by Tom Lloyd
At last they saw the boat, a sleek-lined craft with a pair of oars heaving away at each side and a straining sail above. The gunner fired long, over their heads and only serving to disrupt their rhythm, but by that point the Cards had decided it was time to get involved.
Given free rein, the report of icers began to crack out across the water. Lynx measured his shots as best he could, but it was a tough task to shoot a shifting target while standing atop another. Teshen had the best luck, his second shot punching high into the side of the boat. Again the mage tried to envelop them in a concealing mist, but the wind mage redoubled her efforts. The captain didn’t turn the ship for a broadside from the remaining Cards yet, still cutting the distance between the vessels, while several more shots from Tempest’s forward guns punctured the boat ahead.
As Lynx aimed another shot he felt a curl of wind on his cheek, warmer now with the taste of salt returning to the breeze. With a jolt he realised the cold emanating across the water had gone – either one of them had hit the mage or they’d just broken off, exhausted by their efforts.
‘Eyes open on the flanks!’ he yelled. ‘Mist’s clearing!’
Before anyone could ask why, there was a roar of effort from the wind mage and the air lashed down at the mist beyond them. In seconds it started to clear from all around, ribboned by the breeze and more boats appeared on their flanks. Lynx wasn’t sure who was more surprised, pirates or prey, but it was the Cards who reacted.
The men and women of Snow fired first, so close together it sounded like one great detonation. Lynx glanced back and saw a boat only fifty yards away, just a crew of four all at their oars. One or two died in the volley, he guessed, and the rest would soon be gone as icers punched holes in the side of their boat. For good measure someone put an earther into them too – it caught the boat high in the prow, but with enough force to snap the beam and soon they were going down.
Moments later there were gunshots ringing out in all directions, the sailors running to Anatin’s side of the deck to add their guns to the ragged volley at the other boats now visible, but all three were running and too far to pose much threat anyway. One or two shots came back the other way, but the white streaks troubled no one.
Further behind them there was still a bank of mist, though the fixed guns and Toil’s troops were firing at something within it. More shots came out of the mist, but had little effect and before long the cloud of mist was left behind. Only a trio of what Lynx guessed were bomb-barrels remained in the ship’s wake, falling further behind but still a good distance from the mist.
‘Two mages?’ Lynx wondered aloud.
‘Aye,’ the gunner agreed between puffs of breath as he cranked the grenade thrower back.
‘Explains how they wrapped us up so neatly.’
Under the mage’s efforts the ship surged forward and Lynx watched the wreckage of one boat drift past with no survivors visible.
‘Enjoy the swim,’ the gunner growled, spitting a gobbet of phlegm over the side of the boat. ‘Good riddance to pirate scum.’
‘S’pose so,’ Teshen said enigmatically, looking out to sea a while longer before he stood. ‘Right, fun’s over, Cards. Clear your breaches, stow your cartridges, toss any spent ones.’
The Tempest mercenaries did as ordered, checking their ammunition was secure and raising their guns to see daylight down the barrels.
‘Looks like the watch is yours again, Lynx,’ Teshen continued once he was satisfied. He collected Lynx’s gun and started back down to the main deck. ‘Don’t know about the rest of you, but all that killing’s just fired me up. How about grappling practice?’
There was a collective groan.
‘Hey, it’s either that or one o’ you lovely ladies takes me somewhere private to have your way with me.’
When there were no volunteers Teshen laughed. ‘Right, grappling it is. Main deck in five, let’s show the rest how it’s done.’
Below decks, once the weapons had been safely accounted for and locked away, the cabins emptied rapidly. Few of the mercenaries spent any more time down there than they had to, the fug of unwashed bodies in the cramped, poorly lit rooms ensuring most kept to the decks. Deern had the narrow passages of the cargo hold to himself, so he thought, as he made his way from the briefly unattended galley with a sliver of salted bacon in his hand. Just as he passed the stacked water casks, though, a low whistle brought him up short.
Her face and newly stitched badge almost the only things visible in the gloom of the hold, Toil sat on a makeshift throne of boxes, a thin bottle in her hand.
‘Want a drink?’ she said.
‘Celebrating?’ Deern asked cautiously. The two weren’t friends – he barely knew Toil – but he could sense she was a dangerous one. They had that much in common at least.
‘Bored,’ Toil replied. ‘Don’t know about you, but that fight was a bit too much foreplay for my liking. Didn’t come good on its promise.’
‘You wanted to go hand to hand on the deck?’
She shrugged. ‘Like to get up close and personal myself, not take potshots from a distance then break off like a tease.’ She took a swig from the bottle and offered it again. ‘Reckon we’re more of one mind there, eh?’
Deern raised an eyebrow. ‘Give over, woman,’ he scoffed, ignoring the bottle. ‘Go play with your Hanese toy if you’ve got all worked up. I ain’t playing your games.’
‘Bah, Lynx doesn’t see it quite the same way. Anyway, I just offered you a drink, nothing more.’
‘Go tell your eyes that, ’cos they’re making you look a fucking liar. And I doubt your jacket was unbuttoned so far earlier.’
‘It’s warmer down here than on deck. Still, more for me.’
Deern felt his mouth go dry as Toil deliberately raised the bottle above her head. She poured another shot of the clear spirit down into her mouth, a small amount trickling down her chin. She ran one finger down her neck to catch the errant trail then purposefully licked it clean. Deern found himself suddenly thirsty and very aware of the sweet scent of rum in the air.
‘Okay, gimme some.’
She cocked her head at him for a moment then laughed and offered it over. ‘Help yourself to a box,’ Toil added, nodded at the pile beside her.
Deern eased himself down, fingers tight around the bottle in case this was some sort of ruse. He and Lynx weren’t the best of friends, less so than the Hanese imagined even, and a lifetime of being a skinny, shorter-than-average mercenary meant he was always on his guard.
He couldn’t help but sniff the rum gingerly before drinking, prompting another laugh from Toil, but then took a big swallow. As the fiery liquid slipped down his throat Deern sighed and half-closed his eyes, free hand resting by his knife just in case, but nothing happened and he relaxed a touch more.
Mebbe she does just want a quick screw. Doesn’t sound like Lynx is giving her the goods, for some reason.
Deern looked Toil up and down. Her beauty didn’t have the same effect on him as it did others in the company, but she was a muscular woman who walked with her head high – arrogance to some, but Deern couldn’t stand meekness. Her reputation for danger only added to her allure. Word had it she’d been masquerading as a courtesan in Grasiel, but he couldn’t square that image with the perfumed flowers Llaith was forever chasing. Toil was a blood-red rose perhaps, but her thorns were always on show.
I always liked a bit o’ power under my hands, though it Deern thought as he considered her unbuttoned jacket and the glimpse of cleavage it revealed. Just look at Reft, after all.
‘So what about you and Reft then?’ Toil asked.
‘What about us?’
She shrugged the question off and took another swig of rum. ‘Nothing, not my business.’
‘Reft an’ I understand each other,’ Deern said simply. ‘Anything more is between us, and if you think I’m so dumb I’d mess with that understanding … well, then you ain’t seen my boy angry.’
She gave a small lau
gh and nod. ‘True enough. You’re a man not afraid to take a chance, but that’d be pushing things.’
‘Damn right. Mercs don’t last long playin’ the honourable fool. Might want to remind your boy Lynx that.’ Deern almost reached out towards the bottle, resting suggestively between Toil’s legs, before his own words brought him up short.
Nah – too fucking easy.
He eased his way up, letting his gaze drift from the bottle up to Toil’s cleavage, then whipped his knives from his belt-sheaths.
‘While you’re at it, remind yourself I’m no damn fool,’ Deern growled, glancing around in case anyone was creeping up on him. ‘Sucker the rest o’ this lot with that whole bottle-between-yer-legs routine, I ain’t fuckin’ buyin’.’
Toil tensed, hand moving to her own knife but not drawing yet. ‘What are you on about?’
‘You heard me.’ He couldn’t hear or see anyone, but every instinct screamed at Deern that he’d walked into something. Only indecision between fleeing and stabbing Toil kept him still. ‘What is this? What do you want?’
‘Oh sit down, you’re just embarrassing yourself.’
‘Reckon you’re the one who’s just been made ta look dumb. If you want a slice off that pretty face o’ yours, keep at it.’
Quick as a flash Toil tossed the bottle forward, using the movement to buy enough time to get herself up and clear as she drew her knife. Deern batted the bottle away and moved left, not wanting to present a stationary target.
‘There’s the girl’s true colours, behind the tits and smiles.’
‘Funny, I was going to say the same about you,’ Toil spat.
‘Fuck you on about?’
‘You and your little secret.’
‘Eh?’
She edged back, comfortably out of knife range but with her blade still raised, and Deern relaxed a touch. Maybe she had something to say, maybe she was just fishing, but he was admitting to nothing, that was for damn sure.
‘Best thing my dad ever taught me? To plan – to think long and hard, look at a problem from every direction. Mercs like you think I flounce around relying on tits and smiles and that’s damn useful, but I’m a woman who likes a good plan.’
‘Fuck’s that got to do with me?’
‘’Cos you messed with my plan.’ Toil straightened and lowered her knife. ‘You didn’t mean to, so you ain’t dead already, but you fucked me over and that doesn’t bring out my good side.’ She held up a hand. ‘Don’t speak, don’t say a thing. You deny it and I might run out of patience, so just listen.’
Deern felt a cold sensation down his spine.
Did Braqe talk? Shitting gods, why? She’s in it up to her neck just like me and we got away with it. Okay so Ashis an’ Olut died ’cos of us, but she weren’t great friends with either and there’s no guarantee things would’ve gone better anyway.
Toil nodded. ‘The look on your face tells me you know what I’m on about. You were the only one who didn’t come back when the company was cut loose in Grasiel, and after that, the Charnelers were on our backs all the way. Anatin didn’t tell his sergeants the plan so he wouldn’t have told you either, but like I said, I like to think long and hard about anything I do. It’s how I stay alive. There’s no way the Charnelers would’ve been so tight on us from the start unless someone meddled, no chance a gods-burned Exalted of the Torquen regiment just happened to be in the area. Elite troops like the Torquen don’t exactly get lumbered with routine night patrols.’
‘Starting ta sound paranoid here, Toil,’ Deern broke in. ‘You’re chasing ghosts round and round in your head.’
She gave him a nasty grin as he spoke and his heart sank. ‘Nope, sorry. Your Charneler friend sold you out, right at the end. I don’t think the others noticed, but she said she didn’t care about the Hanese and the girl by then, she only wanted me.’ She pointed her knife at him, emphasising her point. ‘She didn’t know about me when she started out after us,’ Toil hissed. ‘She was after Lynx and Sitain! Someone sold ’em out to the Charnelers before the operation went down – and that someone was you.’
‘You call that proof?’ Deern asked.
She shook her head. ‘Nope, but I’m not going for a trial here so I don’t need written proof. I know, understand me? I know you sold us out. By mistake, maybe, but all the same you almost killed us. And before you get any silly ideas, I don’t work alone – I’ve told one or two folks who can be trusted not to overreact, in case of accidents at sea.’
‘Not to overreact?’ Shit, not Lynx then.
‘I’m not here to kill you,’ Toil said firmly. ‘You’d not have seen me coming if that was the case.’
‘Big words, especially with Reft on board.’
‘Like I said, I’m a planner – all it takes is a little thought and preparation. But Reft’s a consideration, yes, and so are you. You’re a rat who sold out his new comrades. I just hope you got a good price for them, ’cos I now own you.’
‘Eh?’
‘You’re a survivor, you said it yourself, and a man like that is useful. There’s little room for honour in this game, and sometimes I need nasty and devious.’
‘What do you want from me?’
She shook her head. ‘Nothing yet. Nothing but you keeping your nose clean from now on. Anyone with their own agenda messes with my plans and I can’t have that. You do so, or anything unfortunate happens to me, the best you can hope for is explaining to Anatin why he’s missing one friend and one hand.’
Deern allowed himself a moment to curse the memory of Exalted Uvrel, a woman not so different to Toil herself. Braqe had her own share of the gold they’d been paid, so she wasn’t likely to confess any time soon and it didn’t look like Toil knew about his co-conspirator so Deern was keeping that card close to his chest. The Knights-Charnel would be hunting a fictitious mercenary company, and the Exalted – along with any of her command who’d seen his face – was dead in the darkness of Shadows Deep. That should have been the end of it. Except clearly it wasn’t.
‘So what now? You say you’ll gut me if I deny it, you say you don’t want me to do anything about it. What the fuck do you want?’
‘To make it clear who’s in charge here.’
‘Oh that’s obvious enough, Princess,’ he sneered. ‘Anatin’s the only Prince we ever had. Your card tells its own story to those of us who know him.’
‘Glad to hear it. You just keep that in mind.’ She nodded down at the bottle on the floor and made to walk away. ‘You keep the rum. Call it your signing-on bonus. You work for me now, Deern, and don’t you forget it.’
Interlude 2
(Now)
Toil prowled the room. The others watched her in silence, as they would a snarling mountain lion. It was a strange setting for such anger – a starkly elegant room with murals on the wall and an ornate square table in the centre, polished to a mirror shine. Her hair had fallen loose in the struggle, a bruise was forming on her cheek, but her silk dress remained pristine despite the fact it had taken three people to wrestle the knife from her hand.
They had been thrown in here without ceremony. The Envoy spitting blood in his fury, the Monarch’s bodyguards just as enraged, while the Charneler delegation roared and huffed in the background. Yet it was Toil’s manner that worried Lynx the most. The Envoy was a puffed-up fool and the Charnelers looked predictably delighted behind their outrage, but this was a new side to Toil.
Under fire or running from monsters through the pitch black, he’d never seen her lose control like that. Never seen her so distracted and overwrought, never so vulnerable and human. And the rage burned hard inside her still, a roiling mass of white-hot anger that drove her to movement even as she cursed herself and the Charneler she’d tried to kill under her breath. A woman with a mission, that was Toil, and now she’d jeopardised everything.
What the Envoy was doing right now, Lynx could only imagine. Throwing Toil to the wolves most likely. There were guards outside their door, he knew that much.
It hadn’t needed to be said that they were more than happy to shoot someone, but they’d said it anyway.
Lynx felt a nudge on his elbow and turned. Payl raised her eyebrows and nodded at Toil. Once he realised what she wanted, he shook his head and looked at Aben, given the man was the one who’d known Toil longer than the rest. The big man shook his head vehemently, black curls flying and easy smile absent.
Ah shit, no time like the present. Lynx cleared his throat. Not like she’s calming down any time soon.
‘Um, Toil?’
‘What?’ she snapped.
‘Who, ah, who was that?’
‘None of your damn business!’
Gods-in-shards, how did anyone get under her skin like that? ‘Kinda feels like it is,’ he ventured. ‘We’re in here together.’
‘And you fidgeting children aren’t helping me think about what to do next.’
‘Ain’t that in the hands of Envoy Ammen?’
‘Fuck the shitting Envoy,’ Toil roared. ‘He doesn’t matter, he knows nothing. You think a man like that’d be trusted with my mission?’
‘What, then?’ Lynx glanced back at the others. Payl and Teshen seemed mystified, but Aben didn’t appear at all surprised.
‘The Envoy’s just the figurehead to get us in the door. Other than that, the only useful role he plays here is being miles away from Su Dregir.’
Lynx paused. ‘Is this the whole pederast thing?’
‘City senators don’t get publicly tried for raping little boys,’ Toil growled. ‘That’s not in the interests of the city, to have the office tainted by the actions of a man. Men like Ammen are discreet enough not to cause a scandal that would force the Archelect to have them arrested.’
‘So he gets you instead?’
She gave him a savage smile. ‘Men like Ammen are also so gods-damned stupid that they think their position protects them entirely from the Archelect’s laws. They avoid the lash, sure, but they get me instead. I needed a name and title to put me near the Monarch just when she’ll need someone of my skills so that won him a stay of execution. But once the main mission is done his usefulness will be at an end and accidents happen on long journeys.’
