The Ruling Mask

by Neil McGarry

  ...and then her dagger was flying out of her hand towards the Brute. Her aim was not as good this time, but Kakios was forced to dodge aside as her blade flashed by his face. Aaron wasted no time in scrambling away, his weapon forgotten, and then Kakios turned to face the true threat.

  Each of the Brutes was larger than Castor, and faster than Duchess would have believed for men of their size. Malleus swung low, as if to disembowel his foe, while Kakios brought his blade straight down like a man chopping wood. Castor spun away from the first blow and lifted his blade to check the other. He kicked out, taking Kakios in the belly and sending him staggering back, then whirled to face the other Brute.

  Malleus was no Deeps thug, and he stalked to one side, trying to make Castor put his back to Kakios. Castor slashed out at Malleus’ face, driving him back and then slipping aside to keep both men in front of him. The Brutes closed in, one to each side, and Castor pivoted, whirling his blade about in a wide circle so that the Brutes were forced to retreat, and then he was out from between them once more. Duchess realized that any advantage she had ever managed to gain in their sparring sessions had been mere illusion; if Castor had been fighting in earnest she would have died a dozen deaths. Then he had been playacting; now he was deadly serious.

  Undaunted by Castor’s swordplay, Malleus and Kakios recovered and drew in, once again trying to keep Castor between them. Formal training they might lack, but the Brutes knew how to fight as a pair. Castor spun away, and again they bracketed him, silent and relentless. Her last knife was gone, and she’d have to get too close to the action to reach Lidda’s sword. She looked around for something to fight with and saw that Aaron had joined her, unarmed and goggling at Castor’s display of martial prowess.

  “Duchess, they’ll kill him,” he whispered. She could see the panic in his eyes and smell fear on his breath. “We have to go!”

  She shook her head. If the Brutes killed Castor they’d turn on her, but she couldn’t abandon him. “Go if you want, but I’m staying.” This was Castor’s fight; she had to trust to his skill. It seemed for a moment that Aaron might flee, but then he took a deep breath as if to steady himself, and settled in by her side.

  Malleus and Kakios were closing in once more when Castor suddenly exploded into motion. He rushed towards Kakios, who thrust out a sword to impale him. Castor swept the weapon aside with his own, running his blade along it with a scream of metal, and suddenly the sword was flying out of Kakios’ hand. Along with two of his fingers.

  The man gasped, grabbing at his wounded hand, but made no other sound. Then Castor leapt to one side as Malleus charged in from behind, spinning and drawing his blade across the back of the larger man’s right thigh. Blood flew, and Malleus grunted and collapsed, his right leg folding bonelessly under him.

  Castor backed away from the bleeding pair and gave Duchess a glance that she read well enough. “No killing,” she said. Impatience flashed across his face. He paused, then stepped back, putting up his blade, and Duchess let out a breath. She turned to address the Brutes. “You said you were heading south? Go, and if I ever see you inside the city again, I will kill you myself.” The two looked at her with unfulfilled malice, and Duchess shuddered to think what would have happened if Castor had not prevailed. “Go!”

  Kakios cradled his wounded hand as he stepped back. He shouldered his pack, then helped Malleus to his feet. The man’s right leg would still not support him, so he leaned on his comrade and they shuffled across the road, heading away from the city.

  Duchess watched until they disappeared from view, then struggled to compose herself. “Aaron, go calm the horses, if you please,” she said, rubbing her eyes with trembling hands. Their screaming was likely to drive her mad. Aaron nodded and went to do as she bid, seeming happy to have something to do.

  Castor moved up beside her. “That was a mistake, letting them go,” he said in a voice only she could hear. “You never wound a snake; you kill it.”

  She ran trembling hands through her hair. “I think those snakes have been de-fanged, and despite the rumors, I am not a murderer,” she replied. “Not yet, anyway. Besides, there’s been enough killing today.” She walked to where Lidda and Toby lay upon the road, and felt a wave of nausea and dizziness so intense she thought she might faint. No one was supposed to die here. No one had needed to die.

  Castor followed close behind. “They were our comrades, even if only for a day or two,” he said softly. “We can’t leave them to the crows.” Duchess did not disagree. Lidda and Toby had been killed by men who had been supposed allies, but they’d died in battle all the same.

  She looked to the woods. “Go fetch our two new friends, the ones with the crossbows. Since we’re being so generous with lives today, the least they can do is dig the graves.” Her hands closed into fists. “Julius did this. He didn’t wield the blade, but he sent those two”—she gestured in the direction the Brutes had gone—“to do his dirty work for him. He tried to kill me.”

  “Or not,” Castor cautioned, shockingly calm after all that had happened. She wondered how anyone could get used to something like this. “Those two don’t seem the kind to need orders to kill someone. They may have acted on their own.”

  Duchess hesitated. Castor wasn’t wrong about the Brutes; most likely they had hired the Red Smiles to do the shooting and had planned to finish off the survivors. Knowing them, they’d have murdered the crossbowmen and Aaron and taken the whole of the loot for themselves. They didn’t seem the kind to leave witnesses, and Julius wasn’t the kind to work with Deeps gangs.

  Regardless of who actually planned the killing, Julius might still have known. Perhaps he’d simply asked that Duchess not return from her mission and the Brutes had taken advantage of the situation? Or was she being paranoid? After all, if the job went badly—as it most certainly had—Julius would have to contend with the wrath of Pete the Pearl. He didn’t seem the type to take that kind of risk, but...

  By the time she’d thought all this through, Aaron had returned, having calmed the horses.“We should get out of here,” he said quietly. “This road is patrolled, and if the blackarms come along—”

  “—they’ll ask questions we can’t answer. Go help Castor with the two in the woods. You’re right, the faster we’re gone, the better.” The men moved to obey, moving toward the tree line. “And be sure to fetch the crossbows, while you’re there.”

  When they were gone, she leaned against the nearest wagon, mere inches from where Lidda lay. All of it—the rage, the frustration, the horror, the fear, the sadness—seemed to explode inside her like a bubble bursting. The image of Toby’s face as he’d handed her the apple flickered across her mind.

  “A good day,” she sobbed, her forehead pressed to the wagon’s wheel. “I thought it was a good day...”

  She made certain she finished by the time Castor and Aaron returned with the Smiles, and if either of them thought the wetness on her cheeks was anything other than the rain, they kept it to themselves.

  Chapter Ten: Surrounded

  The smirk Julius gave her when she entered the room made her want to slap his smug face, but she settled for slapping the soup spoon right out of his hand.

  He started in his seat, jolting the table and sending soup raining down on the pitted wooden floor of The Grieving Bier. “What the hell is with you?” Julius began to rise from his seat, only to be slammed back down by Castor. The protest on his lips died under the former White’s warning glower.

  “You’re not surprised to see me,” Duchess replied as calmly as she could, “so I can only presume that little bit of insanity on the Coast Road was incompetence and not malice.”

  Julius tried a laugh. “Are you upset about the Brutes? Calm down, girl. It was a joke.”

  She settled into a seat across from him, relishing the cold anger coiled inside her. “I wonder if Toby and Lidda found your joke funny. I’d ask them, but they’re buried in unmarked graves ten miles outside the city walls.”


  “Graves?” Julius sputtered. “The Brutes didn’t—”

  “They did, you idiot. They left two dead on the Coast Road and would have left three more—me included—if it hadn’t been for Castor.”

  Julius gaped, his lost soup forgotten. “What? I never—”

  “—intended for me to come back? You almost got your wish. I’m sure the Oddfellows won’t be happy to learn that two of theirs are dead because of the man who hired them, and I can’t imagine what Pete will say when I tell him you turned what was supposed to be a nice, easy little job into a bloodbath.”

  Julius made as if to rise, but a dark look from Castor froze him in his seat. “I didn’t tell them to kill anyone!” he protested, whey-faced. “I just wanted to—I never thought...”

  “Obviously not,” Duchess growled. She hadn’t thought Julius wanted to have her killed, not truly, but his shocked reaction was a nice confirmation. After they had dug the graves in the woods, the crossbowmen had told her an interesting tale. The Brutes had recruited them from the Deeps, equipped them with crossbows and false livery, and instructed them to lie in wait for the returning wagons. They were to fire at anyone accompanying the wagons, except for Malleus and Kakios and, of course, Duchess herself. The Brutes had intended to play with her.

  She leveled a finger at Julius. “You were in charge of getting the men, and I was in charge of getting the wagons back into the city. Well, the wagons rolled through Tradesgate this morning with no fuss, so I did my part. I intend to tell that to Pete and he can decide precisely who fucked this up.”

  Julius swallowed and wiped away the sweat that had sprung from his brow despite the cold day. He leaned forward. “Look, Duchess, this was...it was just a misunderstanding. I never told those two to kill anyone. You have to believe me.”

  “Do I?”

  His eyes darted from her to Castor, trapped and frightened. “When Pete finds out what happened he’ll blame us both! No one trusts the Brutes, and with the Oddfellows dead, there’s no one to say just what happened out there.” Sly hope kindled in his eyes, and he licked his teeth. “Maybe Pete will believe you killed them, eh? After all, I’m not the one with the reputation.”

  Duchess shook her head. “Maybe he would, if all the Oddfellows were dead. But Malleus and Kakios weren’t as quick in their killing as they should have been, and Castor here sent them packing before they could make Aaron their third victim. He was so grateful that he’s decided to enter my service. The first task I’ll set him will be to report to Pete exactly what happened on the Coast Road, and how the Brutes you sent on the job decided to exceed their orders in the most murderous way possible. Who will Pete believe then?”

  She didn’t think a man could crumple while seated, but Julius somehow managed it, laying his head on folded arms, face against the rough wood of the table. When he finally looked up she was surprised to see that his eyes were red with unshed tears. “I’m ruined,” he told her woodenly, his eyes empty even of fear. “Worse than ruined. Pete will end me for this, and nobody on the Highway will say a word about it.”

  Duchess suspected he was right. Julius, while working on Pete’s behalf, had committed a serious blunder, and the blame for the resulting deaths would eventually fall on Pete himself. The worst part of it was that the Grey would care nothing for Lidda and Toby’s deaths—the lives of mercenaries like the Oddfellows were as cheap as any other, after all. What would concern the Highway was the idea that Pete the Pearl couldn’t control his own people. He should never have trusted Julius, the story would go, who was unreliable at best, downright dangerous at worst. Pete’s reputation would suffer—guilt by association was a very real thing—and a man as prominent as Pete the Pearl could not abide that. On the Grey, you’re only ever as good as your last job. Pete would indeed ruin Julius for this blunder.

  Still, she wondered if there were another way. Julius was a dog, true, but a tame dog that would bark and snap at her command was better than a dead one. Perhaps she could turn this disaster into opportunity.

  “There might be another way.” She rose and began to pace, thinking. “What if I were to square things with Pete. Would that be worth something to you?”

  Julius stared at her, hope and despair warring in his eyes. “How can you square things with Pete? His mark’s worth twice as much as mine and yours put together.”

  She frowned. “You haven’t answered my question. Would it be worth something to you for me to get you clear with Pete?”

  He uttered a small, bitter laugh. “It’d be worth my life! But it’ll never happen. Pete—”

  “—is the kind of man who will listen to reason. If not, he’ll listen to me.” She smiled. “One last time: what payment can I expect for this little favor?”

  “Name it.”

  She resisted the urge to laugh in his face; instead, she pointed to where the dicing table stood, for the moment empty and unattended. “I’ll take that.” He stared, uncomprehending. “Your game. I want the location, the dealer, all of it. For good.”

  He gaped. “But...the Bier’s my best game! It’s worth more than all of the others combined!”

  “Is it worth more than your life?” She tapped the table. “Make the call, Julius. You can pay me off, or you can face the Pearl by yourself. Either way, think quickly; I’m due at the Oyster before dark.”

  * * *

  “Dead,” was all Pete said when she had finished.

  “Dead,” she confirmed, resisting the urge to offer excuses. He had said nothing as she recounted the disaster on the Coast Road, and only the occasional nod or gesture revealed that he understood what she was saying. Duchess shared only the necessary details, not pointing out that Malleus and Kakios had been present at Julius’ direction, nor relating how they’d managed to get the wagons through Templegate in the dead of the night at second bell. In truth, she wasn’t sure herself. Castor had gone ahead of the wagons, and she’d seen him speaking to the blackarms, who hadn’t seemed all that surprised to see him. Although she saw no money change hands, the guards had opened the gate and stood by as Duchess, Castor and Aaron had steered the wagons inside. Castor had remained stubbornly silent on how he’d managed the whole thing, and returned only a blank look when Aaron had asked. She had known better than to try.

  Pete regarded Duchess in silence, and she wondered how much he guessed of what she had left out. Finally, he stood and moved to the sideboard, pouring a glass of the wine he’d drunk during her first visit. This time he poured one for her as well, and she accepted it cautiously.

  He resumed his seat and sipped, looking reflectively into his glass. “I always knew Julius was a fool. I see now my mistake was not encompassing the enormity of his folly.” He leaned back in his chair. “This could end very badly for all of us, as I am sure you know. I brought Julius into this matter, and that blame is mine, but you were there on the road when things went awry. We’ll all pay the price for the man’s ineptitude.”

  “I’m not certain of that.”

  Pete raised an eyebrow. “And why not?”

  Duchess smiled grimly. “If I walked out of here and spread the tale exactly as it happened, yes, we’d all lose standing on the Highway. But what if we speak not in facts but ambiguities? A look here, a silence there, and the Grey will never get a clear picture of precisely what happened. Gant certainly isn’t going to speak to this, and Malleus and Kakios have left Rodaas for good. The Grey will know something happened, but since no one is talking...” She shrugged, spread-handed.

  Pete shook his head. “An interesting idea, but this is the Grey. No matter how tight-lipped you and I remain, the tale will out. Julius, you and I may be able to keep silent, but can you control everyone? Gant may be a man of his word, but what of those below him? Sellswords are notorious gossips, and one or more of his men will someday want to share the story with a trusted companion. Eventually, the story will find its way to the wrong ears, and then everyone who wears a cloak will know it.” He took another drink. “When tha
t happens, we’ll relearn the old truth that absence of evidence is not evidence of absence. If no one accepts responsibility for this blunder, responsibility will be laid upon us all. The fact that we tried to hide all of this will make the tale all the more compelling.” He set down his glass and looked at her. “Someone must take the blame, else we all suffer.”

  And there it was. She could offer Pete something—something valuable enough that she could request something equally precious in return. All she had to do was ruin what was left of her reputation.

  “Let the blame fall on me, then,” she replied, hardly believing her own words. Pete blinked, but she went on before he could reply or she could think better of what she was doing. “I’ll put it about that the Brutes were so angry about how I had embarrassed them that they followed me from the city. I missed the signs that we were being followed. I reacted too slowly and two people died because of it.” She folded her hands on her lap to keep them from shaking.

  Pete considered this, soft fingers fluttering against the rich, red brocade of his robe. “And what of this remaining Oddfellow, Aaron? Will he confirm what you’ve said?”

  She nodded. Aaron was the easy part. “He has me to thank for his life. I think he’ll be willing to tell a small lie in return.”

  “And the gangsmen Malleus and Kakios hired? What if they contest this tale?”

  “The Red Smiles are honorless killers. No one is going to listen to a thing they say,” she replied, more confidently. “And what would they say? That a woman foiled their little ambush? No, they’ll crawl back to the Deeps and tell their friends they got their injuries fighting another gang.”

  Pete sipped from his glass. “It might work,” he allowed after a moment. “Though I must say it would be a particularly...generous...action on your part.”

  “It would be.” She set her glass down on his desk. “If I were doing it for free.”