Epilouge - Reznyk
A PLACE TO STAY
“Are you fishing or just wasting my time?” Dreures asks without looking at me.
I glance down at the thin and inconveniently long fishing rod in my hands. A few dim flickers of awareness drift up from the murky water below the boat, but I haven’t spent enough time around deep water to know if the magic is rubbing up against fish or some other aquatic creature. Either way, I don’t particularly want to impale anything with the brutal metal hook Dreures gave me.
I force my lips to curve into a smile, then flick my wrist and send the thin fishing line out across the muddy water that slinks through Labrinth Swamp on its way to the sheltered harbor that holds the Port of Good Fortune.
“That’s more like it,” Dreures grunts. “What were you thinking, letting your rod sit that long?”
I know the head of the Port’s major crime syndicate well enough to know that he’s not expecting an answer. I glance at the muscular, silent man rowing the boat beneath a wide-brimmed hat. He hasn’t looked at me once. I assume he’s either one of Dreures’s most trusted men, or he’s had his tongue ripped out to keep from talking about the things he’s seen. Possibly both.
There’s a small splash as Dreures pulls his hook out of the water, then grunts at it. He holds the rod out to the man rowing, who puts a sliver of rancid meat on the end, and then he casts it long and low over the water. It lands near a nest of tangled roots along the far bank.
I feel for the magic linking me to Kira. We found a necklace with a massive glass gemstone in the market, and I turned it into a ward.
“If anything happens,” I told her, after setting the ward, “break the glass, and I’ll be there.”
Travel magic has worked for us twice. There’s no reason to think it won’t work a third time to bring me back to her.
“Break the glass?” Kira asked. “What, step on it?”
“Whatever works,” I said.
“You said this Dreures guy is your friend?” she replied, raising an eyebrow.
“A very close friend,” I replied.
She smiled. I didn’t.
I assumed Dreures wouldn’t allow Kira into our negotiations, and I was right. I also assumed those negotiations would take place in his office or his parlor, the two parts of his vast estate that I’d seen before. When he told me he’d rather talk and fish, I realized there was a good chance he’d decided it would be easier to kill me than to repay the favor he owes me. That wouldn’t end well for him, and it’d be a mess for me.
But we’ve been on the water for hours now, and he hasn’t tried to murder me yet. Also, I haven’t felt so much as a tremble of magic from Kira’s ward. Perhaps she really is playing cards with his wife, like Dreures suggested.
Dreures makes a different sort of grunt. The man sitting at the oars comes to his feet as Dreures’s fishing line snaps taut. Magic prickles the back of my neck as whatever is on the other end of that line sends a low flicker of alarm through the water.
Dreures pulls on the line. The dark water churns along the far bank. Our boat rocks as the silent man at the oars steps closer to the edge.
Then the water breaks, and something impossibly big and impossibly silver leaps toward the sky. Dreures’s hook flashes in the corner of its mouth. The man at the oars gasps; Dreures curses.
The fish rejoins its aquatic world with a massive splash. Dreures hauls on the line. The churn of muddy water comes closer to the boat. The man at the oars grabs a net I assumed was comically large, a nod to the massive egos of the men who thought they’d catch something big enough to warrant that kind of net.
There’s a flash of silver under the water, close to the boat. My magic simmers with the rage and fear of the monster beneath the waves. Dreures’s line vibrates in the hot air, humming like an insect. The man at the oars plunges the net into the water.
It comes back in a riot of foam and muddy water, and now I see the net’s almost too small for the massive fish. Ragged edges of silver tail hang over the handle of the net, which is shaking in the man’s hand. Dreures makes a sound I’ve never heard him make before; it’s almost childlike, his victorious whoop.
“That beats last week,” Dreures cries.
The man holding the net nods. Dreures grabs a long, thin board from the side of the boat, then lies it along the edge of the net. The silver fish’s eyes roll in its head. Its gills flap, revealing bloody red edges. I open my mouth, then close it. Magic hisses inside me, almost like it’s urging me to make an argument for this piscine bastard’s life. One battle at a time, I tell the magic.
Dreures takes a stick of charcoal and makes a mark on the long board, right at the ragged edge of the fish’s massive tail. Then he reaches into the net and tugs the hook from the fish’s mouth. When the man holding the net drops it into the water, I freeze, expecting Dreures to explode at what must have been a dire miscalculation.
Instead, Dreures shakes the man’s hand. The man mutters congratulations. He must still have his tongue after all.
“You let it go,” I say, staring at the silent brown river that just swallowed the monster fish.
Dreures turns to me with his intense black eyes.
“Sometimes you get tired of killing,” he replies. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? That favor I owe you?”
I swallow hard. I’ve turned the words I’m about to say over and over in my head, polishing them until they shine. But now they feel thin and insubstantial, a weak hope to pin my entire life on.
No, not just my life. Our lives.
“I want a place to stay,” I tell him. Then I correct myself. “A place to live, I mean. Somewhere safe, for both Kira and me.”
I pause, remembering what Tholious and Matius said about meeting me in the Port this spring.
“And some friends,” I add. “With, uh, a cat.”
Dreures doesn’t respond. My throat tightens, as though invisible hands are closing around it. It’s best if I don’t mention what I’m really after, and I know it. I need a safe place first, before I start searching for the enemies of the Towers.
“I’ll work for you,” I continue. “You know what I can do. But I won’t do anything that might threaten Kira.”
Dreures grunts, then sits down on the padded bench in the center of the boat.
“You came back from Silver City,” he says. “Had a spot of trouble with your last employer, no?”
“Perhaps,” I reply. “Maybe I just wanted a change of scenery.”
Dreures makes a low sound in the back of his throat. I’m sure he knows exactly what happened to me in Silver City. This man knows everything.
“This employer,” he continues. “I heard they taught you some new tricks. Might be useful.”
“It might,” I answer.
Dreures spits over the side of the boat, then turns back to me. His eyes narrow.
“What do you think of the Towers?” he asks.
He’s watching me closely, but I can’t get a read on him. I have no idea how Dreures feels about the Towers or what kind of answer he’s expecting. He’s wise enough to treat his personal opinions like precious currency.
I wasn’t expecting this. I consider my next words carefully.
“The Towers wanted a weapon,” I say. “I thought that’s what I wanted too. That’s why I joined them.”
As usual, Dreures doesn’t respond. He rests his hands on his knees and leans forward, like he’s trying to make sure he catches my next words. The sun beats down on the swirling, murky surface of the river. Somewhere far below, the massive silver fish rests in the cool water, its panic and fear dissipating as the river washes into the ocean.
“You know what I did after that,” I say. Fear closes my throat, making my voice sound high and thin.
“I’d like to hear you say it,” Dreures responds.
I swallow again. My heart trembles like a line pulled tight between a fist and the bony lip of a monster fish.
“I did what they trained me to do,” I tell him. “I killed the old god, and I captured their magic. But I didn’t do it the way the Towers wanted me to. I captured the magic inside myself.”
I sigh, then drop my head and stare at the fishing rod dangling loosely in my hand. There’s no sound but the hum of insects in the woods and the soft gurgle of the river as it bends around the bow of our boat. I admitted my guilt, shared my terrible secret, and the world purrs along just like it always has.
“You do it on purpose?” Dreures asks. “Capture the magic the wrong way, that is?”
For one trembling moment, I hesitate. If Dreures is wondering whether or not he can trust me, what I say next could tip the balance. But what choice do I have?
“Yes,” I admit, meeting his gaze. “I never planned to return to the Towers.”
“Why?” Dreures asks.
Somewhere in the forest, a bird cries. It’s a long, mournful sound, like the creature is trying to announce the end of something.
There are so many ways I could answer that question. I could tell him about Kira and how the Towers ripped her life away from her. I could tell him about the ways they tortured the four of us, even while they called us their precious Elites. Hells, I could tell him where the Towers find their magic.
But in the end, I stick with the what’s simplest.
“Because I hate the Towers,” I reply. “They shouldn’t have this magic. Hells, they shouldn’t have any magic.”
Dreures leans back. The boat rocks slowly as he shakes his head, then crosses his arms over his chest.
“Reznyk Thorne,” he begins. “I’ll be damned. You know, there are three people in this world who have saved my life.”
I keep my mouth shut.
“I married one of them,” Dreures continues, “and the other two are in this boat.”
I glance at the man sitting by the oars. He stares back at me with no change in his stony expression.
“A place to stay,” Dreures says. “Hells, Reznyk. I thought you’d come asking for barrels full of money. But, since you’re being so damned modest and reasonable, I’ll do you one better.”
I lean forward. My pulse shivers in the back of my throat.
“How about I give you a place to stay and a shot at vengeance?" he asks, lifting an eyebrow.
My mouth opens, but I can’t quite force words through the sandpaper of my throat.
“The Towers are powerful,” Dreures continues. “Powerful people have a tendency to make powerful enemies. There’s quite a few out there who’d like to see the Towers burn. When it’s time, I could put you in touch with them.”
I swallow. I know too much about vengeance for my next words to come easily.
“I won’t kill anyone,” I say. “Not again. Not anymore.”
It feels like an admission of guilt. Dreures just shrugs.
“Figured you wouldn’t,” Dreures says. “You never were a killer, Reznyk.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off.
“Oh, sure, you’d do the work,” he continues. “But you’re not a killer. That’s why I trust you.”
He pauses, glancing out over the water as though he’s looking for the silver fish to reappear.
“You mentioned working for me,” he says. “Turns out, I am one of the bastards who’d like to see the Towers burn, and not just for what they did to you. They’ve got ships running out of the Port now, those sons of bitches. And they think no one can touch them. How about I set you up with a nice place by the water, big enough for you and your friends, and you can use that training you’ve got to keep an eye on their operation? Maybe you can find out what’s going on with those ships. Without killing anyone.”
His eyes narrow, and I almost think he might be making a joke. I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again.
“I— I don’t know what to say,” I stammer.
Dreures laughs. “Start with thank you,” he says. “Maybe later on, you can invite me to the wedding.”
He makes a spinning gesture with his fingers. The man at the oars takes the fishing rod from my open hand and winds the line around the reel, and it’s only after he’s guided the boat back to the dock that juts into the swamp from behind Dreures’s massive estate and Kira runs down the soft emerald lawn to meet us, that I realize what wedding he’s talking about.
“Wedding invitation,” I mutter, glancing at Dreures.
He grins. “You two make a cute couple,” he says.
“Don’t worry,” I tell him. “You’ll get the first one.”
With that, I jump from the boat to the dock and wrap my arms around the woman who saved my life. My partner, my best friend, my lover.
And, someday soon, my wife.