by Kevin Hopson
Owin reached a hand out, pushing Nesta aside. “May Udia have mercy on us.”
Nesta didn’t believe in the Gods. However, if Owin’s faith made him feel better about his actions, who was she to argue with him. She wrapped her fingers around the handle of her dagger, pulling it from its scabbard along her belt.
Owin raised a foot, the heel of his boot causing a loud thud as it made contact with the wood. The door splintered and hung ajar, light inside shimmering through the small opening. Owin put a shoulder to the door, pushing it enough for him to enter. Nesta waited for Owin to clear the doorway and then followed.
Nesta spotted Griff as she entered. He stood behind a long work table, near a fire in the hearth at the far side of the room. Griff’s eyes bulged, and he immediately made for the rear of the house. With the exception of a single window, there was no other exit. Nesta had made certain of it after tailing him from the tavern.
“You mind fetching him?” she said.
Owin obliged and made haste.
Nesta sheathed her blade and inspected the table, noticing papers, jars, beakers, and an assortment of other items scattered about. One jar in particular caught her interest. She grasped the container and turned it in order to read the label. Her brows arched. Nesta quickly relinquished her grip of the jar, wanting nothing to do with it.
Owin returned with Griff in hand, holding the man by his arm.
“Where did you get this?” Nesta said to Griff, pointing a finger at the jar.
Griff said nothing. The man’s head came up to Owin’s chest, and his receding hairline made his dark eyes even more pronounced.
“Who’s your client in Southwallow?” she said.
Griff continued to purse his lips. When Nesta nodded to Owin, he clutched Griff’s jaw. The little man winced, and Nesta expected to hear the cracking of bones next. Griff attempted to talk, but his words were muffled by Owin’s hand.
“Let him speak,” she said. Owin let go of the man’s jaw, still holding Griff by the arm. “I won’t be giving you another chance,” Nesta continued. “If you lie to me, Owin will do much worse to you.”
Griff nodded; his breathing labored. He took a moment to calm himself.
“Answer the question,” Owin barked.
“I have many clients,” Griff finally mustered.
“I asked about your client in Southwallow,” Nesta said. “If the next words out of your mouth aren’t a name, they could very well be your last. Unless you have something that remedies a broken jaw.”
“Reece Owens,” Griff said.
Nesta knew the name. “What is it you procured for him?” She hoped for their sake, and everyone in Southwallow for that matter, that it didn’t involve the container she’d just discovered. But Griff disappointed her.
“That jar,” he said. “The plague powder.”
Owin’s mouth held agape.
Then a shout from outside.
“Griff!” A male voice. “Is everything okay in there?”
Nesta maneuvered around the table and toward the door, putting her back to the front wall and craning her neck. She peeked outside.
“The White Wolves,” she said.
They were peacekeepers for the town of Granmore. Armed peacekeepers. And there were about a half dozen of them. Perhaps more. Nesta drew her dagger again and glimpsed Owin. He cupped a hand over Griff’s mouth and looked to Nesta, shaking his head at her. Nesta sighed. She hated when he was right.
# # #
As Asgall entered the tavern, many of the talking heads turned to look. It was typical when a Guard member made an appearance, especially the Commander of the Guard, but Asgall knew those eyes weren’t fixed on him alone. The newest member of the Guard, a woman named Caitlyn, accompanied him, and he could only imagine what was brewing in the minds of those onlookers.
The tavern, also known as The Waiting Peacock, was located in the Sluhed Corner district, along the western wall of Southwallow and on the other side of town from the palace. The people here were neither wealthy nor poor but, instead, somewhere in between, which is why Asgall elected to bring Caitlyn. As a new recruit, it would be a good starting point. Not too cushy. Not too harsh. Then again, Asgall expected Caitlyn to encounter opposition no matter where she went.
“Good evening, Commander,” a man said from behind the bar.
The middle-aged barkeep had a throaty voice, and the man’s thin hair hung over his brows, nearly covering his eyes.
“Good evening, Penvro,” Asgall replied.
“Can I get you anything?”
Asgall shook his head and glimpsed the bar area, noticing a few open stools. “We’re not here to drink, but we’ll take a seat if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Penvro said. “Be my guest.”
Asgall nodded and led the way, finding a pair of stools next to one another. He eased onto the unforgiving wood, and Caitlyn did the same, sitting to his left. Lanterns hung from the tavern ceiling, and candles helped illuminate each of the tables, including the bar’s countertop.
Penvro brought two glasses of water, placing them in front of Asgall and Caitlyn.
“Just in case the two of you are parched,” he said, grinning.
“Thank you,” Asgall said.
“Yes,” Caitlyn mustered. “Thank you.”
Asgall could sense her nervousness, but he also knew what she was capable of.
“Commander.” The booming voice came from behind. To Asgall’s right. “What a treat to have you in our company.”
Asgall glanced over his shoulder, and staring back was a balding man with a long, gray beard. Andreas was his name. Asgall only knew because Andreas owned a reputation for drinking, and his late-night fits often led to brawls. Brawls that the Guard would have to tend to on occasion. But Andreas paled in comparison to some. Asgall smiled and nodded, then turned back to Caitlyn.
“Won’t you introduce us to the newest member of the Guard?” Another voice said. This one with an obvious tone of sarcasm.
Asgall recognized the voice. It came from the man sitting beside Andreas at their table of four. Asgall didn’t bother looking at him.
“If you want to know her name, Reece, why don’t you ask her yourself?” Asgall said, gawking at the bottle-filled shelves behind the bar.
“She doesn’t grow a beard like the rest of you, does she?” A third man chimed in.
The men at the table erupted in laughter, which prompted Caitlyn to turn. Asgall noticed her jaw tense, and she slid a foot off the stool rest, preparing to confront them. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and Caitlyn met his gaze.
“Let it go,” he said.
Caitlyn stared at the men again. Then she eased. “Yes, sir.”
She relaxed on the stool, raising the bottle of water to her lips. Caitlyn reminded Asgall of Colum, his second-in-command. Both of them had gold locks and sky-blue eyes. But it wasn’t just their appearance. They had a certain edge to them as well. Caitlyn’s hair was shaved on both sides, and braids dangled from the top of her head, falling below her shoulders.
“You’re going to catch a lot of flak from people, particularly men like that,” Asgall said. “I can only imagine how difficult it will be for you, but the quicker you learn to ignore it, the better off you’ll be.”
“I know, sir.”
“I’ve been there myself. I wanted to break a lot of noses in my early days, but our job requires discipline. It’s one thing if they’re acting above the law. It’s another matter if they’re throwing insults our way.”
She nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“What’s it like to have another woman in the Guard?” Reece asked, a chuckle soon following. “You haven’t had one since Nesta.” That name got Asgall’s attention. “And how did that turn out for you?”
The table burst out in laughter again, and Asgall f
ought to compose himself. How he would have loved to put a fist to those faces, clamping their mouths shut for good, but he knew he had to lead by example. Instead, Asgall leaned over and whispered something into Caitlyn’s ear. She giggled. Then Caitlyn’s amusement escalated. A few seconds later, she broke out into hysterics.
Asgall noticed the room go quiet, relatively speaking. There was still plenty of chatter about, but there was no more enjoyment at the table behind them.
“What are you laughing at?” Andreas said.
Caitlyn glanced at Asgall. He grinned and bobbed his head, as if giving her permission to answer.
“Nothing,” Caitlyn said. “I just find it amusing that someone who washed out of the Guard would make a comment like that.”
She was referring to Reece. He trained to be a member years ago, but Asgall didn’t accept him into the Guard. Reece proved to be a fighter, for sure, but he lacked the discipline that Asgall instilled in all of those under his command.
Asgall heard the scraping of a chair against the floor planks, and he assumed Reece took exception to Caitlyn’s remarks. When Asgall looked over his shoulder, his hunch proved correct. Reece stood by the table, glaring at Caitlyn like death seeking out a victim.
“Be careful what you do next,” Asgall said to him. “There’s nothing wrong with a little fun and games. But there will be consequences if it turns into something more.”
Reece looked about the room, as if searching for support among the crowd. The humiliation on Reece’s face provided Asgall a brief moment of satisfaction, but he didn’t want things to get out of control. Reece eventually sat down. Content that the situation had been diffused, Asgall turned to Penvro. He took a coin from his pocket and rested it on the counter.
“Thanks for the water,” Asgall said.
“You’re welcome, Commander.”
Asgall nudged Caitlyn on the shoulder, and the two of them got up. Once outside, Asgall stopped and stood in front of the tavern, Caitlyn sidling up to him.
“I appreciate that, Commander,” she said.
“Of course. You’re one of us now.”
Caitlyn surveyed the street. “What should we do now, sir?”
“You should take a walk around the city. About half of the Guard is stationed at the Palace at any given time, but the other half patrols the city on a regular basis. You might think it unattractive, but it’s an equally important job.”
“On my own, sir?”
“I have confidence in you.”
Caitlyn managed a slight grin. “Thank you, sir.”
CHAPTER TWO
Owin didn’t want to kill. Nesta might have taken exception to that, but she knew he was right. Still, she wasn’t about to give up. If they surrendered, there’d be no one to stop Griff from completing his deal, and she could only imagine what Reece Owens would do with plague powder in his possession. Southwallow and the Emperor could fall. In fact, the entire continent would be at stake.
Nesta held the dagger in her hand, quickly approaching Owin.
“Check the rear window,” she said. “See if there’s a patrol around back.” Owin’s brows tightened. “Just do it.”
Owin relinquished his grip of the man and left Nesta’s side, making his way to the back of the house for a second time.
Nesta put the blade to Griff’s neck. “If you want to live, you’ll do as I say.” He nodded. As uncomfortable as it was, Nesta clutched the container of plague powder with her free hand. “When are you supposed to meet Reece?”
“Tomorrow. When the sun is directly overhead.”
“Where?”
“Outbron Woods.”
“Griff,” a voice shouted. “This is Phylip. I’m with the White Wolves. Is everything okay in there?”
“You need to be more specific,” Nesta said to Griff.
“Hantou Pond.”
Nesta didn’t know of the place, but she’d worry about it later. “Go to the front door and tell them everything is fine. Otherwise, you’ll get a nose-full of this stuff.” She held up the container, figuring that a slow, agonizing death would rouse more fear in him than a blade to the gut.
Nesta didn’t plan on using the powder. It would be suicide, and her actions could lead to countless deaths. However, she risked Griff calling her bluff. Fortunately, he obliged, walking around the edge of the table and heading for the front door. Then Owin appeared again.
“No one’s out back,” he said. “I have a window open. I’d urge us to go now.”
Nesta nodded and followed Owin to a back room. She heard Griff speaking to the White Wolves. Something about the door being damaged but insisting that everything was okay. Even if he went back on his word now, it bought them time. Owin allowed Nesta to go first, and she sheathed her dagger before proceeding.
“Hold this,” she said, revealing the jar of plague powder.
Owin’s eyes bulged. “Why are we bringing that?”
“Would you rather take the chance of Reece getting his hands on it?” He pursed his lips. “Just hold it. You can give it back to me when I’m outside.”
Owin wavered but took the bottle, holding it gingerly. Nesta eyed the casement window. There were two panes of glass, each one attached to hinges on the side. Owin had pulled them ajar, offering a sufficient space for Nesta to climb through. The bottom of the window frame was only waist high, so Nesta hooked one leg over the edge, then the other. She dropped to the dirt.
The sound of shattered glass followed, and Nesta held her breath. She turned to the window. Owin’s mouth was agape, his eyes filled with terror.
“No,” Nesta said. “Get out of there.”
“It’s too late. It’s already in the air.”
“It doesn’t mean you’re infected. Leave it, and get your ass through that window now.” Owin shook his head and pushed the windowpanes shut. “Damn it, Owin!”
In the distance, Nesta heard boots against the cobblestone street. A few members of the White Wolves were turning the corner of the house, heading down the alley where she was positioned. A whistle came from behind. When Nesta spun around, she noticed a woman standing beside a door, her hand on the knob.
“Quickly,” the woman said, opening the door and waving Nesta inside.
It seemed like a good time to listen and ask questions later, so Nesta bolted for the door.
# # #
Caitlyn got reacquainted with the city, walking the streets of Sluhed Corner and, later on, the Grand Palace Square. She was born and raised in Southwallow. Lower North Stanwick, to be precise. It occupied the northern and northwestern parts of the city, just outside the walls, but it bustled the same as any other populated area of Southwallow.
She even visited the Old Town district, where the city had been born nearly three-hundred years ago. Caitlyn ran into a couple of scallywags along the way. One was a drunk man dancing half-naked in the street. The other a young boy who’d run off with a stolen piece of fruit. Neither were worthy of detaining, but she did make her presence known, putting a little bit of a scare into both of them.
Caitlyn eventually made her way back to Sluhed Corner, helping a middle-aged woman round up a litter of pigs along the way. It was far from glorious, but she took some pride in the evening’s events. She knew it would likely take years to climb the chain of command. To perhaps one day be counted on to protect the Palace and the Emperor. Maybe even become Commander of the Guard herself.
A whimper from a nearby building caught her attention. She turned to look, noticing a black and white Border Collie. The dog limped along, favoring its left rear leg.
“Serves you right,” an elderly man said.
He held a piece of wood in one hand and lashed out at the dog with it, striking the helpless animal on the back. It shrieked in response.
“Hey,” Caitlyn shouted.
The man gawked at her
, his eyes narrowing. “Yeah.”
“Is that your dog?”
“Course it is. I don’t go ‘round hittin’ other people’s dogs. Now go mind your business, woman.”
Caitlyn took a few steps forward. “What did you say?”
The man eyed her again. Before he could respond, Caitlyn heard a raucous group exit the tavern down the street. The Waiting Peacock. The same one she and the Commander had visited earlier in the evening. She recognized a few of the men, one in particular standing out to her. Reece.
Caitlyn turned her attention to the older man. “I don’t care if it’s your dog or not, don’t let me see you hitting it again.”
The man waved a dismissive hand at her, but she ignored him. She set her sights on Reece, deciding to follow him instead.
# # #
“Surely this is a joke,” Cedrik said. “If not, I don’t find it amusing in the least.”
Reece sat across from Cedrik, a flaming candlewick in the center of the table the only thing standing between the two of them. “I assure you this is no joke. I am genuinely sorry for having to do this.”
“You gave me your word. You promised me a vial of plague powder. This isn’t the proper way to conduct business, especially if you’re going to fill Elis Morgan’s shoes now that he’s dead.”
“You assume I take this lightly. I don’t. I’ve never gone back on a promise. Until now, that is. But I have my reasons.”
“And what are they?”
Reece hesitated. He didn’t care to elaborate, but Cedrik deserved some sort of an explanation. “I have another buyer.”
Cedrik recoiled, his face retreating into the shadows. Then it returned, his eyes wide. He leaned forward, resting both elbows on the table. “Who?”
“I can’t disclose that information.”
“Are they offering you more money?”
“It’s not always about money.”
“What then?”
“They’re a prominent figure in Southwallow. Someone with ties to the Emperor. I couldn’t turn them away. I know it’s probably difficult to accept, but I hope you’ll understand.”
