by James Wisher
Griff snorted and sheathed his sword. “So you’re fair with a sword, compared to whom? I’ve never seen moves like that.”
“Well compared to sword master Zin I’m barely competent to hold a sword.”
Griff laughed. “I’ve heard of Zin, he’s the finest weapon master in the city if not the whole kingdom, not what I’d call an average reference point.”
“He’s the standard by which I judge myself. Come on; let’s get Lucky into a cell before anyone else tries to collect the bounty.”
“Good idea.” Griff grabbed Lucky by the scruff of the neck. “Get a move on.”
The rest of their walk back to headquarters went without incident. Griff processed Lucky then met Gabriel in one of the interrogation rooms, which comprised a table, four chairs, and an alchemical lamp hanging from the ceiling. Griff deposited Lucky in a chair opposite Gabriel then sat beside his partner.
“All right, Lucky, we got you here in one piece, now talk,” Gabriel said.
“Sure, sure, what do you want to know?”
“Who wants Solan dead?”
“Beats me.” Lucky flinched like he expected to get hit.
“Try again.” Gabriel slammed his fist on the table making Lucky jump. “How were you getting paid?”
“Easy, easy, let me tell you how it works. First, whoever wants the old man dead contacts a broker. The broker puts the word out that the old priest is marked. Whoever shows up with proof the deed is done get’s the money, less the broker’s fee.”
Gabriel frowned. “Who’s the broker?”
“If I tell you he’ll kill me.”
“Griff, I was mistaken. This isn’t the guy we want, you can cut him loose.”
“Wait, you can’t let me go. I won’t last the night.”
“The broker, or you can take your chances on the street.”
The life seemed to flow out of Lucky as he slumped in his seat. “He’s a fat tub of goo named Mooche.”
Gabriel leaned back and smiled. “Where can we find him?”
“You heard of a restaurant called the Dead Duck?”
Gabriel glanced at his partner who nodded
“Well Mooche’s office is in the basement. There’s a set of stairs in the back that go down to it.”
“Guards?” Griff asked.
“What do you think?”
“How many?” Gabriel asked.
“The most I ever seen is four, two outside and two inside, but there could be a dozen hiding down there.”
“Fair enough. I guess we need to pay Mooche a visit. Let’s go.”
Griff handed Lucky over to the Watchman waiting outside the interrogation room. “Make sure he’s in a cell by himself.”
“No problem Griff, sir.” He saluted Gabriel who nodded.
“What do you think?” Griff asked when the Watchman had carted Lucky off to his new home.
“I think it’s way past dinner time. Let’s get something to eat, my treat.”
“I meant about Lucky’s story.”
“I know what you meant, but I haven’t a clue yet. You know anything about this Mooche guy?”
They left by the back entrance and headed across the street to the tavern where the Watchmen hung out. It was named Tommy’s after the retired Watch sergeant that opened it years ago. None of the chairs had arms to tangle with your sword and the food was cheap, everything you could ask for. They found a table and sat down.
“I’ve heard of Mooche, but I don’t know much about him. He’s one of Lucy’s main competitors. She’s way better than him so he gets most of his business handling things she won’t touch.”
“Like contract killings?”
“You got it.” A chubby, middle aged woman with a mountainous chest came over to their table. “Evening Zelda.”
“Hi, Griff, new partner?”
“Yeah, Gabriel this is Zelda. She’s been serving Watchmen since she was younger than you. Zelda meet our newest lieutenant.”
“Pleasure, ma’am.”
“Aren’t you a little young to be a lieutenant?” she asked.
“I certainly am, but I try not to let it slow me down.”
Zelda laughed. “I like this one, Griff. What can I get you boys?”
“Usual,” Griff said.
“Same for me.”
“You got it, two beef stews and two ales, coming right up.”
When she left Griff asked, “How do you want to handle Mooche?”
“I was thinking of taking a direct approach, but I’m open to suggestions.”
“No, the direct approach is the best with someone like Mooche. Wouldn’t hurt if we scared the hell out of him too.”
Gabriel grinned. Zelda brought bowls of stew, a basket of rolls, and two mugs of frothy ale. They ate in silence for a while then Gabriel asked, “So why’d you join the Watch?”
“You could call it the family business. I’m the fifth generation of my family to serve. I was practically raised at headquarters, I helped make my first arrest when I was twelve, and I was hooked. I never looked back. What about you?”
“I joined because of my father as well. You heard about the attack on Duncan’s estate?”
Griff nodded. “That was a mess.”
“Yeah, well I’m hoping I’ll be able to learn who was behind it so I can bring them to justice.”
“How do like your chances?” Griff sopped up the last of his gravy and popped the roll in his mouth.
Gabriel looked up and met his partner’s eyes. Griff flinched back. “I like my chances very well.”
Griff licked his lips. “Right, well we should get going.” He raised his hand to get Zelda’s attention.
“That’ll be three silvers boys,” Zelda said when reached their table.
Gabriel dug four coins out of his pocket and dropped them into her hand. “That was wonderful, thank you.”
She pocketed the extra coin. “You boys take care.”
When they left Tommy’s the sun had set and the alchemical street lights were glowing. Gabriel wasn’t sure how they worked but somehow the liquid inside reacted to darkness by glowing. They did wonders to keep street crime to a minimum at night.
“How far?” Gabriel asked when Griff turned west and walked.
“About a quarter mile, but we’re taking a roundabout route so as not to announce our arrival.”
They meandered through the streets for twenty minutes before Griff came to a stop in a shadowy alley. He pointed across the street. “That’s it.”
Two men with clubs stood in front of a door that looked like it would blow in with a slight breeze. “What a dump,” Gabriel said. “How come none of the information brokers work out of someplace nice?”
“I’m sure it’s nicer on the inside,” Griff said. “Let’s go introduce ourselves to those guards.”
Gabriel gave his sword a wiggle to make sure it was loose in its scabbard then followed his partner across the street, the guards spotted them about half way across. “Drop your weapons and stand aside,” Gabriel said. “Watch business.”
The guards looked at each other and when they looked back Gabriel and Griff had their swords drawn. They hesitated a moment longer then charged, clubs raised. Gabriel side stepped his opponent’s clumsy blow then stuck his foot out. The guard tripped, staggered a couple steps then fell on his face. When he rolled over he found Gabriel’s sword at his throat.
“Drop the club,” Gabriel said. “And get up, slowly.”
The guard obeyed and when he was on his feet Gabriel hammered him across the back of the head with the brass counterweight on his sword hilt. The guard crumpled back to the ground. Griff had his opponent down as well; the guard bled from a cut on the wrist and didn’t look like he’d be holding a club in that hand for a while.
“Not very friendly, were they?” Gabriel said.
Griff grunted and kicked the guard in the side of the head, rendering the man unconscious. “That’s two. If Lucky had a clue what he was talking about there shou
ld be two more inside. You didn’t kill yours.”
“You sound surprised. Do I seem the bloodthirsty sort to you?”
“Well the way you handled those two this morning I figured maybe you preferred it that way.”
“No, I prefer not to get cut up,” Gabriel said. “I’ve no interest in killing a man that surrenders. I didn’t even want to thump him but I didn’t bring manacles.”
“Nothing wrong with a little thumping, but I hate having to kill,” Griff said.
Gabriel started toward the building. “Let’s hope the gentlemen inside share your distaste.”
Griff chuckled and followed him over to the door. “I don’t hold out much hope for that.”
The door was unlocked and opened at Gabriel’s touch. Inside was a hall three strides long that ended in a second, sturdier door. “Think it’s locked?” Gabriel asked.
Griff leaned against the door which didn’t budge. “Yep. Stand back.”
Gabriel went back outside to give his partner room to work. Griff reared back and kicked the door, it cracked but didn’t budge. He hammered it again, the hinges came free of the wall, and the door clattered down a flight of steps. At the bottom was a doorway with light spilling out.
Griff bowed and indicated he should go first. Gabriel trotted down the steps, seeing no point in being stealthy at this point. He stepped over the ruined door and into an office lit by an alchemical light hung from the ceiling. The far end of the room was dominated by a desk behind which sat a corpulent man dressed in a crimson robe, gold chains dangled from his neck and gem encrusted rings glittered on his fingers. On either side of the desk stood a broad shouldered man in leather armor and carrying a two bladed battle-ax.
“You must be Mooche,” Gabriel said when Griff had joined him in the office.
“What are you doing here?” Mooche asked his voice high and squeaky. “Didn’t you get this month’s payoff?”
Gabriel frowned at the implication that the Watch accepted payments from scum like this. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. Tell me who hired you to broker the murder of High Priest Solan.”
“Boys, throw this riffraff out, in pieces if necessary.”
The guards started towards them, weapons raised. Griff looked at Gabriel. “You going to kill yours this time?”
“Only if I have to,” Gabriel said, his voice grim as he drew his sword.
The guards paused, looked at each other, then at Gabriel, then they laughed. Not for the first time Gabriel wished he looked more intimidating.
They paired off, the right hand guard going for Gabriel and the other for Griff. Gabriel didn’t try to block the battle-ax, the force would more likely snap his sword than anything. The guard was good. He kept the ax spinning, changing angles and giving Gabriel no opening to counter. Gabriel kept dodging, swing an ax was exhausting and he had nowhere to be, soon enough the force of his opponent’s blows lessened. He made a weak right to left slash at Gabriel’s midsection. Gabriel jackknifed clear and stepped in behind the blow with a slash at the man’s wrist.
The keen edge of Gabriel’s sword combined with the momentum of his swing half severed the guards hand at the wrist, his ax clattered to the floor. Gabriel finished his with a blow to the temple. He turned to check on Griff and found his parter on the floor, his opponent’s ax above his head. Gabriel sprinted across the room and lunged, piercing the guard though his armpit and driving the blade into his heart. The ax fell from limp fingers before the guard collapsed.
“You all right, partner?” Gabriel helped Griff to his feet.
“Yeah,” Griff retrieved his sword from where it had fallen.
Griff looked a little pale but Gabriel kept silent, almost getting killed could do that to a man. They advanced on Mooche where he sat, staring at them from behind his desk.
“About that contract,” Gabriel said. He hadn’t bothered to clean his sword which now dripped blood all over the papers on Mooche’s desk.
The fat man’s body jiggled as he trembled. “Right, what was the name again?”
“High Priest Solan,” Gabriel said.
“Yes, I remember. I don’t know who put out that contract.”
Gabriel moved his sword closer to Mooche’s four chins. “Try again.”
The jiggling increased. “I’m sorry, that client uses a blind drop, a lot of my clients do, so I can’t rat on them.”
“A wise precaution,” Griff muttered.
Gabriel frowned. “You better give me something or I’ll haul you down to headquarters and you can share a cell with Lucky.”
Sweat ran down Mooche’s chins but then he smiled and his eyes widened. He looked like a man on the gallows who received the Lord’s Mercy. “I do have something.” He dug around in his desk for a moment before coming up with a rolled up scroll. “This is the original contract my people collected from the drop.”
Gabriel snatched it out of his hands and unrolled it. He didn’t recognize the language. “What’s it say?”
“I don’t remember.” He searched some more and came up with a second piece of parchment. “Here, this is the key to translating it into common.”
Gabriel took the second piece of parchment. “That’s better, now where’s the drop?”
Mooche’s eyes about bugged out of his head. “I can’t tell you that. If my client even caught a whiff of a Watchman nearby I’m as good as dead.”
“Hey, Griff, what’s the penalty for accessory to murder?”
“Twenty years in the iron mines.” Griff said.
Gabriel taped Mooche’s girth with his sword. “How long do you suppose this turd would last in the mines?”
“All right, all right, there’s a tavern called the Rusty Mermaid. Out front there’s a bronze fish statue with its mouth open. When this client has a job for me he leaves a message there. One of my runners checks it every week.”
“Good, if you get any new messages you’ll tell me, right?”
“Of course,” Mooche said much too fast.
Gabriel smiled. “Of course. We’ll be in touch, good night.”
They turned and started toward the stairs. Gabriel paused and cleaned his sword on the dead guard’s tunic. Outside one of the unconscious guards was groaning and trying to get to his feet. Griff muttered something and kicked him in the head again.
“Something wrong, Griff?”
“You saved my life.”
Gabriel frowned. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“No, damn it, it’s just no one ever had to save my life before, certainly not a first year lieutenant barely old enough to shave. Sorry, but you know what I mean.”
Gabriel nodded. “I’m starting to. Look, I’m sure you’ll have to save me one of these days. That’s what a partner does, right?”
Griff snorted. “I’ve seen you handle a sword. If you need saving we’re in big trouble.”
“It’s late and I’m beat. Let’s call it a night and head home.”
“You go ahead,” Griff said. “I’m going back to headquarters to arrange for someone to watch Mooche’s drop.”
“All right, see you in the morning.”
They parted ways and Gabriel headed home. The mansion was dark, so he used his key to get in. As quietly as he could Gabriel tiptoed up to his room. He rubbed the glowstone on his desk until he it glowed bright enough to see by. On his bed rested a package with a little note attached. The note was short; it read, Hope you like it, Amanda.
Gabriel unwrapped the package and found the black and silver sword belt he’d admired in the market the day before. He smiled and set it aside. He’d have to get something nice for Amanda before they got together again.
Gabriel put on his night cloths and crawled into bed, but after half an hour of tossing and turning it was clear sleep wasn’t going to come. He got up and yawned. The letter from Mooche’s client and the key sat on his desk, so he grabbed them along with his glowstone and headed toward the library.
The room was emp
ty; no surprise considering it had to be almost midnight. He sat at one of the two tables, took a quill, ink, and a sheet of parchment out of the drawer and started translating the letter. It was a simple, but tedious task.
“What are you working on so late?”
Gabriel jumped out of his chair, reaching for a sword that wasn’t there before he realized it was Uncle Duncan. Gabriel let out a breath. “Are you trying to scare me into an early grave?”
“Sorry,” Duncan sat down opposite him and set a plate with a six inch thick ham and cheese sandwich on it beside him. “You seem a little jumpy.”
“After the day I’ve had I’m allowed.”
“Bad?” Duncan asked then took a bite of sandwich.
“No, not bad. I caught the guy that tried to kill Solan. I had to fight for my life three times, but over all I wouldn’t say it was a bad day.”
“Three times?” Duncan said around a mouth full of food.
“Yeah, it’s a long story.”
“What are you working on now?”
“It’s the original contract on Solan. It’s written in some strange language, I’m translating it with Mooche’s key.”
“Mind if I look?” Duncan asked.
Gabriel spun the paper around so Duncan could see. Duncan about choked on a mouth full of sandwich. Gabriel jumped up and pounded him on the back. When he seemed to be breathing again Gabriel sat back down.
Duncan coughed one last time. “I’ve seen this writing before.”
“That’s great,” Gabriel said. Maybe Duncan could give him a lead on whoever was after Solan.
“Don’t get too excited until you know the whole story. Just a minute.” Duncan searched the shelves. When he found the book he wanted he took it down, opened it, and removed a folded piece of parchment. He handed it to Gabriel who unfolded it. The writing matched the letter he got from Mooche. “Your father gave me that to have translated.”
“Where’d he get it?”
“Off the body of a bandit that attacked a caravan.”
Gabriel’s eyes widened. “That caravan?”
Duncan nodded.
