FIERCE: Sixteen Authors of Fantasy

by Mercedes Lackey

  “Look, I’m just going to talk to him,” she explained. “If he’s amicable, nothing unsavory needs to happen.”

  Ezekiel narrowed his eyes while crossing his arms. “And if he’s not?”

  Sara turned her dark gaze on him. “I’m going to find out what happened to my father whether you help me or not. Whether this man is willing to tell me or not.”

  “All I’m saying is don’t put the cart before the horse, and don’t kill a Red Lion guard and bring the whole company down on your head in retaliation,” he said flatly.

  She cocked her head. “What makes you think I haven’t already?”

  A frustrated look crossed Ezekiel’s face. “This is nothing to joke about.”

  “I’m not joking. I killed a rithmatist and a necromancer on the same night. They should fear me. I’m not sure the necromancer had anything to do with the Red Lion guard, but the rithmatist did, and they’re certainly aware he’s dead now. So I need every piece of information that I can get before I leave this city. Got me?”

  Ezekiel nodded reluctantly.

  “Can you call him in?”

  Ezekiel unfolded his arms and walked to his door to stick his head out. She paced away and back before the new watcher came back in.

  As he walked through the door, the mercenary took in her agitated state. She knew her clothes, stiff with blood, didn’t help matters. His hand tensed near his weapon, but he didn’t stop Ezekiel from closing the warehouse door.

  Standing between Ezekiel and Sara, the man was silent. She didn’t move toward him because she knew it would be taken as an outright threat.

  Instead she spoke from where she stood. “I’m not here to hurt you. I just need some information.”

  The man’s face turned to stone. “Is that why you hired me? For information?”

  Sara tensed. “No, actually. Some interesting developments have recently come to light tonight, though, and I believe you’re just the man to help shed more light on them.”

  He turned to her fully and said, “I don’t know you. Why should I help you?”

  Sara was tempted to kick him in the shin and bring him to his knees with her knife at his throat. But she restrained herself. Barely.

  Ezekiel read the tension in her body and quickly stepped around to face his new watcher.

  “Because we can pay you. I can pay you. Mercs like money, right?” he said.

  The man spared him a glance. “How much money?”

  “Enough to make your next week one to remember,” said Ezekiel.

  The man cracked his knuckles and then slowly relaxed. “Now we’re talking.”

  Sara took a step forward and the mercenary quickly pointed a warning finger.

  While looking at her he said, “But you stay where you are. No offense, but you look like trouble.”

  Sara shrugged. “None taken.” She was.

  She caught Ezekiel’s eye and gave him a thankful nod.

  Out of his bag, Ezekiel fetched a coin purse, which he handed over to the mercenary.

  The man hefted the purse in his hand, checking the weight of the coins without peering into the bag. The bag obviously weighed enough because the mercenary looked up, satisfied.

  “Ask away.”

  Sara swallowed tensely. “Do you know a Red Lion mercenary named Matteas Hillan?”

  “Yes,” said the man. “What do you want with him?”

  “Just some information,” Sara replied.

  “About him or from him?” questioned the mercenary.

  “Why?” Sara asked with a lifted eyebrow. “You his lover?”

  The man snorted. “No. But I ain’t going to send a fellow mercenary to his death, either.”

  “How touching,” Sara said, “Most mercenaries don’t have any loyalties. If they do it’s tied to their coin purse.”

  Her eyes flickered to the heavy purse he now held in his hand.

  He glared at her but didn’t respond.

  “Do you know where Mercenary Hillan is now?” Sara asked.

  “Still deployed in the battles to the east,” he answered.

  “Under what commander?”

  “Kansid for now.”

  “Why ‘for now?’” Ezekiel quickly interjected.

  The mercenary spared him a glance. “Changeover in leadership in three days when Captain Simon of the damned Corcoran guard takes over.”

  He barely restrained himself from spitting to the side at Simon’s name and Sara suspected the restraint was only because they weren’t standing on a dirt floor. Meanwhile, her eyes lit up at the news.

  Then she frowned. “Why would that matter? The Red Lion guard doesn’t serve under Corcoran captains. They’re two different mercenary companies.”

  The man hooked his thumb in his belt. “New rules from the mages. I heard they got tired of the different leaders of the companies. Wanted a smoother rank and file structure to boss around. What they’re going to get is their asses handed to them when the mercenaries revolt.”

  Ezekiel muttered, “Can’t say you’re wrong about that. You mercenaries really hate working together cross-company.”

  Sara mumbled. “So from now on the Red Lion guard and the Corcoran troops are going to be led by one man?”

  The mercenary nodded. “Captain Barthis Simon.”

  “And Mercenary Hillan will stay deployed under Simon’s command?” she demanded.

  “For the next two months, yeah,” said the mercenary in front of her. “He has no choice. Can’t leave until his company does. They’re due back in Sandrin a little over six weeks from now.”

  Sara nodded. “Thank you. That’s all I needed.”

  And it was true. She knew what she had to do.

  Ezekiel said to him, “Would you mind hanging out in the back of the warehouse? We’re through for tonight.”

  The man jangled his coin purse. “No problems here. Can I take the cot?”

  Ezekiel glanced over at him with a disinterested look. “Yeah, have yourself a nice rest, too.”

  The man walked off, content.

  Ezekiel walked up to Sara. “I know that look.”

  “What look?” she said, feigning innocence. It was hard to accomplish when she was covered in blood and still carrying her sword.

  “The look that says you have a plan.”

  Sara dropped the pretense and looked at him seriously, “I do.”

  “Well, let’s hear it.”

  “I don’t want to involve you any further in this, Ezekiel.”

  “Because you don’t trust me?” he asked with a sharp look.

  She nearly cursed aloud. “Of course not. I just don’t want you to get hurt. If the Red Lion guard came looking for you to get to me, I would never forgive myself.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, “I have my own hideouts in the city.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes,” he said firmly.

  She hesitated and then said with fire in her eyes. “I’m going to join the Corcoran guard.”

  “To find Hillan,” he said unsurprised.

  “Exactly,” she replied.

  “It makes sense.” She could hear the reluctance in his tone. But, to her surprise, no condemnation.

  She nodded. “If he’s serving on the edge of the war front, then there are very few ways for me to get out there. The regular military would never take me on but the mercenaries are hard up for good people that also happen to be battle mages.”

  “There aren’t that many of you in the empire,” he said ruefully. “Looks like all two dozen are going to be fighting each other for this stupid war of the mages.”

  Sara shrugged. “I’ll get in and get out quickly. I just need to ask Hillan a question after all. Getting there will take a couple days, add a week for incidents, and I should be back in Sandrin.”

  “Where the Red Lion guard is waiting to kill you?”

  She shook her head. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll take care of them as soon as I get back with my father’s
journals and secrets in hand. They won’t get away with what they did.”

  For a second, a hate so furious crossed her face that Ezekiel took an involuntary step back.

  “You need to focus on getting to that information and Hillan before they do,” he said, “Retribution will come after.”

  She stared at him and let out a slow breath. “You’re right.”

  As she calmed, an anxious look crossed his face.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  Reluctantly, he said, “What about your gifts?”

  “What about them?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “You. Your powers. People trying to kill you. Need I spell it out?”

  He was talking about her battle rage, she knew.

  “I’ll handle it,” she said with defiance.

  “And if you can’t?” he asked, “If you go berserk?”

  “Then I’ll die fighting like every single one of my forefathers. Fighting for a cause or fighting for one man, it makes no difference. But if I don’t do this, Ezekiel, I will regret it for the rest of my life. Regret not knowing what my father uncovered and what the Red Lion guard would fight so hard to hide.”

  He swallowed so deeply that she could see his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I understand.”

  “Hey!” said the mercenary. His abrupt shout was so loud that they both startled.

  This entire building is like a giant amplifier, Sara thought as she remembered the blast that busted Edgar the thief’s eardrums.

  Turning, Ezekiel and Sara looked to him.

  “What?” she called out.

  “You got any water?” he said.

  Ezekiel and Sara looked at one another.

  “Yeah,” she began to answer.

  Ezekiel looked up at the roof and whistled.

  In a dry tone, Sara said, “You forgot to refill the barrel, didn’t you?”

  “Maybe,” said Ezekiel with an awkward shuffle.

  “Well?” shouted the mercenary.

  “No!” they both shouted back simultaneously.

  She couldn’t help it. She started to laugh. After a minute Ezekiel joined in.

  After their laughter had died down, Ezekiel looked at her. “You should get cleaned up.”

  She hesitated. “It won’t matter much. I’ll be in the streets fighting men until dawn.”

  He looked at her strangely. “Why would you do that?”

  “There’s nowhere safe to go. I don’t have any place to hide, and the taverns are the first place they’d look.”

  “You’re wrong,” he said.

  “I highly doubt it. It would make sense to find a place to bed down for the night.”

  “No,” he said, stepping forward. “You’re wrong that you don’t have a safe place to hide for the night.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “My home,” he said.

  Hesitation crossed her face.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” she said flustered. “I just…can’t imagine you with your own place.” She was lying through her teeth, but she couldn’t tell him her anxiety lay somewhere else.

  He shrugged. “I sleep here most of the time. Can never be sure the mercenaries won’t duck out. Some do even when I’m here. But tonight I’m leaving it behind. It’s not my job, Cormar or no Cormar.”

  She nodded. “You trust the new watcher to guard the place?”

  “Cormar came by this afternoon. I explained the situation with you as well as the fact that I need to live my own life now. I don’t think he really expected you to stick around. But he put the fear of the gods in that mercenary over there. I think he’s got him fairly spooked.”

  “Oh? What did he say?”

  “That he’d skin him alive if he didn’t stay overnight and make sure nothing happened to his artifacts,” Ezekiel said blithely.

  They began to walk out the door.

  “Sounds like Cormar,” she said.

  Ezekiel turned around as he pulled the door shut. “See you in the morning!”

  The mercenary was already walking to the front as Sara saw out of the corner of her eye. “All right.”

  Ezekiel shut it tight and they walked into the night.

  As they hit the streets, Sara said, “I made sure no one followed me when I came and I know no one knew I’d taken on this new job.”

  “Aside from that street kid,” muttered Ezekiel.

  “Yeah,” said Sara as they weaved through the streets until they came to a small one-story home next to the tavern.

  Ezekiel quickly opened the door. “It’s small, but it’s home.”

  “Thank you,” Sara said, preceding him in awkwardly. Her sword was at the ready, but the room was tiny enough that she could perceive no threats with a quick sweep of the room.

  Ezekiel stood at the door for a moment staring at her before he snapped out of it. “I’ll go ask for some hot water from the kitchen.”

  Sara turned to him in surprise. “Thank you. I’m grateful.”

  “No problem,” he said, ducking to grab a bucket that lay just inside the door and pulling the door shut with a creak when he left.

  Sara’s mind flashed back to her own home, now in flames, when she saw him leave with that old bucket. It was the kind they had had just outside their door.

  “Wood slats, metal nails, and a wide brim,” Sara whispered to herself with a slight tremble of her mouth.

  She wouldn’t cry. She’d cried once for her mother, and she was through now. She straightened and turned to look around. If possible, this place was smaller than the room and loft she and her mother had shared. Shelving lined the walls at face height and she saw a couple of plates and broken cups sitting on the undusted wood. A pile of blankets on a mattress served as his bed and a small fireplace lay on the opposite side of the room. In its pit sat the remnants of coal and wood burned to ashes long ago.

  Shame began to curdle in her breast. Sara felt a pain so strong that she almost winced as the realization struck her. Ezekiel clearly led a threadbare life with nothing but the most basic necessities. And yet without hesitation he given away his coin purse to that mercenary for her.

  “I should have tortured the man instead,” Sara said with regret. In her mind, if she had, the money would still be in Ezekiel’s hands.

  Then the door creaked and she turned quickly to face the threat.

  Ezekiel’s head poked in, the bucket held in front of him. “It’s just me.”

  He stumbled in with the heavy bucket and a bar of soap in his other hand. “I hope this is okay.”

  “It’s fine,” she quickly said.

  He stepped back. “Well, I’ll just go to the tavern for a bite to eat. I’ll go for twenty minutes and bring you something when you’re through.”

  Before he could leave she called out his name. “Ezekiel.”

  He turned around. He heard the heady mixture of emotions in her voice. “Yes?”

  “I promise you—I will pay you back for every coin you’ve given me, every kind word, and every assistance.”

  He looked at her with a small smile. “No need.”

  She shook her head fiercely. “There is every need. You’ve sacrificed so much for me. Your time, your money, and even your safety. I am in your debt.”

  Ezekiel opened the door and prepared to leave. As he did, he said, “Sara Fairchild, you’ve saved my life twice over. The debt is already paid.”

  With that he slipped into the night and Sara stared at the door with wonder on her face. She couldn’t imagine what she had done to deserve such kindness in so short a period of time. Shaking her head to clear the thoughts, she unfastened the sword sheath from her back and put the weapon on the ground. She felt automatically for the dagger on her thigh, but it seemed that she’d lost it somewhere along the way. The band that held it place was gone. But her knife at her waist still remained. She unbuckled the combination belt and holster that held it and unsheathed the knife.

  Putting the smaller weapon right a
t her feet, Sara carefully slipped the shirt over her head. She winced at the cut that burned on her back. It had probably been there for half the day without her noticing. Then she slipped off her bloodied pants. Undergarments came next, and with the deliberate slowness of a woman dealing with the after effects of a stressful day she washed every instance of blood from her body and then scrubbed her skin raw. In particular she scrubbed to remove the memory of her mother’s dead flesh clawing her own.

  When she was done, she rooted around in Ezekiel’s cupboard until she found a patched but clean shirt and some pants. Putting them on, she set to work cleaning her weapons by turning her old shirt inside out and wiping it down with the used bath water. By the time she was finished and they were shining, Ezekiel had returned. Holding a candle, he held out a piece of bread with dark brown stew in it.

  “Fish and mutton stew,” he said.

  Gratefully she took it from his hands as she sat cross-legged on the floor. “You are a gift from the gods.”

  He sat cross-legged across from her. “So my mother told me.”

  They spent the rest of the night, which wasn’t more than three more hours, talking and scheming. Sara didn’t want to admit she couldn’t sleep because she feared more attackers coming. She knew Ezekiel was exhausted and humoring her. The one time she had insisted he had to go to work on the morning he’d brushed it off and said, “I’ll be fine.”

  When the hour struck five in the morning, Sara rose with a tired shrug of her shoulders and fastened her weapons to her waist and back.

  “It’s time for me to get to my new job,” she said teasingly.

  “And it’s time for me to go to mine,” he said.

  Standing at the door they shared a hug and Ezekiel whispered into her hair, “Good luck, Sara Fairchild.”

  She squeezed his waist and left without a word. Afraid that if she turned back she might do something quite uncharacteristic of herself—like cry.

  Chapter XV

  SARA HURRIED TO THE MEETING point for the Corcoran guard. She didn’t deviate from her path or go by her burned out home even though she wanted to. She knew that the easiest way for the Red Lion guard traitors in the city to capture her was for her to return to her normal hunting grounds. They had probably put watchers on her home just in case she returned. It was what she had been trained to do, after all.