“I think Kali’s singing is beautiful.”
Nanny stopped fluffing the cushions on the divan and stared at me. “I suppose you’re staying for supper? Again.”
“I live here now. But, no. Like I said, I should go to work. I’ll get something at Karolyne’s.”
“You won’t have a paycheck left after forking out for her overpriced swill.” If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought Nanny was concerned for me.
“I’ll tell her you said hello.”
Even though it was my choice to go to work, I felt driven out. I wasn’t welcome at Ulric’s or Viktor’s. Would I ever have a place to call home? Poor me. I kicked a frozen chunk of dirty snow out of my way as I walked. I had nothing to complain about, but I usually found a way to do it anyway.
The short walk from Viktor’s to the tavern wasn’t long enough for me to digest the shock of Ilsa’s visit, nor the information Erick had given me.
I’d always disliked the slave trade, always avoided the Quarter. Now, I was being forced to face my feelings head on. I had rescued Kali for undefined reasons, but I felt good doing it. Could I go back ignoring the things I didn’t like?
I toyed with the idea of continuing Viktor’s work with Erick.
The roaring hearth in the tavern made me overly hot, so I stripped off my jacket as I made my way to the kitchen. Karolyne was there, haranguing the new dwarf cook she’d hired, Reginald.
“It’s fine for you to char the vegetables when it’s a dwarf customer, but humans like their vegetables raw-er,” she said.
“It’s unhygienic,” he insisted.
“Authentic human food cooked by a dwarf, huh?” I chuckled.
“He’ll get the hang of it,” Karolyne told me.
Reginald’s hairy arms were crossed. “I won’t be liable for getting anyone sick.”
“Don’t worry. People will be fine. I’ll take the responsibility.”
Mollified by Karolyne’s assurances, he pulled a fresh bunch of carrots from a crate. The burnt remains of his last batch smoked.
“Let me give him a hand.” I could do a better job, even with my poor knowledge of cookery,
Karolyne hesitated, but the growing murmur of hungry voices in the common room must have convinced her. “Give it a shot. I need to get back out there.”
I grabbed a pot, filled it with water from the barrel and hung it above the fire. “Boil the carrots—don’t put them directly in the fire.”
“Thinks she’s a chef now, does she?”
“I’m trying to help you keep your job. Gypsum is a friend of mine.”
Reginald was a relative of hers—or was he a husband? I couldn’t keep all Gypsum’s family connections straight. She had asked Karolyne to give Reginald this job to keep him out of her hair. But Karolyne would only tolerate so much ineptitude before the siren call of silver forced her to put profit above kindness.
“What? I should peel them too!?” He’d seen me doing just that, and it was too much for him. “Enough of this madness!” He pulled off his apron and threw it on the floor.
“You can’t leave.” I moved to block the door.
“Watch me.” He ducked under my arm and went past me faster than a bogle with its ears on fire.
This was not good. I looked at the arcane implements around me: pans, spatulas, barrels of oil, and crates of produce. A caged chicken squawked. A pile of raw fat meant for an elf customer who preferred traditional fare oozed. Boiling water was the extent of my knowledge.
I bolted after the dwarf, but he was long gone.
Karolyne faced me. “What did you say?”
“Nothing. You better get back there. I can handle the tables.”
She shook her head and cursed under her breath, before heading for the kitchen.
The patrons were looking at me, clearly wanting something, and I doubted my choice for a second. Maybe it would have been better trying to boil everyone’s meal. I wasn’t a very good barmaid, either, not that this was much of a tavern anymore.
It was close enough to sunset.
I grabbed a bottle of whisky from the cupboard and held it up for all to see. “Who prefers a glass?”
There were a lot more smiles after that. Orders for drinks I could handle. A glass, a slosh of alcohol and ‘viola’, as the elves said. By the time Karolyne had the food ready, cheerful songs were belted out around the room, and the general mood had improved. It had the opposite effect on my friend.
“Eva.” Her steely boss tone was a bad sign.
“I panicked, sorry.”
“You are not cut out to work here.” She sighed. “Is this even what you want to do with your life?”
“Are you firing me?”
“No, of course not, you’re the only one working tonight. I mean, this isn’t exactly your calling. You have money.”
“Uncle’s money, not mine.”
“Still, you must have other options? Since coming home, you’ve been kind of...”
“What? Angry?” I folded my arms. She could do steely boss, but I could do scary.
“...Drifting. You know, Conrad was asking about you. My cousin has real prospects.”
“I am not getting married so a man can support me.”
“He likes you. Consider it an option.”
“Why are you trying to fix me up? You don’t have anyone either.”
“I’m focusing on my career.”
I didn’t have the same excuse. But even if I had no clue what I was doing tomorrow, I would not define myself by the man on my arm. Marriage was not a career option.
I knew Karolyne was only parroting back what had been drilled into our heads: ‘be a lady and snag a man’. So, I couldn’t yell at her. Especially when she was my boss. I should get another job then come back and yell at her.
Karolyne headed for the kitchen, saying, “Think about Conrad. No one would call him settling.”
I did think about Conrad, in between thinking about Erick and having cautionary flashbacks of Ahsaed.
The guardsman seemed too good to be true—golden looks, a paragon of virtue, shining armor—which was the reason I hesitated at the thought of pursuing him. Thornes were anything but paragons. I could never introduce him to the family.
A few hours after the dusk bell, Gypsum came in surrounded by a gnat-like cloud of children. It was frightening how quickly their numbers were expanding, but that was dwarves for you. Pregnancy lasted only six months, and if a dwarf girl got a kiss, she was certain to have twins.
“Reginald told me what he did.” Gypsum shook her head, ashamed. “He is so contrite. I told him I’ll do what I can to placate Karolyne.”
“This was his idea? Really?”
“Of course not, but he is contrite. Now. Of all my cousins, he’s the most infuriating...” So, he was her cousin. I had to remember that. “...and I can understand if Karolyne won’t forgive him, but I must get him out of the Central City. I’d send him on a one-way march to the Eastern Line, let him vent his rambunctiousness, but my aunt would kill me if I got him killed.”
“I’ll back you up with Karolyne,” I said. “I think my peeling carrots is what scared him off.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I’m feeling guilty about a lot of things. You remember your brother-in-law, Oberon?”
“The one who was knifed by the docks the day after you hired him? Yeah, I remember, and I can see why you might feel guilty.” She knew. At least I didn’t have to break the bad news.
He had been at the docks?
“What was he doing by the river?” I asked. Gypsum raised an eyebrow, so I put my curiosity aside for the moment. “I mean, I’m sorry about what happened. The people who killed Viktor are extremely dangerous, and I won’t be hiring anyone else. I spoke to the Guard instead.”
“They’re incompetent, but if you want, I can put some pressure on them. My third cousin is second in command of the North Precinct.”
“You’ve already done enough. Besi
des, Conrad is on it.”
“Ah. Karolyne talked me deaf about him. Sounds like he’ll be able to bring your brother’s killers to justice and slay a dragon before tea time tomorrow.”
“I hope so, except for the dragon part. Poor creatures.”
Gypsum shook her head. “I’d better order. Karo prefers paying customers at her tables.”
Remembering my job, I told her the menu, as much as I could recall of it. It definitely wasn’t my calling. The most esoteric facts stuck in my brain, but dinner menus weren’t among them for some reason.
“I’ll try the ‘authentic human food platter’, and give me a round of honeyed milk for the little ones. Their energy is flagging. How many did I bring today?” She counted the streaks that ran around the table, hid under chairs and wrestled before the common room fireplace. “Six, I think.”
“Sure. Anything to take home to the rest?”
“No, the husbands are cooking for them. I would have blissfully come alone, but these ones were dying to visit their ‘Auntie’ Karolyne’s place.”
It was too busy for conversation for a while, but when I grabbed the orders, I let Karolyne know Gypsum was here to apologize for Reginald.
She said, “Good. Tell her to tell him to get back here and quit hiding under her skirts.”
I relayed the message, as Gypsum dug into her plate.
“Human food is disgusting,” she said. “But I’ll have another helping of this.”
“The roast pork?”
“Yes, more, but send these green things back. I won’t get diseases. I need my vegetables cooked!”
I smiled. “I’ve seen you eat human food before.”
Gypsum smiled back. “Yes, but if Karolyne is going to complain about my skirts, I can complain about her cooking.”
“Got it.”
I played messenger for the next hour, in addition to my usual work. In the end, Karolyne agreed to accept Reginald back, after he’d had time to cool off.
Dwarven men were known for their temperamental natures, the result of having too few women. Males outnumbered females ten to one, which is why the women were revered, and why they had so many husbands. Many missed out anyway, which made for some unhappy men-folk.
Gypsum, satisfied, gathered her offspring into a whirlwind around herself. Before she stepped outside, I asked about Oberon’s family. “I feel like sending flowers or something.”
“The Burial Boat was sent downriver this morning, plenty of beautiful flowers arrayed around him.”
I shivered at the thought of leaving the dead unburned, but I reminded myself it was a human plague. Other races had other customs.
Gypsum gave me a cautionary frown. “Don’t mention to his family Oberon was working on a case for you. I’m the only one who knew. Others might resent it.”
I could translate that. Gypsum’s family was dwarf royalty. While they were far more accepting than elves, they were still inundated with anti-human rhetoric. Many of them would not like hearing Oberon had died helping one.
I spent the remainder of the evening dealing with a particularly boisterous crowd, my own fault for breaking out the booze early. It had turned into a special occasion, everyone soaking up enough juice to keep themselves preserved well enough to last the next day. Maybe it was yet another devious aspect of Karolyne’s plan, but scarcity had certainly made the hard stuff more popular. At closing time, it was a nightmare trying to get everyone outside while leaving the tableware inside.
The door bolted, I took a deep breath and said, “I’m going home.”
Karolyne eyed the dirty dishes, but I was no busboy. Let her hire another one of Gypsum’s cousins for that. I shook my head, and she relented. “Fine. See you tomorrow.”
I groaned in farewell and left through the backdoor. Tomorrow was today. I hated the late shift. I hated the morning shift too. If only I could make a living doing something I enjoyed, like glaring and intimidating people.
I had brought my walking stick at least. I was glad of it, not only because I was a little tired and wobbly on my feet heading back to Viktor’s house, but because it was dark, and I could thump bad guys over the head with it.
This was my neighborhood, and I knew every sound and deep alcove where a person could hide. The silence had a quality that made me watch the shadows closely. I felt the hairs along my scalp rise, so I gripped my weapon in both hands.
9│ NOT HIS GIRL
~
THE ASHUR WAS A TRADITIONAL Solhan lady’s weapon, made of carved bone and tempered steel, which could also serve as a walking stick. It was three feet long, with a polished orb of metal at one end that fit comfortably in the palm of my hand. That bit worked well for head knocking.
The piece with the orb attached could be twisted and pulled out just so, revealing twenty-four inches of steel with a razor-sharp blade on one side and serrations on the other, each saw tooth shaped like a rose’s thorn—a play on the family name. It was excellent for disarming an opponent or gashing them terribly. Solhans usually did first one and then the other. This Ashur had been my mother’s and part of my training with Morgan. I had missed it. I should have stolen it from Uncle’s earlier.
I stopped in the street, illuminated by lamps and the larger of the two moons. If someone was stalking me, I preferred to wait for them here, where I could see them. I could wait until the sun rose if I had to.
Tense minutes passed. I’d halfway convinced myself that I was paranoid, when I saw an elbow incompletely hidden in a shadow.
“You afraid of me?” Mocking villains probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but I wanted to get home to bed soon, or the guest room, whatever.
“Go!” someone said.
There were three: two coming at me from the sides, one from behind. They must have felt inadequate, needing so many buddies to back them up. I said as much, maybe something a little ruder, and then one of their knives was in range. I struck out with the Ashur and cracked a wrist. The knife clattered against the cobbles as the thug hissed with pain. One down.
All I registered about their faces was yellow teeth, hungry eyes, and bristled chins. They seemed more like wolves than men. When I got the next one across the jaw, I expected a snarl, but it was a human sound of pain he made as he spit blood.
The third one stood out of range, waiting for his companion to gather himself together. Never give your opponents what they wanted. I lunged forward and rammed him in the gut. The air went out of him with a whoosh. I got some distance and swung the Ashur in a pattern meant to force the other two back.
The one with the broken wrist had a throwing knife in the other hand. I blocked it, and then went after him special. He dodged, but I got Broken Jaw upside the head again when he tried to sneak in from the side. He went down on one knee.
“Hey!” a too familiar voice called from a nearby alley. Duane came in fast, way ahead of the rest of his gang. His footfalls echoed off buildings shuttered and closed for the night.
“Let’s go!” the one suffering nothing more than a blow to the gut said. He took off, his two friends at his heels.
I had questions for those goons, such as, why had they jumped me? Now, they were getting away. I’d go after them, except running wasn’t my specialty. I got winded after a hundred feet.
I turned on Duane. “Look what you did. I wanted to talk to them.”
Without a word, he uncoiled a bola from around his waist and sent it flying after the one with the broken wrist. It wrapped around the thug’s legs, felling him and causing him to slide a few feet across icy stone.
Grim, Gormless, Fink and a few others I didn’t recognize thundered past us and kept after the other two. They wouldn’t get far.
Duane smirked.
Show off. I wanted to learn how to use a bola, but Morgan wasn’t trained in it, and there was no way I would ask Duane to teach me. I pretended to be unimpressed and went over to question my assailant.
I cracked him one across the knee. Morgan always said i
t was best to start with an incentive to talk. I figured avoidance of pain was a good one. “Why in the nine hells did you come after me?”
The injured thug clutched the bruise and looked from me to Duane. He said, “You took down Killian. Jessup sent us with a message.”
“What message?” Duane and I asked at the same time.
I glared at my undesired rescuer. “Shut up and let me ask the questions.”
“Why should I?” He crossed his arms.
“Because I’m the one who had to dodge knives after a grueling day of honest work.”
Duane threw up his hands. “Do what you want.”
I repeated the question, “What message?”
“We were supposed to cut the Adder’s girl.”
I stared blankly for a moment before the absurdity registered. “Me? I am not his girl!”
Duane laughed at my reaction. A second later, his eyes turned hard, and he kicked the thug in the ribs. Something cracked.
“Stop it,” I said. “Let him go back to his boss and explain I am not your girl.”
Duane crouched down, eyes locked with the other man’s in a staring contest that lasted only a few seconds before fierce-eyed Adder won. “Go home, Eva.”
“I won’t let you hurt him.”
Duane wouldn’t look at me.
Finally, I said, “Promise me you won’t kill him, at least. Any of them.”
“Alright. I won’t kill them, but they are going to get an education. Now, go home.”
The urge to disobey was there, but I was too tired to listen to it. I took a few steps, turned back and said, “You promised.”
“I know. Go.”
He was far too bossy, but no point sleeping on the street just to spite him.
My angry boot stomps echoed off stone walls as I headed for Viktor’s. I soon worked myself into a righteous fury. ‘His’ girl indeed. But the worst part was, by stupidly following Duane to the Slave Quarter, I had ended up as one of the targets in his little war. Didn’t I have enough problems?
I was on edge, so when Bell jumped me, I had the Ashur half drawn before I knew it was her.
“Eva, can you help me with something?”
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