“The one on the left is Kore,” Sapphire whispered as we drew closer. “He’s the head of Rockslide. The one on the right is Noph, head of Sandstorm.”
One look at the cut of their chief’s clothing compared to ours and I could see I had joined the wrong tribe. Even their guards were better dressed. Along with their newish-looking clothing, they wore actual sheaths for their swords, unlike Sapphire who carried hers in her belt and me who didn’t have a sword at all. Meanwhile Spats’ wore tan trousers, a white top, and a blue silk vest with a white cravat. The lace was flat as though it had been slept on, and the once dark-blue brocade had begun to lighten with age. It was probably the only outfit he had to wear for meetings with the Guild.
The other two chiefs wore suede waistcoats with decorative stitching. One of the coats was a deep purple to match Sandstorm’s colors, and the other hunter green for Rockslide. I wondered how it was these two had managed to procure such expensive looking clothing. Were the pickings on this side of town that much richer than ours, or was there another reason?
Spats pushed out his chest and straightened his back as we approached. In his flat lace and worn brocade, he looked more like an underpaid street performer than the head of his own tribe.
The other two didn’t so much as glance his way. I was honestly feeling sorry for the little redheaded weasel–as sorry as I could under the circumstances.
The four guards kept a close eye on us as we passed. They nodded at Sapphire, but took one look at me and chuckled, shaking their heads as they did. We moved through the open doors and into a very large sitting room.
“Wait here,” Spats said as he walked over to an older gentleman sitting at a small desk just left of a set of closed doors. The greeter wore a pale green suit with a fluffy sort of hat that kept falling forward every time he moved his head. There was a large book in front of him along with a feather quill jar of ink.
“The chiefs have to sign in before entering,” Sapphire said, moving alongside me.
I looked around the room, noting the ornate furnishing. I had to wonder if we were in the right place. “How are we even allowed up here? Why aren’t the patrollers rushing in here to have us all thrown in the dungeons?”
Sapphire kept her eye on Spats as she answered. “One thing you’ll learn really quickly in Aramoor is that the size of your purse speaks louder than anything else. It’s amazing what people are willing to accept when gold is involved. The rooms up here are purchased by organizations and individuals who prefer their privacy, and those that rent them out are well compensated for their discretion.”
“That still doesn’t explain how we are able to afford them.”
“Not every tribe is like Hurricane and Avalanche. Those that work the northern sections of the city tend to have much wealthier pickings, not to mention the occasional contract for the aristocracy.”
Before I had a chance to ask what she meant, Spats motioned for us to join him. “We’re the third to sign in. Avalanche and Wildfire haven’t arrived yet.”
“They’ll be here soon enough,” Noph of Sandstorm said as he and his guards moved past.
Spats moved to follow the Sandstorm delegates, but a strong arm shoved him out of the way. “Move aside, Hurricane,” Kore said, as he followed Noph into the next room. “You’re the reason I had to get dressed up and come down here.”
“Hey, watch it!” Spats shot back. “You try that again and I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” Kore asked as he turned around to look Spats in the eyes, “sic your girl and your . . .” he looked at me and, like everyone else who notices my eyes for the first time, flinched, “your pet on me?” His laughter followed him into the next room, his guards close on his heels. They both smiled at me on their way by, and not in a friendly way.
This was really starting to feel like a bad idea.
I found the luxury of the Guild’s council chambers hard to believe, considering some of us were struggling just to find enough food to make it through another day.
Unlike the beautiful but austere marble foyer and halls we had walked through on our way up, these rooms were fashioned with a dark cherry wood, giving the place a more relaxed feel. The carpeting was the same teal and gold as the rest of the rooms on this level. Thick velvet drapes hung to either side of an enormous window at the back, giving us a clear view of the city.
There was a fire in the hearth and chandeliers overhead, supplementing the light coming from outside. I hadn’t noticed until now, but the building seemed impervious to the summer heat. In fact, I was actually hoping Spats would move a little closer to the fire.
In front of the window was a circular table, crafted from the same cherry as the wood paneling, with five high-back chairs evenly spaced around it. In front of each chair lay a colored marker, one for each of the five tribes. There were seating areas placed around the room, five in all, each positioned a safe distance from the next. At each, cushioned chairs and sofas surrounded a covered table with pitchers of drink and trays of snacks. We followed Spats over to the sitting area farthest from the other two chiefs.
Spats poured himself a glass of something red from a decanter and grabbed a handful of sugar-covered scones from the plate. He plopped down on the nearest sofa and began stuffing the sweet bread into his mouth.
I wanted to sample one of the glazed tarts but decided against it since Sapphire hadn’t touched anything. Instead, the two of us stood guard behind the sofa and kept an eye on the others.
“What do we do now?” I whispered, low enough so only she could hear.
Sapphire leaned in. “We wait.”
“Then what?”
“Then, while they hold their meeting and discuss whatever it is they came to discuss, we wait some more.”
“Wow. That sounds exciting.” My voice dripped with all the enthusiasm I wasn’t feeling.
She smiled.
Raised voices from outside the room caught my attention.
“Sign it yourself, old man!”
“I’m sorry, sir. I cannot let you in if you won’t sign first.” The old attendee had left his desk and planted himself firmly between the open doors. He had lost his fluffy green hat in the process.
“And just how do you plan on stopping me?”
Our position against the far wall allowed us a clear view of the tall boy harassing the attendant. He was covered from head to toe in brown suede. A large brimmed hat cast a long shadow across his scruffy face. The only colored accent to his outfit was a white sash he had tied around his waist. Even the falchion he wore had a dark hilt and sheath. From the way Spats was choking, it was safe to assume this must be Cutter.
“Oh, just sign the flaming book for pity’s sake, Cutter, so we can get on with this meeting,” Kore barked, nursing a glass of his own from the sitting area closest to the hearth.
Cutter growled and then grabbed the quill and scratched what looked like a large “X” across half the page.
“He’s just embarrassed that he can’t write his name,” Noph said with a chuckle, having already assumed his seat at the meeting table.
The old attendant reached for his fallen hat, but Cutter kicked it back out into the hallway.
Spats’s shoulders were quivering. I wasn’t sure if it was from fear or rage, or both. One look at the Avalanche chief and I was ready to make him eat the old man’s hat myself . . . his own too, for that matter. Cutter gave Spats a scowl as he headed for the meeting table. When he saw me, a flicker of something crossed his face, but was quickly replaced with a sneer.
Sapphire saw it as well. “I wonder what that was about.”
I shrugged. “No idea.”
“Where’s Red?” Cutter asked as he pulled out his seat and sat down.
“Late as usual,” Noph said. He twirled the liquid in his glass and took a sniff before upending it.
“No doubt still preening,” Kore added as he moved to the window and looked down at the streets below.
Cutter pulled his sword
from its sheath and let it clang across the table in front of him. “That’s what you get when you let a girl take over as chief of a tribe. Girls should know their place in the world—”
“And where would that be?” a warm, sultry voice called from the doorway. “Serving your dinner while patting you gently on that flat backside of yours?”
Spats laughed out loud. Kore and Noph looked amused but remained silent. My fists clenched on reflex. One look at Red and all those emotions I had tried to bury fought to break free. Her long, raven hair hung all the way down her back, her lips had been painted the same bright red as her vest, which she wore over a pair of black trousers and white silk tunic. Her boots, like Sapphire’s, widened at the knee. She topped it all with a wide brimmed hat, which she removed before shaking out her thick mane, making sure to take her time as she combed her hands through the waves.
Sapphire huffed at the display. Cutter, too, sneered, but he didn’t avert his eyes. I couldn’t blame him. I hated her, and even I couldn’t tear my eyes away. There was something about the Wildfire chief that simply drew you in. Other than Spats, she was probably the youngest of the chiefs. The others all appeared to be somewhere between eighteen and nineteen.
Red’s guards fell in step behind her as she moved across the room. I recognized Toothless right away. I wondered how he was enjoying his soup. The other guard was a short, pudgy kid with black hair who, like me, didn’t appear to belong.
Something was off. I felt . . . different. Like a part of me was missing. The feeling was similar to dreams I used have where I would find myself strolling down a busy street in my best shirt and shoes, only to realize I was lacking my pants. The numbness that crept over me was the same as the last time I had faced her. Except the last time, she had a couple dozen of her beaters there to keep me company.
She tossed a quick glance at Spats before prancing over to an empty sitting area and pouring a tall glass of whatever the red stuff was. I thought it ironic that those of us who probably needed it most were the only ones not drinking it.
“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Noph said as he leaned forward and rested the purple sleeves of his coat on the table. “I’ve got a dinner party tonight, pheasant with spinach-stuffed portabellas.”
Pheasant? And what were spinach-stuffed portabellas? Considering I had never had them before, it was reasonable to assume they were expensive. Where did they get the gold to hold dinner parties? My stomach growled and Sapphire rewarded me with a sharp elbow to the ribs. I gave her an apologetic look. It wasn’t like I could help it.
Spats reluctantly left the sofa and joined the others around the table. I was very thankful that Hurricane’s seating was on the opposite side from Avalanche. The last thing we needed was for Spats and Cutter to be placed within reach of each other, not that I believed for a minute that Spats would even be able to pull his weapon before Cutter finished him. Then again, that was why we were here.
Spats found his seat, and Sapphire and I assumed our places behind it. I stared at Red. She hadn’t caught me looking yet. I seared her face into my memory, which wasn’t difficult to do. If I had been an artist, I could have painted her portrait from the first time we’d met.
I wondered if she would recognize me. The last time she’d seen my face, it was swollen to the size of a ripe honeymelon. She might if she saw my eyes, so I quickly lowered my head.
Kore was the last to take his seat, to Spats’s right. Next to Kore was Cutter, then Red, followed lastly by Noph—quite the merry little band of street thugs. With all the harsh looks and deadly stares being tossed around, I wondered how long it would be before one or two of those seats were vacant.
This meeting had the potential to go very wrong very quickly.
“Alright,” Noph said, straightening his sleeve cuffs. “To business. We’ve been informed that there was an unwarranted incursion into the Avalanche’s territories last week, and—”
“Unwarranted? The Defiler it was!” Spats screeched, shooting out of his seat. He splashed part of his drink on the table as he pointed at Cutter. “He raided our food stores!”
Cutter feigned a startled look. “What? Steal your food? We did no such thing. Your attack was completely unprovoked. We were just minding our own business when you sent your beaters sneaking into our home, at night, to murder us in our sleep.”
“That’s a lie! You . . . you liar!” Spats’s face was as red as his hair. “Why else would you and your beaters have been lying in wait for us? You knew we were coming because you attacked first. You knew we would retaliate.”
“Where’s your proof?” Cutter asked. “Where’s your evidence that condemns me and my tribe of this heinous act?”
“Our warehouse is empty. That’s my proof. We all know your territories have yielded little food this season. Every time the Guild meets, all you gripe: ‘Avalanche has no food, boohoo, we need more picking grounds.’ I know it was you. And you know it was you.”
“I know it was me? That’s the most ridiculous logic I’ve ever heard. That’s your proof? That I know it was me?” Cutter turned back to the other members who had remained surprisingly quiet during the near shouting match. “This is why I questioned the decision to let someone so young lead.”
“Just a moment ago, Cutter, you were busy lecturing us on why I shouldn’t be allowed to head my own tribe either,” Red said as she flipped a small jeweled dagger between her fingers. “By your logic, age and sex play a pivotal role in whether someone is worthy to be leader or not.” She pointed her blade at the Avalanche chief. “I say that someone too stupid to write his own name should be stricken from that list as well.”
Spats laughed. Noph held his in, but there was a grin on his face. Cutter’s cheeks nearly matched the paint on Red’s lips. She had ripped the legs right out from under him without even leaving her seat. I almost wished I didn’t have to loathe her so much.
“Enough of this,” Kore said, taking another sip of his drink. “You’re giving me a headache. On one hand, we have Hurricane claiming their warehouse and food storage was raided by Avalanche, and on the other, we have Avalanche claiming that Hurricane executed an attack against them without provocation. The fact is, we know there was a battle, and it was bad enough to get the attention of the patrollers.” Kore turned to Spats. “Did Hurricane attack Avalanche?”
“Only because they raided our warehouse and stole a large portion of our—”
“I didn’t ask you why. I asked you if you did.”
Spats reluctantly nodded.
Kore turned to Cutter. “Where did this aggression take place?”
“Barrel Street. Just outside our compound.”
“So it was clearly in Avalanche’s territories?”
“You could have hit my bedroom window with a rock,” Cutter said as he slid back in his seat, sensing justice swinging in his direction.
“And did you or any of your people raid the Hurricane warehouse?”
“Of course not.”
“Well, there you have it,” Kore said. “Hurricane is clearly in the wrong.”
Spats slammed his fist on the table. “And how do you figure that?”
“‘Cause you just admitted taking your beaters on a clear aggression against Avalanche. And as far as the raiding of your warehouse, all we have is your word against his.” Kore took another swallow of his drink and glanced around the table with a proud smile as though he had just mediated a truce between Elondria and Cylmar. “That was easy. Now let’s declare punishment and go home.”
“Yes, let’s,” Cutter said with a wicked grin.
I was shocked at the so-called justice, or injustice, of this council. They were clearly ignoring the most important piece of evidence—the battle itself. Any sane person could have seen that the entire thing had been orchestrated. How else would Avalanche have known we were coming and been able to set up such an effective ambush?
“Not so fast,” Noph interjected. “As keen as I am to make it back in t
ime for my pheasant, I can’t help but think that something seems amiss. First of all, the animosity between these two is no secret.”
Red grunted her agreement.
Noph waited to see if she was going to say more before turning to Cutter. “Let me get this straight. You’re saying that this was a completely unprovoked attack, correct? And that you had absolutely no idea that Spats was going to bring his beaters into your territory looking for a fight?”
“Absolutely. That’s exactly what I’m saying. We had no idea Hurricane would ever do such a thing, and against their neighbors nonetheless. If we had only known that they were having such difficulties, we could have lent aid. All they needed to have done was ask and we would have provided whatever help we could. We might be a poor community, but we are more than willing to share what we have with those in need.” I actually thought Cutter was going to wipe a tear from his eye by the end of his speech.
“Hmm.” Noph pinched his chin. “Then I guess what I don’t quite understand is that if this had been as unexpected as you claim, and you had been taken completely unawares, how was Hurricane nearly annihilated that night instead of Avalanche? From what I’ve heard, Avalanche came away with hardly a scratch while Hurricane is still burying their dead?”
I breathed a small sigh of relief, glad to see someone in the Guild had a lick of common sense. Cutter glanced at the other members as they waited for an answer. “It’s obvious why we came out on top. Because . . . because we have a more superior fighting force.”
“You lying spawn of a faerie!” Spats interjected. “They were waiting for us. The entire thing was an ambush. They tried to trap us.”
Hurricane (Street Rats of Aramoor: Book 2) Page 12