A Sellsword's Compassion_Book One of the Seven Virtues

by Jacob Peppers

  Aaron grunted, satisfied, and turned back to the table. Lucius whimpered quietly, pushing himself farther back against the seat cushion as if trying to disappear into its surface. Aaron noted, absently, that the two high-priced hookers had vanished. Innocent, maybe, but not stupid. “Now then,” he said, “are you going to start talking or do you need some motivation?”

  “I spent a small fortune on those two bastards,” Lucius whined, as if overcome at the injustice in the world, “a fortune!”

  Aaron walked over to the bruiser that was still conscious, writhing on the floor, and kicked him in the face, hard. The man’s eyes rolled up into his head, and he slipped into unconsciousness. The sellsword turned back to Lucius with a cold smile, “You paid too much.”

  The small man held up his hands placating, “I-I don’t know anything,” he said, spit flying from his mouth in his haste, “I don’t know what you want, man.”

  Aaron reached across the table and half-heartedly smacked him across the face with the back of his hand. “Try again, Lucius. There’s not a thing in the Downs that happens without your knowing it, and a hit like the one I’ve got on me? That’s damn sure caused some talk.”

  The man’s mouth worked for a moment before he spoke. “Y-you’re wrong, man, okay?” he said, his tone pleading, “I don’t know nothing about it.”

  “Wrong answer,” Aaron said, reaching for one of the blades at his side.

  “Alright, alright,” Lucius squealed, his eyes so wide they looked as if they were about to pop out of his head, “Fine. I’ll tell you.”

  “I never doubted you would. While you’re at it, why don’t you tell me how a small-time, no account asshole like you gets a hold of enough money to hire two high-priced streeties and these two thugs? Oh, and Lucius? It’s been a long day, and I’m in a shitty mood. You really don’t want to end up on the wrong end of it.”

  The weasel-faced man nodded nervously, “Look, it wasn’t my fault, okay, Silent? You’ve got to believe me. This guy, he comes by my place, wakes me up out—“

  “When?”

  The small man shook his head, “Last night, but this guy, he tells me that there’s a price of five thousand gold on your head, tells me to spread it ‘round the Downs. Says that if I don’t, he’ll split me from ear to ear, send me to bed early, you know what I mean?”

  Aaron grunted, surprised at the large sum. He knew most of the blades for hire in the Downs, and although he wouldn’t call any of them friends, there was an unwritten code among them that they all tried to keep out of each other’s way as much as their professions would allow. Of course, five thousand large was more than enough to make a man forget that kind of thing. “Go on.”

  “Come on, man. Silent, there’s nothing else, okay? I had to do what the man said, you see that don’t you? I mean, he would have killed me.”

  The sellsword grabbed a fistful of the man’s shirt and jerked him over the table, “Don’t you fucking lie to me, Lucius. What do you think I’m stupid? I’m supposed to believe you just stumbled on a pot of gold on your way to Hale’s, is that it?” Hale was one of the major crime lords in the Downs and Lucius’s boss. He was a disgustingly fat man who’d grown rich off of other people’s suffering—not that Aaron blamed him for that. After all, everyone in the Downs, no, the world, did the same thing. Hale was just better at it than most.

  “Of course not!” Lucius protested, “I wouldn’t lie to you, Silent. Man, you gotta know that.”

  “What I know is that you’d lie to the gods themselves if you thought you’d get away with it. Now start talking before I lose my patience.”

  “It’s not like that, Silent, I swear!” The small man squeaked, “Look, when I woke up and that guy was just there. I was scared, okay? Scared shitless. But, well … he seemed like he really wanted you, you know? Said that you had something he wanted, but he wouldn’t say what.”

  Aaron frowned at that, and the small man swallowed hard before continuing, “Anyway, I figured that the man wanted you bad enough that he wouldn’t kill me for maybe, you know, seeing if there was something in it for me.”

  “I swear by Iladen and the rest, it’s a miracle that someone hasn’t laid you horizontal long before now,” Aaron said with genuine wonder in his voice. “A man wakes you up with a knife at your throat and you try to blackmail him?”

  “No!” Lucius protested, shaking his head vigorously, “not blackmailed. I sold a service, that’s all. Not any different than those high and mighty merchants up on God’s Row.”

  “You sold me out is what you did you, Lucius.” Aaron said, his voice low and dangerous, “sold me out and nearly got me killed in the process.”

  “No, I didn’t, you gotta believe me!” The weasel-faced man squealed. He glanced up in the sellsword’s face, saw the anger there, and spoke quickly, as if Aaron was contemplating killing him. Which, of course, he was. “I took the man’s money, sure. What better way to throw him off your trail? I wasn’t going to tell him anything, Silent. But better that he keeps paying me for doing nothing than finding someone else who actually would put the word out, right?”

  “Oh, I get it. So you were actually out to help me, is that it? All those armed men weren’t hitters, huh? Just some men out to pay us a visit, had a few blades they wanted to sell us?”

  Lucius avoided his gaze. “Well … something went wrong. The guy started getting really anxious, you know? No … not anxious. Crazy. Crazy as those Priests of Death are.” A few people in the crowd whispered at that. The Priests of Death, also known as the Reapers—though not to their face—were men and women who’d dedicated their lives to Salen’s dark purpose, experimenting on the terminally sick and abducting the unwary to be used in their twisted rituals. Of course, many believed that they were nothing but a myth, but that didn’t explain the occasional disappearances of beggars or the discovery of opened, empty graves in one of the city’s cemeteries from time to time. “Anyway,” the weasel-faced man continued, apparently oblivious of the stir he’d caused, “He told me that if you weren’t found or dusted in two days’ time I’d be walking Salen’s Fields myself—real suspicious bastard, he was.”

  Several people in the audience hissed at his use of the god’s proper name. It was widely believed that to use the God of Death’s name was to draw his attention—or the attention of his followers—on yourself and those around you. Aaron thought it was a crock of shit, but he avoided saying it just the same. Only a fool sticks his hand in a snake pit unless he’s certain it’s empty. “So you told him.” He said, frowning.

  Lucius swallowed hard, “I had to, man! I didn’t have a choice, don’t you see that? “

  “What was his name?”

  The weasel face twisted in confusion, “Who’s name?”

  Aaron grabbed a hold of the front of the man’s wine-stained shirt and shook him, ignoring his squeals and whimpers, “The man. The man who put the hit out on me and the girl. What was his Keeper-cursed name?”

  Lucius broke into a coughing fit. When he finished, snot hung from his nose, and he wiped his arm across it unconsciously. “He said his name was Aster,” he said, his voice whiny, that of a man getting punished for no good reason. “Aster Kalen. Said it like it was a name a man would kill to have too.”

  Aaron glanced back at Adina, but she shook her head to indicate she’d never heard of him. Damn. He turned back to Lucius, “And where were the men supposed to meet this Aster Kalen when they killed me? Where was the pay off?”

  “It was an inn, alright? An inn on dockside called the uh … uh … the Blindman’s Mermaid. Yeah, that was it. Said for them to come and ask for Aster, and he’d take care of ‘em.”

  The sellsword nodded slowly, “And—“

  “Just what in the name of all the gods is going on here?” A deep, angry woman’s shout came from somewhere in the crowd, and, in an instant, everything grew silent. The singer stopped singing, the whisperers stopped whispering. The drunks kept drinking, but they did so quietly.


  Shit. Aaron took a slow, deep breath and turned to see the crowd of people scattering as if an army of city guards had just marched into the building. In the suddenly empty space walked a heavy-set woman in a crimson dress that had no doubt cost a small fortune. Ruby rings covered her fingers, glittering in the light like motes of fire. She ran a hand through red hair that had once been brighter than her jewelry, but that now held several gray streaks. The skin around the woman’s mouth and eyes held the wrinkles Aaron’s mom had once called smile lines. She wasn’t smiling now. Her face was drawn down in anger, and members of the crowd were bumping into each other in their haste to get as far out of her way as possible. Aaron didn’t blame them. The woman had such a strong presence, such a powerful personality, that he himself was half convinced that the only reason why he didn’t burst into flame from her look was that she thought it would be an inadequate punishment. Altogether, she was an intimidating woman even more intimidating, in fact, than the four men that followed behind her, cudgels in hand, threatening scowls well in place.

  She stopped a few paces away from him, taking in the two men on the floor with an intelligent eye that the sellsword knew from experience missed nothing. “Silent,” she said.

  He tipped his head respectfully, his expression grim, “May.”

  “Just what in Mariana’s name do you think you’re doing?”

  Mariana was the goddess of Vengeance and Retribution, and he wasn’t particularly comforted by May’s use of her name. “Talking with an old friend.”

  May stared past him, “Do all of your friends end conversations with you unconscious? If so, it’s a wonder you have any left.”

  Aaron glanced back and saw Lucius lying across the table where he’d left him. The bastard fainted. He turned back to May with a shrug, “He never could hold his drink.”

  The slightest smile flickered on the woman’s face for an instance, and then was gone. She turned to the men behind her, revealing a ruby earring that sparkled in the low light of the room like living fire, “Take him to the back room.” She turned to the gathered crowd, “Oh? Has someone started a show of which I’m unaware? Or is it my beauty that captivates you so?”

  The men and women in the crowd nodded vigorously, as if a knife were being held to their throat, and shot uncertain glances at one another. “Well, then.” May said expectantly, and as if on cue, the singer broke out into song, and in moments the room was again buzzing with drunken laughter and flirting, though obviously forced.

  He sighed and gestured at the princess and the chamberlain. “Might as well bring them along. They’re with me.”

  Adina opened her mouth to launch what would have no doubt been a series of curses at Aaron but snapped it shut as one of the guards approached and grabbed her by the arm. May nodded to the guards and the club’s patrons watched them as if they were men headed to the gallows as they were led through the smoke-hazed club into a small, richly-furnished and decorated back room—May’s office. The door slammed shut behind them with ringing finality.

  The guards sat them down in three of four chairs that faced a large, oaken desk and took up positions behind them. May walked over to the chair behind the desk and sank into its red, cushion, letting out a sigh of relief as she did. “Now then,” she said, the anger and threat of vengeance that had filled her voice in the main room nowhere in evidence, “tell me, Silent, what’s happened?”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Aaron could see the princess and the chamberlain looking confusedly between him and May, but he paid it no attention. “Someone’s put a hit out on me.” He said bluntly.

  May nodded, “So I’ve heard.” No surprise there. May was one of the most powerful people in the Downs, had been for years. In a place like the Downs, information was often more valuable than gold, and May was plenty rich in both. In all the years that he’d known her, he’d never seen her taken by surprise. “Still, it’s not like it’s the first time, is it?” She said, smiling slightly, “A man in your profession has a way of making enemies and losing friends.” She gestured to one of the guards and the man poured them each a drink of wine. She frowned at him, “Never before has a hit forced you to come into my club and make a scene, tearing up the place and scaring my customers.” She waited a moment for him to answer. When he didn’t, she sighed heavily, “You’ve put me in an awkward situation. You know that, don’t you?”

  She was right, of course. Letting someone come into her club and tear it up without being punished would be seen as weakness and the citizens of the Downs—specifically the crime lords—pounced at any sign of weakness quicker than wolves on a wounded deer. He nodded, “I know. I’d say I was sorry, but it wouldn’t mean much. This time isn’t like the others. I had some questions that needed answers, and I had reason to believe that Lucius had them.”

  May’s face twisted in disgust, “That slime always has answers. Whether they’re true or not, now that’s a different story. A man would have to be pretty desperate to come to him for help.”

  Aaron let the silence speak for itself.

  “So,” May ventured after several seconds had passed, “who is it this time? An ex-employer? One of the bosses? I hear Grinner is still angry at you from that last stunt of yours, and Hale has always hated you.”

  Aaron shook his head. “I can handle Grinner and Hale. No, it wasn’t either of them.”

  May shrugged, as if the two bosses, possibly the most powerful men in the Downs, were none of her concern. And if anyone can, it’s her, Aaron thought. It was well known that May was one of the richest people in the Downs, if not the richest but, more importantly, she was also one of the most resourceful. The bosses had tried to move in on her before, several times in fact, but they had always lived to regret it, while May herself continued to prosper. She liked to claim that she was nothing more than a simple club owner, but Aaron had come to believe that she was possibly the most powerful person in the Downs. Powerful enough, he thought, that if she bent herself to it, she could have the entire Downs, Hale and Grinner included, bowing to her within a year, but he would never tell her that. The last man who had had received such a tongue lashing that Aaron would be surprised if the man could sit down even still, though the incident was years gone.

  It had been one of the few times he’d ever seen May angry, and he’d resolved a long time ago never to mention it to her, though he didn’t understand it. His father had once told him that every man, woman, or child sought something. For some it might be fame, for others power or money, but there was always something. Often times the people didn’t know what it was themselves, but his father had claimed that you could not truly know someone, or yourself, until you learned what that something was. For May, it clearly wasn’t power, and, for at least the hundredth time since he’d met her, Aaron wondered what it was.

  “If it’s not one of the bosses, then who?” May asked, her voice bringing his thoughts back to the present.

  He considered not telling her, that it might be safer for her not to know before deciding it didn’t matter. She would learn of it, one way or the other. May always did. “Belgarin.”

  She whistled, her eyes wide. “What did you do sleep with his daughter or something?” Despite her effort at levity, she twisted one of the rings around her finger. He’d seen her use the gesture before, when she was nervous or scared. Unlike the rest of the jewelry she wore, the ring was plain, tarnished silver without ornamentation or device. She changed her other jewelry regularly, but the ring was always there, always waiting for her to touch. He’d asked her about it once. The silence that followed had been more threatening than the calm before a thunderstorm, and he’d quickly changed the subject. He had not asked again.

  “As far as I know,” he said in response to her question, “he doesn’t have one.”

  “Son then?”

  He frowned, and the heavy-set woman laughed. “Fine, fine. Just a little joke between friends, but surely you must be kidding. I like you, Silent. I’m one of the few
people who does, and you’re probably the best at your job—I know you’ve charged me enough in the past that you damn sure better be—but you’re nothing more than an ant to a man like Belgarin. I mean, Keeper’s Lantern, Silent, the man has thousands at his command. Why would he even bother to waste his time worrying about you?”

  Because I saw his brother die. Because I know that he killed him. Because the princess, his younger sister, decided to get me involved, and is counting on me to save the Keeper-cursed kingdom. “I can’t tell you that.”

  It was the large woman’s turn to frown and when she spoke, her voice was lightly scolding, “Aaron, listen. You’ve never kept anything from me before. Why start now?”

  “It’s different now.”

  “How?”

  “Because if I told you everything I know, I wouldn’t be the only one on Belgarin’s list. I like you, May, and you’re a damned fine club owner—a fine dresser too, come to that—but if you show up on Belgarin’s list, he’ll crush you like a bug. A charming, interesting bug, but a bug nonetheless.”

  The woman smiled, clearly flattered, and put a hand across her chest, “Ah, pierced with my own blade. Well done.” She turned and frowned at Adina and Gryle, “And how are these two involved?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  May let out a deep, unhappy sigh, “I don’t like this, Aaron. Not one bit. Secrets are dangerous.”

  “I don’t like it either, and secrets may be dangerous, but this truth can kill.” He met her gaze and held it, “I need you to trust me, May.” Whether he told her or not, he knew that, if she wanted, May would be able to find out everything, and he couldn’t have that. She might be powerful in the Downs, but Aaron knew that even she would stand no chance against Belgarin should the man decide she was in his way. “I need you to leave this alone.”