Dagger and Scythe

by Emilie Knight

  From what Scythe could see, the dice weren’t loaded. Paying attention to the dealer’s hands proved he hadn’t practiced any sleight-of-hand, either. She took a single silver coin from her pocket and flashed it into the dealer’s eye letting the shadow trick slip away. The light caught his attention, and she joined the game. She let the other men at the table notice her as well.

  Most of the men sneered at her. A woman was ruining their game. She smiled right back, perfectly kind. The man beside her, however, couldn’t keep the sneer on his face. In fact, he could barely lift his eyes from her cleavage.

  Dagger still hadn’t returned from the bar. Scythe guessed he was chatting up the barkeep for info. She won the first round, calling four fives from the dice, tripling her winnings.

  “What’s your name, sweetheart?” the man beside her asked.

  The man’s brown hair was tied back in a bun at the base of his neck. Given the size of the bun the hair probably draped past his shoulders without it. The reek of ale wafted from his breath, but he didn’t sway or slur. His eyes were still clear as well. A man who could hold his liquor.

  “My name is my business,” Scythe said, watching the dice roll. “I don’t care about your business.”

  “That’s alright,” he said, slipping a hand over her knee. “Names aren’t important.”

  She met his blue eyes with her red ones, not saying a word. She wanted to stab him either in those eyes or his groin; she hadn’t decided. The groin would probably kill him. She breathed slowly, forcing herself not to make that decision. The breathing did seem to help with her temper. It wasn’t completely dulled, but it was manageable.

  The man faltered at her crimson gaze. Red eyes were rare, especially in Stymphalia. It didn’t deter him, though. He took it as advancement and raised his hand higher.

  “I already paid for a room upstairs,” he said. “Care to join me?”

  “Remove your hand before you lose it.” Scythe kept her voice smooth, not wanting to cause a scene yet.

  Another man cleared his throat behind them. Dagger stood there holding two copper goblets. The look in his black eyes matched Scythe’s murderous impulses.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll get your turn, mate.” The man gave Scythe’s thigh a squeeze and turned back to her.

  “She’s my wife.” His voice was as black as his eyes.

  Dagger handed Scythe one of the goblets, probably to free up a hand for a knife.

  “Wait, what? What kind of a man brings his wife here?”

  “A good man with a wife who has a taste for gambling. Now remove your hand before I remove the fingers for you,” Scythe replied for Dagger.

  The man took her threat more seriously with Dagger standing over him. He removed the hand and held it up for them to see.

  Scythe gripped his first two fingers and bent them back. The crack of bone was hidden in the clatter of the dice; his scream wasn’t.

  “You fucking bitch!”

  “I didn’t remove them.” Scythe kept hold of her drink and stood with Dagger. She took her winnings and left the man hollering while clutching his deformed hand to his chest. Everyone around him watched with a mix of curiosity and annoyance. Violence was common. Dagger and Scythe slipped through the crowd to a relatively quiet corner.

  “I’d say that was extreme,” Dagger said, “but I wanted to do worse.”

  “So did I,” Scythe admitted. “Did you find out anything useful from the barkeep? You were there a while.”

  “He was dismissive, actually. Almost rude about it, but I think he was being overworked. He did say he’d never met Limaros himself, but that he often visits the levels below. He wouldn’t say what was down there, of course.”

  Scythe took a swig from her goblet. This liquor painted fire down her throat. “We could just sneak in past the bodyguard.”

  “I’d thought that same thing, but he takes up almost the entire archway. One accidental brush against him, and we’re caught,” Dagger protested. “Is there a back entrance to the pits?”

  “Most likely,” Scythe speculated. “Probably several for a quick escape if need be, but I wouldn’t know where to look.”

  Dagger swirled his drink thinking. His eyes wouldn’t meet hers for the moment, and they looked troubled.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked bluntly.

  “Well, there may be another way to get information from the barkeep,” he paused before continuing. “You could talk to him.”

  “You mean flirt with him?”

  “It worked on the guard,” Dagger shrugged innocently.

  “You just said you don’t want me doing that,” her voice rose higher than needed, “and you wanted to kill the last man.”

  “He was touching you,” Dagger defended, dropping the innocent act. “If the barkeep tried that I’ll do more than break a few fingers. A man drops his guard around a beautiful woman. He talks to impress her, shares secrets or opens doors without really intending to.”

  Scythe sighed, knowing full well what he was talking about. She wasn’t innocent in that tactic, but she never liked to do it. If it didn’t lead to the victim bloody on the floor, it left her feeling dirty. She hadn’t liked tricking the guard, but it was easy, and he was sweet. It would work on the barkeep too.

  “Fine, but if he does try to touch anything, I’m breaking your fingers too.”

  “Now, that’s a little extreme.”

  They made their way back to the first floor. The bar was a fine, dark wood polished by hands and cups. The barkeep was a thin man with a shaved head and bronzed skin. The stubble only told of a dark shade rather than a specific color. His eyebrows were constantly knit together as he focused on the orders being thrown at him.

  Scythe took a seat at the last stool on the end. Dagger positioned himself close behind her, leaning on a column. She appreciated the feel of his presence.

  She waited for there to be a lull in the orders. When the barkeep finally leaned on the back counter to mop sweat from his forehead, she took her chance.

  “Excuse me?” Scythe leaned forward on the bar, catching his attention.

  “What can I get you, miss?” He looked exhausted, but his voice hid it well.

  She didn’t know the name of the liquor that Dagger had gotten so she said. “Some fiery whiskey.”

  He just nodded and refilled her goblet from a short bottle with the image of a horse stamped into the glass. She tasted it, and the fire erupted as before.

  “So, you been working here long?” she said, striking up a conversation.

  “Yeah,” he huffed, “couple of years.”

  More patrons came to the bar for more ale. Scythe let him refill their tankards.

  “I was wondering if you could help me find someone?” she asked him when he was free again.

  “Who’s that?” He met her eye. They didn’t stray either. She was leaning over the bar practically shoving her cleavage in his face, and he hadn’t stolen a peek.

  “The owner of the place, Limaros. He has green hair and beard but given how common that is here, that’s probably not too helpful. Sorry.”

  The barkeep rolled his eyes, all sense of kindness vanished.

  “You’re the second person tonight looking for him. I’ll tell you what I told him. I was hired through an agent of his and never met the man.”

  “You don’t know what your own boss looks like?” Scythe tried to keep the rudeness out of her question, but it was ridiculous.

  “It pays well, and I keep my head down. I think he has a wolf tattoo on his arm,” he shrugged while helping another patron.

  “You must know something.” Scythe brushed a hand through her hair, showing off her collarbone. The man barely looked.

  “Listen, sweetheart.”

  Why was everyone calling her sweetheart tonight?!

  The barkeep gestured to her chest broadly. “I ain’t interested, so buzz off.”

  Scythe pulled back, stunned. She picked up her drink and joined Dagger by t
he column.

  He looked stunned too, but failed to hold in the laugh as she met him.

  “You’d probably have a better time seducing him,” Scythe said.

  Dagger cracked up again. “I had no idea.”

  Scythe let him have his laugh. In all honesty, she was glad men like him were accepted in Stymphalia. If he were in Kaliasma or Potamis, he might have been prosecuted.

  “What are you laughing at?” Scythe asked. “Aren’t you from Kaliasma?”

  “Yes, but I never cared about judging anyone for his sexual preferences. I mean, come on, I get off by cutting into people’s organs,” Dagger admitted.

  “I do remember how you were holding me when I peeled the flesh from our guest’s arm,” Scythe commented.

  The laughter faded, but the playful gleam and grin didn’t. “And I remember the moments after. It was glorious at first.”

  Scythe chuckled into her goblet. When she was gaining information or access from a stranger, flirtation came easily. With Dagger it was different; it was genuine. It had been wonderful before her anxieties took over.

  Dagger stepped closer behind her and wrapped his arms around her loosely. She leaned back into him. He bent to her ear and whispered. “We could use one of the rooms upstairs.”

  Scythe stiffened but threaded one hand through Dagger’s on her stomach, the other still holding the whiskey. “I’m pretty sure they’re meant for the prostitutes’ uses only.”

  He shrugged. “We find an empty one and lock the door.”

  Scythe sipped the whiskey to buy time. “We should get back to business.”

  She heard him sigh. His hands let go of hers and both slid to her hips, holding her an inch away now.

  Scythe quickly set down her whiskey and turned into his arms. She didn’t like how guarded his eyes were.

  She kissed him. It took a moment, but he relaxed and leaned into it.

  “Let’s spend the day here anyway,” she suggested after pulling away. “We’ll take our time scouting the place out, like Nyx wanted.”

  “In separate rooms?” he asked carefully.

  “It would be easier to keep one room blocked off. It’ll be like at the mausoleum,” Scythe said.

  Dagger nodded. “Seems fair.”

  Chapter 32

  Dagger opened the door to the landing on the third floor. It squeaked as he did, which he hadn’t noticed last night. The squeak caught Scythe’s attention. She stood at the banister watching the crowd and now turned to him. The noise had ruined his surprise of sneaking up on her, but he liked the imperfection of the squeaky door. This gambling den was so well taken care of he liked finding something wrong with it.

  “Did you sleep well?” he asked, standing next to her.

  “After eating that chicken we stole, very much so. This place was surprisingly silent during the day, actually,” she replied.

  “Most of the work takes place at night, obviously, especially for the whores.”

  Scythe gave him a curious side glance.

  “Are you saying you didn’t hear them all night while we were eating?” Dagger asked.

  “Oh, I heard them; the one next to us sounded like a banshee.” Scythe chuckled as she shook her head. “We should probably start searching around before the place picks up again. Look.”

  Scythe gestured over the banister.

  Dagger followed her finger and saw that the archway to the mystery hall was unguarded. There was already a good number of patrons in The Den, but it wasn’t a roaring crowd yet. The bartender was different as well.

  “The lower levels probably aren’t open yet,” he speculated.

  “Which means the perfect time to explore,” Scythe said.

  “It is the best opportunity we’ve had so far.”

  They left the third floor and approached the archway. No one noticed or stopped them. The arch led to a hallway, then down a spiral flight of stairs. The stairs ended at another set of double doors in a fair-sized, and well-lit, parlor. Dagger tugged on the handles, but they only rattled. He expected as much.

  Scythe sighed, disheartened. “We’ll have to wait for someone and slip in behind them.”

  “Not necessarily.” Dagger picked a tool from his belt. It was more of a thin spike than a knife. One poke into the neck, and a victim would be drowning. The spike slid out smoothly without spraying too much blood. It wasn’t his favorite, but it was useful.

  “Keep an eye on the stairs,” he said as he crouched by the lock.

  Scythe took position by the stairs, listening. Dagger slid the thin knife into the lock and began to work. He listened for the slightest motion behind the door. It was silent, but he didn’t trust it. The lock was more complex then he’d expected, and lock-picking had never been his best skill.

  The silence on the other side of the door was starting to grate at him. The anticipation of expecting the door to open from the inside made the agitation worse.

  The pick slipped but the lock didn’t open. He was ready to kick it in at this point.

  Dagger stood, pushing his hair back and trying to breathe out the frustration from his system.

  “I could try,” Scythe offered. Her voice was sweet. He tried not to let that grate at him too.

  It was like the mechanism was mocking him. Dagger swore and stood ready to kick the door. He didn’t care if it fell off the hinges; maybe that would draw out the owner of the place.

  Scythe appeared by his side. She held a hand over his chest, and he lowered his foot back to the ground. He begrudgingly let her take the pick.

  Scythe knelt by the lock and inserted the pick. Dagger crossed his arms, waiting and listening. He watched as Scythe’s focused expression turned to frustration, then, to the surprise of them both, there was a small click and the lock finally gave.

  Scythe stood and handed the pick back, smiling. She didn’t say a word about her opening it instead of him. He tried not to let it irk him, but he couldn’t help it.

  Scythe opened the door slowly, making sure the other side was empty. The room opened up to a grand fighting ring. A huge pit stretching ten feet down to a sand floor took up most of the room. There was a railing along the edge so spectators couldn’t fall in, but Dagger had no doubt several bodies got flung over that rail if someone was angry enough.

  More columns and banisters of wood held up the wide ceiling. There were two other doors like theirs that led off, and two were in the pit itself. The gates in the pit were iron, and the opponents could see each other to plan what they could before facing off. It might be empty now, but the night was still young.

  “We should wait here for the rest to arrive,” Scythe suggested. “I’d rather not risk getting stuck outside again.”

  “Hopefully it doesn’t take long,” Dagger agreed.

  They picked a corner close to the door they’d entered through and settled in to see what would happen.

  The occasional shout from a lucky winner could be heard through the floorboards above them. The two of them chatted to pass the time, mostly about arrangements for the Nukternios ball.

  After about an hour, dozens of people flooded in at once from all of the entryways. The men and a few women flowed around the ring, making bets and hoping for a bloody show. The boredom of waiting quickly slipped from Dagger’s frame and the same could be seen in Scythe. Both had fallen quiet, but the excited gleam was there.

  “Scythe,” he said to catch her attention.

  She had been scanning the crowd but turned to him.

  “I have a plan. See the banisters on the ceiling? I could easily climb them. I’ll be able to see the entire crowd from above.”

  “And be able to strike,” she said, seeing his idea.

  “Exactly. If you see anyone matching Limaros’s description, signal me somehow. I’ll do the same if I see him first. I’d still like to use his death as a sacrifice to Nyx, but if he’s here we’ll make do,” he finished.

  “Good idea. You climb on up. I’m going to get a closer
spot by the ring,” Scythe said.

  “Don’t jump in and join the fight,” he jested.

  “Come now; you know I won’t,” she said, practically reading his thoughts. “If anyone gets a little too handsy, he’ll be going in.”

  Dagger laughed. “Just don’t break the shadow trick, then.”

  “Relax, I won’t,” she said, swatting at his arm. “Go on and climb. Be the vulture studying his prey.”

  He stole a quick kiss, and she leaned into it. He left her there and approached the supporting column. It was sturdy, with a glowing lantern affixed to it.

  Dagger knew Scythe was safe with the shadow trick. Part of him didn’t want to leave her alone in this crowd, nonetheless, a large part of him, and he was glad it was there. She would be fine of course. She could probably slaughter this entire room, along with its toughest fighters.

  The crowd was moving about like a tide. Talking to friends, yelling at rivals, and finding a clear spot by the railing. He had to wait for the people to disperse around him. Once there was an opening, he used the lamp to hoist himself up to the banister.

  He noticed then that the ceiling was slightly bowl-shaped. The wood paneling was expertly done so the weight of the building above was transferred to the columns and the banisters he now clung to. The support system didn’t let him get to the center of the ring, but he was just inside it above one gate.

  He managed to get his feet under him and stay crouched on a beam. He waited calmly like the vulture in Scythe’s mind.

  He spotted her across the room. She weaved expertly between the men. Scythe paid closer attention to the green-haired men, though that was most of them. She kept glancing at their clothing and arms, looking for the wolf tattoo the barkeep mentioned.

  The gate directly beneath Dagger opened. A man in a finely tailored red robe stepped onto the sand and raised his arms.

  “Gentlemen!” he cried walking in a circle.

  They fell silent, watching the announcer in the pit. The anticipation hung in the air like a stagnant fog.

  Scythe paused and managed to get a spot against the rail to watch the show opener as well.