They walked through the back of the shop, past a small garden with a lemon tree, and into a work shed close by. The kiln inside was huge, which accounted for the amount of pots and the giant amphorae. It warmed the shed considerably, so the door was left open along with a few windows to the garden.
“Um,” he said picking up a tall stool and moving it closer to Pen. “There was one more.”
He darted to another corner, took off a box of carving tools from another stool, and set it by the first. Once they were situated by a workbench of unpainted vases, he asked her to sit. He tried to smile then, but it just twitched into a grimace.
“What’s your name?” Pen asked, trying to calm him with an easy question first.
“Oh, it’s Pirithous, my lady.”
“We don’t need to bother with the ‘lady’ stuff,” she said quickly. “Do you have other family?”
“My wife is upstairs with our boys,” he said.
“Was Adrienne your eldest?”
“Yes,” he managed.
Falling silent then, she had no idea how to continue or even talk to him. He watched her, clearly unsure how to proceed too, and waited for her lead. He wanted to talk; Pen could see the conviction in his gaze, but the words were stuck.
An idea came then that she didn’t want to use, but they had to continue on similar ground somehow.
“I lost my son as well,” she said. “A long time ago, and under different circumstances, but I know the empty feeling.”
The grimace turned into a thin line as he held the tears at bay.
“How old was he?” Pirithous asked.
“Three.”
“My boys are seven. Twins.” He did manage to smile at the mention of them.
“How old was Adrienne?” Pen asked.
The smile vanished. “Eighteen.”
“What can you tell me about her?”
“Well,” he sighed. “She’s always a kind girl, though making pots bored her. She’d still help o’ course, and she’s—” his voice broke, “she was great with customers in the shop.”
“Did she leave the house often?”
“She did,” he said. “She’d fetch water and run to the bakery all the time.”
“So, she knew the city well.”
“O’ course, she was born here.”
“Why do you think she was out that night?” Pen asked trying to be gentle. “And when was the last time you saw her?”
He took his time answering, and Pen let him.
“That night, at dinner,” he said shrugging. “It was a normal night, though I’m sure she snuck out again.”
“Why?”
“She’s been visiting a boy at a gambling den,” he confessed, then quickly added. “She never had a problem, and never spent much coin there. Still, it couldn’t have been the best crowd.”
Dens like that were hardly safe, though Pen didn’t voice that opinion.
“How did you know about this boy?” she asked.
“Timandrae, my wife, caught her coming home late one night. We were both furious and told her to stop this foolishness, but she still went.”
The grief in his eyes turned to cold conviction with the tears still on the edge.
“Do you think that boy did this?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Pen said quickly, hoping she hadn’t planted an idea of revenge in his head. “I should talk to him first. Do you know his name?”
Pirithous shook his head. The rage held in his eyes.
“He works at the Lion’s Den. You can find him there, I bet,” he gave.
Chapter Twenty Five
Raisa
I’m sorry about walking off, the letter that Raisa held read. After a day, I realized how heated things got. I’d still like a proper explanation from Pen, so I’m willing to talk. I’m in Kaliasma now, just waiting for your word. What do you think? Should I even come?
Setting down the letter, Raisa sighed and started pacing, thinking on Palamedes’s offer. It had arrived that morning, just days after they had arrived at Stymphalia themselves. He had probably only been a few days behind them most of the time. She was surprised by it, glad, but surprised he had turned around. Pen had really gotten under his skin at the time.
Pen didn’t owe him an explanation, but it would help patch things over. And there must be some version that Pen could come up with even though she must keep the god’s involvement a secret.
Palamedes didn’t even sound angry in the letter. He could prove useful to Pen if they got along again. Palrig and the others here hadn’t met Palamedes yet, but that was common. With dozens of hideouts in Ichorisis, it became difficult for each member to know all the others. Raisa still made a point to only recruit people in person of course.
Palamedes’s loyalty to the Wolves was unmatched, except maybe by Palrig and Drivas. Someone had taken a request out on him, and Raisa had done the investigations on Palamedes herself years ago, just because she was in the area. It was ridiculous too; the one who had taken out the hit on him was a merchant who felt like he’d been robbed by Palamedes. In reality, Palamedes and this merchant had bargained, and the merchant had let him off with a cheaper price on fish. She had seen petty requests before, but that was outright pathetic on the merchant’s part.
After Raisa had confronted Palamedes and told him about everything, she believed it would be best for him to leave the city. He couldn’t because his brother was too sick to travel, but he insisted on repaying the Wolves. After some training and scouting from the other members in Kression, they agreed that he would be a good fit for them. So, Raisa took him into the fold, making sure he was well paid for his brother’s sake too.
Raisa stopped pacing and leaned against the window, looking down into the street. People just went about their lives, completely oblivious to the assassination hideout right next to them.
The clan of assassins had bloomed into a respectable business right under her feet. People she cared about and respected lived here. They trusted her, and she was thinking about using a resource of theirs, Palamedes, to help out Pen.
It was one thing to agree to find Pen for the queen. She made sure to keep it out of the Wolves’ lives, and she had. She kept it relatively quiet as a personal mission. No one else knew where Pen was anyway, and she didn’t even know. They found each other by accident.
Palamedes tagging along hadn’t been planned, but he had helped, even understood the need to keep it quiet. He knew the political connection to the queen, and though he didn’t like the secrecy, he accepted it for them.
And Pen needed help, especially now. She was on her own hunting down a killer, when they had the ability to scout the entire city.
No one here among the Wolves knew Palamedes; he had lived too far away to even meet them. He would be the perfect connection for her and Pen.
Which is also why Raisa hesitated now. She wanted to help Pen, provide some backup and keep her safe, but that meant using Palamedes and breaking the no politics rule.
He wouldn’t appreciate the deception either.
She didn’t have to lie. Palamedes might not like it initially, but if she was honest enough, that would help. He had wanted to help in the first place, and he took up other assassination jobs since joining the Wolves. Hunting down a killer like this wasn’t too far off from their regular work. The others would come to understand too, if it even had to be revealed.
Turning back to the desk, Raisa didn’t bother sitting to write the message.
I do need to talk to you, but in person. The final decision will be yours, but I need to ask something of you. In seven days’ time, I’ll meet you by the southern public well at high noon. Don’t come to the hideout.
It was cryptic and even worrying with the decision part, but it would get him moving.
A knock at the door pulled Raisa out of her thoughts. Rolling up the strip of parchment, she tucked it into her palm.
“Come in,” she called.
Drivas entered with a
slightly confused expression.
“Everything okay?” Raisa asked approaching her.
“There’s a man downstairs asking for you,” Drivas said. “Palrig and I found him, but I don’t think it’s about a job or anything. He says he’s looking for someone named Arus.”
Her gut hit the floor, but she kept her face blank. It still took her a second to gain air and reply.
“I’ll head down to see him,” she said handing the small parchment to Drivas. “Run this to the rookery, would you? Have them send it to our shop in Kaliasma.”
“All right,” she said taking the note. “But who is it down there?”
“I don’t know yet,” Raisa confessed leaving the office with Drivas behind her, “but I’ll handle him.”
Drivas nodded and left through the rear door heading for the public rookery nearby. Raisa was glad to have the cryptic note for her to send off then, giving the perfect reason for Drivas to leave the house. Nor did she have to worry about it being read, Drivas’s loyalty was undying.
Once downstairs in the fletching shop, Raisa headed for the back room. Special, or unusual, meetings took place there, so Palrig most likely took this new man there.
Opening the door, she found Palrig waiting and watching the newcomer. Palrig’s arms were crossed, but a knife was tucked under his shoulder. The knife made her pause, but he didn’t look tense. It was probably just a precaution.
The newcomer leaned against one of the tall workbenches, his arms equally crossed. He seemed relaxed but confused.
“You’re the leader here?” he asked as a greeting, surprise lining his words. “I’m Tetrides.”
He was a tall man, muscular under the tunic with a simple sword at his belt. His blond hair and beard were almost the opposite of Arus’s, but the eyes and nose were the same.
She saw the same features in Drivas every day.
“You can go back up front, Palrig,” she said. “I can handle him.”
Palrig nodded and left, closing the door behind him.
“Handle?” Tetrides commented. “I’ve hardly done anything. I just came to talk.”
“You’re clearly Arus’s brother,” Raisa said. “I don’t want to hold any biases against you, but I had a hard history with that man. It might come off as hostile.”
“I’m only looking for information,” he said raising his hands in innocence.
“What, then?’
“He vanished a long while back,” Tetrides explained. “We had a nice setup in the east, but he wanted more of an adventure. So, he came to the mainland.”
“Life as a pirate was too boring?” Raisa asked a little stunned.
She didn’t know much about Arus’s past, but he had let slip of his sailing skills and the trouble he’d cause to trade ships. He never talked about family, but get him drunk enough and a brother would enter those stories.
Tetrides laughed.
“Weirdly enough it did bore him. He hated the work of maintaining a ship. Anyway, it took a while to hunt down his trail, and admittedly it took me a few years to actually start looking. He can take care of himself, so I knew he’d be fine, but he promised to come back and visit every few years at least. So, I decided to hunt him down and knock his head in for taking so damn long. We have friends in Kalymnos who saw him, and they said he got mixed up with the Ragged Wolves crowd.”
“How did you find this place?” she asked. “And my name specifically.”
“It took some digging,” he shrugged. “I’m not surprised actually that Arus decided to join you guys. I asked around, eventually found your name. I’ll admit I didn’t know these Wolves were run by a woman.
“And if you had a hard history with him, then I certainly came to the right place.”
“You’re just looking for him?” Raisa asked a little surprised and still cautious.
“Aye,” he shrugged.
Raisa wondered if she should lie, make up a story about Arus leaving them, and that she had no other details. If he talked to anyone else, even Drivas, the truth might slip out.
“He’s dead,” Raisa told him. “Executed for attempting to assassinate the queen here.”
Tetrides’s relaxed demeanor vanished. His shoulders slumped and disbelief entered his eyes.
“No, he wouldn’t have been that stupid.”
“I watched him hang,” Raisa said. It had only been days after Pen fixed the Undying Curse.
Tetrides leaned on the table between them, staring at the surface.
“What were you to him, then?” he asked. “A hard history, even watching him swing, what was your relation?”
“What does that matter?” Raisa countered.
“Curiosity,” he looked up and she saw the hint of anger.
Given what she just told him she tried to not take offence.
“We were old lovers,” she admitted, hating the confession. “Things ended badly and he left.”
“Well, you’re basically my sister-in-law, then,” he chuckled.
“No, we didn’t—”
“The ceremony doesn’t matter where we’re from,” Tetrides said. “It’s an agreement between two people, and you just admitted to that agreement.”
“I would never call that man my husband.”
His chuckle died, as he caught at the anger in her own voice.
Raisa tried to rein in her conflicted fear and agitation at all of this. She hated Arus, but she didn’t want to spit on his grave right in front of his brother.
“Look,” she said falsely calm, “I’m sorry he’s gone, I wish I could have told you in an easier way. My relations with him weren’t all bad; there were some small joys now and then.”
That was a complete lie, but there was Drivas. That dead bastard had given her one good thing in life.
“When did it happen?” he asked after a breath.
“Fifteen years ago.”
“Fifteen,” he sighed as the grief settled deeper. “Gods, I didn’t even start looking until six years ago.”
Raisa didn’t respond, not really sure how to anymore. All she knew was that she wanted him out of here.
“I have some other business to take care of,” Raisa said trying to stay casual. “Am I going to have to worry about you knowing this location?”
“No,” he said pushing off of the table. “I don’t care about the Wolves either way, but for Arus’s sake I’ll keep quiet. I figured he went rogue, I’m actually not surprised he did.”
“All right, then.”
With that, he nodded and made for the door behind her. She stepped out of his way letting him leave of his own will. Opening the door, they both saw Palrig just outside guarding it.
Tetrides glanced back to Raisa, eyebrows knitting together.
“Can’t be too careful sometimes,” she confessed.
“You going to kill me if I give away the location?” he asked carefully blank.
“For your brother’s sake,” again another bitter taste, “I wouldn’t want to, but to keep the Ragged Wolves safe, I will.”
“You won’t be able to take me down so easily, woman.”
“The lone wolf will die against the pack. Don’t give us reason to hunt,” Palrig said.
“It’s best you leave,” Raisa added, gesturing for Palrig to move, “on good terms.”
Casting one last hate filled glance at her, Tetrides stormed out.
Chapter Twenty Six
Pen
The Lion’s Den was massive and impossible to miss. She was able to find it come nightfall, but with it being so big she had no idea how to search it. Pen didn’t even know the name of who she was looking for.
The crowd inside was enough to deter her, but she held her ground. The clack of dice and knuckle bones could barely be heard over the dull roar that filled the air. The entire first floor was full of men at tables enjoying card games, and she could see into the second and third floor through the balconies above. The ceiling had been cut away under the large open hearth in the center o
f the room.
She could even make out the colors on curtains and ribbons between the doors on the third floor. The crude tapestries up there were enough to advertise the floor was for prostitutes.
All she knew was that Adrienne’s secret boy worked here, and dozens of men worked the gambling tables on the first and second floors.
Deciding to start with the bottom and work her way up, Pen made for the long bar at the back. She tried to be polite and not cover her nose against the smell of so many people, but when she walked through a cloud of wildwood smoke, she coughed. Laughter sounded behind her, and she wondered if the man was amused at her discomfort. If so, she wanted to knock his teeth around.
Gritting her own teeth, she took an empty stool at the bar. Thankfully, there was enough space that the closest patron was four seats to her left and another five to her right. She hated having her back to the crowd.
The bartender caught her eye and raised an eyebrow. She tried to not be angry at his confusion; she was the only woman here.
“What can I get for you?” he asked coming up to her. His shoulder length blond hair was thin and greasy, but everything else about him was well cared for. His tunic was tailor made, and Pen wondered if the Den provided it. Maybe not, of course. Maybe he was just paid well here.
“Nothing strong tonight,” she said, “maybe half an ale?”
He nodded and took a small tankard from the shelf under the bar. It actually was the size of half a normal one, and he filled it.
“My thanks,” she said slipping him a few coppers. “Actually, I’m looking for someone too.”
He paused listening, probably used to patrons just talking to him.
“The thing is—”
“Ale, sir! And none of this Stymphalian piss, something from the Islands.”
A new man sat right next to Pen. His shaggy blond hair and beard clearly hadn’t seen a brush in weeks. Not that Pen was judging, she hadn’t used one either. His tanned skin spoke of him being from the Islands too.
The bartender kept his face professionally straight, plucked a short bottle from the back shelf, and set a tankard of it before the newcomer.
Grief of the Undying (The Ichorian Epics Book 3) Page 14
