“Rek,” she called, “come here.”
Soon he was by her side. “Yes?”
“We are going to arrest Magistrate Korvax.”
“Magistr…” Rek realised. “Arrest a magistrate?”
“Indeed.”
“But … they’re in charge.”
“I’m in charge, Rek,” and she smiled. He was scared by it.
“Target ahead,” a guard called, and they fanned out into their prepared positions.
This was a magistrate; a certain amount of restraint had to be used, so as they lined up Vika was at the front, flanked by an experienced guard and Rek, and the team was behind.
Well, some of them.
Vika banged on the door with the hilt of a dagger, and it was opened by a servant.
“Who the fu– oh. Thieftaker. Do you want to see the master?”
“Bring him here.”
“Of course,” and the man disappeared into the house.
A moment later the robed form of Korvax appeared.
“Good day Vika, I see you are on your way to arrest someone. What do you require of me? Surely you can issue your own permissions?”
“You’re under arrest, Korvax.”
“Sorry, you’re arresting who?”
Vika smiled. “We are arresting you, you deaf old bastard.”
“Me?”
A servant came rushing round from the back. “Master, there are guardsmen at the back door!”
“What?” Realisation dawned. “What? I have been a magistrate for twenty years!”
“You are under arrest for taking bribes. I have the documentation.”
“How dare you accuse me! I’ll… I’ll… You fucking worthless whore. You had your own husband arrested. If he’d stopped the drugs and fucked you better maybe you’d learn your place.”
“Rek,” Vika said without any emotion, “chain the man.”
“Oh, er, yeah,” and Rek stepped forward.
Korvax had the knife out in an instant, and stabbed Rek cleanly through the heart, let the body begin to drop and lunged at Vika. She, however, had the time thanks to Rek’s distraction to duck under and use her own knife to stab the blade into Korvax’s hand. He squealed, a finger flew along with the blade, and guardsman wrestled the disarmed and fingered man to the ground.
“Well Rek, you certainly met my expectations. Take this man to the cells.”
“But we spoke at the ball. We spoke at the ball…”
*****
The door creaked open so loudly you might have thought the hinges were about to snap. Which would be a problem, because they were keeping a cell door upright.
Daeholf, Trimas and Zedek peered into the cell, and saw a small room barely big enough for three adults.
“At least it’s not damp,” Trimas commented.
“In you go,” the guard said, motioning them with a stick.
“Wait one moment!” The voice came from up the corridor, and was the sound of a man used to seniority.
“Are we being freed?” Zedek asked.
“Why are you putting those men in that cell?”
“Good question,” Trimas agreed.
“Have they killed anyone?”
“Not sure. Maybe?”
“What does that mean?”
“Some thugs are dead but they’re bounty hunters, so, er, balances out? But lippy bounty hunters. We’re still looking for their papers.”
“Right. Put them in the holding cell with the drunk and dregs.”
“Ah bollocks.”
They were led down the corridor where they came to a larger room, one side simply a wall of bars. From inside, the eyes of over a dozen men and women looked out at them. Some were leaning on walls, some seated on a bed, others lying on the floor.
“We won’t fit,” Trimas protested
“Get in.”
The door was opened, and Daeholf and friends found themselves crammed in, standing by the door. As if they could expect to run away.
“Alright,” a burly man said as he eyed them up.
Daeholf nodded in reply.
“Also not damp,” Zedek noted.
“Perhaps, just this once, maybe not talk…”
“Who are you then?” The burly man hadn’t stood, which was a good sign.
“We’re bounty hunters,” Zedek explained proudly. Daeholf put his head in his hands.
The burly man was now standing, and he came over. “Bounty? You look new.”
“Go on then,” Daeholf said to Zedek, “I’m waiting to see how you resolve this.”
“We have recently arrived in search … of… Veklaf.”
“Haven’t we just,” Trimas added.
“People in here don’t like bounty hunters.”
Daeholf looked round the cell. One man was unconscious, one was missing a hand and neither would be looking for a fight.
“Leave ’em alone,” a woman called out.
“Or rob ’em,” said a portly man with a scalp full of tattoos. He too came over.
“Rob them, that’s a good idea. How much money you got?”
“The guards took my baton,” Zedek moaned.
Daeholf smiled politely. “If everyone sits down, we can all just get out of here with our pride intact.”
“I ain’t got no pride, son,” and the tattoos moved close to Daeholf’s face. Behind him, several of the other cellmates came over with balled fists.
Daeholf held his hands up and out in front of him. “We don’t have to have any trouble.”
The cellmates were trying to fan out.
Trimas nodded, mostly to himself. “I’d like to point out he warned you.”
Tattoo raised his fists. “And we’re warning you fucks too.”
“Money,” the burly man said, “hand it over now.”
Daeholf had held his hands up for a specific reason, because they were closer to his enemies, his body was at an angle, and his left hand was closer than his right, which was deliberately a bit further back. Now he could ball his fists and punch out with his right in total surprise, and got a clear shot at the burley man’s jaw, which broke with a snap as Daeholf’s fist slammed into it.
Trimas and Zedek had known this was coming from the moment Daeholf had raised his hands, and Trimas started moving almost as soon as Daeholf did. His hands were still lowered, but he was tall and the portly man wasn’t, so Trimas closed the distance instantly and brought his head down to butt below the tattoos, shattering a nose, causing blood to spray and the victim to screech.
One man, who had been trying to get as much round the flank as he could, also didn’t have time to move, but even if he had he wouldn’t have expected Zedek’s knee to come up with such speed. There was almost an embrace as the knee connected with genitals, and the man’s world exploded in white light.
With three men down in front of them, Daeholf, Trimas and Zedek refused to venture forth in the cell, staying in a compact group they could easily defend. The rest of the cell weren’t keen on coming forward either, now being rather terrified.
“What’s going on?” came the voice of a guard. A bustling man ran down the corridor, and stopped to assess what he saw. “Have you three been making trouble?”
“We defended ourselves against robbery,” Trimas explained.
“Defended? There’s people rolling on the ground!”
“That,” Daeholf had a go at explaining, “is how we defend ourselves.”
“Well you can’t stay in there fighting!”
“Perhaps we could go to a different cell?”
“Harrumph.” Keys were produced. “Follow me.”
“Goodbye everyone,” Trimas called back as they walked out, “if we see you on the outside we’ll be sure to arrest you and send you back to this shithouse.”
Soon they were being locked into the earlier cell.
“Seems almost homely,” Trimas noted.
“Right, look,” Daeholf began, “Zedek, you might be very proud of being a bounty hunte
r, but basically no one in a guardhouse, and in this I am including the fucking guards, like you, us, them.”
“I see.”
“Also, all that practice paid off. We are a tight unit.”
“That we are,” Trimas said as he walked over and laid claim to his third of the cell. Literally laid, as he was now on the ground.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to have a nap?”
“I am going to have a nap. What else are we going to do?”
“Alright, budge up.”
“I’m bigger, I get more cell.”
“This isn’t the senate, one vote each, shift.”
*****
Nikas was still a bit dazed. He wobbled as he ran, supported by one of his men. What had he been hit with? He shook his head, trying to clear it, but that just made it worse. He felt sick. “Stop,” he said, gasping.
“It’s not safe here, boss,” the big man at his side said, concerned.
“Stop,” Nikas said. He leaned against the side of a building before bending down and throwing up. It didn’t make him feel any better. “Help me up,” he said, spitting to try and clear the taste of vomit from his mouth. The big man bent down, lifted Nikas’s arm around his shoulder, put an arm across his back and lifted him gently to his feet.
“Where are we? Ah, Finn?” Nikas said, peering at the man, trying to identify him as his vision swam.
“That’s me, boss,” Finn said. “Not far now.”
“Where are you taking me?” Nikas said.
“Home boss. Safety. Back to base,” Finn said, guiding him along the street.
“Good. Base,” Nikas said. His thoughts were slow in coming.
Finn half guided, half carried him through a number of streets before turning into an alley. One nondescript door later, and they were ‘home’. Nikas stumbled clear of Finn and sat down heavily on a pile of sacks. That was much better.
“What’s our next move, boss?” Finn said.
“Revenge,” Nikas said.
“Um, how?” Finn said doubtfully. “It’s just us. And they were far too much for us when we were all there.”
“Surely the others made it back?” Nikas said, confused.
“No. It’s just us.”
“What about Orn? And Rollo?”
“Dead. Reasonably sure both dead.”
“How?”
“Meat hook and cleaver I think.”
“Shit.”
“So what do we do?”
“Go get weapons. And men.”
“Where?”
“The smith. Go see the smith.”
“Um, okay. I suppose he might have some weapons. What about more men? It took us a long time to get us all together.”
“There’s always willing men at the docks.”
“If you say so, boss.”
“Just offer some money. There will be plenty of people happy to beat up a few thug butchers.”
“They weren’t butchers, boss.”
“No. Maybe not. Maybe some hired help. Fighters. Street toughs.” Nikas still felt sick.
“They were more than that.”
“Mercenaries then. Old bastard was holding out. Had far more money than we thought.”
“They were Bounty Hunters, boss.”
“What? Bounty Hunters?”
“Yes boss.”
“What makes you say that?” Nikas’s head hurt.
“One of them had the rod. Saw him hit Karl with it.”
“You were watching?”
“Thought you had it under control. Boss.”
“Bounty Hunters? Fuck. That’s going to cost us more. No. Don’t mention that when you hire the men. They don’t need to know.”
“As you say.” Finn stood at the door, waiting.
“Was there something else?”
“The money?”
Nikas pulled out a couple of coins and tossed them in Finn’s direction. “Here,” he said. “The rest stays with me, payment on their delivery.”
Finn picked up the money and looked at it doubtfully. One of the coins was gold. This was a lot of money. “How many men do you want?” he said.
“As many as you can get. We’ll teach them a lesson.”
“You’re the boss,” Finn said and disappeared.
Nikas lay back on the sacks. Damn those butchers for making him do this. Or Bounty Hunters. Or whatever. His head hurt. Maybe just a little sleep…?
Finn was shaking him awake.
“What, what is it? Go get the weapons and men like I asked you,” Nikas said.
“I’ve been out. It’s been hours,” Finn said, looking concerned.
“Just a bit dazed from the blow to the head,” Nikas said. He blinked. “You’re not armed.”
“Ah, no,” Finn said.
“You went to the smith?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He said no.”
“What do you mean he said no?”
“He said he had nothing to give us.”
“You go back there and make it clear not to mess with us. To give us what we want.”
“He said he’d sold out.”
“Sold out?”
“Yes. Sold out.”
“Did you believe him?”
Finn shrugged. “Couldn’t see anything in his workshop.”
“Who the hell is buying up weapons?”
“Don’t know boss.”
“Okay, we’ll manage. And pay him a visit later.”
“It gets worse.”
“What are you talking about?”
“None of the dockers wanted in.”
“What the fuck is going on here?”
“They don’t want to go up against Bounty Hunters.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? I told you not to mention that to them.”
“Word is going around.”
“What do you mean word is going around?”
“Maybe someone has been talking, maybe they’re wrong. But they’re all refusing to go up against a group of Bounty Hunters.”
“They’re not Bounty Hunters. Whatever you say. Defending butchers. It’s not what they do.”
“Doesn’t matter now. There’s no help coming from there.”
“Shit.”
“Just about sums it up. There is some good news though.”
“Oh?”
“We’re four, not two now.”
“What do you mean?”
“Drek and Rald are back. Drek’s got a big lump on the back of his head and Rald is talking in a whisper but they’ll be ready to go again. They’re in the other room resting.”
“How did they escape? I thought they were down?”
“They were taken in by the watch. Since I didn’t manage to buy any weapons or hire any more help at the docks I had enough money for a bribe. Watchman looked the other way, they got out.”
“Still only makes four though.”
“It gets better.”
“How?”
“The watch arrested the three in the butcher’s shop. For murder.”
“So we have a clear run.”
“Looks like it, boss. When you’re ready of course.”
*****
It turned out that running in the rain was no more unpleasant than walking in it. If anything, it was nicer.
It was Elena that was running. She had just heard that the guards had been called to a murder, and that the murder was nearby, so had resolved to get there before anybody could damage the murder scene while potential witnesses were still present and with the killer maybe still in the area.
Neither for the first nor the last time, Elena grew frustrated at how few weapons she had to catch this killer, how unreliable human memory could be, how little you could really tell from examining the body. There had to be a better way to do this, there had to be.
But not for her today. The rain was bouncing off her; her hair was sodden and her face red, but she didn’t care, she just had to get there and see it f
resh.
Not that running on cobbles and tiles was the best idea, but after a few slides she turned a corner and saw a guard standing outside a house. Aha.
“Hello,” Elena said as she got close. “I’m…”
“I know who you are,” the guard replied. “Been a murder. Go in.”
She thought about arguing over the first point but pushed it down, and stepped inside.
Scanning the room, she discovered she was in a small home. One small but open room had stairs on one side, a fire on the other, although it was almost out, cloaks and boots in an alcove by the door, and places for living and cooking. A man was sat on a rough wooden stool, leaning over, head in his hands, and a guard was asking him questions.
At Elena’s arrival, all looked up and over.
To his credit, the guard who had been asking questions realised who she was, and handed the case over. “This is Sergeant Elena,” he explained to the seated man, “she’s looking into the killings.”
“Thank God an expert has arrived,” and he began to babble and cry. “My wife, my wife is upstairs, murdered, she’s been murdered, that killer, the Nightwalker, she’s dead, she’s dead… Oh God…”
Elena laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry to have to ask you, but I need you to answer some questions.”
“Of course.”
“How did you find the body?”
“I’d been out, outside, getting some air, and I came home, and I hung my cloak up and took my boots off, saw the fire going out, and went to tell her off she’d let it nearly die, and I went upstairs, and there she … there she…”
“Okay. Let me check on the body.”
Elena jogged upstairs and surveyed the scene.
One room, one double bed, a table and a wardrobe, items knocked on the floor in a struggle, and lying there was a woman of about forty.
She was very much dead.
Elena walked over, hardening herself for what she had to do. Kneeling down, looking.
The throat had been cut. There was a jagged wound across it, and blood had run out, down the woman’s once brown dress, and was now on the bedding and the floor. There were stab wounds, five or six, in the torso.
Elena paused, because something was wrong.
The throat cut, but nowhere near as neatly and efficiently as on the Nightwalker’s killings. A few stab wounds, not the orgy of deep, carving wounds of the Nightwalker.
Knives of Bastion (An Empire Falls Book 2) Page 14
