NIghtbird (Empire of Masks Book 2)

by Brock Deskins

  Kiera removed a parcel wrapped in thick cloth from her satchel and unfolded the fabric to display her tribute while chanting, “Be respectful. Don’t lose your temper,” in her head.

  Nimat leaned forward in her seat to get a better view, her eyes narrowing behind her mask. “Are those eggs?”

  Kiera hunched her back as the laughs struck her like a hundred tiny arrows, each one a fresh source of pain and drawing blood. “Ch-chicken eggs, Underlord, some coin, and a few gems.” Ordinary gems, of course. Russel had kept any pieces cut from mage glass.

  Nimat’s voice raised an octave and she pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh, chicken eggs. I do beg your pardon. I thought you had brought me something stupid and worthless like, oh, I don’t know, chicken eggs.”

  Laughter, loud and unrepressed, echoed through the hall. What were darts now felt like ballistae bolts slamming into her, piercing her body, and skewering organs.

  “I am the underlord, equal in power and wealth to Duke Rastus Velarius. It was I who enabled his forefather, Jareen Velarius, to destroy the overlord and her family and conquer this city. What do you think the likes of me could do with such a ridiculous tribute?”

  Be respectful. Don’t lose your—“I don’t know, shove them up your ass until they hatch for all I care!”—temper.

  Kiera’s words shocked her into silence along with the entire gathering. Her body went rigid, still as stone, even as guards stepped from the shadows with blades drawn. The blood of many thieves had been spilled in this very room for slights as simple as looking at Nimat wrong. No one in the underlord’s two-hundred-year reign had ever spoken to her in such a manner, or at least lived to tell about it.

  Nimat stood and held up a hand, halting her guards’ advance. She walked slowly with deliberate steps down the dais, then glided behind Kiera’s trembling, fear-frozen body.

  “I like you, Kiera.” Nimat spoke in a whisper, but the room was so silent even those in the very back could hear her plainly. “You remind me a bit of myself when I was a…child.” She plucked one of the eggs from the silken nest and held it up before Kiera’s wide eyes. “Do you know why I keep you around, any of you? You are all like my chickens. You provide me with something valuable, but what happens to a chicken that stops laying eggs?”

  Kiera never saw or even felt Nimat move. A blade, thin and sharp enough to shave with, touched her neck with a feather’s grace. “You cut off its head and eat it. You have one last chance to start producing, or I will have you for my dinner. Do you understand, little chicken?”

  The terrified girl hissed out a yes as the blade made it impossible for her to nod. She did not even dare breathe until the knife vanished as mysteriously as it had appeared and Nimat carried her tribute with her back to her throne. She dismissed her supplicant with a brush of her fingers and ordered the next one forward.

  CHAPTER 9

  Kiera backed into the crowd and tried to vanish within its mass. Her heart beat uncontrollably and sweat streamed from every pore in her body, soaking her clothes until the clammy fabric clung to her. Rules required her to stay until the tributes were over and Nimat addressed her people, but Kiera felt a desperate need to get as far away from the underlord as fast as she could.

  She ducked into an alcove to make her getaway down a narrow passage, but strong hands grabbed her from the shadows and slammed her hard into the wall. Kiera’s breath exploded from her lungs from the impact and made her head swim. She looked up and found Top Hat glaring down at her with murder in his eyes.

  “You stole my purse, you little rat! Even if it weren’t Tribute Day, I’d gut you for it.”

  Kiera did her best to summon some bravado even as Fred and the other man pressed in at her sides. “I didn’t steal anything from you!”

  Top Hat held up a pouch. “Then how do you explain good silver turning into iron slugs?”

  “I don’t know. You probably bank at the same place you get your clothes.”

  One of Top Hat’s hands dropped to his side and reappeared holding a knife. “Nimat might let your rammox shit slide, but I won’t!”

  He drew the knife back to plunge it into Kiera’s chest but held it fast when someone said, “What seems to be the fuss here?”

  Everyone’s eyes turned to the speaker.

  “This don’t concern you, Rafferty,” Fred said, practically spitting the words.

  “You’re about to spill blood in Nimat’s home, on Tribute Day, blood that belongs to someone who owes her money. It’s all of our business. You kill her here, today, you not only break the code, you acquire her debt and Nimat’s ire.”

  “Those coins she gave Nimat belong to my man. She stole from him—on Tribute Day.”

  Rafferty smiled. “Then go tell Nimat you want them back. She seems to be in a reasonable mood today.”

  “I ain’t that stupid, but I think I got a good enough reason to cut this little thief’s throat and be able to buy me a pardon,” Fred countered.

  Rafferty’s face grew dark and his eyes promised death. “I think you need to let her go.”

  Fred glanced at his two men and weighed his odds. “What if I don’t?”

  Rafferty flicked his hand over his shoulder and Iggy and Micah stepped out of the shadows behind him. “My boys tear your arms off and play whack a skitter lizard with them. In case sampling your product so much has made you as stupid as I think you are, you’re the skitter lizard.”

  While Iggy and Micah were just entering adulthood, they were both behemoths, bigger than most full-fledged men Kiera knew. Not even their cherubic, boyish faces could hide the strength they possessed.

  Fred’s eyes danced between the oversized twins, to Top Hat, and back to Rafferty. “Your affection for this little nightbird is as bad as Nimat’s. I don’t get it, but take this for a promise: you ain’t Nimat, and this ain’t done between us.”

  Fred jerked his head and led his men away. Kiera caught herself from falling when Top Hat dropped her, and she breathed another sigh of relief. She had had far too many knives at her throat for one day.

  “Are you all right?” Langdon took a step forward and tried to offer her a hand of support, but she slapped it away and stepped back.

  “I see gratitude is as much a stranger to you as keeping your mouth shut,” Rafferty said.

  Kiera glared through slitted eyelids. “Thank you.”

  “You know, if you joined my crew, you would never have to worry about garbage like Switzer. You could move out of your dump and do some work suited to your talents. I’ll even let you bring your friends with you. I’m sure I can find some use for them.”

  “I told you before, I don’t work for anyone.”

  “I’m perfectly happy to pay your debt to Nimat. You wouldn’t have to worry about making tribute ever again.”

  “Do I look worried?” Kiera snapped.

  Rafferty grinned. “Look it? No, but I can tell you’re scared shitless right now.”

  Kiera looked away. “Yeah, well, it’s been a rough day.”

  “It certainly has. My door is always open to you, Kiera, and my offer will stand whenever you decide to play it smart.”

  Kiera blew a breath out through her nose. “Don’t count on it.”

  Rafferty’s laughter echoed off the walls. “No one does.”

  “Can I go?”

  The crime boss extended an arm. “I’m not keeping you. Run on home to your roost, little chicken.”

  For once, Kiera was too drained to retort. She bit her lip and stalked away, eager to be free of this place.

  Rafferty turned to Langdon once he was certain Kiera was out of earshot. “I thought I told you to make sure she brought nothing to Nimat today.”

  Langdon shuffled nervously. “I did. I tried. She didn’t have much on her when we caught her last night.”

  “You took what she had to pay the fine?”

  Langdon shrugged. “Most of it.”

  “Most?”

  “She…”

  “She
what?”

  When Langdon hesitated to answer, Iggy spoke for him. “She made him dinner—minced sweetmeats.”

  “Aye, with a side of mashed love spuds,” Micah said with a grin.

  “Langdon was searching her for loot, but she’s the one who jingled his coin purse!” Iggy snorted.

  Micah elbowed his brother in the ribs. “I didn’t know nightbirds could bury acorns that deep.”

  Rafferty turned his dour look to the two. “Shut up, stupid.” He looked back to Langdon. “I know you’re sweet on the girl, but you need to separate business from pleasure. I give you an order, I expect you to follow it to the letter.”

  Langdon nodded. “Yes, sah. We did catch Wesley this morning. He had enough on him to pay the toll and both their fines. Weren’t much else I could do, being Tribute Day and all.”

  Rafferty laid a hand on Langdon’s shoulder and led them away. “I need you to keep tabs on her and her people. Nimat gave her another chance, but I’m confident it was the last one she’s going to get. When she fails to settle her debt, she will have no choice but to come to me. Can you do that?”

  “Yes, sah, but why do you want her so much?”

  “Nimat’s not the only one with an eye for talent. That girl could be something special. She just needs the right teacher. Trust me, it’s in everyone’s interest for her to work for me. She gets to master her skills, you get to be with her, and I get another talented lieutenant, like you’ll be someday.”

  Iggy nudged Micah as they made their way through Undercity. “Boss called you stupid.”

  “He was talking to you, stupid,” Micah retorted.

  “I’m smarter than you! I won that spelling bee when we were in Wayward House.”

  “It wasn’t a spelling bee, it was roll call, and you used my name.”

  Micah shrugged. “Yours is easier to spell.”

  “You left out a G!”

  Micah shook his head. “Don’t be stupid. Your name ain’t Gigi.”

  ***

  Kiera rushed down the halls of Nimat’s home, wary of any further ambushes. It would not be unlike Fred to wait for her outside in the tunnels and kill her, just another victim of an unforgiving world. A sound stopped her in the foyer. She pulled out the mage glass torch and shined the light into the room’s deeper shadows. Nearby, someone clucked like a chicken. Kiera spun, stabbing the beam of light into a dark corner.

  She spied a flash of movement followed by a high-pitched giggle. Kiera chased the laughter with her light but could not pin down the source. All she saw was a flicker of movement and a streak of wispy white hair followed by a skin-crawling cackle.

  Kiera gave up on trying to find the source and darted for the door, only to run straight into the girl from behind the curtain. She slid to a stop to avoid colliding with her. The blue light caused the girl’s wild white hair to glow, giving her a haunting, unsettling appearance.

  Kiera swallowed the nervous lump in her throat. “H-hello. Who are you?”

  She sucked in the corner of her bottom lip and chewed it as if trying to remember her name. “Naia. And you are chicken girl. Cluck, cluck.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. You’re the girl I saw peeking out from behind the curtain, right?”

  The girl’s unnerving grin vanished. She grabbed Kiera by the wrist and pulled her down a side passage at a run. Kiera wanted to resist, but the girl’s grip was surprisingly strong. She was taller than Kiera was, but she was so thin that she probably weighed twenty pounds less than her.

  Kiera’s light flashed along the walls as she tried to keep pace. Naia came to an abrupt stop, shoved her into an alcove, and pulled her down so they both squatted on the floor as if hiding from someone.

  She looked around, her body swaying like a serpent that might strike at any moment. “I let you see me, but Mahsa does not like it when I let people see me. Or hear me.” A thin-bladed knife appeared in her hand. “You won’t tell Mahsa, will you?”

  Naia spoke with an accent, but not one Kiera could place. The only foreign language she knew of was Thuumian, but she had heard enough of that one to know that’s not what it was. It was almost as if her mouth and tongue struggled to form the words.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Mahsa…whoever that is,” she finished in a mumble. “Well, I really need to get going, so…”

  She grabbed Kiera’s wrist when she tried to stand and pulled her back down. “I saw you too.”

  “Saw me when?”

  “With the man with the shiny teeth and the tall, skinny man.”

  “Fred and Top Hat?”

  Naia swayed back and forth and chuckled. “Top Hat. I like him. He is funny-looking and makes me laugh. He does not like you much, I think.”

  “Nope. He sure doesn’t.”

  Naia leaned in close to Kiera. “Would you like me to kill him for you? I could. Very easy. Quick, quick,” she whispered, flicking her blade between them.

  “Why would you kill him if you like him?”

  Naia shrugged. “You make me laugh better. Put chicken egg up Mahsa’s butt.” Her high giggle filled the air then cut off, her face becoming serious as she stared into Kiera’s eyes. “Maybe it would be fun to watch him bleed.”

  Kiera pushed herself against the wall, trying to edge away from the clearly insane girl. “Yeah, I can see how that might be enjoyable.”

  Naia produced one of the eggs Kiera had given Nimat, used her slender blade to bore a hole in both ends, and sucked out the innards.

  She smacked her lips with a satisfied sigh. “I like your chicken eggs. Don’t worry. It was not up Mahsa’s butt.” She winked at Kiera and snickered.

  “Oh, Mahsa is Nimat. Why do you call her Mahsa?”

  Both girls’ heads whipped toward the foyer at the sound of voices. Naia leaned in close and pressed her blade against Kiera’s cheek just hard enough to draw a trickle of blood.

  “Do not tell Mahsa you saw me. Do not tell her I spoke, or I will watch you bleed,” Naia said.

  Kiera twitched her head. “I won’t. Trust me, Nimat is the last person I want to talk to.”

  Naia pulled the knife away and licked the droplet of blood from the blade. “I like you, chicken girl. I know your taste, and I will find you if you talk…or maybe cluck?”

  Naia darted away leaving only her terrifying giggle hanging in the air. Kiera shone her light down the narrow passage, but there was no sign of her.

  She breathed out a long breath as she hastened back toward the foyer. “Freaking lunatic. Gods, how I hate this place.”

  Kiera found the nearest public throughway to the surface, relishing the harsh sunlight beaming down and searing her eyes even through closed lids. Despite the sudden, oppressive heat, a chill wracked her body as she tried to shake off the day’s fearsome events.

  She moved through the foot traffic, ignoring even the most tempting pickpocket targets. Kiera’s only desire was to get home and lock herself in her room while she plotted a way out of her predicament.

  The smell of fresh bakery confections grabbed her attention near the Blindside-Midtown border. The scent of fresh bread and pastries made her stomach rumble. She felt around in her pocket as she approached the open stand outside the bakery itself and was disappointed to find that she only had a pair of bronze drams to her name, just enough for a single sweet roll.

  She could filch one or lift a few coins, but Kiera lacked the energy to try, not wanting to risk having to run on an empty stomach and end up with nothing to show for it. With a resigned sigh, she bought a fritter as a peace offering to Russel. Why she felt as though she should be the one seeking to appease him when he was the one who stole from her was a mystery with no answer. It was just how Russel made everyone feel.

  The girl tending the stall wrapped her fritter in paper and exchanged it for Kiera’s last two drams. She plodded her way back to the derelict airship, her legs aching from the long walk, feeling emotionally drained.

  Surprisingly, Wesley was still up. He normally slept
until well past noon after a work night. The smell of aether weed in the air indicated that he had not stayed awake entirely out of concern.

  “How’d tribute go?” he asked, his pupils just a bit too wide.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Kiera grumbled as she crossed the deck.

  “That bad, huh? You lost your temper again, didn’t you?”

  “I said I don’t want to talk about it!”

  “Well, she didn’t kill you, so it must not have gone too badly.” His eyes darted to the parcel in her left hand. “What you got there?”

  “Fritter, for Russel.”

  “Why?”

  Kiera stopped and turned back. “I don’t know. Why do we always apologize to Russel when he’s the one who drives us crazy?”

  Wesley shrugged. “Because he’s Russel. Anyway, it won’t work.”

  “Why not? He loves fritters.”

  “Yeah, but only on Forgedays. It’s why we call it Fritter Forgeday.”

  “Who gives a good gods damn what day it is?” Kiera screeched.

  “Russel.”

  “I’m going to give Russel this fritter and he is going to damn well take it and appreciate the gesture!”

  Wesley burst out laughing, his fit of mirth only half elicited from his euphoric state. “You go ahead and think that. I’m going to pull up a box and enjoy the show.”

  Kiera narrowed her eyes at Wesley before striding across the deck and banging on Russel’s door. “Russel, come up here. I have something for you.”

  Footsteps preceded the sound of Russel opening the slots in his door to reveal his eyes at the top and his hands just above the middle. “What is it?”

  “No, you have to come out here to get it. I am not talking to you through this stupid door.”

  “It’s a door. It can’t be smart or stupid. It just works,” Russel signed.

  “Just come out—please!”

  Russel’s face and hands withdrew and locking bolts slid open. He stepped out onto the deck, blinking and shielding his eyes from the sun.

  Kiera thrust the fritter into one of Russel’s hands. “Here.”