossed legs.
“Then… who?” he asked, eyes feeling hot as embers in his skull.
“I sadly am sworn not to tell you. She… prefers to make things more theatrical than I think necessary.” Brenna said, rolling her hands.
Baylan’s breath caught it his chest, tears spilling down his cheeks. “Wh-where is this shared friend?”
Brenna rose to stand and thrust her hips out to stretch them. “Please hold that thought. I must go to the privy.” She snatched a sword belt from the bed. “Sorry, my paranoia gets the best of me,” she said, hefting the belt. “You must do something for me.”
“What?” he asked, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand. Could it be? Could it actually be her?
“You must stay quiet. If you yell, shout, or scream, this will go poorly. Do you understand? You’ll ruin everything we’ve worked for.”
“I understand,” he breathed, nodding.
“Good.” Brenna raised her hand and twiddled her fingers. She entered the privy and closed the door behind her. Baylan gripped his glass with both hands, ears straining, eyes unblinking. A few seconds later, the door to the privy creaked open.
Lillian stood behind it, hands resting easily at her sides. “I heard you’ve been quite the mischief maker.”
Baylan sucked in a great breath. It was indeed her. She was really here. She wore a resplendent dress of bright scarlet cut in a variety of angles, revealing her lean abdomen, shoulders, legs, and chest. At least ten tendrils of jagged fabric fluttered between her wide stance like a peacock’s crown. It was wonderful, and it was wholly Lillian.
Baylan’s heart roared in his head. The edges of his visions shimmered with pulsing blacks, and his limbs felt suddenly weak. The glass slipped free of his numbed fingers, shattering on the floor. “Oh no,” he whispered. His legs wobbled, and the world went away.
Brenna was seated at the middle of the dining room table. Lillian sat to her left, Sofor to her right, and across from her was Hiko. At the head, naturally, sat Helgar. Dinner had been served moments ago, consisting of crackling horse meat and a bright medley of vegetables served on gleaming porcelain plates. Behind them stood Haru, Baylan, and two other servants, poised and readied to provide service to Helgar’s guests. The room was bright from candlelight flickering from the candelabras on the table, sconces on the walls, and low hanging fixtures from the ceiling.
Brenna swallowed a piece of heavily seasoned meat and chased it with a glug of red wine. “The best brawlers we’ve seen so far from our tour yesterday were Kaede, Gezoz the Puller, and what was his name…?” Brenna raised her glass, swirling wine up to the rim. She gave it a sniff with her mouth parted, producing a glimmer of a smile.
“Nezur,” Lillian added, working her fork and knife through a tough section of meat. Despite the toughness, it was delicious.
Brenna gestured with her glass. “Why do they call him Gezoz the Puller, anyway? A strange name.”
Helgar raised a glass of clear spirits and took a sip. His long mane of hair was oiled and slicked back. Upon his suit jacket’s lapel, he’d pinned a pair of violet flowers. “Where these names come from is anyone’s guess, I suppose. Perhaps he was the best at pulling weeds, and the name simply held.” Helgar laughed, and everyone chortled in kind. Lillian was compelled to join them in his vapid joke.
Brenna poured some salt from a shaker into her palm, then dropped a pinch on her meat. “We know that Kaede is your best brawler, and you’ll never sell him. That’s more than reasonable, as I’d likely do the same. He’s an excellent fighter, his kicks devastating and punches… merciless. A man after my own heart.”
“No, no.” Helgar gestured for his glass to be refilled, and it was promptly taken by Haru. “The three of them are excellent fighters in their own right, each with their own brand of strength as you’ve rightly observed.”
“Kaede is clearly the most proficient,” Lillian said without looking up, cutting into another piece of meat. “The other two are acceptable, but Kaede holds our interests.” Lillian looked up to find three of the servants looking at her with raised eyebrows, quickly lowered.
Haru shuffled up beside Helgar, placing a new glass of spirits beside his plate. “Did you hear her? You’re going to let her—”
“What did I tell you?” Helgar snapped, glaring up at Haru.
Haru sighed and gave a resigned nod, then sent a hate-filled scowl at Lillian.
Brenna gestured with her fork. “Despite being new to humie brawling, I do have some experience with fighting myself. I recognize skill when I see it, as does my advisor.”
“Of course, how could I forget?” Helgar placed a slice of meat in his mouth, swallowed after hardly being twice chewed. Helgar drank half of his water glass in a single gulp.
Baylan shuffled over to Helgar and topped off his glass, careful not to spill a single drop. He poured out the last of the decanter into Hiko’s glass, then used his back to push open the door leading into the kitchen. Lillian dared to look and met his eyes, exchanging slight smiles as he departed.
Brenna continued. “The right fighter needs to have showmanship. People tend to bet more on one with a certain affinity to spectacle.”
“Affinity? What does this mean?” Haru stood at Helgar’s shoulder and leaned into Helgar’s face. Helgar shifted him away with a gentle press of his dinner knife into his ribs.
“A liking to,” Helgar answered, nodding at Brenna for confirmation.
“That’s correct. I want someone who draws large bets,” Brenna added.
“An interesting idea. I see you have an eye for marketing your wares, given the way you dress your… advisor,” Helgar said with a mocking smile. He shifted his gaze to Lillian, regarding her with a greedy leer.
Brenna gave a sharp laugh. “Well, that’s not entirely accurate, as Masa is free to dress herself as she chooses.”
“Now, that is strange.” Helgar laughed, gracefully forking another bite of meat into his mouth. That produced a few accommodating chuckles from his sycophants.
“As we said upon arrival, we are more than willing to pay a princely sum of marks for the right fighter. Now, there is nothing wrong with Gezoz the Puller or Nezur, but they don’t have what Kaede has,” Brenna said, sipping from her wine glass. “Kaede has what we want.”
“My illustrious guest, I wish you to know there is no Tigerian who better appreciates the draw of a large bet than myself,” Helgar said, pressing a fuzzy hand to his chest, triangular ears twiddling.
“No one,” Haru echoed, leaning over Helgar’s chair back, one eye twitching.
Helgar shrugged. “Naturally, the most critical element of humie fighting is one who can win. Gezoz the Puller and Nezur will get you that without a doubt. Kaede takes risks and risks do not guarantee wins. Winning should always be your primary concern if success in business is your proclivity. Once you have a portfolio of w
inning fighters, then you should start branching out into the elaborate.”
Hiko nodded enthusiastically, passing his attention around the table.
“What I am attempting to say is, that as a veteran of the business, your priorities are skewed,” Helgar said, waving with both hands.
“Mhm. Priorities,” Haru mumbled beside Helgar.
Brenna nodded. “Perhaps you are correct, Helgar.” Baylan returned from the kitchen, and she raised her hand, gesturing for him to come and fill her glass. His eyes went wide, and he stiffened. He gathered himself a second later, gliding over and topping off her water.
“I hope my scholar has provided adequate entertainment,” Helgar said with a questioning tone and raised eyebrows.
“Oh quite. He’s wonderful, a store of knowledge,” Brenna quickly answered.
Lillian sipped from her wine glass, doing her best to keep the majority of her attention on her meal.
Brenna laughed. “I can’t tell you how great it has been to have someone to discuss the history of Zoria with. There are truly countless fascinating accounts. I’ve gone so long without such a conversation… well, it’s been much like a glass of fresh water after a hard day’s work.”
“I understand,” Hiko chuckled.
Helgar gestured at Hiko. “Hiko wouldn’t know, he’s never done a hard day’s work in his life!” Helgar roared with laughter. Haru joined in, bellowing in joy over everyone.
“That’s not entirely true,” Hiko muttered through forced laughter.
Lillian shook her head with abject contempt. Idiots. Were they truly blind to how much she and Brenna hated them?
“I don’t know,” Sofor’s gruff voice cut the air. “It seems your philosopher, scholar, however you wish to describe this creature only has eyes for Masa. He’s looked at her at least nine times now.”
Baylan swallowed, raising his head in alarm as he refilled Hiko’s glass. He made his way over to Sofor and refilled his.
Brenna laughed uproariously, drawing everyone’s eyes. “It surely must be a ruse to get to the better of us. I must concede that Masa is the wisest and easiest on the eyes between the two of us.”
Lillian gave a stiff nod, pressing a smile through her tight lips.
“No, no,” Helgar waved. “You’re beautiful… for a human. You must not be so negative about yourself, Brenna. You’ve done great things in your time, especially with your skill for eliminating enemies of the Empire.”
Haru’s keen eyes shifted from Lillian to Baylan then between them again as Baylan pushed through the kitchen door, hefting his emptied decanter.
“Well, there is always that.” Brenna’s laugh dwindled.
A flickering candelabra was set on a round table in the adjacent room, a staging room between the dining room and the kitchen. Baylan refilled his cloth wrapped decanter from an enormous jug that took two hands to properly pour, and even then, the risk of it slipping from one’s hands was high.
Haru shuffled through the door, and with him came the tumult of dinner conversation, fading just as quickly as he shut the door behind him. He pressed his hands on the table for support, leaning on it and glaring at him in the glow of candlelight.
“Do you know that humie? Not the slaver, but the other one? Masa?” He leaned in close, watching his every movement.
“Whom?” Baylan met his eyes and failed to stifle a nervous smile spreading up his cheeks. He flicked his eyes at the decanter, laying his attention on the task at hand.
Haru snarled. “You humie bastard. You know exactly who I’m speaking of. Maybe more time in the earth box will help your memory.”
“The woman sitting at the table?” He shrugged, expression mastered. “I don’t know who she is, and I’ve never seen her before.” He replaced the cork on the jug.
Haru leaned in so close he could feel the warmth of his fish breath on his cheeks. “You don’t know her? Have never seen her?”
“No,” Baylan said flatly, leveling an iron stare on Haru. Behind his eyes was a blossoming warmth he had almost forgotten, the strength of hope and the urge to fight.
“No?” Haru prompted.
Baylan bit his inner cheeks. “No, master.” He lowered his eyes, regarding the spread of items on the table. There were replacements of every item if a guest were to drop a utensil, glass, or plate.
Haru stared at him for a long, endless minute. Baylan looked at the utensils, seeing his desperate reflection in every polished curve.
A derisive laugh emerged from deep within Haru. His laugh became a wicked cough, then reverted back into an even more sinister laugh.
If only Baylan could touch the Phoenix, he’d summon a portal between Haru’s torso and sever it into squelching halves. He wondered if he would find that humorous too. Baylan wasn’t much of a killer, but he would do what had to be done, when it had to be done.
He finished his laughter with a tired sigh. “You wouldn’t be so foolish to speak a lie to my face, would you, Baylan?” Haru asked, thick eyebrows drawn. “Have you seen what I do to liars and those who speak empty words?”
Baylan gave an adamant, fearful shake of his head. “No, master.”
Haru raised himself upright with a pained grunt, body trembling as he settled his balance. “You say you’re not lying.” He inspected Baylan, looking him up and down for some sign of deceit, but Baylan mastered his limbs. Haru turned his attention to the door and rested his hand on it to push his way through. “Back to work,” he muttered, giving Baylan a few disdainful nods.
Lillian gestured flamboyantly. “Yes, Nezur can fight. His grappling is superb, punches fierce, but his kicks leave a lot to be desired. His core strength seems to be lacking the robustness to withstand more than a few solid blows. That is a critical fault, one that could make us lose money as easily as he hemorrhages blood.” Lillian swept her gaze about the room, finding everyone hanging on her words. It seemed her appraisal of the various fighters had finally earned her some respect. She continued, “If it were my marks… I would be hard pressed to pay more than two-thousand marks for Nezur.”
“And how would you value Nezur, Masa?” Brenna pointed at her.
Helgar rested his head against his open palm, elbow on the table as he rolled his eyes. Sofor glared at Lillian while sipping from a glass of spirits.
“Because of this splendid meal, I’m more apt to be generous. I would say my best offer would be fifteen hundred marks and no higher,” she said with conviction. A heavy silence fell on the room. “Perhaps a bit more… but not much.”
Hiko’s eyebrows rose so high they seemed to be making an attempt to reach the top of his head. Baylan stood behind him, decanter in hand, jaw flexing.
Haru leaned over Helgar’s chair and whispered something in his ear, but Helgar swatted him away like a pesky gnat. “Brenna,” he said flatly. “Allow me to clarify how this business deal will work. You must remember that you approached me for the sale of my fighters. To offer such a low figure is more than insulting.”
“Insulting,” echoed Haru, his gaze shifting between Brenna and Lillian.
Helgar ran his fuzzy hand over the edge of his glass. “You approached me. If I wanted to sell Nezur for that figure, I could do so at any time by simply wheeling him off to Ashrath. The nobles there have marks pouches so heavy they need assistants to carry them.”
“Easily sold to nobles,” Haru mumbled.
“As you said yourself,” Helgar continued. “It was only because of your absurd offer that I’ve even bothered entertaining you and your… advisor.” Helgar leaned back and started to pack his pipe.
Brenna crossed her arms, lifting her breasts. With one hand, she tugged on a length of hair, twirling it between her fingers.
Lillian peered at the other woman, giving a long and disdainful snort. Her shoulders ached with strained tension.
“You are indeed a persuasive negotiator,” Brenna said, heaving out a great sigh. That drew an amused chuckle from Helgar as he lit his pipe. “You’re right. I
am prepared to offer you five thousand marks for Nezur,” she said, gently thumping her fist on the table.
Lillian felt the tension slip from her body, muscles relaxing.
“Wonderful! Excellent, a wise decision, my young killer!” Helgar clapped, and Haru chuckled, giving a few congenial nods.
“However,” Brenna added with a raised finger. “That is a large sum of marks. You have Hiko here, and I have my own accountant who I’ll need to summon to conduct the transaction. I will commission him to write a contract to guarantee my purchase, not unlike a bill of sale for a humie, you understand.”
Helgar took a pull from his pipe, expression going dark. He stiffly nodded.
Brenna spread her arms. “Of course, I’ll need to have Nezur inspected by a doctor to confirm he is in good health.”
“Naturally,” Lillian added, sipping her wine.
“I should be able to have him with me in about…” Brenna trailed off, looking to her for guidance.
“About a week should suffice,” Lillian answered.
“One week,” Brenna said with her winning smile.
“A week?” Helgar nodded, mouth slack as he licked his blazing canines.
“Yes.” Brenna inclined her head. “Then your Hiko and my accountant can convene and draw up the papers for the sale. It seems the Empire needs documentation for everything lately. I was just recently fined for not having paperwork for a slave, if you could believe it. They can work out the details, we don’t need to be bothered with the paperwork. Such trifles bore me.”
Helgar licked his lips. “That’s great, wonderful. Let’s drink to that. To Nezur!” Helgar raised his glass
“To Nezur!” Haru echoed, grinning and showing a mouthful of rotting teeth. Everyone raised their glasses, clinking together and then drinking.
“Baylan, fill my drink, would you?” Helgar beckoned. Baylan hurried over, filling his glass with wine. “How do you like it out here and out of the library?” Helgar asked, patting Baylan’s forearm, then leaving his hand there.
Forsaken Hunters_Book Zero of The Age of Dawn_A Prequel Page 14