Magic and Misrule (Mishap's Heroes Book 1)
Page 22
“Let’s go.” She took hold of the swamp beast’s lead rope and gave it a glare. “If you bite me, I’ll muzzle you. Lillie, you’ve got the address, right?”
No time like the present to get their investigation started. They all had a personal stake in this one. Lord Arthorel had tried to kidnap a bunch of orphans and unlucky townsfolk to ship off to this slaver, and then he’d done his best to kill them when they’d tried to stop him. Vola’s nature wouldn’t let her leave without tracking down this slaver, but she’d discovered in the last few weeks paladins weren’t the only ones with a sense of honor and a heart for rescuing people.
Lillie nodded and stepped away with a pronounced limp. A shaft of guilt zinged down Vola’s spine. She’d hoped the wizard’s wound would have healed more in the week of rest they’d had on the ship. But from the deep lines at the edges of Lillie’s frown, the long slice still pained her.
Vola opened her mouth to insist Lillie ride the swamp beast, but the thing was likely to take a chunk out of the wizard if she tried. And if Lillie insisted she didn’t need help, Vola didn’t dare suggest otherwise.
Lillie led them off the docks, onto a cobbled street lined with open market stalls. Vendors shouted from either side of the lane, hawking spices, fruit, and cloth. A fish as big as Sorrel flew past them and landed with a wet thunk on a bed of ice.
Vola’s head came up, and she sniffed. Somewhere someone was barbecuing wargle, just like her Aunt Urag, and Vola’s mouth watered.
Unfortunately, Lillie headed in the opposite direction, taking them along the wharf where the water slapped the stained stone.
“Where was the captain supposed to deliver the slaves?” Vola said. “Surely not in the middle of the city?”
“He told me it was a warehouse,” Lillie said, checking the weathered signs on the buildings lining their route. “Here.” She stopped in front of one that had been red once before the salt air had had its way. The big sliding doors where cargo could be loaded in and out were shut and padlocked, but the little door for human traffic stood open to the breeze.
“Was it really that easy?” Sorrel’s face was still a pale green, and she breathed through her mouth, but her eyes surveyed the open door.
Vola frowned. She was right. This was too straightforward.
She left the swamp beast tied outside and led the way through the door. A desk stood across the space just a few feet in, occupied by a pair of feet propped on the surface. Whoever owned the feet remained hidden behind a broad newspaper.
Through a door to their left, Vola could see the rest of the warehouse proper. Rows and rows of cages and crates lined the space, each labeled with a number. Some held animals, pacing behind their bars. Some held boxes and bundles of indeterminate origin and contents. There weren’t any people out there. At least none that she could see.
“What is this place?” she whispered.
“Looks like some sort of storage depot,” Talon said. “A drop-off for goods and cargo.”
Vola stepped up to the desk and tapped her finger against the surface. “Excuse me.”
Her only answer was a grunt.
“Do you run this place?”
The newspaper never lowered, but finally, a voice drifted past the headlines. “I sit here,” it said. “I make sure nothing goes in or out that’s not authorized. And I take payment for new contracts.”
“So, you’re in charge. You would be able to tell us who’s been here.”
The voice snorted. “Each box is rented separately and there’re over a hundred. I’m not that observant.”
“But surely you have records,” Lillie said, stepping up beside Vola. Usually, her looks and lyrical voice could charm whoever she was talking to, but that wouldn’t work if the voice never bothered looking.
The newspaper rattled in annoyance. “Every box is rented to an anonymous account number. This is the kind of place where people don’t want their names written down.”
“What about box number 57?” Lillie asked.
“Also anonymous.”
“So, you don’t care that illegal dealings are happening out of your depot?” Lillie asked, drawing herself up.
“Nope.”
“Well, at least that’s straightforward,” Talon said.
Vola rubbed her forehead. “I take it waving my sword around won’t do any good?”
“Lady, I have no loyalty to any of these people. I also have no details on any of them. Threats won’t get you anything, ‘cause I’ve got nothing to give.”
“We could go to the authorities.”
“Go ahead. My bribes are paid up.”
“What about records of anything else that’s been stored in box 57?” Talon said.
Vola pursed her lips. That wasn’t a bad idea. Track him down from the other side.
The paper rustled. “We don’t document what comes in and out longer than a week. Just enough to make sure nobody’s taking things out that they didn’t put in. All records are burned after that. It’s that sort of business.”
Vola tapped the rough edge of the desk. “What if we bought the box?”
Lillie raised an eyebrow.
“Then we could check it out ourselves,” Vola whispered.
“Box 57 is already paid up for the month. Won’t be renting it out again any time soon.”
Sorrel blew out her breath in a sigh.
“Means he’s probably still expecting a shipment,” Talon said.
“Probably the one we just set free,” Vola mumbled. To the invisible clerk, she said, “Could we offer you something in exchange for, say, sending word if anything else gets stored in box 57?”
“Probably not,” the voice said.
“What self-respecting criminal won’t take a bribe?” Sorrel cried.
“Oh, I’d take the bribe. I just wouldn’t bother with the whole telling you anything part.”
Vola threw up her hands. “Fine.” She herded the rest of them out the door.
Lillie paused at the threshold to say, “Thank you.”
“What are you thanking him for?” Talon said. “He literally gave us nothing.”
“No, but he was very honest about giving us nothing.”
Death and Devotion
Coming May 2021!
Preorder now
Get the Prequel Free
Ever wondered what happened to Vola, Talon, Lillie, and Sorrel before they met? Sign up here to get the Mishap’s Heroes prequel.
Also by KM Merritt
Mishap’s Heroes Series
Magic and Misrule
Death and Devotion
Trust and Treason
Illusions and Infamy
Sparks and Scales
Wastelands and War
Mark of the Least Novels
By Wingéd Chair
Skin Deep
Catching Cinders
Shroud for a Bride
A Matter of Blood
Mark of the Least Shorts
After the Darkness
When Quiet Comes to Call
Aria at the Opera
A Galadon Exile
Blood and Hope (in the Fantastic Realms anthology)
Faire-Weather Magic (in the Wild anthology)
Acknowledgments
I started out thinking I was writing something fun and light and hopefully hilarious. But it turns out I can’t just write fluff. Meaning creeps in from the sides and makes its home between the lines. And then someone likes it, and I have to write more, and more meaning forces its way in, and suddenly it’s a whole “thing.” I blame these people:
First, the Kickstarter backers, for making all this possible. And for believing in the series before I’d ever sold a copy.
Mom and Dad, for reading every book ever. And always asking where the next one is.
Arielle, Betsy, and Alison, for being the first inspiration for a group of inept heroes who have no idea what they’re doing and manage to save the day anyway.
Miranda and Lacey, f
or sisterhood which looks a lot like party dynamics sometimes.
Kevin and Andrew, for inviting me to play this little game called Dungeons & Dragons.
Kyle, Mary, Amy, Clark, Tim, Greg, Lauren, and Dave, and a host of other party members, for providing endless opportunities for inspiration. These books are all your fault.
Lucy Lin, for all the amazing cover art. I don’t think anyone else could have brought Vola and the others to life the same way you did.
Fiona McLaren, for copy edits and flexibility. And for enjoying my humorous fantasy as much as my slightly more serious stuff.
And Josh and Abby, for endless support. Especially when I decided to launch a series the same month I was supposed to have a baby.
About the Author
Books have been Kendra’s escape for as long as she can remember. She used to hide fantasy novels behind her government textbook in high school, and she wrote most of her first novel during a semester of college algebra.
Kendra writes familiar stories from unfamiliar points of view, highlighting different types of heroes.
When she’s not writing she’s reading, and when she’s not reading she’s playing video games.
She lives in Denver with her very tall husband, their book loving progeny, and a lazy black monster masquerading as a service dog.
Visit Kendra at
www.kendramerritt.com