Threat

by Drae Box

  “That’s a bit overkill, isn’t it?” asked Thane. “When simple handcuffs would do.”

  Outwardly, Raneth nodded. Unless someone involved knows Cray, before he was king and was rebelling against King Nicodemus. Raneth rested a closed fist under his chin. He led Thane a small distance away from the barman, and into a less crowded section. “Cray’s a demonologist.” Which could explain why I’d had an MIR attack when they took him. If he thought I was dead, he could have summoned one of his bonded demons to help him. But if he did, then something went wrong. “It’s one of the ways he rebelled against his father and one of the ways he kept himself safe against King Nicodemus’ wrath.”

  “Ah. So an old flame, perhaps?” said Thane.

  “He only ever dated Louise, at least as far as I know.” Raneth returned to the barman. “Hey, were any of his captors injured? Bleeding? Wincing? Partially mauled?”

  The barman frowned. “Partially mauled? Uh, no.” The barman shook his head. “Nothing that drastic. Some had black eyes and blood splatter on their shirts but that was about it.”

  The blood could have come from the fight. It might not be their blood. “Did any of them treat Cray like they knew him?”

  “You mean personally?”

  Raneth nodded. “Yeah. Did they treat him like they used to be friends or old rivals, perhaps?” He glanced at Thane, finding the Master Frey tapping a boot impatiently on the ground.

  “I can’t help you with that. They didn’t stay long. They just grabbed some food and water and left.”

  Louise might know if there was anybody in Cray’s past that knew he studied demonology, but that would mean backtracking, which would mean losing the trail. It’s only blind luck that Thane’s led me somewhere Cray was. He glanced at Thane. Almost too lucky, but like he said to Haletifah, Cray going missing affects the Bayre-Frey Feud. I can’t forget that it’s in his best interests for me to stay the Bayre heir, not some active royal. Focus in on the kidnappers. “Barman.” Raneth watched as the barman finished setting a fresh drink down in front of a man whose body was decorated with thin chains, chains which looked as if they were vibrating. Some sort of unmastered metal-related gift, theorised the Bayre. The barman stepped back over to him. “Did you recognise the people with King Cray? Had they been here before?”

  “Recognise no, but could I recognise them again now I’ve seen them? Definitely. The woman in charge had this black axe on her cheek.” He tapped his cheek with a calloused finger. “Two blades. Somebody with a tattoo that prominent is hard to forget.”

  The woman from the attack on Aldora’s village! But… Is the Dagger’s theft and the attack related in any way to this, or is she just some sort of mercenary for hire? He glanced at the barman, who gave him a small smile and a shrug. It wouldn’t make any sense for him to lie to me. I’m a royal official. The trousers would have given it away even if my jacket at my waist didn’t, and Thane told them so. I could come back here and rip the place apart, and he probably knows that. “Do you know where they went, or what direction they went when they left?”

  “They used one of our back entrances but where they went after that is a royal official’s…” He quieted halfway through the saying. “Is anyone’s guess,” he said, recovering. “Here. I’ll open it for you.”

  Raneth called Thane over and the two watched as the barman grabbed one of the barrels’ taps and yanked it hard to the left, the tap and the wood circle it was on sliding a quarter turn from where the tap had started. A wooden panel to the left of the bar swung open, revealing a tunnel similar to the stairs Raneth and Thane had used.

  Thane glanced at Raneth. “After you, Raneth, after all, you’re the royal official.”

  Raneth gave him an annoyed scowl before heading into the tunnel. The sound of water dripping somewhere tickled his ears as they kept going down, until the lit stairs gave way to a flat surface, leading further away from Rat’s Nest. How long does this go on? The soft taps of Thane’s heels against the stone ground gave away the closeness of the Master Frey’s presence, enough that the wisps of white breath brushing past his ear only made it worse. As Raneth and Thane drew close to the next light, the illuminated space beneath it became distorted with the too-familiar shape of Drigoe Brice. Raneth jerked back, his back slamming into Thane’s chest. Thane’s hands clasped Raneth’s shoulders, steadying him, but caused the Bayre to wrench himself to the side, press his back to the stone wall and yank free one of the royal official throwing daggers at his waist. He looked from the Master Frey to his Follower, and back again.

  Thane chuckled, just as he often did when he thought Raneth was being amusing. “Settle down, Bayre. It’s just Drigoe.”

  That’s the problem. Raneth slowly slipped the throwing dagger back into his belt, grateful he had thought to full weapon-up before leaving the palace. A sharp twinge ran down his injured side, repeating in each wound until he pressed a hand to them, grimacing.

  “Drigoe, you really must be careful not to startle Raneth if you want to live past your next materialisation.”

  Drigoe looked at Raneth quietly for a moment before his eyes turned to Thane. “My apologies, Raneth,” he said, without looking at him. “Thane, there’s no sign Cray’s still in the city.”

  Inspecting Drigoe’s face carefully, Raneth noticed that he didn’t appear to be lying but then he’d rarely had any interaction with Drigoe that involved any vocalised words other than grunts as they both dodged attacks from one another, or Drigoe’s reaching hands. He has no reason to lie, just like Thane. If it affects Thane’s way of life, it’ll affect that of the Frey Followers too. Steadying his breath, Raneth squeezed past Drigoe, aiming for the small set of stairs further ahead. “So that’s it?” asked Raneth, not bothering to turn to face the two as he stalked further down the corridor. “Rat’s Nest was the only help you truly provided?” He trotted up the steps and shoved the trapdoor above them to the side, blinking as a brighter source of light shone into his eyes. He turned away, blinking, before he climbed out, hearing as Drigoe and Thane climbed out behind him.

  He was surrounded by men and women that looked barely strong enough to pick up a heavy sword. They sat at tables, sewing machines at their hands, the clunking of each sounding like a battlefield. As Raneth took in what he saw, a few stopped working and looked his way. Sweeping his gaze to the workers’ surroundings, Raneth noticed that they were in a metal building, likely one of the so-called temporary warehouses in the industrial district of the city, which, like many of the cities, continued to be used instead of being replaced with brick buildings.

  “Shenabi keflagh petar, royal official!” Raneth’s attention snapped to a woman standing, a large smile across her face. The dialect wasn’t of one of the kingdoms considered to be of the Common Kingdoms landmass or its accompanying islands. Is that Silver Tongue? Raneth frowned. He didn’t know the individual languages of Sark, Mening, Sophist or Archagme but each shared the Silver Tongue in the same way the Common Kingdoms did their Common Tongue. The weave of the way the person had spoken sounded familiar. Raneth turned to Thane but the Master Frey grabbed his wrist, hard.

  “Thane, you’re hurting me,” growled Raneth, grabbing at Thane’s grip. Thane ignored him, marching him out of the building with Drigoe bringing up the rear. A man stood outside the building with a cigarette in one hand, burning brightly against the dark sky. He eyed them without a word, then gestured for them to leave. Thane didn’t delay; he yanked Raneth further from the building, his thumb pressing into the underside of Raneth’s wrist and making his hand fizzle. “Thane.”

  After turning a corner, Thane let go. “Yes?”

  “That was a sweatshop, wasn’t it?”

  “Whatever you saw, forget it,” hissed Thane, his warm breath billowing across Raneth’s face. He leaned over Raneth and gripped his chin. “If you want to live.”

  “Yours?” dared Raneth.

  Thane sucked his teeth before turning to Drigoe. “If there’s no sign Cray’s still in th
e city, was there are signs of where the kidnappers took him?”

  Drigoe shrugged. “Probably.”

  “Then go and find out!” snapped Thane.

  Drigoe dematerialised, leaving Raneth and Thane alone in the side road. Thane shook his head. “I raised Drigoe but he still manages to be an idiot,” grumbled the Master Frey.

  He raised Drigoe? That would explain why Drigoe has been around Thane for so long, I guess, but does that mean the other Frey Followers are his adopted children or something? Is that how he gets them to be so loyal to the lifestyle even though it basically means chasing Bayres and murdering or maiming us? Wonder what Drigoe really thinks of the Bayre-Frey Feud. Maybe he and the other Frey Followers aren’t really as invested in it as they seem. Maybe they’re just compelled by the loyalty and actually don’t agree with it. Could explain a few encounters.

  The Head Frey Follower materialised on the other side of Thane to Raneth, leaving the Bayre heir a little less wary this time compared to the last time. “They hired fresh horses.”

  Stepping around Thane, Raneth smiled. It might not have been much, but it was closer to finding their trail than they had been a moment before. “Horse companies try to get an accurate proof of identity before hiring out their horses. Even if Cray came they’d expect ID of some sort. Who did they rent them from?” asked Raneth.

  “Nutler and Sons.”

  That opens up a few possibilities if they intend to give the horses back. If memory serves, they have stables in Trillabee, Stertye, Verito, Keepaldell, Brantye, Semobay and Hayboo. “They have stables throughout the northeast settlements,” stated Raneth. “Let’s go and talk to their stablemaster here.” Thane gestured in the direction of the stables. “Yeah, yeah. Royal officials first,” muttered Raneth.

  It was uncomfortable to be leading Thane and Drigoe through the streets of the city, knowing they could at any time decide against helping him and stab him in the back. The other part of him was assuring his fears, reminding Raneth that finding Cray was in their best interests and they wouldn’t risk that. Slowly eeking his attention away from the two men following him, Raneth started to inspect his surroundings a little more closely, noticing where they were in relation to the stable he had visited more than once in his duties as a royal official.

  Reaching the Nutler and Sons Stables, Raneth stepped inside, not bothering to hold the door for Drigoe and Thane. A man sat at a desk opposite the door, writing something in a thick book spread across the desk. Younger men and women were sitting on a bench on the other side of the room, munching on a late night dinner of vegetable soup with stale bread. The doorway to the stables stood open beyond them, giving staff in the reception room a clear view into the stables.

  Raneth smiled at the stablemaster as he lifted his gaze from the ledger. “Hey, stablemaster,” said Raneth as he drew to a halt just shy of the desk’s edge. “I’m looking for a group of people that may have taken fresh horses of yours.”

  “Oh?” The stablemaster leaned to the side in his chair, looking at Drigoe and Thane. “And are those two with you?”

  Raneth glanced over his shoulder, watching as Thane picked something off of Drigoe’s shoulder before dropping whatever it was to the floor. Raneth swept his gaze back to the stablemaster and gave a nod. “For now.”

  “Will they run the horses to death?”

  The genuine concern flickering across the stablemaster’s face warned Raneth that royal detectives could get called into this mess sooner than he’d like, but that was the stablemaster’s call. The business couldn’t afford not to set an example to those that either didn’t return the horses, left them in a poor state or spent them beyond recovery. Having a fondness for the gentle beasts, Raneth couldn’t blame them for caring either. “I’ll do my best to catch up to them before that can happen,” assured Raneth, pulling a spare wood chair from the wall beside the desk to the front of it. He sat down, briefly sending a wary glance towards Thane and Drigoe. They were standing back, watching. Drigoe had his arms folded and Thane simmered with boredom. Seeing them standing so still made Raneth’s stomach roll, unused to seeing them doing anything but causing him trouble. “They had King Cray with them,” stated Raneth, turning his gaze back to the stablemaster.

  The stablemaster repositioned his wire rimmed glasses to fully nestle just before his eyelashes. “I haven’t seen the king.”

  “Some of them would have had blood splatter on them.”

  “Oh! Them. Yes, I know who you’re talking about now, royal official. But most of them waited outside. They told me not to look out.”

  “Who did you speak to?” asked Raneth.

  “A woman. With a black tattoo on her cheek. She wanted to head to Keepaldell Town.” He flicked through the book in front of him, pausing on a page and tapping it. “Yes. Here she is. Her proof of identity said she was Reinette Osric. She lives in Icoque Village.” He looked up at Raneth. “You should know, if you’re going to have to defend yourself,” he said, nodding towards the weapons at Raneth’s waist. “that they hired a carriage big enough for eight.”

  Raneth stood up, smiling at the stablemaster. “Thanks.” He prowled to Thane and Drigoe and led them outside without a word.

  Once the door of Nutler and Sons was closed behind them, Raneth turned on Thane. “Remember last year, when the village was attacked?”

  Thane tilted his head, a small smirk tweaking the left side of his mouth. “You’ll have to be more specific. Giften has six villages.”

  “Thane,” murmured Drigoe in warning. Drigoe looked more uncomfortable than he should have, his hands fidgeting around the positioning of his sword

  “The Brown Buzzard. Look, you basically said you were involved then hid behind Lords’ Law Act when the investigation started once the village was safe,” said Raneth. He watched Thane closely, noticing the way his eyes twitched to watch him just as carefully. Thane’s voicebox bobbed down as he swallowed. “The woman I’m chasing, the one that sounds almost like she’s in charge, has the same tattoo as the woman that spoke for the attackers last year. What if this is connected, Thane?”

  Thane picked at the lip of his waistcoat, stalling, before he looked Raneth square in the eye. “Then Lords’ Law Act doesn’t protect me from my actions back then. Look, it’s complicated. You know my family don’t exactly have clean hands.”

  That’s one way to put it, thought Raneth, giving a relenting nod. “What don’t I know, Thane? How does this all add up?”

  The Master Frey shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. The woman with the tattoo, I barely know her but from what a contact I had back then said — you killed him — they wanted to destroy the village entirely.”

  “Why?” pressed Raneth.

  Thane tugged at the bottom of his waistcoat before smoothing the front with a hand. “Something about proving Cray couldn’t protect the kingdom, even those closest to him. It was ten months ago, Raneth. I don’t remember what I eat two days ago half the time.”

  Why’s he being all cagey? Is he still working with whoever ‘they’ are? “Are you still involved with them, Thane?”

  “I’m not entirely sure, if I’m being honest.”

  How does that work? Raneth resisted the urge to fold his arms. He was too close to Thane to make a rookie move like that. Better to keep his hands ready to draw his weapons. “What else?”

  “Raneth, honestly, that was a long while ago,” said Thane.

  Drigoe nudged Thane’s shoulder. “Don’t forget why he’s asking, sir.”

  Thane rounded on Drigoe, teeth bared but froze, glaring at his right-hand man before he exhaled and turned to face Raneth once more. “Thank you, Drigoe. Raneth, someone involved — that I never met and whose name I don’t know — wanted the Dagger of Protection for their own protection. From what I remember, the whole thing had something to do with royal officials but I don’t remember more of the specifics.” He paused. “But, when you think about it…”

  “What?” asked Raneth.

/>   “Well, the village closest to the palace. Your girlfriend’s—”

  “She’s not my—”

  “Sorry, your friend’s village used to come under attack back during the wars with the Newer Kingdom and the Barbaric East. During the fourteen hundreds, because of its proximity to the palace.”

  Raneth stared at Thane, waiting to see if he had any more to say, but when he remained quiet, Raneth hummed thoughtfully. “So you think that and this was all about removing Cray from power?”

  “Seems like it, but if that’s the case, why haven’t they just killed him?”

  It doesn’t make any sense to me either, thought Raneth. If I was opposing a king, murder would be the easiest solution. Unless they want a king’s ransom but nobody’s been foolish enough to try that for centuries, and even then, that was a bunch of Newers kidnapping their own king. What Giften in their right mind would take Cray? Raneth noticed Thane was watching him a little too closely. Best to part ways now, I think. Before his help becomes more of a hindrance. At least with the horse hires, I can trust they’ve likely gone to Keepaldell for fear of detectives being set on them if they don’t return the horses within usual travel times. “Thane, this is where we part ways. Peacefully, preferably. I’m sure you’ll hear through your contacts if the king’s safe or not with time. It’s unsettling to work with you and you’re too involved on the wrong side of this as it is. Just in case you’re still somehow helping them, I don’t want you to hinder me.”

  Thane smiled. “As you wish, but if you change your mind, just call out Drigoe’s name.”

  Chapter Eight

  Aldora

  She squeezed the rim of the basin until her knuckles were bone-white. In the bathroom of Doctor Smith’s village hospital, Aldora found little comfort in the spelled artefact at her waist, nor when she looked in the mirror. Bloody veins lined the whites of her eyes, warning that what little sleep she’d gotten at Haethowine’s bedside wasn’t enough. With villagers popping by to drop off cards, Aldora had sought refuge from their looks by hiding in the bathroom. The only problem was the room’s silence and her mind replaying Haethowine’s panic at being unable to breathe.