"Wake him up, Nenn," he called.
I grabbed the smith's quenching bucket and splashed Mict in the face. He blinked and sputtered, then groaned in pain. Cord walked over to stand beside me as the assassin tried his bonds.
"Nice knots," Cord said.
"Thanks. What's that?"
Cord held up the tool with a grin. "Hammer."
"Whatcha' gonna do with it?"
Cord frowned, and turned the hammer head to face him. "What are we gonna do, Mr. Hammer?"
He tilted the tool toward his ear as if listening, then nodded and pulled it away again.
"Interesting. But won't he walk funny after that?"
"What's he doin'?" Mict asked. Panic tinged his voice.
I turned to the man. His eyes showed the whites, and they flicked from me to Cord. I shrugged.
"Talking to Mr. Hammer. Shush."
Cord was addressing the tool again. "But I don't know if you'll fit in there, Mr. Hammer."
"WHAT DO YOU WANT?" Mict bellowed.
Cord grinned and leaned in, setting the hammer on Mict's thigh. The assassin flinched. "Who paid you?"
"Rook," the assassin whined.
"Not good enough. Why aren't the guards on my ass? The Leashmen?"
"I dunno! He's got some sort of beef with you. Wants to make it personal."
Cord slid the hammer closer to Mict's crotch. Sweat stood out in bright droplets on his forehead.
"So why send you?" he asked.
"He wanted you riled up, maybe hurt."
Cord pressed the hammer into Mict's balls, and the man let out a whimper.
"That's all I know, oh gods oh gods oh gods."
"Nenn?"
"Right."
I threw a fist into Mict's jaw and he went boneless in the chair. Cord dropped the hammer on the straw floor.
"Let's meet the others."
***
We made our way back to the hotel as quickly as possible, avoiding three more groups of men out for blood. Once we made the high street, we relaxed, blending into the crowd as well as one can when covered in blood.
“That went well,” Cord said. He sounded almost cheerful.
“I’d hate to see your version of the opposite.”
“There’s a lot more screaming and oozing, to be honest.”
***
Lodgings were a suite of rooms in a massive two-story stone building with tall columns decorating the front, and frescoes carved across the face. They depicted all manner of recreation, from food and drink to dance, to other, more graphic depictions, of certain pastimes. Rek and Lux waited outside.
"It's like they built you a monument, Cord," Rek said.
The interior was marble and stone, the floors lined with plush red carpeting. Tapestries and art hung on the walls in tasteful-adjacent arrangements. Our rooms were on the second floor, including a small kitchen, a parlor area, and bedrooms. Lux and I claimed ours while the others settled in. I broke into a small chest in the kitchen area, discovering that an enchantment kept the bottles of light sweet beer inside cold. I sat back with Lux on the divan and sipped, then lit a cigar for the first time in days, the smoke swirling out a nearby window in lazy spirals. The others joined us shortly.
"What's the plan?" I asked.
"We've got two options. One, we insert ourselves into high society—parties, balls, dinners, the whole shebang—and hope for an invitation."
"That sounds suspiciously like an excuse for you to be drunk for a month," Rek said.
Cord grinned. "Option two is we join one of the cults around here, and work our way up to the inner circle, where an invitation is almost guaranteed."
"That seems like the more direct route," I said.
"It does. Except the cults are more likely to kill and eat you than just uninvite you from their parties if they sniff anything suspicious."
"That's convenient for you," Rek pointed out.
"And more fun," Lux added. "I can't stand the dreary priests with their dreary ritual and their guilt and their hypocrisy."
"Then we go after Rook," Cord said.
"The man who tried to have you kidnapped? Isn't that a bit, I don't know, suicide-y?" I asked.
He shrugged. "The Gentians have a saying. 'Show a man a wolf, and he will run screaming. Make a man a wolf, and he'll piss on your carpet.'"
"What the fuck does that even mean?" Rek asked.
"It means we'll be wolves. And I just ate a bag of asparagus," Cord said.
“How do you know Rook’s high society?” I interrupted.
“Because you can’t just hire a bunch of assassins with a giant penis and promises. I’ve tried.”
“Wait,” I said. “Are you implying you have a giant member?”
“They used to call me Cord the Thick,” he said.
“That was in Agrest. And it’s because you’re a moron,” Rek pointed out.
“Thanks, man,” Cord said.
"You know an awful lot about politics here for just stepping foot in after a couple decades," I pointed out.
Lux nodded in agreement. Rek found a bag of chilled carrots and crunched one thoughtfully.
"That is kind of weird," Rek said.
"Well, yes," Cord hedged. "About once a month I get messages from a wizard I keep on retainer."
"Aha. Cat's out of the bag, then. What were you, son of nobility? Merchant's kid?" Rek asked.
"Student. Then a soldier, and a prisoner."
I cleared my throat to break up the tension in the room. "What's the Harrower situation like here?"
"Sparse, but they're here, too. They tend to be a little more expensive, so harder to come by. Besides, the cults aren't fond of them, so they like to stay out of sight."
"Tell me about Rook."
Cord shook his head. "I don't know a lot. He's a mover, but most everything he does is obfuscated. There are rumors he was once a thief that used some of his knowledge to move up, but the people spreading those rumors tend to wake up less than alive."
A knock at the door interrupted our conversation, and Lux answered it. A woman in slicked-back hair and well-fitting leather armor stood at the door, a naked blade on her hip. She bowed and extended an envelope, then turned smartly on a heel and left.
Lux brought the envelope over, cracking the seal and reading the contents.
"Well?" I asked.
"An invitation," she said. She handed the letter over to Cord.
"Looks like the decision's been made. Rook is inviting us to dinner tomorrow."
"Trap?" I asked.
"Trapitty trap trap," he said.
"What do we do about it?" Rek asked.
Cord shrugged. "Bring a lot of knives."
"You'll have to be more specific," I said. "Like, is ten too many?"
"Gret's balls Nenn, I said a lot. Not 'enough to commit a murder for each day of the week and double on the weekend'."
"Hey. Not all my knives are for murder."
"No?"
"Some are for slicing. Or flaying."
"Have I ever mentioned there isn't at least one day a month you don't scare the shit out of me?"
"Have I ever mentioned that you've got a pretty mouth?"
"What's that even mean?"
"It'd look good with an apple in it."
"Yikes."
"Yes, yikes," Rek conceded.
"You're all just jealous of my knives."
***
Cord sent the others ahead to 'procure' a coach for our arrival at Rook's estate. In the meantime, we helped each other into our formal wear—a clean tunic, waistcoat, and trousers for Cord, and a dress with simple skirts, flat shoes, and a whalebone corset for me. I slipped my knives into the garters on my thighs, and two more into the back of the corset, letting the short pearl handles stick out like decor.
I straightened Cord's jacket, brushing off the shoulders while he looked at me, a strange expression on his face.
"What?" I asked.
"I love ya, Nenn."
&nb
sp; I smiled. "I know."
"This might be the last one."
"I don't believe that for a second."
He shook his head. "No, really. I think when a god asks for your help, you kind of have to hang it up after that."
"What then?"
"If we live?"
"Whaddya mean, if? You can't die."
"I don't know if that's true anymore. That thing with the cult in the valley—when they sacrificed us to Oros—coming back hurt. It was like something being pulled out of me. Like losing a piece of myself."
"But I saw you heal at the temple."
"It's slower now."
I fell silent. "Well, fuck."
"Anyway, this is all conjecture. For all I know, the only thing that can kill me is a full-on bonfire. So yeah, if we live? I think I'll go back to the Veldt. Settle down in the country, maybe try my hand at wine-making."
"That seems so... anticlimactic."
He smiled, a little sad. "After you've lived the life I have, anticlimactic is kind of a welcome change."
He took a breath and stepped back, holding out his arms, then spinning. "How do I look?"
"Pretty damn good, for you."
"Fair enough."
Rek opened the door and poked his head in. "We're ready," he said.
We shared a look, and left.
***
The carriage sat parked beside the inn's exit, black-lacquered, with four horses hitched to it. We descended the stairs, crowds already beginning to gather in anticipation of attending the nightly parties. One of their member broke free, a pale man in black robes and a wide-brimmed hat, symbols on chains around his neck. He pointed at Cord and started shouting.
"My god has seen! My god has seen you and weighed your worth!"
"Yeah, well my god can beat up your god!" Cord shouted back.
Cord grinned at Rek, the priest forgotten. "You brought horses!"
"Nearly shit his trousers," Lux muttered.
"They. Are. Terrifying," Rek said.
Cord pet the nose of one. "They're sweet."
"Not my problem if he eats your arm," Rek shrugged.
We climbed into the carriage and in moments, were on our way.
Excuse Me Waiter, I Didn't Order the Murder
Cord presented the invitation to the door guard with a flourish.
"Cord and party," he said.
The guard leaned in to inspect it, then glanced up at Cord, then at each of us, suspicion written on his features.
“Problem?” I asked. I hated waiting.
The man sneered down his nose, and pulled out a list attached to a board. “Simply assuring you’re supposed to be here.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means I am the arbiter of taste, and you are a lowly petitioner. You want to play, you gotta play my way first.”
“Lemme make a door,” Rek said.
“Lemme make a door through this guy,” I said, hands itching for my blades.
Lux produced a dove from somewhere within her dress and ripped its head off, popping the skull into her mouth like a fried morsel. The guard turned green as she chewed noisily, but otherwise remained steadfast.
Cord waved us off. “Patience. Some day, probably soon, he’ll have horribly violent diarrhea. Right, Lux?”
She grinned through a mouthful of red teeth and feathers.
After what felt like a ridiculously long time, all while other guests tapped their feet and cleared their throats behind us, he waved us through. Lux touched his hand as she passed, and his eyes widened in panic.
"Well, that was insulting," I said.
"All part of the act," Cord said.
"What act?"
"The great play, the grand design. We're new here, so we have to wait. I can guarantee anyone who actually matters would have been waved through with a glance. Instead, we have to deal with the pantomime."
Behind us, the guard cried out in dismay, followed by a loud wet splatter. I smiled to myself and kissed Lux on the cheek on impulse. The interior of Rook's manse was well done. Understated decor with hardwood accents, tasteful hangings, and unobtrusive servants who lurked in the shadows, waiting to cater to your every whim. One such led us to a long, wide hall with parquet flooring, fireplaces flanking each side of the room, and a massive dining table, probably as long as the Codfather. The servant led us to a row of chairs, each with a placard bearing our names, then left.
Lux leaned in. "This is really fancy."
"What is?"
Lux picked up the card, turning it back and forth. "The lettering. I can't tell the font. It must be handmade. And this paper—it's amazing. Thick, but not too thick, good stock, ink doesn't bleed..."
Other groups filtered in, speaking in low tones among themselves. All wore fine clothing, none smelled like shit. Cord once said that's how you could tell the nobles from the common, no matter the clothing. The rich could afford hygiene. Another servant entered from a door at the far end of the room, and rang a small bell, indicating we should take our seats.
We sat, waiting in silence. Cord winked at a tall matron in a silver dress, causing her to roll her eyes so hard I thought they might just pop out. He chuckled softly, and turned his attention toward a small dark man at the end of the table, but before he could cause a scene, the first notes of a song filled the air. We turned to see a young redheaded man in a silk shirt and blossomed-out trousers enter, a lute in his hands. He played a few more notes, then let the lute drop to his side.
"Ladies. Gentlemen. Others. I am your entertainment tonight. My name is Koot, and I aim to inspire and amaze and bewitch."
He lifted the lute again, playing a beautiful series of notes.
"Let me regale you with my tale. When I was but a wee lad, I 'twas the smartest around."
Another set of notes.
"I killed a king and made the world weep."
More music.
"I am a master pugilist and a cunning linguist, my tongue as deadly as my fists. Ladies."
Another set of notes.
"My will is like iron, my rod is like wood, and my skill with a lute literally unbelievable."
This went on for a while. When he finished, the group applauded quietly, and he bowed, stepping from the room, but not before throwing me a wink.
"I think someone's trying to bugger you, Nenn." Cord leaned in and whispered conspiratorially.
"From that display, I'd be willing to bet he buggers himself quite enough."
Rek snorted at that, blowing a noseful of wine across the table and onto a fat man in a brocaded jacket. We spent the next five minutes laughing while Rek apologized and servants appeared as if by magic to clean up the mess.
Finally, another bell rang, and the door at the end of the hall opened. A pause, and a man, tall—maybe taller than Rek—his skin alabaster, entered. He wore black clothing, and a black mask fashioned like that of a raven, feathers around the edge. When he spoke, his voice was clear and carried throughout the room, making me think the mask was probably enchanted.
"Friends, welcome. Repast will be served soon. But first, business."
He raised a hand, and servants appeared behind almost half the chairs, glittering knives in their hands. I tensed, and tried to feel any presence behind me at all.
"Ohshitohshitohshit," I whispered.
Rook's hand came down, and the servants quickly and effortlessly slit the throats of their charges, blood spraying out in a hot gurgling wave, coating every inch of the table. The smells of shit and piss filled the air as the newly dead voided their bowels. Just as quickly as they'd come, the servants disappeared, leaving the bodies to slump forward in their places.
Rook surveyed the room, then turned his mask our way. "You four. With me."
We stood and followed as he led us through the door. The room beyond was a simple stone room, devoid of anything but another door at the far end. Two Leashmen entered from the other side. Servants moved to close and block both, appearing from the sha
dows again, and I wondered at that ability. I thought it would be especially handy in situations like this, when I felt something hard and sharp pressed against my spine.
Rook turned and regarded us.
"I need three of you. No more. You choose. The other stays as my guest."
"For what?" Why? What the actual fuck is happening?" Cord asked.
"I'd like to know as well," I said. "For future reference."
"I think she means so she can stab you later," Cord clarified.
"Thanks, man," I said.
Rook's eyes glittered behind his mask, and he spoke again.
"You left something behind in the Hollow Hills," he said.
Cord's look sharpened, a man on the edge of glaring daggers. "How do you know that?"
"I know a great many things. I have friends. Some who share information willingly. Some... share it anyway. All I need is for you to return there and retrieve it. In the meantime, your friend will stay, to ensure you return."
"And if I don't?"
"I would think fire would do for your friend. But this one," he tipped his head to indicate me, "I think a knife in the back should work as well."
Cord looked around. I could see him calculating odds, making decisions, jaw hard and tight. Finally, he slumped.
"Nenn, Rek—you're with me." He looked over at Lux. "Behave. Don't, I don't know, burn the entire fucking city down when I'm gone."
He gave a wink and spun on his heel, and Rek and I followed. I hated Lux behind— and not just for the obvious reasons. I'd come to love our little family, and splitting it up put a splinter of ice in my gut that was damned hard to ignore.
"Six days, Cord," Rook called after us.
***
Cord led us out, a disgusted look in his eyes. He ushered us past the guards and into the street, the carriage long since sent on its way—before the local constables could trace its theft to us.
"I know that look," I said.
"Power," he spat. "It's always about power with these assholes. They amass more money than they can spend in several lifetimes. They find themselves isolated from anyone who might do them good, because they don't trust anyone, because greed has told them that everyone wants what they have. So they get bored. And because they don't know humanity anymore, it no longer holds value for them."
River of Thieves Page 22
