“I think I understand, master, but I still think there must-ss be a less boring way to do this,” Blacknail told the old scout.
“If you can come up with one, then knock yourself out,” Saeter replied condescendingly.
Blacknail was a smart hobgoblin, so he knew his master didn’t want him to actually bash himself across the head. His words were a weird way humans gave people permission, or so Khita had explained when Blacknail had woken up after the first time Saeter had used that expression.
“So we can’t do anything too scary… I know! They’re weak and alone without a tribe, so I’ll come back at night and kill them from the shadows, where no one can see,” Blacknail announced proudly as he rubbed his hands together in anticipation of a hunt.
Saeter eyed him critically. “I’m not sure you understand how many of them there are. We’re talking about a good part of the people in the city. Even you couldn’t pull that off, and some of them are very skilled. I used to be one, remember?”
“How about just their leaders then, so the others will flee in terror?” Blacknail mused thoughtfully.
“Sure, that sounds fine,” Saeter replied.
“Really?” Blacknail asked hopefully.
“No, that’s a bloody stupid idea! There’s still far too many of them for that to work,” Saeter answered scathingly.
“Fine, whatever. You said they all live in their own part of the city?” Blacknail asked sulkily. There had to be some way to solve this problem that wasn’t as boring as talking. It wasn’t like humans were usually all that hard to murder.
“Well, they can hardly live in an area controlled by a gang leader, and the governor’s territory is too expensive for them,” Saeter replied.
“Ha, it’s simple then. We’ll burn all their homes down in the middle of the night and kill them as they flee before us,” Blacknail suggested gleefully.
“Creepily enough, that might actually work. We’re not going to do it though. That would definitely count as too much damage to the city, and every time you kill someone, you might be making someone else your enemy,” Saeter told him.
“…but the flames would be so pretty,” Blacknail muttered to himself. This was very complicated. However, he supposed his master had a point. Killing that one woman who had been with Galive had made Luphera angry. There were just so many humans shoved into Daggerpoint, he supposed they all knew each other or something.
“So if we can’t kill people, then what do we do?” the hobgoblin whined.
“I already told you. I’m going to go talk to some people, and you’re going to follow me.”
“That doesn’t sound very fun,” Blacknail commented darkly. In fact, it sounded very boring, and over the last few days, the hobgoblin had slowly come to realize that talking wasn’t one of his strong points.
“Not everything is supposed to be fun. Think of this as a chore if you want. Personally, I think sharing a few drinks with some old acquaintances sounds bloody great right now, so get moving, and stop asking me these damned annoying questions,” Saeter crankily replied.
Blacknail grumbled to himself but quickly headed to his room to get dressed. A few minutes later, he rejoined his master, and together they left their band’s base and headed out into the city. Saeter led Blacknail toward their destination. It was only just after noon, so Daggerpoint was busy, and the streets were full of its myriad of colorful inhabitants. Merchants hawked their wares from stalls or store fronts. The more successful ones had bodyguards at their sides, to prevent theft or other problems. The others simply glared suspiciously at everyone that approached and kept one hand on a weapon.
Small groups of thugs, and what passed for normal citizens, were also walking around. It could have been a scene from any other city, except almost everyone was rough looking and heavily armed. Knives and swords appeared to be the weapons of choice, but several people had clubs, and one man was even walking around with a spiked mace in his hand. The hobgoblin and Saeter weaved their way through the crowds while keeping their distance from most of the other people. The only interruption was when Saeter had to stop and drag an errant Blacknail away from where he was attempting to purchase an unidentifiable piece of meat on a stick, using money he had somehow acquired from another man’s pocket after bumping into him.
Saeter then took them off the main roads, and into the less-traveled alleys and residential streets. The road there was only wide enough for a single cart, littered with junk, and blanketed in thick shadows. The pair walked for several minutes until they came to a tight street corner. That was when Blacknail realized something was wrong. The back of his neck was tingling. Alarmed, Blacknail looked around and spotted hints of movement among the shadows. They’d walked right into a trap.
The hobgoblin's ears went flat against his head as he hissed a loud warning to his master. Saeter flinched and dropped his hand toward his sword hilt. Before he could draw his weapon though, several figures burst out of hiding and rushed toward the pair—several very small figures. It was a group of street children. The urchins ran over and quickly surrounded the two bandits. They weren’t stupid though. This was Daggerpoint. They were wary and kept a little distance, in case the pair turned violent. Their clothes were ragged and filthy. Blacknail could see their ugly pink skin through the holes in it.
“Please, sir, do you have any coins to spare? My sister is sick, and I can’t afford food for us both,” a taller male begged with wide, desperate eyes.
“My parents beat me unless I bring home enough coins, please help me,” a smaller girl whined.
“I don’t have any parents, they were killed by a gang of thieves,” a third said, in a clear attempt to upstage the others.
Saeter sighed and began to pull out his coin pouch, but he wasn’t as fast as Blacknail. The hobgoblin had also reached into a pouch, but he had pulled out a handful of stones.
“Away, tiny thieves!” he yelled as he hurled them toward several of the children. The youngsters saw the projectiles coming and quickly scrambled out of the way. The stones bounced off their turned backs and raised arms, or flew harmlessly past.
As the children recoiled, Blacknail raised his hands up above him menacingly and growled as deeply as he could. The urchins took one look at his masked form and turned to flee. They gasped and shrieked as they ran as fast as their little legs could take them. However, Blacknail didn’t have the chance to gloat.
“What in all the hells do you think you’re doing?” Saeter swore angrily at Blacknail as he pulled him backward by his cloak. The hobgoblin stumbled at the unexpected tug.
“Chasing away the little thieves! If you let the small ones close, they’ll take-ss your stuff,” Blacknail replied warily. His master seemed really angry.
“They’re street children, you shouldn’t attack them! They might be annoying, but if you give them a few coins, they’ll leave,” Saeter explained, glaring furiously at Blacknail.
“But if I just chase them away, then I don’t need-ss to give them any of my shiny coins,” Blacknail pointed out reproachfully. That was common sense.
“Listen carefully, Blacknail. I know you don’t understand morality, but by the gods, you’re going to understand this. You don’t need your coins as much as those children do. You don’t even spend most of them; you just hoard them!”
“I don’t understand,” a startled hobgoblin replied with wide-eyed confusion.
“It’s called charity, Blacknail. You give some coins to others who need them more than you. Those children will starve or freeze in the winter without the money they get from begging, if they aren’t murdered by a random thug,” the old scout explained.
“They look fat-ss and healthy to me,” Blacknail countered defensively.
“That’s because you’re a stupid hobgoblin. Humans aren’t supposed to be dressed in rags or that thin,” Saeter told him.
“But there’s food everywhere-ss here. You humans pile it in the street. Look right-ss over there, there’s a cat! The
y’re tasty and not that hard to catch,” Blacknail pointed out.
“Humans don’t eat that stuff,” Saeter explained irritably.
“Why wouldn’t they, if they’re hungry? They’re just spoiled by human food,” the hobgoblin replied dismissively as he glanced in the direction most of the children had run.
“They’d get sick, Blacknail! Human children aren’t goblins. They can’t eat garbage and hunt cats through the streets!” Saeter exclaimed.
“They could if you gave them slings, they’re not that slow and weak,” Blacknail replied.
Saeter sighed in defeat and gave Blacknail a hard, intense look. “Forget it, Blacknail. Just don’t hit any more children, ever. If you do, then I’ll give you the worst beating of your life, and then get Khita to nurse you back to health,” Saeter told the hobgoblin.
“Fine, but I’m not giving them shinies… I mean coins,” Blacknail replied darkly before shuddering at the thought of being stuck defenseless with Khita for days. His master was a very scary human.
Saeter grunted and continued walking down the now empty alley. Blacknail cast another suspicious glance back toward the way most of the small humans had fled before hurrying after his master.
Chapter 29
Saeter led the hobgoblin through several more back streets before they emerged back into a more public area. The street ahead of them was wide and mostly empty. It was bordered by worn-down-looking homes. Everything had a well-used feeling to it. There were no crowds bustling about in this part of the city. Only a few tough-looking men and women could be seen walking together in small groups. The people here seemed to like to keep to themselves; there wasn’t a lot of talking or noise. Saeter and Blacknail silently passed these people by as they made their way down the street.
After several minutes of walking, Blacknail noticed a building that was clearly not a home of any sort. It was much larger than the two houses on either side of it, even if it had the same worn-down aura. Most tellingly though, there was a sign that hung out above the door, so Blacknail knew that meant he was looking at a human tavern. Unsurprisingly, it also appeared that Saeter was walking right toward it. Blacknail sighed in resignation as they walked up the creaky wooden steps of the tavern. He could already smell booze, and the door wasn’t even open yet. When Saeter opened the door, Blacknail sneezed wetly beneath his mask as the scent of alcohol and human sweat washed over him.
The inside of the building was uncomfortably warm and stuffed full of humans. Apparently, the reason the streets were so empty was because everyone was in here, and by the smell of it, none of them had bothered washing. The floor of the tavern was rugged stone and totally uncovered. The walls were rough-looking wood and completely bare of decoration. There were a few tables and benches scattered about but not enough for everyone, so a lot of people were standing around in small groups. Almost everyone inside was dressed in rough workmen’s clothing, including a lot of the women. Only a few women were wearing long, plain dresses and shirts instead.
Saeter and the hobgoblin got more than a few glances as they moved into the room. Unlike outside, no one here was hooded. Blacknail hissed nervously as he realized he stood out from the crowd. He didn’t like being the center of attention. The hobgoblin's posture stiffened, but Saeter ignored everyone else and walked up to the bar. A second later, Blacknail hurried after him. He felt much safer beside his master.
The bald barkeep was round and fat, even for a human. He lazily turned to look their way as they approached, and then he scowled in irritation. Blacknail didn’t think the man was reacting to them; it seemed more likely that he always grimaced like that at everyone. His thick face was certainly lined enough for it. As the barkeep glowered thoughtfully at Saeter and Blacknail, a flash of recognition suddenly appeared in the large man’s eyes.
He grunted at Saeter. “Huh, I thought you were dead.”
“I’m impossible to kill, you should know that,” the old scout replied gruffly.
“You haven’t been by in a few years. At your age, that usually means a man has retired or died, and you never struck me as the retiring type,” the barkeep explained with a ponderous shrug of his shoulders. “I figured that you’d wandered north to the ruins of Coroulis in some glorious but utterly futile attempt to kill the Doom.”
“Bah, I wouldn’t give that overgrown lizard the satisfaction of chewing on my bones. When I meet that unholy monstrosity again, it will be because I know I can kill it,” Saeter responded as he took up position on the other side of the long, crude wooden bar from the man.
“Almost everyone in this business has ghosts, old man. Even if yours are city sized, you still need to learn to let them go. Coroulis is nothing but rubble now, and even if you somehow manage to kill the most powerful monster of our age, it won’t be coming back. The world has moved on.”
“The world hasn’t moved on. It has rotted, and it’s all that monster’s fault,” Saeter replied in a cold voice that seethed with suppressed hate.
The old scout had turned to look off to one side, and an awkward silence hung in the air. Eventually, the innkeeper turned to Blacknail and gave him a once over.
“Who is your friend?” he inquired.
“He’s a comrade of mine. You don’t need to worry about him,” Saeter answered. The innkeeper didn’t seem convinced; he eyed the hobgoblin suspiciously. He also apparently wasn’t the curious sort though, because a few seconds later, he shrugged and changed the topic.
“Well then, what brings you back here? Don’t tell me you’re looking for work,” the innkeeper asked.
“No, I have a permanent employer these days. I’m just here to tickle some ears,” Saeter replied. He no longer sounded so upset.
“Well, the bulletin board's still over there. Feel free to post something,” the large, bald man remarked.
“I’m looking for something a little more thorough than that. Maybe you could help me spread the word?”
“Depends on what you want said,” the barkeeper answered. He looked past the pair at another group of patrons who were across the room. Saeter ignored his rude behavior and continued talking.
“I hear Zelena is going to be looking for some muscle soon. When her men come around, I want it known that it’s a bad deal, no matter what they pay. The kind of deal that puts a man in an early grave.”
The innkeeper huffed in annoyance and turned back to scowl darkly at Saeter. “Not likely. Not even for you. I find it healthy to stay out of local politics, and that’s what this smells like to me.”
“I’m not asking you to tell any falsehoods. It’s simple fact. Zelena will use up anyone she hires and throw them away. Her plan is already a failure, and it’s just going to get anyone she hires killed,” Saeter explained irritably.
“Oh, I trust your word, Old Raven. I can’t say that about many men, but I’ll say it about you. That doesn’t change nothing though. I’m still not going to get involved. Men die every day here in Daggerpoint, and everyone here knows the risks when they take a job,” the barkeep responded grimly.
“I can pay up front,” Saeter offered.
“I imagine so can Zelena. It’s not about the coin,” the bald man replied.
Saeter sighed and frowned. He looked around the room, and he didn’t seem to like what he saw. He grimaced as he took in all the people staring at him and Blacknail. The hobgoblin had started to nervously clutch the hilt of the sword at his hip.
“I don’t remember this place being so full before, and I can’t say the atmosphere has improved either,” Saeter remarked. The barkeeper turned to look at his other patrons and then grunted in acknowledgement. It was hard to tell what he thought, as his face seemed frozen in a never-ending grimace.
“People around here have become suspicious of strangers lately, especially ones that hide their face. There have been some unusual disappearances that have put people on edge,” he explained darkly.
“What do you mean disappearances?” Saeter asked suspiciously.
Saeter turned to give Blacknail a thoughtful stare. Blacknail stared back blankly in return. He didn’t like the look on Saeter’s face. It usually meant he was about to tell Blacknail to do something annoying.
“I might be able to help you with that. If there are ghouls around, I should be able to track them down,” Saeter offered.
“How are you going to do that, master?” Blacknail asked curiously as he leaned closer to his master. Saeter turned toward the hobgoblin and rolled his eyes.
“I’m not; you’re going to do it,” he answered dryly.
“Oh,” Blacknail replied uneasily. The barkeep gave the hobgoblin a dismissive glance and turned back to Saeter.
“Last time I checked, ghouls are hard to track down, unless you have trained dogs. The governor is the only man in town with them, and he doesn’t bother himself with unconfirmed rumors. I don’t think your friend there will be able to do it,” he said dismissively.
“Do you doubt my tracking skills?” the old scout replied coldly.
“No, but—”
“Well this… fellow here learned from me, and he’s even better at tracking some things. You might even say ghouls are his specialty,” Saeter explained boastfully.
“Don’t expect any kind of reward for this. I’m not going to change my mind about interfering in the affairs of the chiefs,” the barkeeper responded darkly.
“Bah, ghouls are everyone’s problem. I’m not looking for a reward. I just don’t want to have to worry about this crap later. Besides, I’m just going to find them, not exterminate them. That will be up to the governor,” Saeter replied dismissively.
City of Daggers (The Iron Teeth Book 2) Page 28
