Proper Villains

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Proper Villains Page 4

by Erik Scott De Bie


  How long had they planned this ambush? It didn’t matter.

  “Your plan has failed,” Altara said. “We will find your other friends soon enough—if they haven’t fled already.”

  “Aye, that sounds like Eram.”

  “Still a jester.” Altara thrust the talons of her gauntlet through Tarrant’s mail tunic and into his shoulder, then lifted him to his feet. Tarrant gasped for breath and bloody stars burst at the edges of

  his vision. She fanned out the sharpened fingers of her other hand on his face and sneered at him.

  “It’s over, Tarrant Liespinner. Your crimes will finally see justice. Have you anything to say for

  yourself?”

  “Did—” he muttered. “Did you look… in the bag?”

  Altara leaned closer. “What?”

  Altara took the breakup badly.

  “I see you… haven’t returned the treasure,” Tarrant said, getting his breath back. “I expect that’s because it’s evidence. Have you checked it yet?”

  “Very well,” Altara said. “You wish to have this crime punished now? So be it.” She let Tarrant slump to the floor, flicked his blood off her claw, and waved her Hellknight to open the red silk bag. “Should I look for something in particular?”

  “At the bottom.” Tarrant didn’t dare sing a song of healing, but surreptitiously pressed his wound to staunch the bleeding. “You wouldn’t want to drop any of it, though.”

  Altara reached carefully into the bag, which swallowed up her arm. She drew out handfuls of treasure,

  but had nowhere to put it. One of the Blackscales came forward with another obviously enchanted

  haversack, and Altara shoveled handful after handful of jewels and hard coin from the bag into the

  pack. Lord Doreset chuckled in the background.

  “This is a mountain of evidence,” Altara said.

  “True,” Tarrant said.

  Finally, Altara reached the bottom of the haul and pulled out a book wrapped in black leather. She

  peered at it.

  “Wait,” Lord Doreset said, his voice soft. “What is that—?”

  “More evidence,” Tarrant said.

  Altara unwrapped the twine that held the book shut and flipped through the pages. “Names, dates,

  amounts,” she said. “This is a ledger. And—” She looked at the writing carefully. “This is not your writing, Akayn.”

  “No, it is not,” Tarrant said. “My lady.”

  She scrutinized the book anew, with the eye of a judge—which, of course, she was. Whatever grudge

  Altara might have against Tarrant, she remained an agent of the law. “This is your hand, Lord

  Doreset,” she said.

  “I’ve never seen that before!” Lord Doreset huffed.

  “You mean you haven’t seen it recently,” Tarrant said. “How could you, when I had stolen it?” he turned back to Altara. “I think you’ll find that to be an account of all House Doreset’s illegal dealings, from tax evasion to swindling merchants in Cheliax to selling chattel to necromancers in Geb. Also

  records of embezzlement—oh.” He glanced at the assembled soldiers. “Including the thousands of gold sails he embezzled from the Blackscale Blades, while supposedly acting as their patron.”

  A cold murmur passed through the room. Doreset’s face went red. “This—this is a trick!” he declared.

  “A forgery!”

  “Subject it to whatever tests you want,” Tarrant said. “As I fancy you shall.”

  Two burly Blackscale officers moved forward and took Doreset away, no doubt to conduct their own

  investigation. A third approached Altara and motioned toward the ledger.

  “See that it’s not damaged,” she said, and handed it to him. “My knights will be conducting their own investigation as well.” The officer nodded in thanks, then left as well, taking the rest of the Blackscales with him.

  Through it all, Altara watched Tarrant suspiciously. “What was this about?” she asked finally. “You’d do all this—sacrifice your winnings and yourself—just to bury Doreset?”

  “You uphold justice in your way, I do it in mine.” Tarrant coughed raggedly and looked at Altara.

  “Justice is done, my lady. Would you unbind me, please? Oops.” He let the open manacles dangle

  from one hand. “Looks as though I took care of that. I’ll just be going—”

  “No,” Altara said.

  The Hellknights drew their swords. Tarrant shivered.

  “Lord Doreset’s accounts will be settled,” Altara said. “Fear not on that account. But you and I are far from finished.” She took hold of his armored shirt and pulled him up to eye level. “What’s your plan for dealing with me, Tarrant Liespinner? How are you going to walk out of here?”

  “Altara, love of my heart.” Tarrant gave her a winning smile. “Who said I wanted to leave?” He hummed a sweet melody, which in his mind’s eye took the form of floating flower petals around them.

  Slowly, Altara’s expression softened. She was different now—hardened, honed. But underneath the

  armor, he could still see the lovely young woman he had known in Cheliax. “Oh, Tarrant.” Altara loosened her grasp on his tunic.

  That was all he needed to slip from her clutches and step away. “I’ll just be going then.”

  Altara hesitated a second, confused, then her face darkened. She tried to grab for him, but he’d

  manacled her wrists. “Seize him!” she roared.

  Her two Hellknights stepped forward, but one jerked spasmodically and toppled to the floor. The other

  looked around into the flame of a burning fist held up to his face. Ephere stepped protectively between

  them and Tarrant.

  “Well done,” Tarrant said, putting his arm around her for support.

  The elf nodded, keeping her fists up.

  “What treachery is this?” Altara demanded.

  “A thousand apologies,” Tarrant said. “Did you think that night at the Open Palm was our first meeting? Lady Ephere and I are old friends. I can’t imagine why you thought otherwise.”

  “What—what of the mark?” Altara pointed her chin at Ephere’s chest.

  “A slave brand,” Ephere said. “Tarrant was the one who saved me.”

  “Understandably, she holds little love for Cheliax,” Tarrant added.

  “You were playing us from the beginning!” Altara said.

  “Indeed.” Tarrant looked to Gislai. “Coming?”

  The half-orc—who looked as shocked as Altara—nodded. She twisted free of her captor and

  headbutted him in the face. He joined his compatriot on the ground. “You could have told me, you

  know,” she observed.

  “And spoil the fun? Hardly.” Tarrant undid her manacles. “And thank Calistria we’re no longer in the vault. Your ring, if you please?”

  Gislai turned her ring around her finger, and a shimmering light appeared around the three thieves.

  Still manacled, Altara glared at them. “This is not over, Liespinner.”

  He blew her a kiss. “Love, I would have it no other way.”

  ∗∗∗

  Later, at the Open Palm, Gorm was all smiles as they shared one last drink. Gislai and Ephere were

  seated nearby, talking of all things elven. Now that all was revealed, they had become fast friends.

  Tarrant couldn’t say whether that boded well or ill.

  “Really?” Gorm asked. “They just took Lord Doreset away like that?”

  “As I expected. Perhaps the proper authorities will even get to lock him up afterward. If there’s

  anything left.” Tarrant winced as he dabbed a damp cloth at his nose. Gislai’s prayers had healed it, but it still felt uneven. “That squares your debt, then?”

  “Yes, but you—” Gorm shook his head. “You’ve given much for me: almost got thrown into prison again or worse, lost your magic bag and any reward, and only brought
the Hellknights down on you all

  the harder. You’ll have to leave Absalom. Come to think of it, why haven’t you left yet? I’m glad to

  drink with you, but—”

  Tarrant shrugged, unconcerned. “I hear Korvosa is nice this time of year—and that its women are

  fiery. Besides, who spoke of loss?”

  At that moment, two Blackscales entered. Ephere raised her gauntlets and Gislai pulled out several

  shuriken, but the adventurers’ forms shimmered as the magic of their potions wore off. Eram and Arlif

  looked none the worse for wear. The halfling walked sullenly to Tarrant’s side.

  “You might have trusted me,” Eram said. “And not sent this mute giant with me.”

  “And you might have fled town.” Tarrant took the haversack from Eram. “Fled before splitting shares, that is.”

  He opened the bag to reveal gleaming treasure: their haul from the bait and switch.

  “Now it’s time to go,” Tarrant said. “The road beckons, and greater villainy awaits.”

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One: The Liar

  Chapter Two: The Gang

  Chapter Three: The Caper

  Chapter Four: The Reward

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One: The Liar

  Chapter Two: The Gang

  Chapter Three: The Caper

  Chapter Four: The Reward

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One: The Liar

  Chapter Two: The Gang

  Chapter Three: The Caper

  Chapter Four: The Reward

 

 

 


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