A giant! Where on Bish had the giant come from? Mood had told him of such men, and there were other legends as well. He thought of the stone statues in the City of Three. "Those giants were once real," the seers would say, and now he believed. He thought about Georgio, Lefty and Kam. It seemed unlikely he would ever see them again. The likelihood of going anywhere right now seemed limited. Besides, he had left them because he wanted to be left alone. Too many people had suffered or died on account of him. He didn’t want that burden anymore. Melegal has probably never been happier than since I’ve been gone.
He held Brool out, probably his only remaining friend. The dark axe had a dull glimmer in the daylight. The giant’s blood was still thick and wet on it’s spike. A shiny red blood drop looked delicious on its tip. It was wet and thick, like red dew on a giant flower. Venir ran his finger over the axe's tip, catching the blood on his finger. It slid like mercury and settled in the middle of his palm. It was cool, almost cold. Venir’s mouth would have watered if it weren't so dry. He needed something to quench his thirst, anything wet would do.
He sucked the blood out of his hand, swished it around and swallowed. It tasted bad, but at least his tongue was wet. The blood slid down his throat like ice water, landing in the pit of his stomach and catching fire. Venir felt like his stomach was going to explode. It churned inside him like a nest of awakening snakes. He convulsed on the ground. His vision began to darken. Now, he was not only sick, but blind, too. He lost consciousness. A host of vultures began to circle above.
Chapter 15
The thought of Venir having a son baffled Melegal. He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. For all he knew, he and Venir could each have a dozen bastards, but based off the type of women he and Venir kept company with, it wasn’t likely they could prove such a claim. Not that it mattered. It wasn't his concern. He kept moving, though, as fast as he could in the crowded streets of Bone.
There were families in Bone and Bish, large and small, mother and father, husband and wife. Melegal wasn’t born to such a privilege. He was one of the sordid lots, a bastard, probably sold by his mother after she had been impregnated by a lout. That was the most likely case, but he replaced those thoughts with his childhood fancy as he made his way through the alleyways of Bone.
Bish was a hard place to live, and children had it the worst. Urchin boys and girls knew they had fathers, but didn’t care to know which ones. If they gave it much thought, they just figured they were better off not knowing. Melegal emerged from an alley and took greater notice of the small and dirty faces littering the streets. There were many, but they weren’t out looking for their fathers, like Brak was.
He made his way out onto the main street where Royals were toted along in carriages pulled by horses. The City Watch maintained its presence. The merchants stood before their shops and stands, trying to wave the passing Royal carriages down. Beautiful ladies adorned in exquisite clothing were scattered in and out of the shops here in the nicer part of town. They were accompanied by their sentries and other servants as they gossiped, ate, and shopped on slave-made coin.
Melegal stopped and spat. He hated this place, preferring the darker corners of the City of Bone. There was only one way to get to where he was going though, unless he trudged through the sewers. He had to cross Main Street, or as they called it, the Royal’s Roadway. Melegal stood back in the shadows, several feet from the street, listening to the sounds of the women, horses, lies and barterers. Carriages rumbled by while others stopped at the sound of a bell that hung on the outside that was rung from within. Gorgeous, ugly, fat and rich women stepped out and berated the efforts of anyone that tried to help. Melegal wished it would rain.The City Watch was thick and active this time of day, beating any beggars or urchins away from the Royals. The City Watch wore dark brown uniforms and flat black caps with short bills. Each carried a club and a curved scimitar sword. Thieves were quickly dealt with when they got caught. Children could lose fingers and toes, while adults lost hands and feet.
Melegal leaned against a wall, head down, eyes up. He watched to see what others could not. A little black-haired boy maybe eight years old pinched a tiny gemstone from a lady's inlaid dress, and disappeared. A watchman clubbed an old man that got too close to the main road while another man with feverish eyes snatched a box of cakes from a carriage. A small bunch of urchins dashed and leaped into one of the large fountains that decorated the main corridor. The City Watch dragged the children out by the hair of their heads, while a Royal sentry chased a ragged man down the alley and was never seen again. One royal woman screamed when a platinum wig was stolen from her head, and another cried out when she noticed her bracelet was gone.
He watched all of this action take place in less than an hour. He shook his head. He never understood why the Royals didn’t just let their servants do the shopping for them. Stupid custom, like the rest.
It was time to go. Melegal made his way out boldly onto the street. It was the first time in years that he had done so. He traversed his way between the carriages and carts, head down, hands in his pockets, each step a hair quicker than the last. He didn’t feel like running today.
“Stop, Rogue!”
He was caught now, busted for having crossed the street. The Royals had some silly name for the crime, but he didn’t recall it. Two of the City Watch cut off his path, then two more rushed up from behind with watch sticks ready. He was surrounded.
Great! I guess running’s not even an option now.
The City Watch consisted of large and beefy men with dishonest looks in their eyes. Melegal could see the tobacco bits in between their teeth. One spit juice on his toe. He stood still. Any sudden moves or snide comments would garner him a clubbing.
“I’m just crossing the street, minding my own business, sirs. I’ll be along in a moment.”
He knew they didn’t care if it was true or not. The City Watch found nothing more fun than a legal mugging in broad daylight.
One had three chevrons on his shoulder sleeve, while the others had just one. He was the biggest and oldest, reddish brown hair spilling out from underneath his cap, a small booger dangling in his hairy nose. He sounded more like an orc than a man when he spoke orders to the others, gruff and condescending. The watchmen nudged Melegal a step back with their clubs.
“A girlie man like you should know better than to cross the Roadway during the high time. What do you think, boys? This little man looks like a thief to me.”
You are smarter than I imagined. Good for you. He could hear one smacking his club into his meaty hand from behind him, another lifted his stick onto his shoulder. The hardwood clubs were straight, three inches thick and almost three feet long. He’d seen a City Watchman break a man’s thigh with one. The muscles between Melegal’s shoulders started to knot. He allowed a gentle bend in his knees. Don't blow your cover. Talk your way out, Thief!
“Sirs, I’m merely tracking down my sister. She’s not all there, giddy and troublesome. I’m just trying to spare—”
“Shut up!”
One grabbed him by his cloak while another slammed a club into the backs of his legs. Melegal fell to his knees.
“I think I heard a jingle. Find his purse, boys.”
Melegal tried to squirm away, but the men were overbearing. One wrapped a club up under his chin. Melegal’s belly caught the full force of another’s fist. He had completely lost his ability to avoid harm today. Such was the way of Bish. You didn't go unscathed for long, no matter how sly you were.
Rough hands were rummaging through his clothes. He heard his purse strings snap. The sound of his dagger being slid from its concealed sheath caught his ears.
“He’s armed, trying to assassinate a Royal, I’d say.”
“Heh,heh …” said another.
What made the City Watch so effective all of a sudden? This can’t be happening. I should have waited until dark. Will this day ever end … with me alive?”
“Assassin? We hang or qu
arter assassins. See how much coin he’s got.”
He heard his coins clinking in their grubby hands. He knew the value by the sound of each one.
“It’s a pretty hefty purse.”
“It’s assassin money. He’s here to kill someone.”
Melegal wanted to remind them that assassins only got paid after the job was done, but the club wrapped around his throat prevented that. Play possum and slip away. Melegal’s body went limp.
The one holding him smelled like rotting cheese and spoke with a very deep voice.
“Uh … boss, I think he fainted. You want me to lock him up?”
The red-haired City Watchman was biting a small gold coin.
“No … just choke him to death now. And make sure no one will hear him scream.”
Bone!
Chapter 16
“It’s not my turn, it’s your turn,” Georgio argued.
“No, it’s your turn, not my turn.”
“Lefty, I did it last time and you said you’d do it this time. I don’t want to go again.”
“I assure you, Georgio, I was the bait the last time. This time is your turn.”
Lefty watched as Georgio looked up in the air, his pudgy face a mask of concentration. Deceiving his friend on these deeds was becoming more difficult. Georgio was getting smarter, but his best friend wasn’t ever going to be smart enough to catch up with him.
Georgio was rubbing his chin and giving him the eye.
“I’m not so sure about that, Lefty. I mean, it was just a week ago that I did what I’d done, and we haven’t done a skim since. I’m thinking this time you gotta go.”
Lefty looked up in his naive friend's face. There was a stern look underneath Georgio's curly brown locks. The boy was determined to not be duped so easily, not this time anyway. Lefty hopped up on a wooden crate in the alley, put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and looked him in the eye.
“You know Georgio, come to think of it, I’m not so sure about it, either. I’ll tell you what though. Since we can’t remember exactly, I have an idea.”
Georgio gave him a sheepish look and said, “What?”
“I’ll give you twenty percent more of the take, and I’ll buy you a batch of honey biscuits.”
He watched Georgio lick his lips at the sound of the mouth-watering biscuits. It was one of his friend’s weak spots.
“What do you say, Best Friend?”
“I want a slice of ham, too!”
Oh my, he’s bargaining with me … not good.
“No, forget about it. I’ll just do it. It’s more for me this way, and less for you,” Lefty said, hopping the crate and heading down the alley.
Georgio jumped at his heels.
“No wait Lefty—I was just kidding. I’ll do it!”
Lefty erased his sly grin before he turned back around.
“No, that’s all right. You’ve been taking too much risk. You are right; it is my turn.”
Georgio reached down and shook his shoulders.
“No Lefty, it’s all right … I’ll take the risk. I’m bigger than you and all. Let me do it this time, please.”
Lefty made the effort as if he were giving it serious thought.
Melegal would be so proud. Never do something if you can get some buffoon to do it for you.
Of course, duping his best friend bothered him, but he told himself it was just for practice. There would be bigger game to play as he got older.
“Oh, all right, Georgio, this time it’s a deal. But next time I’ll do it.”
“Thanks, Lefty,” Georgio said, shaking his hand.
The two boys headed to the end of the alley and sat on the corner of a storefront porch. The City of Three was laid out much like any other, just better maintained. Unlike in the City of Bone, the City Watch here was less visible. The urchins and beggars didn’t roam the streets in hoards. Things were safer and more civil in the City of Three. Lefty spied the tall towers that were scattered against the skyline, like giant shiny candles. The towers hosted the Royals and wizards, he had been told. He was told the wizards had the towers so they could keep to themselves. Lefty wondered if that was what was really in there. He was tempted to climb up and take a peek.
Lefty would do anything to go inside one of those towers. He had begged Kam for weeks, but she was adamant, telling him ‘No!’ Of course, what she didn’t know, he wouldn’t tell. For the time being he was happy being in the softer confines of the City of Three. Almost everything was an improvement over the City of Bone. The people smiled and didn’t smell like the gutter. When the people weren’t working themselves, they took time at home or for leisure. There was a good showing of all the races, the best of what they had to offer, whether it was food, wine or art of some sort.
Lefty and Georgio took a moment to help an ancient dwarven woman across the busy street. She had a thousand winkles in her face, a tiny shine in her eyes, and a thin wispy white beard. She sounded like an old man when she talked.
“Here, have a cookie, boys.”
Georgio took it from her knotty hand as she trudged along. The cookie looked more like a rock than anything else. It was burnt, brown and flecked with shiny morsels.
“Taste it, Georgio,” Lefty said.
Georgio bit into it with a crunch then began to spit it out, tossing it on the street saying, “Yeck!”.
“Well, what did it taste like?”
“Like baked dirt.”
Lefty started to giggle.
“Come on, I’ve found our mark.”
Georgio followed Lefty a little farther down the street where the two settled near a dry goods store. A pair of men of the common sort were unloading cases of glass bottles filled with wine. Lefty took note of the men, each dressed in a clean pale blue uniform that signified their merchant class. He noticed their nails were not dirty, and along their waists each carried a knife, as opposed to a sword or dagger. The balding storekeeper stood by in a gray shirt and black apron, eyeing the wagon as people passed by. He held a club in his hand that he rattled off the back of the wagon from time to time. Some people looked. Others hurried on.
Lefty gathered Georgio by his side and pulled something from his pocket.
“Ah … not this one again, Lefty,” Georgio said.
Lefty tossed a small, stuffed leather ball in the air. It was stitched up with twine and was much bigger than his tiny hand. Georgio watched as Lefty tossed the ball in the air and caught it behind his back … on his bare foot. Somehow, he tossed it over his back with his foot, and into the awaiting hands of the frowning boy.
“Come now, Georgio. We haven’t much time. They’re almost finished.”
“Ah …” Georgio said, tossing the ball back.
Lefty noted the storekeeper was paying them no mind. The stores and streets were busy in the morning. Horse-drawn wagons and carriages passed by, driven mostly by humans or dwarves. The ram-faced mintaurs pushed wheel barrows and carts, unloading thatches of wheat, and barrels of ale and barley. Lefty inhaled the aroma from the flowers of the florist shop nearby. There was nothing like planning a skim on a busy morning in broad daylight.
Lefty flung the ball hard at Georgio, popping him on the nose.
“Ow!”
“Pay attention; it’s almost time.”
Georgio slung the ball back, high over his head.
Lefty backpedaled, climbed a post, and snatched it from the air.
Georgio was rubbing his nose when he slung the ball back at him again.
Lefty watched as the store keeper signed off on something and counted out a variety of coins. Shaking the men’s hands after he handed them over. Perfect, Lefty thought.
The merchants secured the wagon and climbed into their seats. They had pleasant smiles on their faces, chatting back and forth about where to eat. Lefty wasn’t even looking when he grabbed the leather bean-filled ball coming at him from the air. Here we go. One of the traders lashed the horse on the back. The wagon lurched forward and in a moment
the traders were rolling his way.
Georgio was jumping up and down, waving his hands.
“Hit me! Hit me!”
The horse drawn wagon was coming at a trot from behind the big boy. Lefty hurled the ball over Georgio’s head. The big boy turned to try and catch it, tripped and fell in front of the wagon.
Crunch!
“Ow!” Georgio screamed as the wagon jostled to a halt. The boy was pinned between the wagon wheel and the ground.
“Whoa! What on Bish happened?” said one of the merchants. Both of the men jumped out of the wagon and came to Georgio’s aid. Georgio lay there, grimacing in pain, pinched between the wheel and the cobblestone ground.
“Hess, lead that horse back,” one man ordered.
The other nudged horse backward, freeing Georgio.
“You all right, Boy?”
“Ugh!” Georgio cried. “It hurts, hurts bad. Somebody call a cleric.”
Lefty dashed over and held Georgio’s head in his lap saying, “Somebody call the Watch, hurry!”
The two men looked at one another with alarm in their eyes.
One said, “No need for that. Let us take a look.”
Georgio groaned aloud.
“He needs healing! I must report this to the Watch to get healing!”
Both men looked worried. A small crowd began to gather nearby.
“Tell you what, Hhalfling, I’ll give you coin for a healer. Just stop crying for the Watch.”
Georgio’s eyes were rolled up in his head as he said, “It hurts sooo bad. You have to get the Watch. I’m dyin’.”
“Friend,” Lefty said, “can you stand? We must walk.”
The men helped Georgio to his feet. Clutching at his side, he fell back down again. He rolled in the street. The men were looking around, the worry in their faces beginning to grow. One of the men shoved some coins in Lefty’s hand.
“That’s more than enough, Halfling. Will you just go?”
Yes! “I suppose so.”
The two men got back on the wagon, snapped the reigns and were off.
The Darkslayer: Book 03 - Underling Revenge Page 8
