Carson grimaced and nodded, verifying Alto's claim.
"And you might need to be," Mordrim said without batting an eye at the implication. "That won't encourage them to meet us though, will it?"
"Oh, I get it!" Garrick blurted out.
Mordrim snorted. "Seems your father didn't use you as a club to train his dogs after all."
Garrick glared at the dwarf but couldn't respond before Alto spoke.
"Take us there," Alto said. "Tell them whatever you need to. I don't care."
Mordrim rubbed his hands together and nodded. "All right, let's be off then. To the Foreign District!"
Mordrim led them down the main streets of the city, pausing only when they saw a group of city guards. With Alto, Carson, and Karthor's exploits at the palace explained, they didn't want to risk any trouble. With the infrequent stops and winding path around the palace, it took them over an hour to make their way through the crowded streets.
The Foreign quarter was separated from the rest of the city by a wall with a large gate in it. Guards manned the gate but they paid little attention to anyone entering or leaving the district. The traffic thinned considerably inside the Foreign District, allowing them to more easily see the various houses and shops.
At one time, many of them looked to have been very impressive. Outlandish designs and materials had been used on a few of the larger buildings and shops, but now they were faded and falling into disrepair. Smaller residences were made of the mixture of sand and mud. In many buildings, holes and cracks littered the walls.
"People live in these?" Garrick asked.
"Beats a cave or a tree limb," Carson opined.
Garrick glanced at the ranger and nodded. "Even the least of my people has the help of his clan to provide a place to lay his head."
"These are outsiders," Mordrim reminded them with a touch of bitterness in his tone. "People the royals need, but don't like. They're different. Dwarves, elves, splisskin, ogres, and more."
"Ogres?" Garrick growled.
"Not many, but a few. Hard to beat an ogre when you need a strong back for labor."
Garrick snorted. "I've put my strength against theirs and survived."
"Well, you're a bit of an ogre yourself," Patrina reminded him. "Now let Mordrim take us to his contact."
Garrick scowled but fell silent and trudged along with them.
Mordrim took them into a couple of shops before he found one that focused on selling metal wares, from weapons and armor to trinkets and jewelry. He walked up to rap his metal-clad knuckles against a counter hard. Someone coughed and swore behind the counter, and then picked themselves up from where they'd been napping on the floor.
The dwarf behind the counter climbed up onto a stool and peered over his large nose at them. "Snord's Armory, what can I do for you?"
"Snord, you blind old fool, don't you recognize me?"
The dwarf squinted and peered at Mordrim, and then grinned wide enough to show a gold tooth. "Mordrim? Heard you'd gone north to stay?"
"I did. But business brought me back down here."
"Who are the tall folk?" Snord asked as he eyed up Mordrim's companions.
"Friends of mine from the north. Trustworthy friends," Mordrim said. He glanced at them all and held Garrick's gaze the longest.
If the barbarian received the message, he showed no sign of it.
"Sounds like you're up to something special," Snord said. "Something fun?"
"Not much fun to be had," Mordrim admitted. "Unless it's putting some uppity humans in their place."
Snord grinned again. "Sounds like fun to me. It's been a few years, but let me find my kit and I'll join you!"
Mordrim held out his hands and waved them. "Snord! No, wait. That's not what I need from you." The dwarf turned and glanced around the shop, making sure no one else was present. "I need to get word to the Shadows. Some special business I need to do."
"Special business?" Snord frowned. "What kind of special?"
"Need some people to disappear," Mordrim said.
Snord's bushy eyebrows pushed together. "Disappear?"
"Yeah, now you see them, now you don't? Disappear."
Snord frowned. "What kind of people? You know I'll help if I can, but there are some things I don't know nothing about and don't want to be involved in."
Mordrim turned his head to look at his friends standing around him. He turned back to Snord and raised one of his own eyebrows to let the man interpret what he wished.
"Oh! That kind of disappear! I thought you meant the permanent kind." Snord chuckled and looked the companions over. "They're all armed and don't look to be slaving. All right, I'll put the word out. Head on over to the Deadtroll Inn and somebody will stop by. Unless it's me—then I'm just looking for a drink with an old friend."
Mordrim chuckled and clapped the countertop. "A fine day to you, old friend. Hurry over. I'll buy that drink."
"You're damn right you will! Business is slow these days!"
Mordrim chuckled and led his friends back out of the shop. Once the door was shut, the dwarf set a new course for the tavern. Alto kept his questions to himself until they entered and found a table near a wall.
"Disappear?" Alto questioned once they'd sat down.
Mordrim grinned. "That's the plan, isn't it? We're going to make some people disappear and get our own disappeared people back."
Patrina frowned. "Mordrim, what sort of work did you do when you lived down here?"
"I was a smith, my lady."
"I know that, and you're a fine one at that."
The dwarf nodded his head to show his thanks. "Got tired of the heavy taxes on what I made. Our mines are surrounded by Shazamir, forcing us to deal with them as our only customers. The prices aren't fair and most of my kin live poor because of it. I reckoned it was time that we found some new lands. Then I started paying attention to the stories told to children about where some of us came from. The mines in the north. That's when I knew I had to try something different."
"So who is Snord?" Alto asked.
"Snord can't see worth a damn anymore," Mordrim said. "But he still thinks he's got the eyes and body of a dwarf fifty years younger. He's a little addled too, I think. But he has connections to smuggle and sell things without the Shazamir knowing a thing about it."
"How is that going to help us find these Stalkers?" Garrick asked.
"Snord? He won't. It'll be whoever he puts us in touch with who can help us out. Whether they want to or not."
"I'm guessing, 'not'," Alto said.
Mordrim grinned. "That's when it gets fun."
Alto was about to chuckle when he spotted someone moving between tables. He stood up just as the short figure stepped through a door and disappeared. His friends rose with him, each looking to see what had bothered him. Alto waited a moment and then shook his head and sat back down. The others followed suit, releasing their grips on their weapons.
"Sorry, thought I saw somebody I knew," Alto said.
Mordrim's eyes narrowed. "Who? Somebody from the palace?"
Alto sighed. He shook his head. "No, it was nothing, I'm sure."
"Who did you think you saw?" Patrina asked, reaching over and taking his hand to give it a squeeze.
Alto smiled as a little color came to his cheeks. "Bonky."
Patrina's eyes widened. "Thork's assistant?"
"That stupid goblin?" Mordrim muttered.
Alto nodded to both of them.
"There are some goblins here," Mordrim admitted. "Not that they do much, mind you. They don't even make good beggars. People kick 'em out of the way."
"That must have been it then," Alto said. "He looked familiar, but there was nothing odd about him."
"Odd?" Patrina asked.
"Yeah, stripes on his skin. Dots. Rainbow-colored hair. The things that Thork's potions do to him."
Patrina laughed and nodded. She remembered her last encounter with Thork. He'd turned Bonky pitch black thanks to a bad reactio
n to a new potion and the sun. "Probably not then," she agreed.
Alto nodded but couldn't stop himself from looking around. Was Thork nearby, just waiting for them to find him so he could help? They needed it, this time as much as ever.
Chapter 15
While they waited, they ate a heavily spiced stew sparsely filled with fish and snake. Hard bread accompanied the bowls of stew, turning the dining experience into a workout for their mouths. Garrick and Mordrim washed their dinner down with ale while the others stuck with water. Unlike the nicer inn they'd been kicked out of, the Deadtroll Inn had only warm ale.
A few hours passed and Alto was fighting the urge to get up and try something else. He wasn't sure what else, other than looking for beggars or trying to catch a pickpocket in the act, but he felt anything would be better than wasting more time waiting. He turned to Patrina to voice his thoughts when he noticed that a man had approached the table without anyone's notice and was quietly speaking with Mordrim.
Alto nudged Patrina and nodded, earning a startled gasp from her. The man looked up at them and offered a smile that didn't reach his dark gray eyes. He turned his attention back to Mordrim and, after a few more quiet exchanges, he stood up and slipped away back through the crowded common room.
"What was that?" Patrina hissed.
"That," Mordrim paused to finish the last of the ale in his cup, "was the man who's going to arrange for us to be smuggled up the Khalalid River."
"What? Why?" Alto asked.
"Because I told him that's what we needed," Mordrim said. "We're not really going to do it. It just gives us a chance to get him alone so we can ask him some real questions."
"Oh." Alto sat back in his chair. He smiled a moment later. The dwarf's plan was working. "So what do we do now?"
"Now we head to the River District to meet them," Mordrim said.
"That's a long walk from here," Alto said.
"Now imagine what it's like if you've got short legs!" Garrick teased.
Mordrim shook his head. "I told them we'd be leaving the northman behind."
"You did what?" Garrick balked.
The dwarf chuckled and rose up. "Let's go, boys and lady. We've a boat to catch that we don't need." The others rose and followed the dwarf, with Garrick staring after them and muttering as he brought up the rear.
The trip south through the city was faster thanks to the reduced traffic of the waning day and the few guard patrols in the city's eastern streets. Mordrim hesitated when they entered the River District and then spotted some of the landmarks he'd been told to look for. He led them through the streets until they came to a shipping company. The door into the office was shut but Mordrim led them around the back of the building.
Two doors awaited them, one large enough for a wagon to fit through and a second sized for a man. Mordrim rapped on the smaller door, waited a count of three, and then knocked again. After several seconds passed, the door opened and the same man glanced outside. The street had a few stragglers on it but nobody paid them any attention. He motioned them in.
Once they'd all entered, the man shut the door behind them. He turned to them and focused on Mordrim. "Can't figure out why a dwarf would want to smuggle a group of humans up the Khalalid. Been trying to figure that out since I left earlier."
"Does it matter?" Alto asked. "As long as we pay, our business is our own."
The gray-eyed man looked at Alto and smirked. "I suppose it is, at that. What are you willing to pay?"
"Name your price. I'll let you know if it's too much," Alto said. He turned and glanced around, taking in the details of the warehouse as his eyes adjusted. He still couldn't see in the darker shadows but at least a lantern was sitting on a table nearby. The room had no windows to the outside, just the two doors he knew of and a third on a far wall. Two wagons, one covered and one open, rested in the warehouse, as well as several wooden crates and chests.
The man shrugged. "Let's see. There's six of you—five thousand gold."
Alto's eyes widened. He had no intention of going on a boat ride, let alone paying that much for one. He chuckled as he shook his head. His laugh came to a stop as he stared at the man. "I have a better deal for you."
The smuggler raised an eyebrow. "Let's hear it."
Alto let his hand fall to his sword. "You tell me what I need to know and I'll leave you alive. You'll be bound and gagged until someone finds you, but alive."
The smuggler's eyes widened for a moment, and then his lips curled into a smile. "I was right," he said. "I knew nobody would want to be smuggled upstream."
Alto frowned, at a loss for the man's odd reaction. "You're going to cooperate?" he asked.
"No, we're going to kill you. I just needed to know. Call it tying up loose ends." No sooner had he spoken than the shadows moved and men wearing dark clothing emerged.
"That's convenient," Patrina muttered as more than a dozen men surrounded them.
"How's that?" Alto asked.
"Some of them have Stalker rings—saves us the trouble of hunting them down."
Alto nodded and drew his sword. "So it does," he agreed. His friends drew their weapons and waited.
"Mind the poison," Alto called out.
"Don't worry about it," Patrina said loud enough for everyone to hear. Even their enemies. "I've got the cure that witch gave me."
A few of the thugs glanced at one another, their focus disrupted by her words. Alto leapt forward, his sword flashing through the air and bouncing off the short curved sword of the gray-eyed man. Alto's opponent cursed and leapt back, his sword clattering to the floor from the force of Alto's strike.
Garrick and Carson leapt out as well, taking their cue from Alto and attacking. Garrick's mighty sword powered through his opponent's defenses while Carson drove two men back, one with each blade, and kicked out at a third to put him on the defensive. His next strikes killed the man in front of him and gave him time to dance around the other two and keep the assassins off balance.
Karthor struck aside an attack from an assassin and had to jump back to avoid another one. Mordrim twisted and cracked Karthor's second attacker's spine with his hammer, hard enough to snap it and drop him to the ground. The priest kept going and broke the arm of a rogue who tried to stab Mordrim in the back, and then he reversed his swing and felt the satisfying crunch of his mace ruining the man's face.
Patrina used her axe with short and controlled swings that kept the two rogues attacking her at bay. A hearty shout preceded Mordrim crashing into the both of them and bearing them to the floor under his heavy plate armor. Patrina let her axe fall on one as he scrambled free of the thrashing dwarf.
The gray-eyed man drew a dagger from his waist and lunged at Alto. Alto shifted and took the strike on his chain-covered belly, and then he drove his fist into the man's jaw and knocked him back. He staggered a step and shook his head, only to have Alto's sword come across with the edge turned so that the flat of the blade smashed into his head and dropped him to the ground like a rock.
Alto turned as another killer came at him and slipped to the side of the short blade that was thrust at him. He hacked the man's arm off and followed after him as he stumbled back. Alto grabbed him by the throat and yanked him forward, unsettling him. He punched out, never letting go, and knocked the man to his back. Alto's sword fell on him, silencing his grunts and gasps.
The warrior turned back around and saw that only a few of the killers were still standing. Garrick had two of them backing up as he swung his heavy sword like it was a toothpick. Carson was toying with his opponent, batting the man's sword back and forth between his blades before he kicked up and knocked it free from the man's hands. The assassin grabbed for it in the air and received the pointy end of two swords in his chest for the effort.
Mordrim rose up and stared at the blood beneath him. He dropped a metal-clad elbow on his face to make sure and then picked up his hammer from the floor and stood up. He snorted, spat on the dead man and turned to look at th
e others. "Bah! We killed them all?"
"Not all," Alto said. He went over to the gray-eyed man, sheathing his sword as he went. He grabbed the unconscious man and dragged him over near a corner where some crates blocked them from the rest of the warehouse. He nodded at the doors and said, "Guard the doors."
Carson, Garrick, and Mordrim each went to a door to stand ready. Karthor and Patrina joined Alto and stared at the wounded man. Blood slowly ran down the side of his face from where the blow to his head had torn his scalp.
Alto slapped the man hard but only succeeded in rocking his head to the side. "Wake him up," Alto demanded.
Karthor frowned. "I don't suspect Leander will approve of using his boon to torture people."
Alto turned to look at him. He nodded and said, "Let him decide. I accept the responsibility for this."
"It's not that simple," Karthor explained. "I am His messenger. I must act in ways that I believe are in Saint Leander's best interests. My interests must be the same, and I'm troubled by the path you are taking."
"Karthor," Patrina interrupted. "I don't know what happened before but I have been a member of a royal family my entire life. I have seen my father and uncle make decisions that were questionable. Questions that hurt people and challenged their beliefs. They made those decisions because they had to. Because in order to fight evil, they had to be evil."
"It is a treacherous road you tread," Karthor said.
"I'm aware of that," Alto told him.
"Aware of it, yes, but does it scare you?"
Alto smirked. "You forget, I have argued with Saint Jarook. I know my fears, and I know that no matter what I may do, it will pale in comparison to what these people are capable of."
Karthor frowned and nodded. "I love you as a brother, Alto. You may not be afraid but I am. For you. I have looked in your eyes and seen a darkness. Take care that you remember that in your quest to rid the world of this evil that you do not create a new evil in its place."
Alto weighed the priest's words and nodded. "That is counsel I would be wise to take. Stay at my side and never fear to speak plainly to me. There are times when I suspect I might need it."
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