“O-of course,” Beautiful said, blinking as if she’d just woken from a dream. “Of course. It…it was a pleasure, Majesty,” she said, mutilating another perfectly good curtsey. “I hope to have the chance to speak with you again.”
The woman flushed at her own boldness, but Adina only smiled. “It would be my pleasure, just as soon as things slow down a bit.”
Meaning, of course, never, Urek thought, but Beautiful was beaming as if the sun had just told her it only rose on account of her, so that was alright. As a general rule, Urek himself wasn’t much a man for adoration or for bowing, but he made sure to sketch the best one he could—not a particularly fine one, judging by Beautiful’s snicker—before heading for the door.
“And Urek?”
He paused, turning back with his hand on the handle. “Majesty?”
“This thing I’ve asked of you…it needs to be done tonight.”
“Sure,” he said, nodding. “And why not? I’ve been sleepin’ like shit anyway.”
He started out the door, but turned back as she spoke again. “Forgive me, but…I just had a thought. Councilman Arkrest also has two servants, a scribe, and, it appears, six guards within his employ. I cannot say for certain that, even should Arkrest be a traitor, they have any notion of their master’s treachery. I would ask that you do not harm them.”
Urek blinked. “Majesty, I don’t think that the councilman’s guards are going to sit by while me and my crew do what needs doin’.”
“No,” she said, “I don’t believe that they will.”
Urek grunted. He could have told her that, when you went searching for blood, there was no knowing whose might be spilled. He could have explained that in war, the bodies of the innocent fed the worms just like the guilty, and that when you saw a thing that needed doing, you couldn’t rely on half-measures. But he said none of those things. Instead, he only gave a sharp nod. “Alright then.”
Her face twisted, her mouth opening and closing, and when she finally spoke, she seemed to have to force the words out. “How…how will you do it?”
“Best you not worry about that, Queen. Killin’ is killer’s business. When your horse needs shoein’, you don’t ask the stable hand how he does it—the best thing is to just let him get on with his work. This is our job, and we’re good at it…gods help us.”
“And the servants?” she asked.
“Well,” Urek said, “they aren’t slaves, are they, Majesty? They’re men paid for a service. What difference to them who’s doin’ the paying?”
“But…but you do know how you’ll do it?”
“’Course I do,” Urek said. “Easiest thing in the world.”
He walked out then, Beautiful trailing behind him. The older guard was waiting a short distance from the door, and Urek didn’t miss the way his hand hovered near the hilt of his sword, as if he’d been prepared to charge in the room should the queen scream for help. The man glanced between the two of them, clearly wanting to go check on the queen but not loving the idea of leaving the two of them in the castle alone. Finally, he came to a decision. “This way,” he said, and turned, leading them back the way they’d come.
“So,” Beautiful said in a whisper as they followed him, seeming to finally find her voice now that she was no longer in the queen’s presence, “let me get this straight. We’re supposed to figure out whether this councilman is a traitor or not and, if he is, kill him without anyone knowing we’ve killed him, and, at the same time, without hurting any of his guards—men who get paid to keep exactly that sort of thing from happening—or his servants who will, no doubt, be in the house with him?”
“Yeah,” Urek said, scratching his neck. “That sounds just about right.”
Beautiful snorted. “What it sounds is impossible.”
“Oh?” he said, shooting a glance at the guard to make sure he couldn’t hear before turning and scowling at the woman. “Does it? And where were all these objections a few minutes ago, I wonder?”
“She’s a queen, Urek,” she said, as if that explained everything. “And not just any queen, but the most beautiful, cleverest queen there’s ever been. Still, how does the stable hand change the horse’s shoe? How do you plan to do it?”
Urek grunted, suppressing the urge to spit. “I have no fucking idea.”
CHAPTER
SEVEN
“We’re screwed.”
Urek sighed, sitting back in his chair. Shits was the one who’d spoken, earning himself the crime boss’s best glare, but a quick look around the back room of the tavern showed that the others felt much the same. “I’d think you’d be excited, Shits,” he said, spitting on the floor at his feet, and never mind the scowl Beautiful shot in his direction. Sometimes a man needed to spit, was all.
“Excited?” the man said. “Why in the name of the gods would I be excited, Urek?”
The big man shrugged. “Well. Seems to me that with that ugly mug of yours, you’d be happy at any chance of gettin’ screwed. I can’t imagine folks are exactly linin’ up to do the job.”
Not a great joke, maybe, but the others smiled, some of the dread vanishing from their faces, so that was alright. He wondered, not for the first time, how Hale had done it, how he had managed to lead an empire of criminals, keeping them following orders and doing his bidding. For whatever else they were, men and women who spent their time stealing, mugging, and—when the situation called for it—murdering, had a tendency toward not being particularly dependable.
Shits frowned, but it was Shadow who spoke from where he stood propped against the wall of his room, pausing in using one of his knives to pick his teeth. “Shit’s unfortunate face aside, it does seem like a bit of a problem. And, Urek, I have to ask—what are we doing?”
Urek frowned. “What do you mean, ‘what are we doing’? Seems to me that, right now, we’re trying to figure out how we get this job done without getting all of our fool asses killed.”
“Right,” the hawk-nosed man said. “But why?”
“I don’t follow you,” Urek said, but he thought maybe he did all too well.
The other man glanced up from his blade, meeting the crime boss’s eyes. “Look, boss, you know I’ll follow wherever you lead, but this needs sayin’ and since nobody else seems to want to, I guess I will. We’re criminals, remember? We ain’t soldiers or knights in some queen’s army—we’re pickpockets and thieves.”
“I know what we are, damnit.”
Shadow nodded slowly. “Of course you do, boss. Thing is, we haven’t been acting much like criminals lately. People always call us ‘vultures,’ or ‘scavengers’, and maybe that’s not far off, but I’ve never taken offense at it. After all, vultures have to eat too, don’t they? But lately, it seems to me that we haven’t been acting much like vultures or criminals but like soldiers in some queen’s army. For starters, we’ve been hunting down our own kind. Don’t get me wrong, those bastards who followed Grinner deserve what’s coming to them, sure. For what they did, for what they tried to do, they’re in need of some bloodletting…but then, that’s not what we’re doing, is it? We’re tracking them down and letting the soldiers throw them in the dungeons.”
“You got a point, Shadow?”
The smaller man shrugged. “I guess what I’m saying is that it just seems strange, is all. Trying to rescue May and the boss from being executed, sure, it made sense, for we look after our own. Always have. Even this here, lately, tracking down those poor dumb bastards who followed Grinner, I can kind of understand. After all, less competition for us, right? But now, you’re talking about a whole different thing. Now, you’re talking about following a queen’s orders on a job that’ll most likely get us all killed, to take care of a man who, if anything, has been good for us in the past. After all, Faden Arkrest is a man with a price, and as long as you can pay it, he isn’t a problem. Seems to me I recall Hale doing exactly that, a time or two.”
Urek grunted, glancing around at the others in the room. Beautiful st
anding by the door, Osirn, beside her. Shits and Shadow and a few others. Ten in all, and all of them looking at him, waiting for what he would say. “You all feel this way, then?”
Osirn, flinched as if struck when Urek’s gaze fell on him. Shits was still frowning sullenly, looking as if he wanted to say something, but it was Beautiful who finally spoke in a hesitant voice completely at odds with her normally assertive tone. “It is…a little strange, boss. You have to admit that much.”
Urek tried to remember the last time Beautiful had called him ‘boss’ and came up empty. She was serious then, and that made him really start to think on Shadow’s questions himself. The truth was, he’d been so caught up in events since trying to save Hale from execution that he really hadn’t stopped to consider the matter. Now that he did, he had to admit they were right. It was strange. They were criminals, in the business of crime, and lately they’d been coming perilously close to acting like soldiers.
As he thought it through, the others only waited in silence, watching him, but Urek barely noticed. He was too busy considering his actions over the last week. Why had he been so quick to take up the queen’s task? Gods, he’d barely asked any questions at all, had even went so far as to walk willingly into the castle, putting himself completely in the power of its guards, a thing he would have never done a few months ago. He sat that way for several minutes, wondering. When he finally did speak, he did so slowly. “You’re right,” he said. “You’re all right. We have been actin’ against our natures. Standing and fighting when we’d normally run and hide, defending the innocent instead of takin’ what we can and gettin’ out before the guards come.”
They all nodded at that, and Urek nodded along with them. “I could argue that everythin’ I’ve done, everythin’ we’ve done, is on account of, with that bastard Kevlane and his monsters out there, we’ve only been actin’ in our own self-interest. After all, it seems to me that if he has his way, there won’t be a hole deep enough to escape what’s comin’. I could tell you that’s the reason—but I’d be lyin’. I could tell you that I’m only tryin’ to do what I think the boss, Hale, would have done in the same circumstances, but even that ain’t the truth. I knew that man for years, and even I wouldn’t ever think to hazard a guess at what he might do from one minute to the next.”
There were mutters of agreement at that. “Though,” Urek went on, “I think it has to be said that, when it came down to it, Hale stood. He didn’t run or hide, didn’t try to buy his way out. He stood and because he did, May Tanarest is still walkin’ around breathin’.”
“And he died,” Beautiful said, her voice little more than a whisper.
Urek grunted. “Yeah, and he died. And what Hale would think of this here, I can’t begin to guess. All I can tell you,” he said, realizing the truth of his own feelings even as he spoke, “is that it feels right. What we did—what we’re doin’. As for Silent and the word we’re to spread,” he added, finally looking back at Shadow, “well, like you said, we take care of our own. And whatever else he is, whatever else he’s become, Silent is one of us. Anybody gonna argue that?”
No one seemed inclined to disagree, so Urek went on. “Plus,” he said, grinning, “I can’t wait to see that bastard’s face, he finds out he’s been turned into a hero while he’s sleepin’.”
“Sure,” Shadow agreed. “The Blade is one of us, boss. But…what about the other thing?”
“Oh,” Urek said, “you mean the ‘assassinatin’ a councilman without harmin’ any of his servants and doing our level-best to keep our own heads attached to our shoulders’ thing?”
The hawk-nosed man grinned. “That’d be the one.”
Urek scratched at his chin, considering that. “Ain’t a very criminal thing to do, is it? Oh, sure, we’ll stab a man quick enough, if he’s got somethin’ worth takin’, but this…this is something altogether different.”
“S-s-seems that way, b-b-boss,” Osirn said, flushing as everyone turned to look at him and cringing as if trying to disappear into the wall.
“Yeah, lad,” Urek agreed. “It does. But you know what?” he said, taking the time to meet each of their eyes in turn. “I’m gonna do it anyway. More likely than not, I’ll get my fool ass killed, but I’ll do what I can. And why?” He shrugged. “I can’t really say. Maybe it’s because I believe if this Kevlane fella gets his way, we’ll all be dead soon regardless. Maybe it’s because that bastard Arkrest has had it comin’ for some time now, and I’d just as soon be the one who gave it to him. Might even be the queen struck me as a woman worthy of such a risk, or that I’m tired of runnin’ and hidin’, tired of lurkin’ in alleyways.”
“Or maybe it’s that you’re a stubborn bastard who doesn’t know when to let something go,” Beautiful observed, but she was grinning as she said it.
“Maybe,” Urek agreed, grinning back. “But I’m gonna do it, either way. I don’t expect none of you to come with me, and I won’t hold it against ya if you don’t. But I’m gonna see this thing through, one way or the other.”
They were silent then, absorbing his words, which was just as well. Urek couldn’t remember the last time he’d talked as much. He never had been one for speeches, and he was out of breath. They all glanced at each other after a few minutes, and an understanding seemed to pass between them. Finally, Shadow shrugged. “Alright, boss. So…when are we leavin’?”
Urek grunted, surprised at the response and even more surprised at his profound sense of not just relief, but gratitude. “We, is it?”
Shadow nodded, and the rest of those in the room nodded along with him. “Sure. We can’t let you go alone, now can we? The gods know you’d be dead inside of five minutes, and it’s really more trouble than it’s worth, finding a new boss and all.”
“That your reason then?”
“Well,” the other man said, grinning, “let’s say it’s one of ‘em.”
“Alright then,” Urek said, glancing around at each of them. “You’re all a bunch of fools, you know that? Well, come on. Let’s go see if we can’t save ourselves a kingdom. Osirn, Shadow, Beautiful, and Shits, you’re with me. The rest of you lot, go on out there and spread the word. By tomorrow mornin’, I want folks thinkin’ Envelar can sprout wings and shit gold, you understand?”
“Yes sir, boss,” one of the men said, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Sprout gold and shit wings.”
Urek grunted. “Close enough. Now go on, you bastards.” They did, walking out the door with pleased expressions on their faces, and he shook his head in aggravation mixed with disbelief as he turned back to the others. “Well. Anybody got a plan doesn’t end with us seein’ what our insides look like?”
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Can you explain to me, again, why we’re doing this? And alone no less?
Seline didn’t bother answering the Virtue, just as she hadn’t the last dozen times he’d asked the question. She couldn’t deny that the incredible speed which her bond with the Virtue gave her was useful, but, most days, it seemed like a bad trade when she considered how much the Virtue—Davin, as he liked to be called—second-guessed every decision she made, worrying more than an old maid.
Instead of answering, though, she only shot a quick glance over her shoulder, trusting the shadows of the alleyway to hide the movement from the two men following her. Grinner’s men, she was certain, just as she was sure that the others—one, perhaps two—who were no doubt approaching the alley from the opposite side, were also loyalists of the dead crime boss.
I’m not arguing with the necessity of it, you understand, Davin went on in her mind, only with your methods. After all, General Envelar and the others have teams hunting down Grinner’s men every day. You could just join with one of those groups, instead of insisting on setting out alone each night. There’s just no reason to take the risk.
And she couldn’t argue with that, even if she’d been of a mind to, which she wasn’t. The Virtue was right, of course—Seline could have e
asily taken up Leomin’s offer to accompany him and the others on their hunt for Grinner’s men, spending her days helping to track them down. But when he’d asked, she’d found herself coming up with excuses—empty ones, even she had to admit that—and the Parnen had noticed it as well, the hurt clear in his eyes. She’d told him she needed time to work through her feelings about her father, about her life, and he had nodded and agreed, saying all the right things and, in so doing, increasing the guilt she felt. Yet she had persisted.
She was still confused about her father, still trying to reconcile the fact that the monster she’d chased all her life wasn’t a monster at all, but a man. But the real reason she’d declined the offer, the real reason she spent her nights moving from one tavern to the other, hunting Grinner’s men down on her own, was far more complicated, and she wasn’t even sure she fully understood it.
She had spent so much of her life alone, had built up so many walls around herself to protect her from the world and everyone in it. Now, it was difficult for her to let anyone too close. And so she made excuses, she hesitated and, yes, she lied.
You could just tell him the truth, the Virtue said, able to hear her thoughts as easily as if she’d spoken them aloud. Leomin cares for you, and you care for him. You don’t have to lie to him.
The men were close now; she could hear their footsteps behind her and thought that she could also detect the faint sound of those ahead, from the alley’s mouth. In a minute, maybe less, the men would appear there, springing their trap, only to discover that where one trap might be laid so, too, might another. Maybe, she thought back, but he wouldn’t understand.
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