The Ballad of Azron Bezron

by Steve Wetherell

  ‘That…doesn’t sound very suitable. This is just my opinion, you realise.’

  ‘And imagine my surprise when I hear that the wily Azron Bezron is now a great hero, part of the entourage of the great doomsayer, who, I am led to believe, saved us all from tyranny and certain destruction.’

  ‘Yep. That was me. Saved you from tyranny and destruction. Definitely worth bearing in mind, that.’

  ‘That is what I thought!’ said Tony. ‘I thought, this Azron Bezron, who has stolen from me something very precious and angered me beyond the bounds of sanity, he has done a good thing. I thought to myself, so long as he stays out of Port Town and never returns, I will have no cause to sew his face to a pig’s bottom—and not just any pig, but a pig that all the other pigs find very attractive so that he may know the intimacy of pigs for the rest of his short, tragic existence.’

  Azron raised his hands. ‘If you want me out of town, boss, just say the word. You won’t see me for dust, I swear on my fingers.’

  ‘It is too late.’ Tony raised a delicate hand to his forelock and sighed. ‘Your very presence here makes me look weak. And weakness is not a look I wear well.’

  ‘There’s got to be a better way to deal with this than pig intimacy,’ said Azron, quickly. ‘Maybe I could get your stuff back?’

  ‘The designer jeans you took from me you gave to goblins,’ Topman spat. ‘Goblins? Do you have any idea what it does to my image to have my label attached to goblins? I had to discontinue the line!’

  ‘I can pay you!’ said Azron. ‘Whatever they were worth, I can pay it back.’

  Topman shook his head. ‘The insult you have done me goes beyond the reach of monetary satisfaction.’

  ‘Then what do you want? I’m sure you didn’t lure me all this way just to tell me my clothes aren’t nice.’

  ‘Your clothes are terrible. Terrible. But you are right. I believe there is some other way we can come to an understanding. After all, it would not look good for me if I was the man who killed the hero thief. Your popularity is your shield. For now.’

  ‘So no pig’s bum then?’

  ‘For now, no, there is to be no pig’s bum.’

  ‘Well that’s a relief, I don’t mind telling you.’

  ‘But there will be an accord.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘You will perform for me a service.’

  Azron stared for a while. ‘This service doesn’t involve—’

  ‘No. No more pigs. Put pigs from your mind.’

  ‘It’s a bit difficult, now that you’ve—’

  ‘No more pigs. I need you to retrieve a treasure for me.’

  Azron brightened. ‘That’s more my cup of tea, certainly.’

  ‘But of course. You will retrieve this treasure for me. You will deliver it to me, and then we will be…how do you say… fair and square?’

  Azron rubbed his hands together eagerly. ‘Sounds spiffy. Where is the treasure?’

  ‘Across the cotton prairies, in the lightning barrens, in an old derelict castle that is home to an old, mad wizard.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Azron.

  ‘Something is the matter?’

  ‘No. No, not at all. The cotton prairies, you say?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘With its high number of bloodthirsty beasties?’

  ‘This is so, yes.’

  ‘And the lightning barrens?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘The haunted lightning barrens?’

  ‘I believe that is how the rumors go, yes.’

  ‘And then on to some crazy old magic bastard?’

  ‘That is correct.’

  Azron thought for a while. ‘Tell me again about the pig option?’

  Topman sighed and put a hand over his eyes. ‘Jaq?’

  The figure who had put a pistola to Azron’s head stepped forward.

  ‘This is Jaq,’ said Topman. ‘He is the finest bounty hunter I can afford, and he will accompany you on your journey.’

  Azron looked up at the figure beside him. Apart from one of Topman’s guard masks, his clothes seemed to be woven entirely from concealed weaponry.

  ‘If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather work alone,’ said Azron.

  ‘You misunderstand. Jaq, he is like the small annoying dog with the humorous mustache. He doesn’t let go of things, is what I am implying. He is there to make sure that you are there, you see?’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘The treasure I seek is the Ruby of Galganond. I trust you have heard of it?’

  Azron gave a sardonic smile. ‘I’ve got posters of it on my bedroom ceiling, mate.’

  ‘Excellent. I will give you two weeks. If the jewel is not in my possession by then, I will make finding and killing you my personal hobby. Everyone should have a hobby, don’t you think?’

  Azron swallowed hard again and stood up to leave, Jaq falling in beside him like a heavily armed shadow.

  ‘One thing,’ said Azron. ‘Why do you want this ruby so much?’

  Topman shrugged, as though the answer was obvious. ‘Rubies are in this year.’

  +++

  Azron walked into the night air on the deck of the River Goddess. He looked down at Baby, who was waiting for him. The kobold had a cut above his eye, but otherwise looked better than Azron expected. Certainly much more alive.

  ‘Fat men are being nowhere near as jolly as custom would have you believe,’ said Baby.

  ‘Here,’ said Azron, tossing the kobold another coin. ‘For your trouble. I’m sorry you got beaten up, but, honestly, that was the worst distraction I’ve ever seen.’

  Baby caught the coin and placed it somewhere in his sack. ‘It worked, though. Everybody was distracted. I am the successful distractor. Who is the ominous woman who accompanies you?’

  Azron looked around at Jaq. ‘He’s not a woman, he’s my…personal guard.’

  Baby shrugged. ‘All humans have equally baffling faces. Will you be needing this Baby further, or can I get rid of you and thank heaven?’

  ‘Actually…’ Azron took a piece of paper and a stub of pencil from his coat and began to write something down. ‘I need you to pick up some things for me. Retrieve these items from Henrick’s stores—he knows my name—and bring them to my lodgings. Okay? Now read the paper.’

  Baby read the paper, frowned briefly, then ran headlong into Jaq, sending the bounty hunter sprawling over the prow and into the water below.

  ‘Leg it!’ screeched Azron, and he and Baby ran in opposite directions, feet thundering on the wooden jetties as they fled.

  Baby left behind the piece of paper, which simply said, in a hurried hand, “Head-butt this man next to me and I will give you some chocolate”.

  +++

  Azron sprang across rooftops, swung himself down drains, darted from dark corner to dark corner and vaulted across alleyway detritus. He generally preferred to move at a saunter, but the prolonged sprint was yet another necessary part of the professional thief’s skill set and, just occasionally, Azron could move like a bolt of lightning with a pressing engagement.

  It helped that he knew Port Town as well as he knew himself. Even after his months of absence, he still knew instinctively which byways led to dead ends, which roofs could take his weight and which routes were typically shielded from prying eyes.

  Azron had over a dozen lockups and store accounts across Port Town, and most of his cash was divided among easily accessed pickup points, in locations that he alone knew. He headed to one such pickup point now, an apartment that he rented but kept unoccupied. He had everything he needed there to get the hell out of town and set himself up somewhere far away from Topman’s reach.

  Pigs or no pigs, every hair on the back of his neck was telling Azron that going after the Ruby of Garamond would end very badly indeed.

  The thief skidded to a halt in an alleyway that looked just like any other alleyway and ran his fingers across a wall until he found a brick that looked like any other brick. He levered it out of p
lace with his fingers, creating a foothold, and began to scale the wall. He removed a dozen more bricks until he reached the top floor of the building, where he jimmied open a window and climbed through.

  As he entered the dark room beyond, he froze, sensing instantly something was wrong.

  ‘Hello, mister weasel man,’ came a voice.

  A lamp was lit, revealing the figure of Jaq, sitting quite casually in an old armchair, clothes still wet from the waters of the Filter. Baby stood sheepishly at his feet.

  ‘Oh,’ said Azron. ‘There you are. We would have waited for you at the docks, but I thought it best if I got a head start on packing.’

  The following silence suggested that the time for flimsy excuses had long since passed.

  Azron shrugged. ‘You can’t blame a fella for trying,’ he said. ‘Might I ask how you found my digs?’

  Jaq merely gestured to Baby. ‘Sorry,’ said Baby. ‘The sinister lady with baffling face caught me and threatened me with vicious perforations unless I cooperated.’

  Azron rolled his eyes. ‘For the last time, Baby, Jaq is not a— Oh.’

  As Azron was speaking, Jaq removed the mask that Topman insisted his guards wear. The tumble of tawny hair that escaped was indeed very feminine. As were the pale green eyes and soft, coffee-coloured skin beneath. The murderous scowl, though, wasn’t very ladylike.

  ‘Ah,’ said Azron. ‘You are a woman after all. What a pleasant surprise.’

  Jaq moved quickly and was on her feet before Azron could react. She fetched him a ringing slap across the cheek. The thief was stunned into silence.

  Jaq spoke in a low voice. ‘You may be wondering why I slapped you, when I could have just as easily stabbed you, shot you, garroted you or cracked your skull open with a mace. Are you wondering?’

  ‘Well, I am now,’ Azron said, rubbing at his cheek.

  ‘Good. Allow me to satisfy your curiosity. You see, I could have done all of those things and more, and just as easily. But you and I have a professional relationship now, so I thought it only fair that I start out small. You crossed me this time and you got a slap. Cross me again and it will be something worse, and worse, and worse still, until you look back on that slap as a fond memory. Do you understand?’

  Azron nodded.

  Jaq squinted at him. ‘Are you crying?’

  ‘No!’ said Azron. ‘My eyes are just watering. That really stung, you know.’

  Jaq raised an eyebrow and turned back to Baby. ‘You,’ she said. ‘You’re done here. If I ever see you again, I will drop-kick you into a cesspit, understood?’

  Baby saluted. ‘Loud and clear, terrifying woman!’

  The kobold turned and ran out of the apartment door, which Azron noted had been kicked through. He frowned in sudden realisation.

  ‘How did Baby know I’d be coming here?’

  ‘Kobolds have perfect recall,’ said Jaq, tying her hair into a neat, tight bun. ‘With the right incentive they can tell you everything you need to know. The rest was just deduction.’

  ‘The right incentive?’

  ‘I hung him by his ankles over a pack of starving dogs.’

  ‘Yeah, I can see how that might focus one’s mind.’

  Jaq approached Azron until their noses were a finger-width apart. ‘Make no mistake, Mr. Bezron. I am the best bounty hunter you’ll ever meet. Nobody gets away from me. Nobody. Bear that in mind the next time you think running away sounds like a good idea.’

  ‘I certainly will, yes,’ said Azron.

  Jaq turned away and headed to the door. ‘Get your kit together and get some sleep. You will meet me at the Laughing Shark Inn at dawn tomorrow.’

  Azron said nothing.

  ‘Do I have to reiterate that if you are not there I will find you and kill you?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Good.’

  Jaq left and Azron exhaled deeply.

  He did not like to feel that his destiny was out of his hands. To be beholden to an employer went against the very core of his being—it challenged that special relationship a good thief has with the world, where he lives and makes a living on his own terms, albeit at the expense of others. It was, he believed, as close to freedom as a man could get. And now he found himself in hock with a bunch of murderous psychopaths. Who wanted him to start at dawn. At dawn.

  He sighed and sat in the old armchair and, after a few hours of staring furiously at nothing, he fell asleep.

  +++

  Dawn the next day found Jaq already atop a white horse, which seemed to be the horse equivalent of a body-building fanatic. She held the reins of two other smaller horses, one laden with packs and bags, and one saddled and ready for Azron. Azron was late. Not so late that Jaq had flown into a murderous rage, but late enough that “fly into a murderous rage” was definitely on the to-do list.

  Jaq had been ready for some time, dressed in her usual attire of battle chic, the cloth band around her forehead seemingly the only part of her outfit that was not leather, metal or polished wooden handle. She wore her pistola openly at her side, and had a large flintlock rifle slung over her shoulder. The townspeople gave her a wide berth. Gunnery was all but banned for anybody who wasn’t a Regulator, and those who wore such weapons openly were considered to be either mad or professionally dangerous. Jaq, of course, was the latter. In fact “professionally dangerous” was written on her business card.

  Eventually Azron sauntered into view, a paper cup of coffee in his hand and a look on his face that was not at all impressed with the hour.

  ‘You’re late,’ said Jaq.

  Azron yawned, slurped the rest of his coffee and threw the cup at a nearby pile of rubbish. ‘I think it’s philosophically impossible to be late at this hour of the morning,’ he said. ‘All you can be is ridiculously early.’

  ‘Do you have everything you need? Where are your tools?’

  Azron opened his long coat like a man with a forward nature and an improper understanding of romance. His thin body was strapped with pockets and pouches, precision carry-cases for lock-picks, phials, tools and a host of suspicious devices. ‘Happy?’

  ‘Ecstatic. Mount up.’

  ‘I should warn you that I’m not very good at horses. You might have to wait on me a bit,’ said Azron.

  Jaq turned a cool stare on him. ‘If you slow me down, I’ll find a way to speed you up.’

  Azron struggled into the saddle and scowled moodily. ‘Are you paid to be this hospitable?’

  ‘No,’ said Jaq. ‘I’m paid to make sure you do your job. If you think you can do your job with a broken arm, then by all means continue annoying me.’

  ‘I probably need both arms. Definitely, in fact.’

  ‘Then let’s go.’

  Jaq spurred her horse and galloped across the flat mud streets of Port Town. Bouncing in his saddle like a kangaroo in an earthquake, Azron followed.

  +++

  They were some miles out of town, trotting along a quiet road through hill and dale, before Azron tried talking to Jaq.

  ‘So, then,’ he said. ‘Jaq—is that short for Jaqueline? Or Jackie?’

  ‘No. Just Jaq. My parents wanted a boy.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘They seemed to change their mind when my little brother was born, though. They called him Sue.’

  ‘Oh.’

  The two rode on for a little while before Azron spoke again.

  ‘Still. Must have made him strong, a name like that. All the playground hassle, and all that? Must have grown up to be quite a toughie?’

  Jaq shook her head. ‘He runs a weekly show down at the Purple Dragon. “The Dragon Queen Review.”’

  Azron nodded. ‘I’ve heard of that. It’s supposed to be very good.’

  ‘He’s done well for himself.’

  ‘Fair play to him.’

  They rode for a little while longer. Azron opened his mouth to speak but Jaq quickly raised a hand, silencing him

  She listened carefully, eyes squinting in conce
ntration. ‘Keep talking and ride on at the pace you’re riding at now. Don’t look back.’ With that she slid out of her saddle and darted behind a bush at the side of the road.

  Azron couldn’t think of anything to say, so began to whistle instead. The road behind remained deathly quiet. His whistling began to falter as a sense of unease crept up his spine. There was a sudden yelp followed by a jabbering litany. Azron spun in his saddle to see Jaq stomping furiously up the road towards him, dragging something along behind her by its foot. She stopped and threw a babbling kobold in front of his horse.

  ‘Is he with you?’ she snapped.

  Azron looked down into the panic-stricken face of Baby. The kobold was wearing the same ragged sack-on-sack combo as the last time he had seen him, but had added a frayed pair of underpants to the mix. He wore the underpants on his head, his scaly and hairy ears poking through the leg holes.

  ‘No,’ said Azron. ‘He definitely is not with me.’

  Jaq’s hand went to the butt of her pistola and she spoke through gritted teeth. ‘Don’t you lie to me. Why did you have him follow us? How many more are there?’

  Azron raised his hands in supplication. ‘I honestly don’t know what he’s doing here.’

  Jaq turned her furious gaze down on Baby, who flinched as though placed before a roaring furnace. ‘Well?’ she said. ‘What are you doing here? Spit it out!’

  Baby raised a trembling finger to point at Azron. ‘Weasel man owes me chocolate!’

  Jaq blinked and looked up at Azron. ‘Is this true?’

  Azron scratched at the back of his head. ‘Yeah, I promised him chocolate. I sort of forgot about it, to be honest.’

  ‘Well do you have any chocolate on you?’

  ‘No. Do you?’

  ‘I don’t like chocolate.’

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing, nothing.’ Azron sighed and dismounted the horse. ‘Alright, Baby. Here’s the thing—I don’t have the chocolate on me. You’ll have to wait ‘til I get back.’

  Baby got to his feet and gave Azron a defiant stare. ‘Business done is business paid. You think you can hide behind the woman with a thousand tempers? Pah! You will suffering my incredible vengeance!’

  Jaq shook her head. ‘Why do they talk like that?’