Chapter 46
Forty-Six
Since the last couple of days had been a nearly nonstop sprint, I was so exhausted that I slept until late in the afternoon.
I woke up halfway through Waterday, the sundown of which was the deadline that Carcalla imposed upon us.
Rising early wouldn’t have done me any good, as I’d done all I could.
If the Latrocinium still wanted to evict us, and most likely kill me as an example of what they did to debtors, at least I’d go to my public execution well rested.
I woke up to find the Tube was so busy that the activity was even drowning out the wails of the ghosts.
Big Bognar had returned from the healers, and in an attempt to repay Azarin for her bartering an expensive wand to save his life, he’d vowed to fix the place up.
He was a terrible wizard, but he was a good carpenter.
The constant hammering did give me a headache though.
It was also surprising to learn that while I’d been out, we’d attracted a few more new recruits, and unlike Gerzog and friends, these were legitimate students.
Though Rade had told them to come back tomorrow so they wouldn’t be in the crossfire should Carcalla throw us out tonight.
Worst-case, they’d come back to find the Tube abandoned. Best-case, our numbers would grow.
If our landlord was merciful—however unlikely that might be—things were really looking up for the Academy of Outcasts.
Word of our existence was spreading. We now had access to a tester, so our students had a real opportunity for official advancement.
The mercenaries had lots of coin on them, probably scooped hurriedly off the floor after the priest of Saint Violence burst their money chest, and it was more than enough for us to live off of for a few months.
As for the future beyond that, some of us were making a good bit of money from the arena, and Azarin and Morton now had a contract to train the flying animals at Smorp Brothers.
All that would hopefully be enough to keep us stocked up on practice element.
If you do things different than everybody else but still win, they’ll hail you as a genius. If you do things different than everybody else but you lose, then you’re just an idiot.
I discovered that Sifuso had set up a strange little memorial shrine in the big training room.
I don’t know what odd saints the lizard people followed, but he’d constructed little dolls out of rags, clay, and sticks, and set them on the floor amid a bunch of candles and small animal bones.
Oddly enough, the faces he’d carved bore an obvious resemblance to Rufus and Danny.
I would never have guessed Sifuso was so artistic.
“What’re you doing?” I asked him.
“This is the way of my people, to remember the fallen of the tribe.”
“Rufus, I get. Respect to the great war mage of Clan Rudnik, may he rest in peace. But Danny was a no good, two-faced, rotten traitor, who sold us out the first chance he got. And you especially nearly got killed for it.”
Sifuso licked his eyeball with his forked tongue as he thought that over.
“Outcasts have formed a tribe. Not a good tribe. More like the leftovers and garbage none of the real tribes wanted. But that garbage became a tribe. Even real tribes have scum. Some scum is worse than others, but they were still part of the tribe. I did not say this is to honor them. It is to remember them. The elders of a tribe tell the stories of those who came before, so the hatchlings can learn from them, both good and bad.”
That was surprisingly wise for the weird lizard. “I guess your shrine can stay, though we should probably do something nicer and more respectable, and less… creepy.” I waved toward the pile of mouse skulls. “But what’ll you do with those dolls if we get evicted?”
“Then the tribe is dead, there is no one to teach, and these can go in the canal with the rest of the trash.”
It turned out lacertians weren’t as big on sentimentality as I’d thought.
Just before sundown, the Latrocinium arrived, and the student council went out to meet them.
Last time, Cutter Joran had strolled up on foot with a handful of his gang. This time, the Latrocinium rolled up in intimidating style in a magically propelled carriage that was covered in steel plates and protective enchantments, accompanied by a small army of thugs.
Me, Azarin, Rade, Krachma, and Trax waited for them by our charred front door.
When the neighborhood saw the black and yellow banner draped over the side of that monstrous carriage, they all ran and hid. Curtains were pulled tight. Shutters were closed. Children were herded inside. Even the dogs were scared to bark and the chickens stopped clucking.
“That sure is an awful lot of them,” Azarin said.
“Hmmm… Maybe I should have run for the realm of water after all,” Rade mused.
“Too damp,” Krachma grunted. “Krachma rather die.”
“Excellent point, my friend.”
There had to be a hundred thugs, all of them wearing a black band on their arm, and every last one was armed.
I recognized a few familiar faces from our raid upon the Tooth and Claw’s waterfront hideout.
Those gave me respectful nods. That respect would not stop them from killing us all should their boss order it, of course. Still, it was nice to see.
The Latrocinium spread out around us as the carriage slowed and came to a stop only a few feet away.
This thing had so much magic on it that I could practically smell the Red coming off its power source.
Instead of a golem driver, the two insectoid beasts with sword hands which normally protected Carcalla’s office rode on top.
Radiating danger, they surveyed us with their blank stone eyes.
A metal door on the side creaked open and set of stairs was lowered.
Joran didn’t bother with the steps. He just hopped out and swaggered over to greet us.
“Good evening, Carnavon. Can’t say I’m surprised to see you still here.
Hotlanders are notoriously stubborn.” Then he gave Azarin a little bow.
“My lady. Proving Stormwolk to be as headstrong and heedless of danger as claimed.” Then he smirked at Krachma and Rade.
“You two ne’er-do-wells I thought would be smart enough to get out while the getting’s good. ”
Rade waved one hand dismissively. “As a noble house in exile, I enjoy taking up lost causes.”
“Krachma hates being wet.”
Joran didn’t know how to respond to that bit of out-of-context nonsense from our lob, so he turned his attention to Trax. The two dead-eyed killers thought greetings at each other. After a moment, Joran cracked a smile, nodded respectfully at Trax, then returned to the carriage.
What did he say? I thought.
“May our parley remain placid, but should it end in violence, then he would be honored to kill and eat me. Which is a traditional Squalo greeting. I returned this greeting, then I implied that as a mighty Squalo, I would be able to devour him whole, while as a feeble human, he would be forced to cut me into steaks, cook my flesh until tender, then further render me into bite-sized chunks using utensils before he would be able to consume my flesh. This is humorous because human teeth are ineffectual, and your jaws are weak.”
Wow. Spending time around all us sarcastic humans, and Trax was starting to get some attitude on him. “You sure told him what’s up.”
Joran thumped the side of the carriage. “All clear.”
The next person to get out was Dathka Walker.
She looked better than last night, but was still battered, bruised, and had one arm in a sling.
The Latrocinium may have had their own healer, but he must have not been a really strong one.
She remained stone-faced as she looked us over.
You’d think that she’d feel some measure of gratitude for all the help we’d given her, enough to maybe even advocate for us to her father, but if so, she gave no indication.
Rade, of course, tried to be charming, as usual. “Ah, the dangerous lily of Surnod Lin is looking beautiful as ever. In case you forgot, when last we met, you were a bit more flustered, as I’d just saved you from falling to your certain doom.”
“Are you trying to get yourself killed, Tartaros?” she asked.
“I was merely reminding you of our recent adventures…” Rade trailed off as he saw who else was getting out of the carriage.
He’d not seen Carcalla before, but my description of the pointy ears and distinct facial scars had done the man justice enough that it was obvious who this was. Rade gulped. “Never mind.”
Carcalla was dressed in a black suit. Once free of the confines of the carriage, he placed a black top hat on his bald head. He looked around the pathetic clearing that served as our yard, then snapped his fingers.
Promptly, several goblins ran around the side of the carriage and began unstrapping things from the back.
Within seconds, they’d assembled three chairs and a table, and then they hurried out of the way.
Carcalla and Dathka sat on their side of the table.
Joran remained standing, wary behind his boss.
There was only one chair on the Outcasts side.
Carcalla gestured toward it. Being the Outcast’s appointed spokesman and designated sacrifice, I sat down.
The rest of the student council remained a polite distance behind me.
Another goblin brought out cups and a bottle, and began pouring wine for the three of us at the table. I was glad for that, because my nerves were making my mouth really dry.
“So, Mr. Carnavon, I’ve been thinking about our arrangement.”
“As have I, your landlordship.”