Chapter 29
Twenty-Nine
Late Eternanight, I found myself in the shadows of the Core City bay, sneaking up on the hideout of a mercenary band, accompanied by a crime lord’s right hand, his assorted thugs, and a Squalo to steal back a priceless magical relic.
And to think just a year ago I was in Fogo dreaming of becoming a rank-one wizard while trapping Fire Elementals for a living. Life is funny like that.
“Trax says he’s sure this is the place,” I whispered.
Joran and I were crouched in the dark behind a fence made of driftwood and wire. At the end of the road was a dimly lit warehouse. Even from two hundred yards away, it was obvious there were guards posted all over it. There was at least one on top of the flat roof, and more walking around outside.
“If you’re lying…”
“Yeah, I’m dying. I know, painful dismemberment and flaying and whatnot, but I swear before all the saints we didn’t take that lamp for ourselves.”
“Yet the only person I trust to confirm your sad tale is conveniently missing, and possibly at the bottom of the bay.”
“Dathka’s likely in there too!”
He thumped me hard on the arm, warning me to keep quiet. I didn’t know what Joran expected. It was hard to remain stealthy while someone keeps threatening and infuriating you, and it was doubtful anyone would’ve heard me over the crashing of the nearby surf anyway.
We watched for a bit longer. This neighborhood was surely busy during the day, but most of the laborers had gone home for the night.
Lots of people still lived here, though, so there were witnesses about.
We were on the beach, but everything past the sand was covered in buildings, and there were lit candles, lanterns, and light charms in some of those windows.
“Come on.”
The two of us stayed low as we went back to where Joran’s Latros were waiting.
There were five of them huddled on the sand next to the grounded skeleton of an old fishing boat.
All our light charms had been extinguished, but the moon was full enough we could still get about decently well.
Seeing the moon so clearly had been a rare treat in Fogo.
There was usually too much smoke, so I still marveled at the beauty of there being a big, round, shiny thing in the sky.
It keeping me from tripping over anything in the dark tonight was a nice bonus.
“What’s the deal, Cutter?” one of them asked.
“Assuming this hotland scrub isn’t leading us into a trap, the mercs are holed up in the big warehouse at the back of the lane.”
“I told you, I’m telling the truth. This is where Trax followed them. The mind picture he sent shows that place has its own little dock, and the boats Gerzog used are tied up there.” Trax had even gotten close enough that he sent me a mental image of the bullet hole I’d put into one of the boats.
Joran looked toward the water where Trax lurked. “I could see that too. Fortunately for you, Squalos as a race aren’t known for deceit. Their species produces no liars. They’ll rip your guts out and eat them in front of you, but they’re always honest about it.”
Trax must have heard that, because he sent back, “Thank you for this compliment.”
“So we gonna go bleed these bastards or what?” That question came from the one Joran had previously identified as a rank-three mage. The rest nodded eagerly. The Latrocinium clearly didn’t shy away from fights.
“Two problems, lads. I suspect there’s a bunch of them in there.
But worse, we’re a long way from the Slumps.
There’s City Watch crawling all over this district.
All these storehouses around us belong to trading companies, and the Council loves commerce above all else.
We start a battle here, an army of blue coats will come running. ”
That was when I realized none of the Latrocinium were wearing their usual black armbands. They were proud to fly their colors in the Slumps, but in any of the more civilized parts of the city, that would just draw the wrath of the watch.
“I say we risk it anyway,” said the rank three. “I could set the back ablaze, then as they run out the front, the rest of you gun them down.”
“There’ll be no risking arson with one of our own maybe inside,” Joran responded.
One of the Latros was far more grizzled than the others, and you know what they say about someone who lives to old age in a young man’s game…
“I know this place. It belongs to one of the traders who on occasion employs this company of fools. I think he gives the mercs a place to sleep and gather recruits while they’re in the Core between jobs.
The Tooth and Claw haven’t clashed with us before now, but we can’t have some mercenary stroll through the gate, thinking he can throw his weight around in our territory. It sends the wrong message.”
Joran nodded at that wisdom. “Gerzog has got too big for his britches, and he’ll find the Latrocinium aren’t some deadlands peasants to be pillaged.”
“What if we wait until it’s darkest, right before dawn, when most of them is deep asleep, go in real quiet like, and start strangling,” suggested another. “Easy as stealing a baby.”
I was aghast. “You guys steal babies?”
“Figure of speech,” Joran responded. “Folks who work the sea are early risers. The longer we wait, the more likely we get identified. We’re going now, quiet as we can, and we need Dathka, the lamp, and this upstart orc’s life, in that order. Anybody fucks that up, I’ll end you myself.”
Joran putting the girl before the treasure told me there might be something to her claim of being Carcalla’s daughter. “So is Dathka really your boss’s kid?”
“That’s stupid. Of course not,” Joran snapped, and considering how collected he usually was, his denial had come out too fast, which told me it was likely true. “That’s just a ruse she came up with in the moment to keep herself in one piece, and you’d best forget you ever heard such nonsense.”
“Consider it forgotten… Now I’ll wish you gentlemen good luck. Regardless of what you all decide to do, me and Trax are out.”
“The hell you are,” said the rank three. “The rest of our crew is watching your friends to make sure they don’t run off. We’re short-handed and got no time to send for help. A Squalo by himself is worth ten regular men in a fight.”
“That is flattering. However, that would only be possible if I have the element of surprise.”
Joran laughed at that, which was a bit unnerving, as I was used to being the only one who could understand Trax clearly.
“We made a deal to clear out some ruins in exchange for the rent. Those ruins got cleared. All this trogshit afterwards? Not my academy’s problem.”
“I see it a bit different,” Joran said. “It’s very much a big fucking problem—for you—because our deal was for you to recover treasure. I’ve seen no treasure yet, but that great big light shooting into the sky told the world there was treasure there. Treasure which you likely stole for yourself.”
“You know that’s a lie.”
He shrugged. “All that matters is that’s what I’ll tell Carcalla when I justify to him my killing of you and all your friends. It doesn’t take a great leap of imagination to believe you found the lamp, then murdered Dathka before sending it off with one of your minions to sell.”
If my dad had still been alive, he would have told me this was what I deserved for dealing with dishonest crooks. “That’s a scummy move.”
“Should I be corrected as to your innocence later, like, say, by finding the treasure clutched in the dirty hands of an orc… Oh well, live and learn. Well, you won’t, seeing as how you’ll already be dead—unless you pitch in and help fix your mistakes.”
It pissed me off that I’d gone across realms merely to trade callous noblemen for petty gangsters.
I’d vowed to become a wizard so I’d never be powerless again, but no matter where I went, I kept running into assholes coercing me to do things against my will.
I dreamed of the day I’d achieved a high enough rank to blast all of these little tyrants straight to hell.
That day was still a lot of effort and practice away, but right that minute, I was done being bullied.
“Fuck you, Joran. Kill me then and get it over with.”
Two of the Latros promptly drew daggers, and they’d surely have gutted me and left my body in the sand behind this rotting sailboat, but Joran held up one hand to stop them.
Then he flashed me an unnerving smile. His teeth were very white in the dark.
“Ah, there’s that notorious hotlander temper all your people are supposed to possess.
Good to see you’ve got some of that fire in your belly, boy.
Fine. I’ll let you keep your dignity, by offering an addendum to the deal.
You and your Squalo help us right now, today’s failures are forgiven, and that’s another month of rent considered paid in full. ”
I was a little surprised my defiance hadn’t gotten me stabbed, but I was barge cadre, so haggling was in my blood. “Three months.”
“Don’t push your luck.”
“Alright, how about one month if I help get back your girl, another month for the lamp, and a third if we kill Gerzog? Our previous agreement about splitting any loot evenly—other than the lamp which is all yours—remains in force.”
“The balls on this one…” the old gangster muttered.
“Naw, it’s good, Vilko. I appreciate the rare show of audacity in this city of lemmings.” I didn’t even know what a lemming was, but Joran held out one hand. “We’ve struck a deal, Carnavon, with these men and the saints as our witnesses.”
“And Trax. He’s got a real good memory.” I spit on my palm and we shook on it. The former gladiator had a grip like a Red miner. “So, what’s the plan?”
“Let’s go see if your Squalo is as good at surprise as he claims.”