by S.R. Cassady
“Damn you, Pinty!” He rolls over, the good leg coming out and fast, catching me right in the head and sending me far into the street. I come to a stop on my back, the world spinning. For a moment I contemplate simply passing out and letting sleep take me for a while. Then I realize — roll!
And I do. The sword comes down on the cobblestones where my head was a second ago. The clang fills the street.
I pull up my knees, roll once more and push up. I turn, face my stalker and pull a second knife from its sheath. I’m ready to pounce, but I stop. It’s over.
The man sits crumpled where I was lying. There’s no way he can move. The pain from the knee has finally made its way to his awareness. He’s not going to get up without help. Half crouched and half curled, he’s just making low wailing noises.
Moving forward, I pick up his sword and toss it to the side. By morning some street urchin will have already claimed it. Another item lost to the desperate and poor. I reach down, pull my dagger from his back and watch as the blood runs even faster from the wound.
“You’re not going to make it unless you have a friend nearby.”
“Ahhh. Uh. Uh.” There’s a little blood in the cough. And then he starts a faint bit of strained, but audible, giggling.
“Shit, Janis, is that you?” I pull the hood back and it most certainly is. His body odour hits me with the weight of an ox — and he’s definitely not been shaving or bathing or sleeping in a warm bed in days. “What you been doing, Janis? I haven’t seen you since you took Muel. You look like shit. And I don’t mean because you’ve been stuck like a pig.”
“Ahhh, keeping low. Playing the game. Biding my time.”
“Biding time?”
“Yeah. Shit is going down with the guild. Too many choices. Don’t know who to trust, who to help. Just thought I would play dumb. Go into hiding. Wait for Squints to find me, tell me what to do.”
“Then what are you doing tailing me?”
“I’m lonely.”
“I don’t understand. I’m not taking you home as a date.”
There’s more giggling for a moment before it ends in quite a bit more coughing and blood. “That’s funny. But no, like I said, I don’t have many friends and when I saw you carried into the Sea Maiden, I thought maybe you would lead me to Squints.”
I look at him for a moment. I’d got him good with the knife. “Squints isn’t around. He helped me out with some stuff, but the Goblins took him.”
“Oh. That’s not good. They’re never nice to the guild.” Another cough. “I’m just hungry. Lonely. Squints always took care of me. Just wanted to find him again. Hang with my best friend.”
“So you thought trailing me, following me, would be the best idea.”
“Yeah, well, Squints kept telling me I’m not all that bright. Guess the joke’s on me.” A single giggle escapes and then there’s just breathing.
“You’re stupid like a rock. You know I’m the best. And I’m on edge. What did you think was going to happen? I wasn’t going to notice a clumsy oaf, better suited to extortion than stealth, trailing me?”
He’s quiet for a bit before he speaks. “I’m just lonely, Pinty. I want my friend.”
“You took Muel.”
“We gave him back. That was the whole point. We didn’t hurt him.”
The street is still quiet, although I’m sure there are people just out of sight. The moment I leave they’ll strip Janis of everything he has and leave him for the morning sweeps to find.
“How long have I known you?”
“You, Pinty? Since the guild.”
“Was I ever nice to you?”
“No.”
“Did I ever once treat you well?”
“I thought you were just hazing me. Like chums.” His voice is thin, tired and gritted by pain. I look at Janis. And the street. And back to Janis.
“Ah, shit.”
Chapter 35
The Bottom Up is in its standard evening chaos as I come through the front doors with a band of completely untrustworthy street urchins hauling the unconscious body of Janis between them. The ruckus immediately quiets.
“On that table!” I point to the nearest one. It’s surrounded by regulars that recognize me and in a flash they have fled the table, upon which Janis is dumped, the action spilling the abandoned beer and soup to the ground.
“Ma—”
“I’m here.” Mavis is already stripping the shirt from Janis, finding the wound in all that blood. “You, Helena,” pointing to one of the servers, “grab cloths immediately and follow that with my sewing kit, water and whisky! Now, girl! Go!”
For a moment the bar remains quiet and then, seeing they aren’t in any threat of being booted from their own tables and that the body is none of their concern, the patrons return to their rabble once more.
I glance for Muel but he, too, is already by my side. “Those unwashed kids that came in with me,” I pause as Muel looks around, nodding in understanding. “I’ve already paid them too much. Throw them out of my establishment and then gather everyone up in the back room. It’s meeting time.” Without looking I cross the room, duck under the flip-up counter and head to the meeting after snagging a haunch of lamb. In a few minutes everyone has gathered: Muel, Mavis, Horace, Amber and, if I didn’t know better, somewhere in the room is Gloom. Probably came in with Amber.
Horace looks terrible. “You look terrible. I take it the questioning regarding your diligent bookkeeping was pretty intense?”
“You could say so.” Horace’s face is painted with a mass of bruises. “They seemed insistent that a bar of this size, coupled with your adventuring, would turn more of a profit. They made several closed fist arguments in order to highlight that point.”
“Your jaw is . . .”
“Not broken, I think. It would hurt way more. But it might be a while before I get back to updating the books myself.” Holding it up, his right hand is a mass of bandages.
“Grab one of the serving staff from the front, one who is trustworthy and quick. If she doesn’t know figures then take the time to teach her. It’s time that you had some help anyways.” Horace nods. “And grab one of the bottles of berrywood mead from the cellar. A nice one. You deserve it.” A nice bottle of berrywood mead can go for a soldier’s salary. He’ll pick the right one. Horace nods once more.
“Mavis, how is our guest?”
“Not good. I’ve sent runners for additional help. That healer who worked wonders on you, for one. Even then I’m not sure that Janis will make it. Why, anyways? I’d rather just hand him over to Muel and let the two of them figure out what should happen.”
“You want that, Muel?”
“Nah. He was just taking orders. Not like there’s much thought in there.”
“Okay, then. Mavis, go ahead and do what you can. I would prefer him alive, but otherwise won’t spill any additional tears.”
There’s a moment of silence before Amber speaks up. “So, why are we here then? It’s obvious something went wrong.”
“Something went very, very, very wrong. And we have an emergency here. Long story short, the sea route has been upgraded and almost drowned me. A Goblin that was trailing me rescued me from a salty grave. I spent some time recovering in the Sea Maiden. I tried to kill Janis. And now I’m here.”
“So?” Amber was never patient.
“I don’t know how to say this.”
“Just say it.”
I glance over to Mavis. I’m thinking it’s fifty-fifty that I’ll be alive in twenty-four hours. “They have really good soup. Better than ours.”
Mavis’ eyebrows lift. “Who has better soup?”
“The Sea Maiden.”
“And you’re telling me this because . . .”
“It’s important! It’s business! It’s terrible enough that I had to be seen there, but to find that they have great soup!” I unhook the wineskin from my belt and slide it across the table. “Here, I brought some back.” I don’t actually sa
y, “Try it.” That would be pressing my luck. There’s a long, quiet moment and I realize that Horace, Muel and Amber have all backed away from the table as if just being near the wineskin would wither their flesh. Great, they’ve abandoned me.
Slowly, deliberately, without ever breaking eye contact with me, Mavis picks up the skin, pops the cap and takes a long, slow draught.
Somewhere, the God of Time has stopped all the clocks. And then starts them back up.
Her face settles into a stony stare. “I resign immediately.”
I was right. It is good. “Ah, hush. Their beer is swill. What you do here is better. This is what I propose. Mavis, you will prepare something that will make all their patrons sick, something soup will mask. I’ll make sure that gets back into their dinner after this problem with Tavos is remedied. Horace, track down their suppliers. If the Sea Maiden is getting better or fresher produce, convince them to sell to us instead. Muel, while I don’t specifically need you, it’s got to get a lot more violent on the docks. More revelers from the Sea Maiden need to go into the drink on their way home. Amber, Mavis will know mostly what’s in the recipe, but I need you to use your friends to spy on the cooking process. Plus, if there’s more vermin around, we can tell people that’s what they meat their stews with.”
Nobody moves yet. I realize that Mavis hasn’t actually agreed to anything. I look back at her. There is a really, really long and uncomfortable silence before she speaks again. “Fine. I remain your cook. Even though you insult me by saying in front of all here that my skills aren’t the best.”
Everyone else speaks at once. “I didn’t hear anything!” “What, did somebody say something?” “Mreoow.” “Oh, look! It’s Pinty!” “I think I showed up late” “Damn ear infection. Can people speak up?”
I smile. “Okay. Point taken. You all have your orders and it’s been a long day. I need my sleep!”
Amber puts up her hand. “And what about my dad?”
“Oh, yeah. That. I’ve got a plan.”
Chapter 36
That plan includes a lot of kindling. Thirteen hundred dry-wrapped sheaves of it to be exact. And that kind of collection takes a few days.
So while the rest of the gang goes about destroying the Sea Maiden’s reputation and intimidating its suppliers, all the while drawing attention away from my mission of bloody revenge against Tavos, I’ve been wandering the countryside, buying up as much flammable chaff or underbrush I can find. It is relatively enjoyable: the fresh air, some open sky, an escape from the watchful eyes of the governor’s Goblin squad.
Flander’s farm approaches on the left, a wide swath of rolling hill and fall harvest wheat. If I wasn’t atop my horse, I would easily be lost within the tall stalks. As it is, I don’t see Flander till I’m almost upon him.
“Hey there, Pinty!” He waves, coming out from within the wheat.
“Flander. Good to see you. Sort of related, you really need to tell people when you’re about to pop out from your field there.” The knife I had pulled just a second ago resheathes. “It’s more likely, on an ‘I’m still breathing’ basis, that people will have the opportunity to continue to visit if you give some warning. Other than that, it really is good to be back.”
“It’s been a while and always a pleasure. You know that you can drop by anytime.”
“Sadly, too often wouldn’t be good for our fiscal relationship.”
“That could be. So have you come to check on your holdings? It’s all where you put it.”
I cock my head to the side and think about this for a few seconds. “Flander, how is it you know that everything is still there? What happened if a field mouse escaping your fall thresh somehow stumbled upon it and took an object or two? How would you know, as I swore you to never once look at what I store there?”
“’cause I looked. You don’t actually expect me to rent such a hidden space without actually knowing.”
“I kind of did expect you not to look. So, you looked?”
“Absolutely. And it’s all there.”
“Hummm.”
“Seriously, if I’m going to be an accomplice to something, I better know what it is.”
“And are you happier for it?”
“Not particularly. What you got there will get me in a lot of trouble. Could get me killed. Would get me killed. That isn’t be good for the family. Hard to bring in a harvest if one is dead.”
“Understandably. So, does this change anything?”
“Nah. Knew it was trouble when you asked for space. Deeper trouble too, when you didn’t feel free to come back here anytime you wished. You keep paying good prices for my livestock and grains and everything is good.”
“And if I stop paying?” I give that squinty-eye look.
“Likely, everything is still good. Have to assume that you’re now as much a threat as anyone else. Hard place to be, but the life of a farmer is never easy.”
No more squinty-eye look. “Okay. Cool. Speaking of a reason to drop by, I’ve come to ask for any kindling that you might have. The more the better.”
“Ahhh! You’re the buyer everyone’s been talking about. All us farmers, we kind of got together when we heard someone needed so much kindling. Upped our prices. Promised not to sell for less. That way everyone wins. Well, except the buyer.”
“And now that you know who’s buying?”
There’s a faraway look, a classic look I imagine all farmers have. “Well, I assume that I still have to extort highway robbery for the kindling. Anything else would look kind of suspicious. Maybe get people talking, wondering why I gave you a discount rate.” A smile crosses over Flander’s face. “Hell, if you really want to make sure things are good, you could even throw in a bit more. Not a lot, like a few coins. Make it look totally legitimate.”
“A few more coins?”
“Yeah, you know, show that I’m a good negotiator.”
I drop down from the horse. “Hummph.” I pull open the belt pouch and pour some coins into my other hand. “And how many sheaves could you supply?”
“Maybe two hundred.”
“Then this,” pouring out additional coins, including those few extras, “should be enough. If I’ve overpaid, just don’t tell people. I don’t want people to think that I can be easily had by those who don’t negotiate as well as you.”
Flanders takes the coins, eyes them for a minute, and then pockets them. “That I will. Can I offer you a late lunch? The wife should have something that can be ate cold, something to fill the stomach.”
“If I remember correctly, she makes a fine peach cobbler. I can’t pass on lunch if it includes that, and some takeaway as well. But before we sit, I do think I should take a look at the stash.”
“No problem. It’s near where most of the cut brush I can sell you is gathered. Nothing unusual about checking the goods of sale.”
Nope. Nope, there isn’t. And just as Flander said, it’s all there.
Chapter 37
It took a little longer than I thought to ready the plan, but as of a few moments ago, each and every exit to the guild warrens has been set upon by a small team of street urchins equipped with kindling, tarps and smoke bombs. That is, all the exits except this one, right here, right below me. That’s the trap.
I’m on the rooftop, legs dangling down, right above the only entrance that isn’t about to become an inferno of fire and smoke. The plan is light the other entrances, fill them with smoke and use the tarps to fan all of that down and into the guild. That will drive the entire guild out this door like the rats they are. When those fires get too low we set the buildings above the entrances ablaze. Raze the entrances, leave them unpassable.
Nothing says “I love you” like lighting half the city on fire and burning it right to the ground. If His Governorship hadn’t decided to — how was this put to me — “Allow me to live, having failed to convince him of the viability of the plan” after the lead Goblin ratted me out for the tunnel incident, then I wouldn’t have r
esorted to fire. Hey, instead of the cost of a few of his trained soldiers wandering through a mostly-disarmed maze of death, now he’s going to get plan two.
The signal to start was sunset, which happened a few minutes ago. Already I can see some of the early glow of multiple fires blazing up across the city. An alarm or two has started, but with the number of fires, there won’t be enough volunteers available at any one spot to both put out the fire and deal with the kids I hired to defend the flames. Nobody sane wants to get swarmed by twelve-year-olds with knives.
Then of course, nobody thought that anyone sane would set so many fires in a city mostly built of wood, scrap and refuse.
They were wrong.
Chapter 38
It only takes a few seconds for the men and women fleeing the guild warrens to realize this is the one entrance that is safe from flame. Some immediately head back down to spread the word to trapped companions that there’s an exit. Some take up position, guarding the only path from an inferno of death. Most simply boot it to somewhere safe.
Across the city I can hear the clamor of chaos: the confusion and screams between those that want to stand and fight the flames and those that choose to flee. The ones who join the resistance make many valiant, but mostly ineffective attempts at dousing the flames. I count on one hand the number of these efforts that are succeeding.
The gates to the city are packed. Everybody who’s realized the enormity of the crisis is trying to get out, abandoning all but what they can carry. No orderly flow there, just a mass of bodies pushing and trampling each other to get out.
On the wharf, ship captains are cutting line as fast as they can, getting their boats into the safety of the open water. At the far edge of the harbor they moor, their skeleton crews gathered on deck, watching the city burn.
The air is turning thick with soot, char and tiny embers that have been picked up by the burgeoning wind. I cough a bit but enjoy the coarseness in my throat. It’s a small price to pay for vengeance.
Me, I bide my time, watching the roof lines as flames flick from one set of eaves to the next.
Tick-tock, Tavos. Gotta come out sometime.
Chapter 39
Tavos bursts from the guild entrance, wide-eyed and aghast at the city in flames. Above him the sky is lit with reds and oranges, and the smell of dry timber charring under the inferno’s onslaught overwhelms the nose. Everything is loud with people screaming directions, seeking orders or simply crying in horror.
