Slowly Lilliana opened her eyes, one of them bruised purple and black, so swollen it opened only a sliver.
“You’re safe,” Sal said, pinching his nose to stanch the bleeding. “It’s over—it’s all over. ”
Lilliana breathed through swollen, cracked lips, dark red with smeared blood. She didn’t speak. Instead, she closed her eyes and laid her cheek against Sal’s hand. They stayed that way for a time, until Lilliana found the strength to sit upright.
“We’ll get you home, I promise. We’ll get you home, and all of this will be behind us.”
Lilliana gasped and shuddered in pain with the effort of standing, despite Sal’s help. She clenched her jaw, teeth gritting with every step. It was going to be a long, painful walk to the Bastian estate—unless Sal could find the locket. He scanned the rushes as they tentatively progressed, each step seeming to cause her more pain than the last.
A muffled moan caused Sal’s attention to shift to Luca. The man continued to writhe, slower than he had, his movements more rigid, his breathing strained.
A loud crash sounded at the front door.
Sal whipped around to see a long crack splitting the center of the pine door. Another booming crash, and bits of the door splintered away.
With the third crash, an iron wolf’s head burst clean through the door. The fourth crash sent more of the pine splintering away, leaving a hole big enough for a man to slip through.
The first man through wore a tabard of midnight blue over a chain mail hauberk, and a coned helm. The steel cap was followed by a slew of companions. They were eight in all, some wielding spears, others poleaxes, and one a battering ram bearing an iron head in the shape of a snarling wolf.
Lilliana looked at the company of steel caps with eyes that seemed sightless, but Sal could see clearly despite the swelling around his nose. When he caught sight of the steel cap with the gold band about his arm, Sal nearly loosed his bowels.
As their gazes locked, the lieutenant’s burn-scarred face showed surprise, a look that swiftly shifted into one of pure malevolence. It was the same lieutenant that had nearly arrested Sal in High Town, and would have, had it not been for the flasher .
But Sal was fresh out of flashers. He had only his pigsticker, his finger-knife—and the locket!
Sal put a hand to his collar, but remembered he’d lost the locket in his fight with Luca. It had fallen somewhere in the rushes.
A wicked smile crept across the lieutenant’s face as his focus moved from Sal to Luca and back to Sal. “Well, lads, seems we’ve missed the fun,” said the lieutenant. “The pair of you look out of sorts. Might we be of assistance?”
The steel caps circled Sal and Lilliana, making a sort of human net that closed in on them like the tightening of a noose.
“We came expecting Luca Vrana, but it seems someone has gone and killed him. As much as I would like to reward you for your good deed, the law prevents me. If we allowed everyone to go around sticking steel in men’s bellies without so much as a slap on the wrist, it would only be a matter of time before our duke lost his head to a peasant mob.” The lieutenant clicked his tongue and slowly shook his head. “No, I am afraid we cannot allow such crimes as murder to go unpunished.”
Sal knew he needed to act, and quickly, but in his state of fear no plan came to mind. If only he’d kept hold of the locket. With the locket, there would still be a chance. He scanned the floor, and to his amazement he spotted it, a glimmer of gold in the rushes.
When Sal looked up from the floor, his heart stopped as the lieutenant met his gaze.
Sal looked quickly away, but it was too late; the steel cap had followed his eyes.
“Gregor, the floor there,” said the lieutenant, pointing a finger. “Be a dear and pick that up.”
One of the steel caps walked to the spot that the lieutenant had designated and removed a lobstered gauntlet. The steel cap bent down and scooped up the locket, flinching as his fingers closed about it.
“Hold on to that for me, won’t you, Gregor,” the lieutenant said, chuckling. “This is most fortunate indeed. Kid, you seem to be my lucky charm. That slimy bastard Luca had it the whole time, did he? ”
The lieutenant walked over to Luca and kicked him in the chest.
Luca squirmed, a gargled wheeze escaped him, and blood spilled from the corner of his mouth, viscera bulging from the gash in his abdomen.
For an instant Lilliana seemed to snap from her shocked state. “I am Lilliana Bastian, daughter to Lord Hugo Bastian, Fourth Seat of the High Council. You and your men will escort my companion and me from this place, or you will answer to Duke Tadej.”
“My Lady, by all means,” said the lieutenant, his eyes widening in surprise at the outburst. “My men and I will do just that. Only you must understand, to keep men such as these in line working for the common good and all, they must be compensated for their hard labor.”
The steel caps slowly moved in ever closer, and Sal knew his chance for escape had passed.
“Looks to me like she’s been warmed up already,” said the lieutenant. “Who’ll have the first go?”
Two of the steel caps grabbed Sal by either arm, while two others caught hold of Lilliana.
Sal expended what little energy he had left trying to fight free. He managed to slip out an arm, until one of the steel caps put an armored fist in his gut, doubling him over.
“Got more than one hole don’t she?” said one of the steel caps who’d grabbed hold of Lilliana. “Don’t see why we can’t go two at a time.”
The sheet was ripped from Lilliana, exposing her nakedness. The two men wrestled her onto the cot, and a third steel cap began to unbuckle his breeches.
“I’ll kill you!” Sal screamed. “Every fucking one of you, I’ll fucking kill you!”
The steel caps only laughed.
Lilliana kicked and thrashed until one of them hit her in the mouth with a steel gauntlet, and she went still as a corpse.
“What’d you go and do that for?” said the man unbuckling his breeches. “Ain’t no fun when they got no fight in them.”
“Gentle, now, boys,” said the lieutenant. “We want to collect the ransom on the little cunt, her face is going to needs be recognized by someone.”
The full attention of all eight steel caps seemed to be on the cot, but Sal thought he heard the creaking hinges of an opening door. Muffled footsteps closed in behind him, and as Sal turned to see who or what it was, he heard a whoosh and felt the brush of wind as something whizzed past his face.
There was an unmistakable crunch of steel on steel. The man gripping Sal’s left arm went limp and dropped to the floor.
Without thinking, Sal used his left hand to grab hold of the long knife scabbarded at the hip of his remaining captor. With one swift motion, Sal pulled the blade free and stuck it deep into a gap in the steel cap’s armor, just below his ribs. Sal ripped out the knife and stabbed again, and again, until the steel cap dropped to his knees and then flat on his face, armor rattling as he fell.
Newly freed, Sal took a moment to absorb the situation. The steel cap that had held Sal’s left arm lay dead in the rushes, helm driven in by a war hammer. Odie’s war hammer.
The big man swung again, caving in another coned helm and dropping another steel cap to the ground.
Valla was there too. She was near the cot. Two steel caps lay dead in pools of their own blood; a third defended himself from Valla’s attacks, sword in hand and breeches about his ankles.
Vinny fought another, fending off sword blows with a chair. The steel cap pressing the attack used only one arm, his other rendered useless by the dagger planted in his back.
The steel cap continued his one-handed attack, backing Vinny up until the half-Norsic tripped over his own feet and fell backward.
Sal attacked from behind, dashing to Vinny’s aid, driving the long knife swiftly into the steel cap’s neck just beneath the lip of his helm.
Blood sprayed, and the man slumped to the
ground.
Vinny shouted Valla’s name.
When Sal looked, he saw she was bleeding. Despite the breeches about his ankles the steel cap had managed to defend himself from Valla’s attack .
Vinny picked up the sword of his fallen foe and closed the distance to Valla’s attacker.
Sal realized in that instant that Lilliana was no longer lying on the cot. He looked to the floor, then swung his gaze about the room. He managed to catch only a glimpse, but it was enough to see the lieutenant leaving through the front door, Lilliana slung over his shoulder.
Sal gave chase. He stopped only to pry his locket from the dead fingers of the steel cap Gregor.
A flush of energy rushed through him with the contact.
When Sal reached the door, he saw the back of a carriage as it sped through the rain. Quickly he shoved a hand into the pocket of his jerkin and crumbled what remained of the skeev cap between his fingers.
With a crack of thunder, Sal jolted through the air and onto one rooftop and then the next, moving like a bouncing bolt of lightning.
The carriage sped through the street below. The lieutenant urged the horses on, running pedestrians off Beggar’s Lane as he made for the Bridge of the Lady.
Sal kept pace, ripping and tearing through the sky, bouncing from rooftop to rooftop, hardly giving his feet long enough to land and slip on the rain-slick shingles before he bolted for the next roof.
Just as the carriage passed under the façade of the Low Town tower and onto the bridge, Sal leaped and willed himself for the driver’s bench. A boom of thunder, a rush, and Sal landed feetfirst on the driver’s seat beside the lieutenant.
He squeezed the locket and lashed out, willing the magic. A bolt of ethereal blue lightning burst from his palm, but only grazed the lieutenant’s shoulder plate.
The lieutenant jerked the reins, and the horses cut hard, pitching the carriage sideways and throwing Sal from his purchase.
Sal tumbled across hard paving stones until he came to a stop flat on his stomach. His head felt like to burst, but he somehow found the strength to gather his hands and knees beneath himself and push himself back to his feet.
Slowly he approached the toppled carriage. He called for Lilliana but received no answer. The horses shifted nervously, whinnying and champing at their bits. People all around him on the bridge spoke, but Sal couldn’t make sense of the words. As he rounded the carriage, his heart sank.
The lieutenant had backed up to the parapet. He held Lilliana, with one steel-clad arm about her chest and a dagger pressed to her throat. “I’ll cut her fucking head off,” said the lieutenant as Sal approached. “Take your black magic and go, or the bitch dies.”
Sal took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he focused on the dagger and only the dagger.
“Back off!”
Sal squeezed the locket.
A crack of thunder and he burst across the distance to the steel cap, planting his feet right in front of the man. In one swift motion, Sal wrenched the dagger from the steel cap’s hand and shoved.
The lieutenant tripped backward over the parapet, but grabbed hold of Lilliana’s dress.
Quickly Sal drove the dagger into the lieutenant’s side, then wrapped his arms about Lilliana.
They were both dragged bodily over the parapet.
As they fell toward the black water of the Tamber, the steel cap’s grip slipped, but Sal managed to keep both arms wrapped around Lilliana.
Sal looked up, grabbed the locket, and willed the lightning to take them.
He and Lilliana bolted upward, flashing through the air high above the Bridge of the Lady. Sal held her tight and focused on the paving stones below, willing the lighting to take him one last time.
They landed awkwardly atop the bridge, rolling across the paving stones in a heap of tangled limbs. When they came to a stop, Sal gingerly untangled himself. Once he was certain Lilliana was alive and whole, Sal breathed a sigh of relief and rose to one knee as tears welled in his eyes.
24
The High Keep
Interlude, Three Months Earlier
S al felt a twinge of guilt. It wasn’t the lying, but the fact that what he was doing could altogether botch the job. The rest of the crew likely thought he was in the courtyard right about then. No doubt that tattooed Vordin would be expecting him any moment.
But Dellan would have to wait. Anton’s side job was going to pay nearly as much as the rest of Sal’s cut, and there was no way he was going to put it off. Dellan would be outright furious, but there was no helping it now. Besides, what was the worst thing that could happen?
He crept along the stone hallway guided by the light of a lone torch, the rest of the sconces as empty as the castle itself. End was not for another two days, and until the return of the duke and his retinue, the High Keep would be scarcely occupied, minimally staffed, and scantily guarded.
Even so, Sal’s nerves were on edge. This was the biggest job he’d ever been hired for, and he didn’t want to muck it up. To compound the pressure, there was the side job to consider.
West tower, the top room. Sal hadn’t really considered whose rooms they were until that moment. More important considerations had come to mind as he had prepared. He bought a minor counter-ward from Pavalo Picarri, but he wasn’t certain he would be able to activate the binding. Wards had always been more Vinny’s thing. Sal hoped he wouldn’t even need the counter-ward, but it didn’t hurt to be prepared. More often than not, his lock picks and pigsticker had been all the tools he needed. With the right finesse they could get Sal into just about anything.
Sal peeked around the corner, and finding the way clear he continued down the shadowed hall. He had once lived in the High Keep, though he had no idea where they had roomed. Sal had been so young when they’d left that he didn’t have a single memory of living in the place. His mother had been a serving woman of some sort, and then one day they had up and left. She had never explained it to Sal, why they had moved from the High Keep to his uncle’s estate. She’d simply not gotten around to it before—
The double doors at the end of the hall were a towering nine feet tall. Upon them was a carved relief of a lion doing battle with a three-headed dragon. The wood was gilded, as were the massive twisted ring handles. Sal grabbed one of the rings and pulled; the heavy door yawned slowly open like some waking beast.
Sal stepped inside and closed the door quickly behind him. Everything from the baseboards to the furniture seemed to be gilded. The room was vast, the vaulted ceilings giving a cathedral-like impression, as did the massive windows which allowed a view of the entire city below. He looked out on Dijvois for just a moment, soaking in the vista of the lighted city. He recalled a time when he’d looked out upon a similar view nearly every day from his uncle’s estate, but in those days he never knew what he had, and it was not until he’d moved away from the High Hill that he developed a true appreciation for what he’d lost.
The rushes smelled freshly changed. There were makings upon the bed and tapestries hanging on the walls. Clean and furnished, the room seemed to be awaiting an occupant. Rushes crunched under his feet as Sal crossed the room to a small steel lockbox atop the mantel of the great fireplace .
Right where Anton had said it would be.
The lockbox itself was steel, Sal could tell just by the weight of the thing. The steel was likely unbreakable without something like Odie and his war hammer, and even then the big man might do little more than dent the lockbox. The padlock was a beastly thing, black iron, heavy as sin and twice as tough. There was no breaking black iron, at least so far as Sal knew. Even worse, Sal could tell by the sliver of gray pig iron that the lock had a trip tumbler, if he tried to pick the lock the trip tumbler would trigger, shattering, and jamming the lock for good and all.
Faced with an invincible box and an unpickable lock, Sal unsheathed the pigsticker from his boot and raised it high. He brought the butt of the knife down hard against the lockbox
, right where the clasp was forged to the lid. He bashed the clasp several times more, striking the forged seam harder with each successive blow until the clasp dented slightly, cracked, and finally popped free of the lid altogether.
While the clasp remained secured by the unpickable black iron padlock, the steel lid of the lockbox was free to open.
Slowly Sal lifted the lid, revealing a padded red velvet interior. At the center of the box, atop a small velvet pillow, was a tarnished yellow gold locket, three parallel lines etched upon its face.
Sal reached out and grabbed hold of the locket, then leaped backward and threw the thing back into the box, feeling as though he’d been stung. He looked at his palm, but when he could see no visible damage he reexamined the locket. There was nothing special about it, merely a piece of old gold with some strange rune carved into its face. Surely the sting he’d felt had mostly been in his head.
Cautiously he reached out and prodded the thing with a finger. Feeling stupid, he looked about, took in a deep breath, and snatched up the locket once more.
Tendrils of electric energy surged through his entire body. He shoved the locket into his pocket and sighed with relief as the uncomfortable feeling dissipated.
Just then he heard shouting, and a scream that rang through the night.
25
Merely a Beginning
T he Tamber had swelled so much with the late fall rains that it threatened to overflow the cobblestones. Sal walked along the river’s edge, watching the fast-flowing current and the spray of breaking whitecaps. It was the first time he’d left his bed in three days. Another day in, and he might have gone mad. Supposing he wasn’t mad already.
When his nights weren’t sleepless, they’d been filled with fever dreams, night terrors of the worst sort. He’d killed four men with his own bloodstained hands. Before that night, Sal hadn’t known himself capable of such a thing. Yet when his back was pressed against the wall, he had chosen his own life over theirs. His life, and Lilliana’s.
The Hand That Takes Page 23