by Eric Ugland
“I considered the matter resolved.”
“And yet that is clearly not the case. Continue, however.”
“The Iron Silents looked to make a play cornering food and beverage markets in certain neighborhoods clustered around Old Town. They managed to get enough funding, where from I don’t yet know, to purchase virtually all the taverns, restaurants, and pubs in the district. Except yours. And I suppose that’s where things fell apart. They clearly needed money to keep their gambit running, so they raised prices at all the other eateries, which sent the crowds to the place with the continued cheap drinks, The Heavy Purse. So they saw a decrease in revenue from their purchases, but still had to make their ends meet. So they were forced to sell everything. And now they are flush with money.”
“They must be working with a more established gang,” Woolf mused, looking at the carvings on his ceiling. “Someone else is guiding them. Putting them into an already running program.”
“I would believe that,” Rowland said. “Because got their gold from someone because they clearly had to pay it back to someone on the quick. Else I’m sure they would have tried to ride their gambit out a bit longer. But whatever they’re doing now, they seem to be pulling in enough coin they are no longer looking at ridiculous schemes.”
“And they had a nice carriage,” I added.
“Not exactly the sort of sign that carries an immense weight,” Woolf said. “Rowland has a completely atrocious carriage, but supposedly has more money than most in the city.”
“That carriage is an heirloom,” Rowland countered.
“All I’m saying is that mere possession of a carriage is not a reliable indicator of wealth.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
“Might you hazard a guess to which greater gang they have hitched their wagon?”
“From all stories, the Iron Silents are quite vicious.”
“That’s been my experience as well,” I said. “And I’ve heard they’re working with the White Hand these days. No idea if that’s who they were bankrolled by originally.”
“The White Hand is bad news,” Woolf said.
“Were they behind those half-ogre assassins?” Rowland asked.
“Turns out it wasn’t the Iron Silents or the White Hand,” I admitted, just a little sheepish.
“Ah,” Rowland said. “So there has been even less interaction than I thought.”
“Even a little is a lot,” Woolf countered, finally seeming to take my side of things. “We can’t let our members be pushed around. There was a time we would have retaliated with blood for something like this.”
“And yet, we are not what we once were. To begin with, do we even have a member besides the young elf who might be in a position to dish blood out?”
“Another issue to address,” Woolf said.
A heavy sort of silence settled over the room as the two men stared at each other. There was definitely more going on here than I knew. Which wasn’t exactly surprising. The guild hadn’t been particularly welcoming to me as a new member. I wasn’t even sure why they took me on. Other than I suppose one of them was bored and wanted something to do that didn’t revolve around baked goods.
“Are you sure that’s the direction the guild wishes to go?” Rowland finally said.
“I’m sure that’s the direction it needs to go,” Woolf replied.
Rowland puffed his pipe, his face impassive.
“Hatchett,” Woolf said, “this is moving into a conversation you need not participate in. Rest assured, the issue with the Iron Silents will be resolved, you will not need to pay.”
“Thanks,” I said, not at all mollified. Still, there was a limit to what I could do, and while I was very tempted to remain and listen to the fight about to happen, I knew that wasn’t going to be possible.
Chapter 115
I was late for work. Which sucked. I hated being late. It was something that really irked me about my new world, I’d been late all the time since I moved over to this new world. I made a habit of being punctual in the old world, it was an easy way to stand out from my slacker co-workers. That was one way I did my best to get the choice assignments at the ice cream place. And I was the only one who could still toss the dough by hand, which kept me in the back for my time in the pizza joint. But it instilled in me a hatred for lateness, which then made me be too early for most things, and it really just wound up being something of a problem in my social life because none of the people I hung out with had their own more fluid version of time.
Once again, I hopped a carriage to get across the city. As the horses ran on and I watched the world blur by, I realized I’d basically burned through my week’s pay at the pit in a single day of carriages. I had to come up with some alternate means of travel — it was seriously cutting into my profits.
By the time I arrived, the new pit was humming with activity. Matthew and his brother-in-law Godfrey were up top, and Nadya was down in the pit. I hopped out of the carriage, paid the driver his damn gold, and ran through the gates.
“Took your damn time,” Matthew called out without even looking up.
“Had a rough night,” I replied.
Matthew had rigged a large crane that arched over the pit, dropping down a wide basket. Nadya was loading up the basket with big spherical rocks, sweating and cursing as she went along. Then the basket got lifted up and dumped out into a pile. That’s where Matthew and Godfrey came in, grabbing the rock balls from the pile and smashing them into a frame on a table. They added a bit of water and did a little shaking of things. Then the frame was taken over to a pile, and set there to dry. A peek inside the stack of frames revealed the biggest surprise: sheets of perfectly flat, perfectly clear glass.
“Holy balls,” I said.
“See the value in this place?” Matthew asked.
“I mean, sure. I don’t know how expensive glass is, but—”
“It’s a fair amount. Not too many people willing to chance this.”
“Is there some horrific creature hiding in here?”
“There might be,” Matthew said. “But leaving this place alone so long seems to have done the trick and gotten rid of the danger for us.”
“Provided we don’t stick around after dark,” Godfrey said.
“Don’t listen to him,” Matthew said. “Now get in there and help Nadya.”
Which I did.
She gave me a sweaty, dirty smile when I got to the bottom.
“Good night?” she asked.
“Hardly,” I replied.
“The pretty girls are never very good, are they?”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“I got kidnapped.”
“What? How are you here then?”
“They threw me in the Shade.”
“Doesn’t exactly answer my question.”
Thankfully the basket touched down right then, meaning it was time to work, so I had time to figure out my story to Nadya. Definitely wouldn’t let her in on the draining thing. I needed to find time to talk to Careena, see what she knew about the Shade. And what might happen to me if someone found out I suddenly had access to a fuck-load of necromancy spells. Couldn’t be good.
The work wasn’t bad. Kinda refreshing in its own way. I was starting to question why I even had a day job in a place where benefits weren’t a thing. And it’s not like I really needed a cover identity, since there weren’t paper trails in this world. At least none that I’d encountered. And yet, I still wanted to be there. It was the one group of people who’d really made me feel welcome. And on this day, where there wasn’t something trying to kill me or eat me or hurt me even. It was just, well, nice. Calming.
Grab a stone, put it in the basket.
Fill the basket, and sit and talk with Nadya.
Basket comes down again, and go find another stone.
Repeat ad infinitum. Because this was a really big pit, much deeper than I anticipated. We started the day about twelve feet from
surface level, and after a solid day’s work, we managed to get down ten more feet. If this pit was anything like the first one I worked, there could be another fifty or sixty feet to go. And even though I came up to the top covered in a fine layer of silt, it was much better than the muck all over Godfrey and Matthew. Though Godfrey managed to have a clean pipe sticking out of his mouth, a thin trail of blue smoke following him along.
The shadows were getting long, and the sky dark. It was time to go.
“Quick now,” Matthew said, “we’re heading out.”
“It’s dangerous here after dark,” Godfrey said.
“Allegedly.”
“The skeletons in the house are a pretty clear indication.”
“Only that someone died here.”
“Someone starved here rather than walk outside. Seems like something serious to me.”
“It might have been,” Matthew said, almost pushing us through the gate before locking it behind him. “But whatever might have been here has clearly expired now. It’s totally safe.”
“Sure,” Godfrey said. “Totally safe.”
He started walking. Except it was more like marching. He hadn’t really left military life behind; he was just bringing it with him where ever he went.
“Mind if I invite myself to dinner?” Nadya asked.
“Uh—” I started, but Matthew answered for me.
“Love to have you.”
She smiled.
“I want to hear Clyde’s Shade stories.”
“His what?” Matthew asked.
“Yeah,” I said, “about that.”
Chapter 116
The abbreviated version of the story held their interest all the way back to the apartment building, where the tavern was in full swing. The crowds had settled down somewhat, which made sense to me, knowing the Iron Silents’ rather foolish attempt to take over the food and beverage industry of Old Town was now over.
I went upstairs to my apartment to freshen up a bit before eating. It was blissfully empty.
Or so I thought.
As soon as I made the slightest bit of noise in the apartment, I heard rustling in the closet. And grunting. And scratching. I maybe freaked out a tiny bit, definitely not because I was worried about some giant spider-monster, until I remembered what I’d stored there the previous night.
I shared this apartment with a grimeling, a creature I knew almost nothing about. Suddenly, I was feeling pretty stupid about the whole thing. And yet, who would think that something as simple as buying a monster from a scuzzy back-alley monster salesman could lead to anything unsavory happening? No one.
Right?
I took a few tentative steps over to the closet.
The rustling stopped.
A few more steps.
My hand was on the knob, but I hesitated. Should I find Leofing? I thought.
Maybe have him stand here in his armor and open the door? That seemed like overkill.
So I opened the door.
There was a blur as something furry rocketed out of the closet as soon as there was even a hint of an opening. It bounced around the room, knocking virtually everything over that it possibly could. It turned on the water and kicked a plate hard enough it went through the window and shattered on the street below. I heard a few curse words yelled up at me, or my apartment, but since no one came upstairs to pound on my door, it seemed like no one was hurt by the errant plate.
But with an exit in place, the grimeling made a break for it, and practically flew through the busted glass, heading out into the wilds of the city. I ran over to the window and tried to watch as the creature scrambled across the side of the building, running almost as fast as it had on level ground. It was gone in a heartbeat.
“So, did it wash that dish before throwing it out the window?” Nadya said behind me.
I turned to look at her. She was grinning, trying to hold back a laugh.
“Okay, so I was wrong,” I said. “You were right. Probably would have been better to keep it in your lab.”
“Safer, maybe. But far less entertaining.”
Chapter 117
Something of an unintended consequence of my building management style was the family atmosphere that happened when schedules lined up and everyone ate at the same time. That night, we were the largest party in the tavern. The children were playing together, laughing and having a grand ol’ time. The adults were eating, chatting. It was just nice. Preternaturally nice.
As I sat there, enjoying something that looked and tasted a lot like coq au vin, I noticed Matthew staring at me. Naturally, as soon as I looked over at him, he gestured towards the back room with his head, a not-at-all-subtle signal for me to join him there.
So I got up from the table, ignoring the curious looks Nadya and Shae gave me, and walked my elven butt through the tavern and into the backroom.
Matthew wasn’t the only one there.
Godfrey and Titus were also in attendance, each with a large frothy mug of mead, from the smell of it.
“What’s all this?” I asked.
“A meeting of the minds,” Matthew replied.
“What are our minds meeting about?”
“The emperor,” Godfrey said gravely.
“Gents,” Titus said, and he took his mug of mead out with him back to the bar.
“Why does he get to leave?” I asked.
“Because he doesn’t have anything to do with our little chat in here,” Godfrey said.
“Why was he here in the first place?”
“To show me where the door to the basement is,” Matthew said.
The way the two were talking back and forth gave me the feeling I was about to be tag teamed.
Matthew led the way through the storage room, through a thick door and down a set of stairs. It was a tight fit for Godfrey, which I knew because he grumbled about it the entire way down. We landed in a surprisingly expansive space, filled to the brim with barrels and crates. There were tiny aisles left between the wooden containers. It reminded me of a particularly well-organized episode of Hoarders.
“Are we going down to the sub-basement?” I asked.
“There’s a sub-basement?” Matthew replied, looking around.
“Yeah,” I said, “but something lives down there.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Something lives down there.”
“Something or someone?”
“Thing. An unknown entity.”
“Why is it unknown?”
“That’s a question you’d have to ask Titus.”
“I’m asking you.”
“I don’t have an answer. Titus knows about the thing, but he’s afraid to go down there.”
“He’s never been down there?” Godfrey asked.
“Nope.”
“How does he know something is living there?”
“He’s heard it.”
“But he never checked what it might be?”
“Correct.”
“So it could be some vagrant who’s found a safe spot to hide out,” Godfrey said, staring at his brother-in-law, “or some monster responsible for snacking on all the children of the city.”
“It’s not a monster,” Matthew said. “Otherwise it wouldn’t be happy sitting in the basement.”
“Sub-basement,” I corrected.
“Whatever you want to call the level beneath the basement—”
“I’m calling it a sub-basement.’
“It doesn’t matter,” Matthew said. “As long as the thing that lives down there is happy to live down there and we have no reason to use that space, I say we let it be.”
“What if it’s the thing going out and stealing children?” Godfrey asked. “Don’t you think it might be a wise idea to check?”
“No, not unless it starts breaking down the door to the basement.” Matthew glared at me, as if daring me to challenge or correct him.
“That’s the correct location,” I said. “The only way out of the subbas
ement is into the basement, so—”
“We’re all shutting up about the basement,” Matthew said.
“For now,” Godfrey added.
Matthew rolled his eyes.
“The real reason we are down here is simple,” Matthew said. “We need to know what’s going on with the Emperor.”
“Matthew told me you have some information regarding his life,” Godfrey said.
“Or his death,” I replied.
“What do you know?” Godfrey asked.
“Not a ton. Just that Valamir is pretty keen on killing his brother. And he needs a fair amount of coin on hand to, well, that I don’t know.”
“All you know is that Valamir wants to kill his brother?” Godfrey asked, eyebrows raised. His mustached seemed to bristle ever so slightly, and he looked over at Matthew. “Please tell me there is more than just this.”
“Carchedon is in on it,” I added. “As is Lord Tollendahl. Tollendahl is providing some, if not all, of the coin for the gig.”
“Well that changes things.”
“And I did some digging myself,” Matthew said. “There is more to these stories. Groups are preparing for what will come after the Emperor dies. They must have gotten a timeline from somewhere. Valamir himself has started summoning mercenaries, using the problems with the city’s children as his reason to bring his own soldiers in. With the added bonus of portraying his brother’s soldiers as inept and corrupt.”
“The Thingmen?” Godfrey asked.
“What are thingmen again?” I asked.
“That’s the crux of it.”
“What?” I asked.
“Thingmen are the Emperor’s private army,” Godfrey said. “Tends to be made up of ex-Legionnaires.”
“Right,” I said. “I feel like I’ve heard of them before.”
“They are renowned for skill and brutality.”
“And the fact that nearly all non-Legion folk hate them,” Matthew added.
“Why?” I asked.
“They tend to get used for all the unsavory tasks the Emperor decides are important,” Matthew said. “Clearing neighborhoods of residents in order to build new palaces. Putting down rebellions. That sort of thing.”
