Second Hand Curses

by Drew Hayes

  Up until the end of the story, Jack was feeling quite good about their situation. Tracking down a con man who had no more protection than a few goons and a rat-flute would be relatively easy. It was in the final words of the tale that they hit a snag, however. Children had been brought into the equation, and while Frank didn’t stiffen up, tap Jack on the knee, or give any other outward sign, Jack knew his friend was staring at him with those mismatched eyes. Now that Frank knew children were in trouble, they would take this job. Frank was easily the least-demanding member of their team, but this was a point he was famously inflexible on. The trick was to negotiate a proper price out of the Sheriff before he knew they’d have to do it for free if needed just to keep Frank happy.

  “Interesting,” Jack said. “I heard a rumor once about something similar down in Hamelin, although it was long done by the time it reached my ears. I assume you’ve already sent people out looking for the children?”

  “The best trackers we have,” the Sheriff confirmed. “They came up empty. All the trails were obscured. A horde of rats had trampled over most of the forest, wiping out any hints as to where the piper and the children went.”

  “And how long until he wants his money?”

  “Less than a week left. We’ve been trying to scrape together what we can, but we’re a small hamlet. There’s only so much gold to be found.”

  It was a tight time frame, but if the piper was relying on rats to obscure his trail that meant he probably didn’t have any better, more magical, options. Hunting him down should be doable, even if it did mean their delay. Still, getting out of here without bloodshed would be nice, and if they could add some gold to their pockets in the process all the better.

  “I believe my associates and I can be of some help, so it looks like we can come to an arrangement,” Jack said after careful consideration. “We’ll even be willing to do it for the shockingly low price of a mere hundred gold, along with the return of our prisoner and any help you might be able to lend in tracking our target.”

  The Sheriff blanched visibly, and whispers flew around the room. “A hundred gold? That’s two-thirds of what he wants to just hand the children back.”

  Jack was a bit shocked to hear that the piper was offering such a low-ball price. A hundred and fifty gold for an entire town of children was far less than he’d expected. Perhaps the piper took a town’s fiscal capacity into account when making such demands. “Two-thirds the price, and it comes with the added benefit of getting the head of the man who stole your children delivered to you, on a platter or a pike, your choice. Sounds to me like quite a bargain.”

  From the side of the room came a brief scoff. A guard with red hair and what seemed to be a permanent sneer, far less refined than the Sheriff’s expert scowl, was glaring at Jack. “They’re just more liars and thieves, Sheriff. We can’t trust them. We’ll not get ourselves out of this by casting our lot with rogues and monsters.” The guard tilted his head toward Frank, who instinctively pulled his hood and cloak further over his scarred flesh.

  A low, deep rumble filled the room for an instant. Most would have called it similar to a dog’s growl, but only because they hadn’t been deep enough into the woods to learn what the real beasts sounded like. It ended quickly, as Jack stood from his chair and looked the guard straight away in the eye.

  “Scoundrel, actually.”

  “What?” The glare had been replaced by confusion, not the first man to have such a reaction when talking with Jack.

  “I prefer the term ‘scoundrel’. ‘Rogue’ has a connotation associating it with illegal acts, whereas scoundrels are more looked upon as generally unsavory rather than outright lawbreakers. We still do ignore the rules, you understand, just not with the same professional dedication as a rogue would. Now you, good sir, tell me about yourself. Are you perhaps the son of the local mayor, or this fine sheriff’s second in command?”

  “N-no. I’m a guard.” Everyone in the room was beginning to look uncertain, save for Marie and Frank, who knew exactly where this was heading.

  “Ah. So no strong political or financial connections then? You’re not a man with influence, just an honest fellow doing a hard job for well-earned pay?” Jack’s smile had taken on something of a gleam, a warning sign that too few knew to heed.

  The guard puffed his chest out a bit, finding his nerve and staring Jack down. “That’s right. I’m no one fancy; I earned this position through my own hard work.”

  “Fantastic.” In a blur of motion Jack pulled a dagger from the guard’s belt and sliced it across his throat, stepping out of the way as the guard began to clutch his bleeding neck and panic. Instantly the other guards drew their swords and knives, pointing them at the nearest member of the trio.

  “Calm down,” Jack ordered. “I sliced the skin of his neck, but went no deeper. While it will be tender, he’ll be fine, assuming this town has a half-decent apothecary or alchemist. Understand this, though: that was the only warning you people get. My friends and I don’t need to help you. We could walk out of this room and ride away without so much as a glance back. You need us, not the other way around, and for so long as that’s true I expect you to treat my friends with the respect they deserve. The next person who whispers the word ‘monster’ around any of us will find out why none of the kingdoms that spread word about us actually put out warrants. Because none of them wanted us back in their lands.”

  He dropped the dagger, which plunged into the floor and quivered in place for several seconds. That done, Jack took his seat once more, meeting the Sheriff’s now-furious eyes. “We are considered to be too dangerous to have around, if you can believe that. Now please tell your men to sheathe their weapons. I’d hate for this lovely town to suddenly be absent its law-enforcement personnel.”

  There was a long moment where none of the three knew if they were about to have to fight their way out or not. Not that they would have blamed Jack if it came to that. They’d all heard that word too many times, and none was inclined to tolerate it any more, even less so when it was directed at one of their friends. Finally, the Sheriff motioned to the guards to put their tools away.

  “Much as I want to lock you up for that, you’ve just proven yourself to be a scary man. Scary, and hopefully useful. Sixty gold, the return of your prisoner, help finding out which direction the man you’re after went, and the ability to walk freely out of here despite assaulting one of my staff. That’s the best offer you’re getting, so I suggest you take it before we clap you in irons.”

  In any other situation, Jack would have kept haggling. The advantage of force the guards thought they had wasn’t really there, and it would be easy to demonstrate that. But they were going to have to take the job anyway, which meant walking away was off the table. The longer he haggled, the greater the chance of the Sheriff figuring that out, and once he did all of Jack’s leverage was gone.

  “I suppose that will do. Rescuing children is something of a public good, anyway. Very well, Sheriff, I accept your offer on behalf of my company. Now tell me everything you know about this piper.”

  The Sheriff began to recount the tale in more detail as several guards stooped down to help the bleeding one up from the floor. True to his word, Jack had slit no more than the skin, though one wouldn’t have guessed it from the quantity of blood dripping down the guard’s tunic. The others ushered him out the door, where he paused only long enough to throw a hateful glance in Jack’s direction. To his surprise, Jack had twisted around in his seat and was waiting for the glare, meeting it with that constant grin.

  The guard’s anger faltered as fear reasserted itself, and he quickly excused himself from the room. Rage was well and good, but Jack was a man who could smile after nearly slitting a man’s throat. No one wanted to see what sort of cheery smirk would be there if he cut deeper next time.

  * * *

  In assessing a hostage situation, the first step was to determine if the hostages were more likely to still be alive, or already be
en killed. This was vital, as keeping them alive required resources like food, water, and sufficient isolation to keep anyone from finding them or hearing their cries for help. All of these were elements that could be tracked or accounted for, and narrowed down the number of potential hiding places with easy access to the town. If the hostages were assumed to be dead, on the other hand, all that was needed was a large enough hole in the ground.

  By Frank’s estimations, the children were more likely still alive than dead. Kidnapping was one thing, bad as it was, but wholesale slaughter of an entire town’s children was unnecessarily risky. That was high-league evil, the sort that would draw down brave knights or turn a farmer who’d lost his child into a hell-bent avenger. The Narrative existed for moments like those, using them as a catalyst to create new adventures, and if the piper had lasted long enough to pull this scam more than once then he was probably smart enough to avoid calling down that kind of attention.

  Sitting in their room at the local inn, Frank poured over a map of the surrounding area. The Sheriff had, to his credit, provided them all the tools they requested for the job in short order. He didn’t like them, or trust them, and that was fair. Between getting scammed by the piper and Jack almost opening up a peon’s jugular, Frank imagined in that man’s position he’d be wary of trusting strangers, too. Yet he’d still handed them all that they asked for without hesitation. He was desperate, and given the stakes, that was the correct emotion to feel. If the town lost their children, they’d be out for blood, and if the piper couldn’t be found they’d blame the Sheriff for failing to bring him to justice. Desperation could be useful down the line, although Frank would leave pressing that advantage to Jack. For his part, Frank never really enjoyed dealing with people much.

  The door to the trio’s room opened briefly as Marie ambled in, pulling off her cloak and tossing it onto a chair. “I sniffed up and down the forest, and all I could smell was rat. No wonder they couldn’t figure out where that piper went. He didn’t just cover his tracks; he covered every set around this whole town.”

  “Clearly he’s done this many times before and perfected his tactics.” Frank’s pale finger ran down the map as he evaluated each potential hiding place. Some had water, some had isolation from the roads, and some were in fertile enough grounds to hunt, but few had all three factors. What was worse, the town guards had already checked out the spots that hit all three criteria and come up empty-handed. They were missing something, some element to the scheme, and Frank hadn’t hit upon it. Yet. “Jack still down in the bar working the locals?”

  “Chatting the ears off some miller’s daughters when I passed through. I hope he remembers to pump them for information after pumping them for pleasure.”

  “Jack has his vices, but none of them are more pronounced than greed. The job has gold attached to it, so he’ll make it his first priority.” Although Frank didn’t say it, he also trusted that Jack would work hard on this because he knew it mattered to Frank. The man was a self-admitted scoundrel and made no bones about it, but he came through when it mattered. When it mattered to Frank or Marie, anyway.

  Marie gave a terse nod. “I know he will, I just wish he’d put a little more urgency into things. Since you’re still looking over that map I’ve got a hunch you didn’t find anything either, which makes Jack turning up a lead our best hope. As for me, I’m going to go find a garden and pick some pleasant-smelling herbs. That damned rat smell is coating the entire forest, and it got stuck in my nose. I feel like I can practically taste the cursed things.”

  With those words came the flash of insight Frank had been hoping for. His eyes widened as he stared at the map, looking at it with fresh eyes. “The rats. We forgot about the rats.”

  “No, we very much didn’t. I just complained to you about them,” Marie reminded him.

  “Not like that.” Frank stood up, bringing the map over to Marie and setting it down on the nearby table. “What are the three components to holding a prisoner in secret?”

  “Food, water, and isolated shelter.” The words came instantly; Marie had worked nearly as many of these jobs as Frank had. “That’s what you’re looking for.”

  Pale fingers traced the map’s roads and features, searching for something new. “Exactly. And that’s what the town guards were looking for as well, yet they came up empty. Because we forgot that the piper has demonstrated the skill and capacity to use his rats in more than one way. First, he obviously sent them into the town, setting up the need for his aid. Then he used them to cover his tracks when he stole the children. So why not use them once more, in another capacity? They may not be tasty or particularly nutritious, but you could still live on cooked rat for quite a long time if you had to.”

  “The bastard is using the rats as food, so he doesn’t have to worry about hunting or buying supplies.” Marie snapped to the idea quickly; she was often quick on the uptake. “So all he really needs is isolated shelter and water to keep the kids alive.”

  “Exactly. And once we rule out the places that the guards already searched, that leaves us with a few high-potential targets.” Frank pointed to four spots on the map in rapid succession, tracing a path among them. “If we leave at first light, we should be able to scout all of them before the day is done. Narrative-willing, we may be in time to save those children well before the deadline.”

  Marie clapped him gently on the back. “That’s some quick thinking. Now the only question is whether or not Jack will be in any condition to wake up by first light.”

  Frank smiled slightly. It had nothing on Jack’s unfailing, disconcerting grin, but it was a touch unsettling all the same. Although, given the crisscrossing of scars on his face, there were few expressions Frank could make that didn’t disturb people.

  “That sounds like a problem for Jack more than us. Remind me to get a bucket and water ready tonight in case he tries to sleep in tomorrow.”

  * * *

  The first location was empty save for a few rabbits, and all they found at the second potential holding site was a grumpy bear who cursed them out for waking him up. As they approached the third site, however, Marie held up a hand to slow their pace. Tentatively, she stepped forward, craning her neck and sniffing deeply from the air.

  “Rats. Lots of rats have been through here.” A few more steps and sniffs forward then Marie paused again. “I’m also getting people. Men, not children. And the unmistakable scent of treated leather, like you’d use for armor.”

  “Interesting.” Jack followed Marie’s steps, moving more quickly and quietly than she had, making his way past her until he reached the apex of the small hill they were climbing. Peeking his head over, Jack briefly scanned the area before making his way back down. “Looks like an ambush. I guess they figured out someone would be able to track them this far.”

  From deep within Frank’s throat came a heavy noise, something between a groan and a growl. “But no children?”

  “None that I could see,” Jack replied.

  “Still not smelling them either,” Marie confirmed.

  Their opponents were smart, which was troublesome, and experienced, which was an outright pain. They’d played this game before, so they knew most of the moves that could be made. Clearly Frank wasn’t the first to figure out the idea of using rats for food. So they’d laid a trap to catch whoever came calling, likely as a tactic to gain more hostages or rob the people of hope. At this point, Frank had to assume they had other contingencies in place as well; he’d be a fool to think otherwise after seeing how well they ran this scheme. Outthinking his opponents would take time, a resource that dwindled more with every passing hour. There was another way, however, even if it wasn’t Frank’s favorite. He and the others could do what no knight or guard stumbling across these people would have; he could use ruthlessness to handle things more expediently.

  “If the piper is down there, take him alive,” Frank commanded. “In fact, take as many alive as possible. Just in case our piper isn’t w
ith them, I may need to use duress to discover his location.”

  “We could try to bluff them, see if they’re dumb enough to give us what we want without knowing they’ve betrayed their leader.” Jack sounded confident in the plan, and for good reason. It was one of his favorite, and more successful, tactics.

  Frank still shook his head, even as he was bending down and taking the carefully fastened sack off from around his back. Inside was a black leather bag not quite like anything else in all the kingdoms. “Too dangerous. One of them might sense danger and get away, giving them time to move, or get rid of, the hostages. We hit them hard, get them all, and then go from there. I’m not in the mood to play nice.” From the bag Frank removed a pair of small shining blades of a shape unfamiliar to nearly all people in the land, as well as a few more sharp implements. Once those were stowed on his body, he tucked the bag away under a nearby tree until he could retrieve it. There were delicate pieces in there, the sort that would be a pain to replace if they were damaged in battle.

  By the time he was done Marie’s eyes were yellow and her teeth had turned sharper. She wouldn’t fully shift until they were in position; that beastly form of hers had little capacity for stealth, but already the anticipation of battle had awoken the creature’s bloodlust. Jack, on the other hand, was still unarmed; the rapier at his hip remained in its scabbard.

  “Is there an issue we need to discuss?” Frank asked.

  “No, I’m in. Just waiting until we get a little closer. You know me; I like to be in the moment when I start things off.”

  “Good. How many are there?”

  Jack craned his neck back toward the hill, mentally recounting the men he’d seen hidden amidst the trees. “I spotted five, so let’s assume around ten since some were probably out of my line of vision.”

  “For the stink, that sounds about right,” Marie said.

  Ten men, armed mercenaries most likely, specifically waiting for a group just like theirs. Ten waiting, trained killers against the three of them. The poor bastards, it was so lopsided Frank almost felt a twinge of guilt. Then he remembered the kind of man these flunkies were protecting and his glimmer of empathy was snuffed out. They’d made their choices that brought them here, and now they would face the consequences.