Ascension (Blight Book 1)

by Terry Schott

  "Sounds good," Oak said. "How much will he owe back and when?"

  Leo looked at Albert. "He will need to pay back twenty coppers by day after tomorrow."

  "What?" Albert sputtered. "Twenty for fifteen is more than fair, but why do you need it back so soon?"

  "Life is happier when you pay your debts off quickly, Albert. You've told me that whatever you’re planning will occur tomorrow afternoon or night."

  Albert looked as if he wanted to deny the fact, but knew he couldn't. "Yeah."

  "I'm asking for you to repay the loan quickly for your benefit. No one tells you this, but the truth of the matter is that the longer you have someone's money, the more you owe when you pay it back. You must have done this before. Others would charge you how much?"

  "I have. Last time I borrowed fifteen copper the payback was twenty-three."

  "Look how much money I'm saving you."

  "If I can pay it back. There's a chance things won't work out and I will have zero money."

  Leo reached over and slapped Albert's foot. "Don't talk like that. I'm sure you will succeed." He looked at Oak. "Give Albert the coin and let me know when he pays us back."

  "What if I can't get the money as quick as you want it?"

  Leo shrugged. "Do the best you can, Albert. If you have any problems, speak to Oak."

  Albert stood and Oak walked away with him.

  "Leo's nice," Oak growled. "I'm not. Pay that money back on time or I'll break something you need. You understand me?"

  Albert nodded.

  15

  Leo placed his tribute on the table.

  Lord Argon's eyes flicked toward the small stack of coins. He shook his head. "I am beginning to think that accepting your tribute is not worth my while."

  Leo bowed his head and said nothing.

  "Weeks have passed since the Keeper died. I expected retribution by now."

  He looked up. The lord was looking at him expectantly. "Do you want me to respond to that?"

  Argon chuckled and waved his hand toward the stack of tribute coins on the table. "In a few short months, you have gone from obscurity to offering two"—he leaned forward and squinted—"or is it three silver, as tribute each week."

  "It is three."

  Argon laughed. "You guessed at the Keeper's plan the same as I did, quicker than me. Your mind is sharp, boy. I would be a fool not to use an asset when it enters my hall each week."

  Leo remained silent.

  "Speak, lion. Tell me what you think is happening with the Keepers and why they do not attack as we predicted."

  "They do not attack quickly because they are fat with power, my lord. They have been at the top of the food chain so long that they've forgotten how they ascended to it in the first place."

  Argon poured wine into an extra goblet and placed it on the table. He motioned for Leo to sit and drink, which the boy did. Argon sat down at the table across from him and nodded before taking a drink himself. "Did I not say this boy is sharp, Lissandra?"

  A voice spoke from the darkness behind the throne. "You did, my lord."

  Leo turned and his eyes widened. A beautiful woman materialized from the shadows. The darkness seemed to pull and swirl like velvet fog around the edges of her black robes and bare feet. Her hair was deep black and long, enveloping her face like the night itself. Her eyes were large and almond-shaped, crystal blue and bright.

  Leo couldn't help but stare at her. If I live a thousand years, I will never see a woman more beautiful.

  She walked gracefully toward the table, her movements those of a courtesan dancer performing for an emperor. She sat beside Lord Argon and placed one hand on his head, stroking it like one would a pet dog. Argon did not appear upset by the attention. He seemed to savour it.

  "You are right, Leo." Her voice had a musical quality to it. "We are certain that the Keepers will blame an alley lord for the murder. Yet they act like a dog who continually chases cats and then, when they finally catch one, are uncertain what to do with it."

  "I agree." Leo said. "My guess is that there are different leaders within the Council of Law who wish to place the blame on different lords. It will take time for them to fight and decide who is ultimately the person to take the fall."

  Argon nodded. "I think you are likely right."

  "I asked this before," Leo asked, "but are you certain that you aren't one of the cats being considered?"

  Lissandra laughed and reached out to touch Leo’s arm.

  Her laughter is as beautiful as her body. His arm tingled where her bright red polished nails trailed.

  "This one is delicious, Argon. You must have him here more often when I visit."

  "He is too busy carving out a portion of the world for himself to spend time with you, Lissandra."

  She grabbed Argon by the back of the head and pulled him close enough to kiss him on the cheek. "Like you when you were an ambitious young fighter in the Pits?"

  "Perhaps." Argon's face conveyed amusement as he looked at Leo. "Let the boy do his thing. There will be plenty of time to spend with him should he survive the next few years and trials."

  She nuzzled her head into Argon's neck, apparently satisfied with his answer.

  "To answer your question, Leo," he said, "I am not one of those cats. I have worked very hard to gain enough attention without garnering so much as to be dangerous to the Council of Law." His eyes moved to the tribute pile. "You would do well to learn the same lesson."

  Leo smiled and tipped his head. "Life teaches us, Lord, and I am a willing student."

  Both Lissandra and Argon's heads snapped up in unison to look at him. "Where did you hear that phrase?" her voice no longer sounded friendly.

  "Nowhere specific, but the thought has occurred to me from time to time."

  "Don't lie to me about this." Argon’s tone was harsh.

  "I'm not."

  Despite being confused by their reaction to the phrase, Leo met the other man's gaze confidently until Argon nodded and his smile returned.

  "My only involvement," Argon assured the young man, "will be to move in and gain control of whatever territory is destroyed. This has been promised."

  Lissandra nodded.

  "Then it appears we are all safe," Leo said.

  "One must be cautious of appearances, Leo." Lissandra smiled. "Remember this warning as well."

  Argon picked up the tribute coins and handed them to Lissandra. "On your next visit, bring your captains."

  "Lord?"

  "Mouse, Stick, and Oak. Bring them."

  Leo bowed. "As you command."

  16

  Riley was bored.

  Weeks of walking the beat had proven tedious and uneventful. By his standards, his last territory was better, more dangerous. He was young and in the best shape of his life, better-suited to rooting out evil in the kingdom and bringing criminals to justice. This community was filled with peaceful tradespeople with storefronts. Educated, skilled people with stable plans for their lives. Riley found himself wondering many times over the past few weeks if he had done something wrong to be sent here. As time went on, he was convinced that he had done something to displease the leadership of the Council.

  He entered the coffeehouse and walked toward what had become his regular booth in one corner of the establishment. Coffeehouses were reserved for businesspeople who wanted to meet and the size of them reflected the professional population in the community. This one was very large and always full. As Keeper, Riley was welcomed everywhere but he did his best to remain inconspicuous by setting up in a corner booth out of the way from the rest. As he got closer he noticed that his booth was occupied by a familiar face.

  "Riley!" A man dressed in the command uniform of the Keepers stood and drew Riley into a warm embrace.

  Commander Bertrand Russell was among the highest-ranked leaders in the Keepers of Law. As a young man, he had worked his way up the ranks as a very successful Keeper, moving from one distressed territory to the next, a
lways leaving them in better shape than when he had arrived. After years in the field, he had been promoted to the Council itself, a rare honour for a common born foot soldier. During one of his tours in a poor territory, he had saved a young boy from travelling down a path of crime and misery, eventually offering to personally sponsor the young man so that he could become a Keeper himself. That young man had been Riley, and the two were like father and son.

  "Hello, my boy." Bertrand's smile was so large that his eyes almost disappeared. "It's good to see you. Tell me things are well in your new territory."

  "They are."

  "You're bored."

  "Absolutely."

  Bertrand laughed. "Good. After the last two tours you did, a little boredom is just the thing to recharge your soul."

  "If that was why I was sent here, then I'm recharged and ready to return to somewhere more important."

  "Ah, my boy." The older man patted Riley on the arm, then looked around for a server. He caught the eye of one pretty brunette girl and held up two fingers, mouthing 'coffee'. She smiled and nodded. Bertrand looked back at his protégé. "You have enough experience to know that appearances can sometimes be deceiving. The most pleasant house in the neighbourhood can hold more danger than the rest of them combined."

  "That is true."

  "History has been made in this part of the city, in this portion of the kingdom."

  "You sent me here?"

  "I did."

  "I wish you had told me that sooner."

  "I needed you alert and wary of everything, even other Keepers, should they appear. Have any of our brethren turned up?"

  "No."

  "Interesting."

  "There are no leads on Hector's killers."

  Bertrand started to speak, but the server arrived with coffee. "Thank you, my dear." He looked back at Riley. "This failure has come at an unfortunate time for the Council of Law. There are many who oppose us. They will use this incident to gain support against us."

  "I don't know much about politics."

  "I'm teaching you."

  Riley knew his mentor well enough to know that the tone of his voice was strained. "This will affect you negatively?"

  "It will affect us, my boy."

  "Then I will search harder. I will find the murderers and bring them to Keeper justice."

  Bertrand smiled and chuckled. "No, you misunderstand me. You aren't here to bring who did it to justice. You are here to make sure they are never found. We have determined who the guilty party is."

  "You have?"

  "Yes." Bertrand paused and took a sip of his drink. "Well, almost. The Keeper bureaucracy is painfully slow and filled with meetings upon meetings. Still, we are almost at consensus and the guilty alley lord will be selected from top candidates within the week."

  "What do you mean‘selected’?"

  "Think about it for a moment."

  Riley drank and considered what he had heard. His eyes widened and Bertrand smiled. "You're going to assign the blame for this to a troublesome alley lord, use it as an excuse to remove them from their position."

  "And install a lord of our choosing in his or her place. That's correct."

  "Who is likely to take the fall?"

  "You know him well. An alley lord named Triax."

  "From my last territory. That's unfortunate. He is such a pleasant monster."

  "I thought you would enjoy that."

  Riley shook his head. "The world is a devious place. I much prefer the simplicity of protecting a territory."

  "You are young. As you gain experience you will realize that it is better to protect many territories at the same time. That cannot be accomplished by walking the path as you do now. Your mind is sharp. I see a Council seat in your future." He saw Riley’s expression and laughed. "Don't worry. You will have many years to break heads and chase cutpurses before serving on the Council is an option."

  "Good."

  "Yes, good." Bertrand reached for the pastry in front of him and took a bite. "Now tell me about your progress so far. How developed is your street organization?"

  "It is difficult to build a group of loyal informants when there is so little crime on the streets."

  Bertrand laughed. "Up until now, you have done things the easy way. This is another reason that I wanted you sent to this territory. You have met the vendors and tradesmen?"

  "Yes."

  "They will be your network."

  "Most are too busy working to be useful."

  "They are useful in a different way. Don't forget, people are meddlesome and interfering by their root nature. The vendors have more information than a cutpurse. Also know that these people require softer methods. You must learn how to extract the information that they hold in a more subtle manner than you are used to."

  "I must be more like a politician."

  "Like a member of the Council, yes."

  Riley frowned. "Their children as well."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Their children are bored and gossipy. I can learn much from them."

  Bertrand smiled. "See? After only a few weeks you are beginning to adjust to your new situation perfectly."

  17

  Mouse had warned him that an attack would be coming.

  Leo expected it. His fortune was growing as he built his business. In the few months since his chance meeting with the baker he had extended—and collected on—loans to a significant number of people, both inside the alley and out. His rates were lower than competitors, which was causing a stir. Leo knew that he was the smallest fish in the pond and it was no surprise when his friend warned that the bigger fish would soon try to eat him.

  His captains made certain that he was never alone, with one exception: his visits to the baker.

  Oak had asked why he still disappeared one night each week and Leo admitted that it was a valid question. He did not need the silver piece any longer. His wealth had grown well beyond that, but he felt a sense of obligation to the baker. Leo knew the truth of the arrangement; the baker's motive was selfish. He helped stray boys to feel better about himself. Regardless of the baker's true motive for helping, he had made an enormous impact on Leo's life and the boy was determined to keep visiting. At least for a few more weeks.

  He had a good visit with the baker and left early the next morning to see Finley at the tannery, leaning his quarterstaff against the outer wall before entering the building. When he exited, it was gone.

  No one appeared to pay attention to him as he walked through the trade district. When he stepped across the invisible border into the first layer of slums, three men appeared and began to follow him.

  Leo turned a corner and slowed his pace, glancing at the windows and roof to see if anyone was visible. Then he turned and waited for the men to arrive.

  "Just the three of you?" Leo asked as the first one turned the corner.

  "Three is more than enough for you." The man pulled his cloak back and removed a heavy wooden club from his belt. The other two men appeared and pulled knives from sheaths.

  Leo watched his attackers calmly as they spread out and came closer. "I see knives. Is this more than just a warning, then?"

  "That depends on you." The lead man grinned to reveal brown teeth. "If you lie there and take it, we will just cut off a couple fingers. One if you're real good. The order was to leave you as a live example. But if you struggle, the knife might slip and . . ." He drew his finger across his neck.

  Leo knelt on the ground and put his hands behind his back.

  "Pathetic." The lead man spat on the ground. "Let's do our business then, boys."

  Mouse, if you're up on the rooftop, now would be the time to help me.

  One of the men kicked him in the ribs. He grunted and fell onto his side while the other kicked him hard in the leg.

  "Stop," the lead man said. "Set him up and let's do his fingers first. Then we can beat his face a bit for good measure."

  One man leaned down to pick him up. Le
o kicked upward, connecting with the man's groin. There was a surprised grunt and gasp for air, then the man toppled to the ground.

  "What the—"

  Leo stood and reached behind his back, pulling out a three-foot length of linked chain. He let it dangle to the ground, holding one end in his hand and looking down to make sure the black rectangular weight on the other end swung freely. "I recognize all three of you," he said. "This is business, and I don't blame you for doing your jobs. Leave now and I will let the matter drop."

  "That's not gonna happen, boy. Now we gotta kill you."

  "Okay." Leo shrugged and swung the chain in an arc, guiding the weight so it came down on the prone man's head, crushing his skull like a ripe melon.

  The other two men attacked, but Leo was fast. He spun around and swept the feet from one, sending him to the ground, then he flipped the chain out, making it twist around the throat of the lead man. Leo jerked and the leader's eyes bulged. There was a pop as his neck snapped.

  Leo dropped the chain and moved to stand over the remaining survivor. The man raised his hands. "Please don't hurt me. I was just doing my job."

  "You had your chance to leave." Leo held out his hand. "Give me your knife."

  "What?"

  "I've gotta cut a couple of your fingers off." Leo's voice was cold and flat. "If you struggle the knife might slip and . . ." He drew his finger across his throat and grinned.

  The man began to cry as he handed Leo his knife.

  A moment later, the first finger came off.

  "By the gods." Stick's face paled as he watched Leo below. Raw screams filled the air.

  "I told you he didn't need our help," Mouse said.

  Stick looked at Mouse. "You were right. There's more to Leo than we know. What do we do about it?"

  "Do? Be glad we are on the same side, that's what we do. And make sure we keep him alive." Mouse watched the scene below and grinned. "I have a feeling our young lion will do great things, and those at his side will rise with him."

  18

  During his morning patrol, Riley sensed someone was following him.

  The streets were not busy—they never were in this territory—so once he sensed the eyes it was not difficult to locate them. He doubled back in an arc, coming up behind his stalker, who pretended to be interested in fruit at a vendor's stall.