by James Wisher
“You think whoever ordered the attack on the caravan wants Solan dead as well?”
“It looks that way,” Duncan took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. “There’s something else you should know. I didn’t say anything because I was afraid you might let something slip, but if you’re mixed up in whatever got Jeremiah killed you need to hear this. He believed Knight Commander Ericsson was mixed up in this business. At the least he didn’t trust the man.”
Gabriel groaned. “That could be a problem since he’s my boss now.”
“Yes, but I’m his boss, so do what you have to and I’ll back any decision you make.” Duncan patted him on the shoulder. “You should try to sleep.”
Gabriel nodded, though how he’d manage to sleep now he had no idea. After Duncan left he finished translating the letter. To his disappointment it offered two thousand royals in gold or gems to whoever killed Solan. He hadn’t expected a signature, but he’d hoped for some clue as to who sent the letter. Well past midnight Gabriel got up, yawned, and went to bed.
* * *
Knight Commander Eric Ericsson was working late in his office when he felt the familiar tingle in the back of his mind. He got up, locked the door, and sat back down, opening his mind to the demon.
The failed assassin was arrested today.
“Yes, master, he’s sitting in one of my cells now.”
I’m sending someone to deal with him tonight. Leave your window open.
It wasn’t a good idea to kill the man so soon after he his capture but Eric wasn’t about to point that out. “As you command, master.”
Who is handling the investigation?
“The boy you wanted watched. He interrogated the would-be killer this afternoon.”
This could complicate out plans.
“Do you wish me to assign someone else to the case?”
No, I must consider this new information. Just make sure your window is open.
The demon broke the connection leaving him nauseous and chilled to the bone. There was no way he’d get anymore work done tonight. Eric opened his window and went home. As he left he wished the gods’ mercy to the poor bastard in cell six.
* * *
Gabriel arrived at headquarters feeling groggy and a little stiff, he’d managed four hours sleep, which was four hours more than he’d expected after his chat with Duncan. He found Griff waiting for him in the alley beside the back door.
“I’ve got bad news,” Griff said.
“Don’t you ever go home?”
“I got here fifteen minutes ago. Lucky’s dead.”
“Dead? I thought you put him in a cell by himself.”
“I did, but he’s still dead.”
“Son of a bitch! What happened?”
Griff shrugged. “No idea. When the guard brought him breakfast this morning he was laying on the floor dead. No sign of violence, no nothing, he was just dead. Doesn’t matter anyway, we weren’t going get anything more out of him.”
“It does matter. I gave him my word he’d be safe and less than a day later he’s dead. Didn’t do a very good job, did I?”
“It’s not your fault.”
“No, but it’s my responsibility. We need to talk. I translated that letter Mooche gave us and learned some rather disturbing things.”
“Let’s go inside,” Griff started toward the door.
“No, not here, somewhere no other Watchmen will overhear us.”
Griff shot him a hard look but nodded. “I know a place.”
Griff led them to a nondescript tavern. After the server took their order and returned to the kitchen Griff said, “What’s going on?”
Gabriel told him everything, leaving out nothing but the supernatural elements he wouldn’t have believed himself if he hadn’t lived them. When he finished Griff said, “That can’t be.”
“Uncle Duncan and my father both seemed certain and now that someone’s killed Lucky’s alone in his cell I don’t see how we can take a chance that their wrong.”
“One thing’s for sure,” Griff said. “We’ll have to be careful if we want to see this through and stay in one piece.”
Chapter 14
A week had passed since Lucky’s death, according to the Watchman assigned to keep an eye on Mooche’s drop no one had left anything besides garbage and he’d collected that to be sure. With nothing else to occupy them Gabriel and Griff spent the week patrolling the city, Griff teaching his young partner where he could get information and where the criminals hung out. Gabriel learned a lot, but he was anxious for a break in their case, especially now that he’d learned it somehow connected to the attack on his home.
Since both he and Griff were early risers the sun had barely crossed the horizon when Gabriel approached Watch headquarters. He went around back and found his partner waiting outside. Gabriel frowned, Griff usually waited for him inside so he could talk to the other guys.
“Something wrong?” Gabriel asked when he got within speaking distance.
“Yeah, come on.”
Griff led him two blocks north where a twitchy little man paced in the alley between two shops. “What’s this?” Gabriel asked.
“He works for Mooche.” Griff grabbed the man by the shoulder to stop his incessant pacing. “My partner’s here now spill it.”
“Right, the boss wants to talk with you two.”
“Why?” Gabriel asked.
“How do I know? I’m just the messenger here.”
Gabriel shrugged. “This is a waste of time, Griff. Let’s get back to work.”
The little man’s eyes bugged out. “Ain’t you going to see the boss?”
“Not unless you tell me what he wants.”
“All right, okay.” Sweat covered the messenger’s forehead. “Someone wants him dead. The boss needs protection.”
“Someone put a contract out on Mooche, the man who brokered so many on others? Perhaps the gods have a sense of justice,” Gabriel said.
“A sense of humor, anyway,” Griff said.
“So you’ll meet with him?”
“Where and when?” Gabriel asked.
The messenger almost collapsed with relief. “The Crusty Gnome antique shop at noon.”
Griff nodded and let him go. The messenger scurried off as fast as his legs would carry him.
“You scared him,” Gabriel said.
Griff looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Me?”
Gabriel grinned. “Yeah, you. Where is this antique shop?”
“In a slum near the east rode and you should know it’s a front for a fence. You want to check it out?”
“Couldn’t hurt to walk by, we’ve got almost five hours to kill.”
They set out as was their habit with Griff in the lead. The city was coming to life, merchants opening their shops, the smell of baking bread filled the air, a hammer clanged on an anvil in the distance as a smith went about his daily chores. Twenty minute later Griff pointed out a rundown building that appeared to be sinking into the ground.
“That’s it.”
Gabriel studied the building and frowned. “Another dump, I’m shocked. Don’t these people ever stay anywhere nice?”
“When you never know when you’ll have to run for your life investing in real estate doesn’t make much sense.”
“I guess,” Gabriel said. “Looks quiet enough. Let’s find somewhere to wait.”
“There’s a good tavern nearby,” Griff said.
“Why am I not surprised? Lead on.”
Griff’s tavern was quite nice considering the neighborhood, clean, fragrant, saw dust covered the floors, well built tables and chairs filled the common room. A pair of burly men ate a late breakfast at one table but other than them they had the place to themselves. They relaxed with glasses of watered wine and after a few hours ordered an early lunch. When they finished Gabriel decided it was close enough to noon and they went back to the antique shop.
The shop door hung part way open. Gabriel saw no sign of guards so they we
nt in. Mountains of junk filled a dozen tables and spilled onto the floor. Behind a counter was the oldest, most wrinkled man Gabriel had ever seen, the crusty gnome the shop was named for.
The old man turned their way and squinted. “Can I help you boys?”
“We’re supposed to meet someone here,” Gabriel said.
“You must be Sluggo’s friends, he’s in the back.” The old man pointed toward a door in the rear of the shop.
They picked their way toward the back of the shop, careful not to bump any of the piles less they cause an avalanche. Halfway to the door Griff looked back and mouthed, “Sluggo?”
Gabriel shrugged. If ever a nickname fit this was it. He pushed open the door and looked into the dark room beyond. “Mooche?”
“Keep your voice down and shut that door.”
When the door clicked shut the soft light of a glowstone filled the room. Mooche sat in an extra reinforced chair, dark, black circles under his eyes said he hadn’t slept in a while and the smell of him didn’t argue too well for bathing. His whole body slumped in the chair.
“The messenger said you were having trouble.” Gabriel said.
“Trouble! That’s one way of putting it. Someone must have spotted your man watching the drop and now that client has a contract out on me.”
“How much?” Griff gave Mooche a speculative look.
“Never mind,” Mooche said. “I need protection.”
“In exchange for what?” Gabriel asked.
“I’ll give you everything. I can’t go back to what I was. If you protect me I’ll tell you all I know about underworld activity in Lord’s Way.”
Gabriel and Griff shared a look then moved a couple steps away. In a low voice Gabriel asked, “What do you think?”
“I think if he plays it straight he can tell us enough to take apart half the crooks in this city. I don’t see how we can take him back to headquarters after Lucky.”
“Agreed, but I think there’s a place we can take him. Stay here and keep an eye open I’ll go check it out.”
“All right,” Griff said. “Be careful.”
“You too, I trust this slob about as far as I can throw him.” Considering Mooche’s girth that was a grim assessment of his reliability.
Gabriel left the shop the way he’d entered and turned toward the Church of the Bright Shield. He wasn’t sure how he’d convince Solan to take in someone like Mooche, but he had to try. If Mooche had as much intel as Griff thought they could make a huge dent in the city’s crime rate.
On his way to the church Gabriel was careful to double back several times to be sure no one followed him. No one seemed the least bit interested and he allowed himself to believe he was in the clear. The door was as always unlocked when he arrived and inside he found Solan polishing the altar.
Solan looked up when he entered and smiled. “Good afternoon, Gabriel. What brings you by this fine day?”
Gabriel joined him by the altar, taking a moment to marvel at the beautiful sword resting there. “I need help.”
“What sort of help.”
“There’s someone who needs a safe place to hide. I can’t take him to headquarters since I don’t trust everyone there and I’m afraid he’ll be killed.”
“Why don’t you tell me everything from the beginning?”
Gabriel did so, starting with Lucky’s capture and murder and ending with Mooche’s request for help. “It’s asking a lot but with what he knows I think we can do a lot of good.”
Solan nodded absently, deep in thought. “You mentioned a letter your father had and a second you received from the information broker, do you still have them?”
“Of course,” Gabriel said, somewhat taken aback by the change in subject. “I hid them in Uncle Duncan’s library.”
“Would you bring them here, I’d like to take a look at them.”
“Certainly, about Mooche…”
“Right, I have a place for him. Across the street you’ll see a general store. In the back of the store is a large storage bin, meet me there with your man and I’ll take you to a safe room.”
“When do you want us there?”
“As soon as possible, I’ll be waiting.”
“Thanks, I’ll be back soon.”
Gabriel left the church and started back to the antique shop at a brisk walk. He wanted to get Mooche somewhere safe and the sooner the better. He went through the front door and wove his way through the junk; the old man behind the counter didn’t even look up from his book as he passed. In the back room he found Griff and Mooche engrossed in a game of cards he didn’t recognize. They both looked up when he entered.
“Well?” Griff asked.
“I made the necessary arrangements. Let’s get out of here?”
Mooche tucked his cards away. “Better go out the back, just in case.”
Gabriel nodded and Mooche opened a door hidden in the back wall. Gabriel went out first followed by Griff and Mooche. The coast looked clear, so he turned back toward the church. They walked three blocks, Mooche puffing for breath all the way. When they rounded a corner they found six men armed with short swords and daggers blocking the street.
“Stupid, kid, you led me right into a trap,” Mooche said.
Griff moved up beside Gabriel sword drawn. Gabriel looked over at him. “Didn’t we do this last week?”
“Yeah. I worked with my last partner for six months before we had this many fights.”
“Hey,” One of the thugs said. “Hand over Mooche and you two can go.”
Gabriel glared at him. “It’s rude to interrupt a conversation. Why don’t you six get lost so I can get this tub of lard to the lockup?”
The one that spoke stared at him. “You’re not in a position to give orders.”
Gabriel drew his sword and raised an eyebrow. That was all it took. The thugs charged, swords raised and roaring like every other thug he’d fought. If their plan was to intimidate their opponents they may as well have saved their breath. Gabriel sidestepped a thrust to his stomach, stepped in and hammed the man between the eyes with the hilt of his sword. Before his opponent collapsed Gabriel caught him and swung him into another thug as he lunged, fouling the man’s blade. Before he could untangle himself from his unconscious comrade Gabriel slashed across his throat, sending both men to the ground.
Gabriel spun around and found two more thugs approaching with a good deal more caution. They split up, one going right and the other left. Gabriel attacked the one on the right with a high slash. The thug leapt back and Gabriel spun around in time to deflect a thrust to his chest from the second man. He stepped in and brought his knee up into the man’s gut, driving the wind out of him. Gabriel danced away from the first thug without finishing off the second one.
Now that he could concentrate on one opponent he found the man wasn’t all that skilled. Gabriel feinted with a high thrust and when his opponent raised his sword to block slashed down, opening him from collarbone to bellybutton. He hammered the slowly recovering thug in the temple putting him out of the fight for good. A grunt of pain caused Gabriel to spin around. The other two thugs pressed Griff hard; keeping them away from Mooche wasn’t making his job any easier. Gabriel scooped up a dagger and hurled it at one of Griff’s opponents. The weapon wasn’t weighted for throwing but it slammed into the man’s side with enough force to distract him, allowing Griff to run him through.
The last thug turned and ran. Gabriel caught him after ten strides, leapt on his back and bore him to the ground. A quick thump on the head stopped his squirming. He grabbed the runner by the collar and dragged him back to the pile.
“There’s two more still alive.” Griff held his arm where one of the thugs had laid it open.
“You okay?” Gabriel asked.
“It’s just a scratch. What do you want to do about them?”
“I don’t suppose you have anything to tie them up with?”
Griff shook his head.
“We’ll have to leave them.
We need to get Mooche somewhere safe.”
“Think they’ll still be here when we get back?” Griff asked.
“I hit them pretty hard. If we hurry we might get back before they wake up.”
Mooche joined them amid the wreckage that used to be a gang of bounty hunters. “That was impressive; when they jumped us I feared the worst.”
“Thanks, let’s get a move on.”
They walked the last few blocks to the store opposite the church without incident and found Solan waiting for them.
“Are you mad,” Mooche said when he saw Solan standing there. “I arranged to have this man killed. He’ll cut my throat as soon as I fall asleep.”
“Unlike you,” Gabriel said. “Solan is a priest, dedicated to a god that represents all that is honorable and just in the universe. If he offers you his protection rest assured you’ll be safe.”
Mooche opened his mouth to protest but Gabriel raised his hand. “I’ll tell you what I told Lucky, if you don’t like the arrangements I’ve made you’re welcome to take your chances on the street.”
“Fine, let’s go,” Mooche said.
The old priest spoke a word in a language Gabriel didn’t recognize and the bin slid aside revealing a set of stairs leading down to a tunnel. Solan went down first, followed by Gabriel, then Mooche and Griff. At the bottom of the stairs Solan spoke a second word in the same language and a cool, white light filled the rough carved tunnel. When Griff reached the bottom stair the bin slid back in place.
They made their way down the tunnel until they reached another door, this one had a shield carved into it, the symbol of Solan’s god. Solan spoke a third word and the shield glowed for a moment the door slid inward without a sound.
The small room beyond the door held a cot, chamber pot, and a two drawer dresser. It was so small that the four of them could only move around if they held their breath. A ladder led to a trap door in the ceiling.
“Handy little hideout,” Griff said.
Mooche grunted and collapsed on the cot. The gods smiled and it didn’t break under him. Mooche was asleep in moments, his snores echoing in the small room.
