by Paul S. Kemp
Paper orbs of various colors hung from string from the bridge’s side, bouncing in the breeze. Each represented the wish of the person who’d left it there. Superstition said the wish would come true if the wind pulled the orb from the bridge and it floated safely to either shore. A person could make good coin selling those lamps, and many did. Hopes were born and died every day in Dur Follin. The shallows were littered with waterlogged orbs, the hopes they represented sodden and unrealized. Only once, as a boy, had Nix put a lamp on the bridge. Time would tell if his secret hope would ever be realized.
“This is risky, Nix,” Egil said. “The plates are on you. Guild boys could just try to take them, or try to kill us. We’re counting a lot on Rusk being reasonable.”
Nix knew, but he had little else. They needed a safe house. If they stayed on the street too long, Kerfallen would find them.
“We could head out of town,” Egil said. “Come back tonight or some other night. Make a run at the Conclave library then.”
Nix had considered that already. He shook his head. “Gives Kerfallen that much more time to prepare. And he’ll track us or the plates or both and catch us out on the road. Or he and his minions will be waiting when we try to come back. He’d have agents at every gate. We could just hand the plates over to a messenger and have him take them to Kerfallen. Then this is all over.”
Now it was Egil’s turn to shake his head. “Fakker tried to turn us to stone. He’s not getting these, not easily anyway.”
Nix knew Egil would respond just so. “Agreed. So I’ll summarize. We are sideways of a powerful wizard who wants something we have, wants it desperately enough to have twice attacked us in broad daylight. We’re seeking help from the leader of a guild whose hall we not long ago assaulted, killing many guild men in the process. Assuming we can avail ourselves of the guild’s safe house, we then plan to sneak into the Conclave during the night and figure out what is actually going on. We are doing these things because we eschew taking a simple way out, which is just to give the plates over to Kerfallen. Did I miss anything?”
“You did not,” Egil said. “Points for ‘eschewing.’ ”
“We ready?”
“We are.”
Merchant guild halls and society clubs lined several blocks of Mandin’s Way, gathering places for the various organizations and tradesmen of the city. Farther down, through the thicket of wagons and the groups of sailors and fishermen and horses and pedestrians that thronged Mandin’s Way, Nix saw the Squid, once a tavern and club for fishermen, now home and temple for Dur Follin’s Thieves’ Guild, which was equal parts criminal enterprise and Church of Aster, the god of rogues.
Nix and Egil eyed the street near the guild house, saw the spotters atop two nearby buildings, saw the two groups of muscle loitering across the street. The rogues guarding the door would have plenty of help if they needed it.
“If we went in through the sewers again,” Egil said, “we could just kill our way to Rusk. Worked the once.”
Nix chuckled. “Come on.”
They started down the street, on the side opposite the guild house. Nix waited until he knew he’d caught the eye of the spotters, then hooked his left thumb on his belt and put his right hand in his trouser pocket. He kept them that way so no one would think it happenstance. Hand signals and a whistle went down from the spotters, to the muscle, to the doormen, and four of the muscle came strolling toward Egil and Nix.
“Maybe try not to beat them in public?” Nix said.
“No promises,” Egil answered.
“We may need to emphasize the importance of our request, so watch my lead.”
“Aye,” Egil said.
Nix smiled at the four men as they approached. All of them wore boiled leather jerkins and sharp steel. Of course, all of them were bigger than Nix, but not one was bigger than Egil. They did not smile back.
“Calm now, boys,” Nix said. “This is business and we intend no trouble.”
The smallest of the four, bearded and with tattoos covering his bare arms, merely smirked. With practiced precision the four fell in around Egil and Nix, one of them putting a hand on Egil as though they were long-lost friends. Another did the same with Nix. One took position in front, and one in back. Signals came down to them from the spotters on the roofs, presumably indicating the all-clear.
The one in the rear did the talking.
“You know the signs but aren’t of the faith,” he said. “That’s crime enough. But then it turns out I recognize the two of you and remember well the last time you walked the halls of our house. I was outside the door that time. You remember? One of you was running your mouth.”
“That’d be me,” Nix said. “Were you the dumb one or the dumber one?”
The man holding Nix gave him a rough shake.
“You tell me not to beat them, but then pick a fight,” Egil said.
“I’m not picking a fight,” Nix protested. “I asked in all sincerity.”
The man behind said, “I see it was you indeed. And that you’ve a sharp tongue still. We get inside the hall, maybe I’ll show you something sharper still.”
“Not your wit, of that I’m sure,” Nix said, unable to help himself.
“Shut up, Nix,” Egil said. “Gods.”
“Well, they shouldn’t make it so fakkin’ easy then,” Nix said.
“Listen,” Egil said, “we didn’t come for trouble. We came to see Rusk, the Upright Man. You make sure he knows that. No trouble. Just talk.”
“The Upright Man will decide if there’s trouble or talk or both or neither. You just do as you’re told.”
The men steered them across the street, through the wagons and donkeys and horses, toward the guild house. The smell of fish hung heavy in the air. Nix burped up the taste of Gadd’s stew.
“If you try to disarm me inside, I’ll kill you all,” Egil said. “Fair warning.”
The men chuckled darkly.
Nix felt vindicated. “Now who’s picking a fight, priest?”
“Bah,” Egil said. “I offered it in all sincerity.”
“You two blab like old birds,” the one behind them said. “Is this supposed to be distracting because—”
Nix grabbed the dagger from the belt of the man in front of him, tripped him as he spun, and put the blade to the neck of the man with his hand on his back. Egil read his move, put an arm lock on the man with a hand on his back, spun, grabbed the man behind them—the one talking—by his cloak, and pulled him close.
“That’s it,” Nix said, and dropped the blade and held up his hands. Egil released the arm lock and turned his back to the guild thief who’d been talking.
“See,” Nix said over his shoulder. “If we’d wanted to go hard, I’d have just slit a throat, Egil would have broken that one’s arm and head-butted you hard enough to shatter your nose and probably kill you. Your spotters on the roof would have whistled up aid and crossbow quarrels would have flown, but Egil would have carried one of you as cover from the shots as we charged the front door. As we went we’d have stomped on the head or throat of the one I tripped. And those boys on the porch there, those ones looking questions at you right now, they would’ve had no chance with us. We all know that. Once we got inside we’d have locked the reinforced door behind us so the boys out here would’ve had to take the long way around. Not even a window to get in, since they’re all grated. And Egil and me, we know the layout, so we’d have headed straight for the alternate way in. Probably killed a few of you on the way. Maybe a lot of you. It’s happened before, yeah? Once there, we’d have either ambushed those boys as they came in or just locked them out and cleared out the house. I know you know we could do it. But like I said, we didn’t come here to go hard at the guild. We came here to talk. Which I’m doing a lot of at the moment. So anyway, let’s go.”
“Shite,” one of the muscle said.
A hand went to Nix’s shoulder again, but not roughly and no one touched Egil, but they walked them toward the hous
e. Questions came down from the spotters and the muscle signaled back that all was under control.
The guards on the guild house porch eyed them as the muscle took them through the reinforced front doors, through the foyer, and into a small, windowless room off to the side of the main hall.
“Don’t cause no trouble in here,” the same muscle said.
“Rusk and Trelgin,” Nix said. “Just tell them we’re here to see them, yeah?”
“Yeah,” the man said, and closed the door. Locks clicked into place.
“This going about how you figured?” Egil asked him.
“About,” Nix said. “You think you could take that door if you had to?”
Egil eyed the wooden slab. “I could. This is an outside wall. My hammers could make a window in it, too, if we had need. I don’t think we will, though. I believe we made our point.”
Nix didn’t feel as certain, but he figured there was nothing to do but wait on Rusk. They didn’t have to wait long.
The door soon opened and Rusk and Trelgin entered the room. Behind them, in the hall outside, Nix saw a dozen or more guild men milling around like a mob. Necks craned to see and lots of angry glares landed on Nix and Egil.
For his part, Rusk looked much as he had when they’d seen him last. Maybe his dark hair and beard were a bit grayer, and he sported a few more lines around his eyes and mouth. His jacket, vest, and trousers, too, were a bit nicer than last they’d seen him. Both he and Trelgin bore blades at their belts, of course, long and short. Trelgin had pulled his hair back into a tail, but its middling length made the tail a stub. Sweat stained the pits of his loose-fitting shirt, which was covered by a leather vest.
“Shut the door,” Rusk said, staring at Egil and Nix, and Trelgin did.
“Because we two ain’t worried about you two,” Trelgin said in his sloppy tones.
Nix swallowed a quip and instead said to Rusk, “You look a bit worse for wear. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, yeah?”
Rusk ignored the comment, looked them up and down, and ran a hand over his beard thoughtfully. “You attacked my people in the street? I thought we’d settled things after that bit with the witches in the swamp.”
Nix feared that Rusk calling Rose and Mere “witches” would trigger Egil’s temper, but the priest held his calm.
“We were just making a point,” Egil said. “Your people were taking liberties with our persons. We didn’t mean them harm and I think you know that.”
“You look better’n you did last night at the Masquerade,” Trelgin said to Egil, smirking.
“And you look just as shit as when I saw you on the street outside the Masquerade last night,” Nix said. “So maybe we drop that whole line of discussion, yeah?”
Rusk put a hand in one of his trouser pockets, maybe just to look relaxed. “You know, I could’ve had you both clicked a ways back. Thought about it now and again. But like I said, I considered us past that.”
“Lots of people have tried clicking us, Rusk,” Nix said. “And none have succeeded yet. In fact, that was part of the point we made in the street, I thought. Egil, didn’t we make that point?”
“We did, I thought,” Egil added. “Among others. Could be it was lost on those boys. Not the sharpest of blades, I’d say.”
“Didn’t I say?” Trelgin said to Rusk. “Mouthy is what. And not just Nix.”
Nix went on. “Hells, as I recall the last time someone from the guild took a run at us, it ended badly for the guild. But then, that wasn’t your guild then, Rusk.”
Trelgin’s face trembled with anger. “Fak you, Nix, and your smart mouth! Some of them boys you clicked back then were friends.” He looked at Rusk. “Maybe we ought to just click ’em here and now. Or let the boys outside have a go, even. It’d do them good.”
“Maybe you should try not talking for a while,” Egil said to Trelgin.
“Lots of people saw us come in,” Nix said. “Some would know us. Might be bad for business you doing harm to us now.”
“Trying to do us harm, anyway,” Egil added, and put a hand to the haft of a hammer.
Nix said to Trelgin, “We know some of those men were your friends back then. But it never would have come to that if some of those other boys, at Channis’s direction, hadn’t tried to put a match to our friends. Done is done, though. We made recompense for all that, Rusk, yeah?”
Rusk stared at Nix, committing to nothing.
“Recompense, my arse,” Trelgin said, spraying spittle as he said the words.
“And today we came to buy something from you,” Nix said, ignoring Trelgin. “Business. You still do business?”
Trelgin started to say something but Egil pointed a finger at his face and said, “Don’t talk.”
Nix went on. “We pay and you provide a service. That’s all we’re asking.”
“We don’t owe them,” Trelgin said.
“No,” Nix said. “You don’t, which is why we’re looking to pay, not to ask a favor.”
Rusk sucked his teeth for a moment, then finally said, “What’s the service?”
“Time in the Vault,” Nix said.
Trelgin scoffed.
Rusk’s brow furrowed and he shook his head. “That’s not possible.”
Nix was pleased that Rusk hadn’t denied the existence of the Vault. The guild had long been rumored to have a special room or rooms, immune to magical scrying, in which they kept particularly hot swag or kidnap victims. Nix had long assumed it must be true, else lots of activities of the guild would have been easily thwarted by a wizard-for-hire.
“Why not?” Egil asked.
“What the fak do you two have that needs to go in the Vault?” Trelgin asked.
Rusk stared at Egil. “Because the Vault’s for guild use only.”
Nix shifted on his feet, irritated. “Is that a rule or a religious edict or something else?”
Rusk said nothing.
“Because if it’s just a rule and not handed down from some holy book of Aster, then it should be bendable. We can pay, Rusk.”
Rusk ran a hand along his beard, affecting disinterest. “The guild doesn’t need coin, Nix.”
Nix had anticipated that. “I’m not talking about just coin. I’m going to reach into my satchel, yeah?”
Rusk nodded. Trelgin watched him carefully.
Nix withdrew the magic key. He’d packed a handful of various fruits and vegetables, too.
“What the fak is that?” Trelgin asked.
“It’s a morphic key,” Nix said.
“Fak you,” Trelgin said, leaning forward to eye it more closely. “It is not.”
Rusk looked skeptical but intrigued.
Nix spoke a word in the Language of Creation and the teeth of the key yawned.
“Give us an artichoke,” it said.
Rusk inhaled audibly. Trelgin’s sloppy mouth went still sloppier as it hung open.
“It’s temperamental, yeah?” Nix said. “Always asking for this or that before being willing to work. But it opens any lock if you feed it what it asks. Useful to the guild, I would imagine?”
“Give us a carrot, then,” the key said.
Nix took a carrot from his satchel and held it before the key’s teeth. It took a few bites. To demonstrate its power, Nix walked past Trelgin and Rusk and placed the key in the keyhole on the door.
“This is a lock I’ve never seen before and I’m putting the key in from the wrong side.”
He turned the key to lock the door, turned it again to unlock.
Nix took the key out and held it out to Rusk. “Any lock, Rusk. Just keep some fakkin’ fruits and vegetables on hand.”
“It’s nice,” Rusk said, nodding at the key but not taking it, obviously trying to play coy. “But even with coin added, it’s not enough.”
Nix smiled knowingly. “No, it’s not.”
“Of course it’s not,” Egil said.
“I do this for you and you owe me,” Rusk said. “Not in a wise-arse Egil and Nix
way, but a true debt. One you’ll pay when I ask. A service. A task. I’ll ask it, and you’ll do it. Or I’ll ask you not to do something, and you won’t do it. You won’t ask questions and try to subvert what I say. You’ll just do as you’re told.”
Nix looked at Egil.
Egil looked to Rusk. “On condition whatever you ask doesn’t harm our friends or an innocent. You agree to that, we have a deal.”
“An innocent,” Rusk said, and chuckled. “What’re those?”
“Done or not?” Nix asked.
“Done,” Rusk said. He spit on his hand, Egil and Nix did the same, and they shook on a deal closed.
“What is it that you need to store and for how long?” Rusk asked.
“We need to store us,” Nix said.
“Just until nightfall,” Egil added. “Then we’ll be on our way.”
At first Rusk did not understand, then his eyes showed that he did and he nodded. “Well, you two must be in some real shite to have wizards hunting for you.”
“Shite deep and dark,” Trelgin said, then chuckled. “For you to put yourselves in the guild’s pocket. I can’t wait to see how you get spent.”
“That’s enough,” Rusk said to him. “Clear the hall outside. Then call a meeting of the Committee. I’ll get these two into the Vault and then explain to the others.”
“Sooner is better,” Nix said. “The deep and dark shite we’re in and all.”
“I’ll get some bodyguards,” Trelgin said, looking meaningfully at Egil and Nix.
“No need,” Rusk said. “As Nix said, this is business. We’re past that.”
Rusk looked to Nix and Nix nodded.
Trelgin looked surprised, but did as Rusk bade.
After he’d gone, Rusk faced them and said, “Now, if I thought worse of you two, I might figure that your actual play here was, first, to confirm that there was a Vault, and second, to recover something that we keep there. Just so you know I’m not a fool.”
