The Night Guild could never challenge the might of the Bloody Hand, but they could mitigate the horrors inflicted upon Praamis. It had to be enough. For now.
One day, I will find a way to make them pay.
To her horror, the lines of chained figures continued climbing from the hatch. Two sailors herded the first group down the gangway to clear space. The Bloody Hand thugs sent the girls stumbling toward a wooden shed identical to the one upon which she lay. When her gaze returned to the ship, close to a hundred girls crowded the deck, descended the gangway, or shuffled toward the structure.
And still more emerged.
Ilanna had little knowledge of boats and their cargo capacities, but it seemed impossible that the ship could carry so many. They had to have been stacked up like cordwood. She shuddered to imagine the terrible conditions the girls must have endured while sailing down the Endless Sea, at the mercy of the sailors. Their fate with the Bloody Hand would be little better.
A few of the girls struggled or tried to fight back, but the sailors towered over them. Ilanna had little doubt the captives had been fed and watered just enough to keep them alive. The Bloody Hand would add mind-numbing drugs to starvation and thirst. How many more girls would die before they were separated and sent to their final destinations?
Ilanna's fists clenched. No more, she determined. Not if I can help it.
She'd come to Voramis to put an end to Lord Torath's trade of women to her city. The truth came as a harsh realization: the girls she'd rescued in Praamis were but a fraction of those taken from their home and sold around Einan. Even if she cleaned up her city, it would do nothing to save those sent elsewhere.
But what could she do? She was one thief, alone against impossible odds. Four Bloody Hand thugs stood around the ship, along with the five sailors. Add to that the thugs patrolling the port, and she had little chance of surviving a direct confrontation.
If only she could get word to Errik or Sys in time, maybe they could help. Even just one of the Serpents could make a difference. With the element of surprise on her side…
A movement in the darkness to her left set her on full alert. She flattened herself against the roof of the shed, trusting her cloak to hide her from watching eyes. Peering over the edge, she scanned the shadows. Nothing stood out of place. Perhaps she'd just imagined it, or it had been a cloth rustled by the evening breeze.
There it is again! No mistaking it: it was a person slithering through the night.
She strained to see, but the shadows were too thick for her to catch more than a glimpse of movement. The figure glided through the darkness like a shade, moving at a slow, steady pace toward the ship. It stopped just beyond the ring of torchlight illuminating the Bloody Hand thugs and their captives. Crouching, it waited and watched.
Ilanna's heart leapt. Only one person she knew moved like that.
She slid her legs over the roof's edge and dropped, her soft-soled boots landing on the dock with a muffled thump. She imitated the figure's movements, flitting between the shadows, keeping out of sight of the gathered men. A short distance from the crouching figure, she drew out her quickfire globes. At the same time, she hissed, "Errik."
As the figure whirled, she brought the two alchemical globes close enough together that a spark of red and blue shone in their glassy depths. She held the light for a heartbeat before pulling the globes apart.
Errik crept toward her. "Ilanna?" he asked, crouching behind a nearby stack of barrels.
"You got my message, good."
"Message?" Errik sounded confused. "What message? What are you doing here?"
Ilanna thrust her chin toward the ship. "Laken heard rumors something was going on." Now it was her turn to be confused. "Didn't he tell you?"
"Laken?" Errik shook his head. "I haven't seen him since this morning."
Ilanna's brow furrowed. "But I sent him to tell you…" She trailed off. "If he didn't find you, what are you doing here?"
Errik pointed toward the ship. "Following my targets."
Ilanna's eyes widened. She whipped around, scanning the crowd gathered around the gangplank. "Targets?"
At that moment, a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped into the ring of torchlight. His white-blond hair was pulled back into a tight tail at the nape of his neck, and he wore his beard trimmed in a precise goatee. A dark cloak hid his body from view, but Ilanna spotted the outline of a sword.
Even as she opened her mouth to speak, another figure appeared at the first man's shoulder. Even from this distance, she had no trouble recognizing the slim, angular features she'd seen on the dockside in Praamis.
Lord Torath.
Two men in burnished steel armor flanked Lord Torath and Lord Damuria. One scanned the darkness with wary eyes, while the other fixed the Bloody Hand thugs with a cold, hard stare.
"How in the bloody hells are they both here?" she demanded.
"Don't know," Errik answered. "Lord Torath must have been in Lord Damuria's mansion all this time."
"So Sys is watching an empty house?"
"No." Errik shook his head. "The moment I saw the two noblemen leaving, I sent Athar for Sys."
"How will they know where to find you?"
Errik hesitated. "They won't."
Ilanna cursed. "So we're on our own."
"For now. But you said you sent Laken, right?"
Ilanna nodded.
"No one's better at tracking than the Hounds. He'll find Sys and Athar, bring them here." His brow furrowed. "You did tell Laken where you were going, right?"
"He was the one who told me about it," Ilanna said.
"Good." Errik inclined his head. "Then all we need do is wait for the others to arrive."
"And if they don’t?" she asked.
The Serpent's expression grew grim, but he said nothing.
Ilanna left the question hanging in the air and turned her attention back to the activity around the gangway. Lord Damuria and Lord Torath were speaking with the Bloody Hand thugs, their voices too low to overhear from this distance. The heavy-set brutes' posture showed deference, while the two noblemen stood with the confidence of command.
She had lost count of the captives, but she guessed close to two hundred were held in the ship's hold. The final lines of chained girls had descended the gangway and were being herded toward an open-air animal pen beside the shed that held their fellows. The pen was even smaller than the ship, and she caught the stink of old dropping even from this distance.
She placed her lips close to Errik's ear. "We need to get closer. Follow me."
Not waiting for his reply, Ilanna darted behind another shed, ducked beneath a dry-docked skiff, and slipped into the shadows of a pile of wooden barrels. She took a deep breath, catching a whiff of the potent liquor dripping from one leaking cask, and peered toward the dockside. The noblemen stood watching the last of their property being unloaded from the dock. Their casual attitude toward the pitiful column of slave girls set her stomach churning.
Errik tapped twice on her shoulder, a signal for her to move. She sprinted across an open space and slid behind the shed adjacent to the one holding the captives. Without waiting for Errik, she climbed onto the roof and crawled forward to peer over the edge.
Her hand went to the throwing knife in her wrist bracer. She just needed the two noblemen to come a bit closer, and she'd—
"You there!" Lord Damuria's call froze her in place. "Sailor."
"That'll be Captain, sir," the captain of the ship responded, unfazed by the nobleman's disdain. "Captain Dynnys."
"Captain." Lord Damuria's voice dripped contempt. "You were to deliver a full two hundred twenty. By my count, there are only one hundred ninety-five."
Two hundred twenty. The dispassion in Lord Damuria's voice brought acid to her throat. He talks of them like they're sheep or bales of hay.
"'Bout that," the captain said, scratching his stubbled chin, "lost a few of 'em to the Stillwater Fever a few days out. You know how it is, all of 'em packed tight
in that hold. Seems like there ought to be room for a margin of error, if you catch my drift. Your masters know as much, at least."
"My masters," Lord Damuria snapped, "expect to receive the goods as promised. You are to be paid for the one hundred ninety-five delivered, rather than the full two hundred twenty heads."
"Now see 'ere—" The captain swallowed his protest as the four Bloody Hand thugs stepped forward. "Right, then. Seems fair 'nuff, I s'pose."
"Good." Lord Damuria turned to Lord Torath. "Pay the man, Echard, and let's be away." Gathering up his robes, the nobleman strode away from the ship. The two Steel Company mercenaries fell into step beside him.
Lord Torath produced a purse, counted out a handful of coins, and tossed the rest to Captain Dynnys. "We expect the next shipment to arrive in better condition. There are always other captains willing to deliver our goods."
The captain muttered something Ilanna didn't hear, and Lord Torath nodded. "See that you do." With a haughty sniff, he turned and followed Lord Damuria into the night.
Ilanna spider-crawled backward until she bumped into Errik. "They're leaving!" she hissed. "We have to stop them."
Errik shook his head. "Not a bloody chance, not just the two of us against all of them. We wait for Sys and—"
"There's only four of them—the two mercenaries and Lord Damuria and Lord Torath. The Bloody Hand stayed to guard the girls. Surely we can work with those odds."
Errik frowned. "I don't like it, Ilanna."
"You don't have to. You just have to do as your Guild Master commands."
He raised an eyebrow. "This is an order then, Master Gold?"
Ilanna hesitated. She knew she was acting in haste, without a plan. It bordered on desperate and foolish. But this was the best chance she'd have to get her hands on Lord Torath, possibly even Lord Damuria as well. Perhaps her only chance, given that the Bloody Hand knew she was in Voramis.
"It is." She drew a dagger. "We've come this far, and I won't leave empty-handed. Besides, we've survived worse odds, right?"
With a sigh, the Serpent drew his own dagger. "Never by choice."
She turned to leave, but Errik's hand on her shoulder stopped her.
"I go first," he said. "No arguments." Not waiting for her reply, he slipped into the shadows.
She followed him, marveling at the utter silence of his step, the way his clothing seemed not to make a sound even as it flapped in the wind. He moved with the grace of a predator, in control of every step. She'd yet to meet anyone who could match him with sword or dagger.
We've got this, she told herself. Two of us against four of them.
Yet try as she might, she couldn't banish the worry. Lord Damuria didn't seem the sort to travel with just two guards. And what if they ran into a Bloody Hand patrol, or someone managed to summon reinforcements? She'd fought Lord Torath in Praamis; he wouldn't surrender without a fight. Too many things could go wrong.
It's worth it, though. I'll swallow a bit of risk if it means we can put an end to this flesh trade tonight.
She froze as Errik held up a hand. After a moment, he pushed her around behind another storage structure that reeked of fish.
He held up four fingers. "Steel Company on the outside, noblemen in the middle." He bent his middle and ring fingers. "Eliminate the mercenaries first."
Ilanna drew out a leaden bullet from her pouch and uncoiled the sling from her wrist. "Those guards chose the wrong day to forget a helmet," she said with a savage grin.
Errik produced a throwing dagger. "Once they're down, think you can handle Torath?"
Ilanna nodded. "He's mine."
"Good. I'll take Damuria. If I can bring him down quick, I'll help you take care of Torath. We do this right, it'll be done in less than a minute. We do this wrong…"
She gripped his arm. "Then let's do it right."
With a quick nod, he pointed toward a stack of wooden crates. "Wait there until they pass, then make your move."
"Got it."
He looked like he wanted to say something, but thought better of it. "Watcher keep you," he said, and slipped away.
"And you," she called quietly after him.
The silence and darkness pressed in on her as she took her place. They'd hurried to get in front of the noblemen, but her targets would pass at any moment. She drew in a deep breath, tasting the salty tang of ocean on the cool night air. In a few minutes, this would all be over.
Her ears pricked up as she caught a faint noise. A heartbeat later, it came again: the faint jingle of armor. She huddled deeper into the shadows and listened for the approaching mercenaries. Her grip on her weapons tightened, and her heart pounded a nervous beat. At any moment, the light of the mercenaries' lamps would brighten the night.
Again, the clank of metal armor reached her ears. That can't be right. The sound came from somewhere off to her right, but Lord Damuria would be coming from her left.
Her brow furrowed. Could the night and her nerves be playing a trick on her mind?
At that moment, Lord Damuria, Lord Torath, and the two Steel Company mercenaries appeared around the corner. The lantern in their hand brightened the night, and their armor clanked with every step.
But there was no mistaking the sound that had come from the opposite direction. Even as she slid deeper into the shadows, she scanned the darkness, ears straining to hear. The clatter of the approaching mercenaries' mail drowned out any other sound.
Had she been imagining it?
Realization hit her like a blow to the gut.
It's a trap!
Chapter Ten
It had to be a trap. The Bloody Hand knew she'd come to Voramis, and they knew what she wanted. What better way to flush her out than offer her a tethered goat?
The four men reached her hiding place and marched past at an unhurried pace. Lord Torath passed within five paces of her, as if tempting her to spring out. But the instinct shrieking in her mind kept her in place. The Bloody Hand had lured her into the empty port at night, and she'd fallen for it.
She had to get out of here, get away before—
One of the Steel Company mercenaries suddenly went rigid, giving a hoarse cough, and crumpled to the ground. Horror surged in Ilanna's gut as a dark figure dropped from the roof of a one-story shed, directly in the path of the three remaining men.
Errik!
She moved on instinct. "It's a trap!"
Even as she screamed the warning, she dropped the bullet into the sling pouch, whirled it twice around her head, and let fly. Her aim was off. The heavy lead projectile she'd intended for Lord Torath crunched into the back of the second mercenary's head. He stumbled forward and fell hard onto his face.
The shadows around them came suddenly alive. Before she could draw another bullet, half a dozen men in burnished steel armor boiled out of the darkness. Booted feet pounded across the port toward them.
The instincts that had kept her alive all these years kicked in, and she whirled to flee back the way she'd come. Two sword-wielding mercenaries leapt out ahead of her, cutting off her escape. With agility honed through decades on the Perch, she raced up a pile of barrels and onto the roof of an animal enclosure.
She had an instant to decide her escape route. Dropping off the far side of the structure, she raced toward the thick shadows between a row of piled crates. If she could just get out of sight long enough, she could—
Four huge figures surged into view. These wore no armor and held truncheons in ham-sized fists. She skidded to a halt—no sense trying to cut her way through those slabs of muscle—and sprinted between two more sheds.
Keeper take it!
"Got you!" Strong arms encircled her waist and a man crashed into her back, bearing her to the ground. She fought to break free, but the man held her fast. "I've got her!" he shouted. "She's—"
Ilanna's small push dagger cut off his words. Gagging, he clapped a hand to his throat, trying in vain to stem the flow of blood pumping from his jugular.
&nbs
p; Ilanna shoved him off her and leapt to her feet. Too late. Men carrying lanterns and torches appeared from everywhere. Close to fifteen men—some wearing the burnished armor of the Steel Company, others in dull Bloody Hand garb--surrounded her. She whirled, desperate, but they had cut off her escape.
She slid her sword from its sheath with a whisper of steel on leather. "First one of you bastards to lay a hand on me will find out first-hand whether or not it's possible to live without a cock."
One bull-necked man chortled. "Feisty little thing, ain't she?" He stepped forward, his gaze falling to her sword. "Little pig-sticker like that won't…" He trailed off, his expression growing confused. His hand went to the stiletto that had sprouted in his eye. After a moment, his body seemed to receive the messages sent from his brain, and he collapsed.
Ilanna straightened and hefted another throwing dagger.
A strong, commanding voice spoke behind her. "Master Gold, I presume?"
She whirled, raising the stiletto.
Two Steel Company mercenaries stood between her and Lord Damuria. Beside him, Lord Torath stood, his face frozen in a scowl. "She's the Guild Master?" he asked.
Lord Damuria nodded. "Hair's the wrong color, but there's no mistaking that spirit."
Ilanna snarled. "Come a bit closer and I'll show you what we of the Night Guild think of you Bloody Hand cunts."
Lord Damuria grinned. "Save your vitriol for someone who cares, woman. I'm sure the First will have a wondrous time carving you up and hearing you scream. All that matters to me is that you pay for the interruptions to my business." His face hardened. "Men who cross me tend to end up dead, and none of them have done half the damage you did on your last raid alone. I look forward to the day the Bloody Hand displays your corpse at the city gates."
As the nobleman spoke, Ilanna scanned the crowd of men. She saw no sign of Errik—that could be good or bad, depending on how quickly he realized it had been a trap. The longer she could stall, the greater the chance Sys, Athar, or Laken would show up.
"Tell me, my lords," she snarled. "How can you sleep at night knowing what you're doing to those poor girls?"
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