Now the man did turn, and his eyes did open wider, but a wicked grin split his face.
“Well, look who it is! I have to admit, friend, I’m surprised you’re still standing. How’d you do it? You should be dead, by now. If I’d known you wouldn’t be… why… I would have helped make sure of it!”
He burst into laughter and after a moment, the other two at the table joined in. No one else in the bar did though, and behind him, Solomon heard someone rise and walk quickly to the exit.
“Last chance,” Solomon said. “Give it back, as well as my pack and other possessions and I’ll walk out of here and leave you be.”
The man seemed to consider, then finally nodded. “I can see the sense in that. No need for me to try to get the upper hand on someone who got over a plague-rat bite. Never been done before that I know of. Now… stay calm, friend, I’m just getting up to unbuckle the belt…”
But of course, the man reached for the hilt of the sword instead. Solomon’s left hand clamped over his before the blade was a quarter of the way out of the sheath. He looked into the man’s eyes, shook his head, smiled, and punched with his right.
His blow caught the man in the stomach, directly under the ribs, lifting him from the ground. Solomon didn’t want to kill him but saw no reason to be gentle either.
The air exploded from the man’s lungs and he collapsed to the floor, retching. The other two at the table rose and started around toward Solomon. He straightened and grinned at them.
“I’m ready when you are. What do you say? Winner gets the sword?”
One of the men glanced at their leader, curled on the floor and unable to breathe. He reached out and tapped his compatriot in the arm, then put his hands up and began to edge away.
“We don’t want no trouble,” he said through a trembling grimace. “We never really liked him anyway…”
No, Solomon thought to himself, I would imagine you didn’t. He was just your best bet at taking advantage of others.
For a moment, he considered teaching these two a lesson also, but let them go. One of them, he noticed, as the man began circling the table, had his pack hung on his belt. Solomon simply pointed and raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, yeah, right…” the man muttered as he tore it loose and tossed it on the table. “Most of it is still there… except for some of the money… but he still has some of that…” The man pointed at the shuddering man on the floor.
Solomon nodded and watched the two of them go. Then he looked around the room. Everyone who was left was watching events unfold with various degrees of nervousness or amusement. The bartender was taking the opportunity to have a drink himself and watched Solomon with no apparent malice.
He turned back and squatted down next to the man.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said quietly. “I’m going to help you up. You’re going to stand and slowly give me my sword back. Then, you’re going to give me back anything else you’ve stolen from me. If I think it’s enough, I’ll let you go. If not…well…we’ll see.”
In truth, he wasn’t expecting to get his money back. It would make life easier, yes, but all he truly needed was his sword.
He reached down, grabbed the man’s arm and hauled him to his feet. The man swayed, groaned, but stayed upright.
“My sword,” Solomon said, “now.”
The man’s fingers clumsily worked at his belt until he loosened the buckle. Sliding it off, he handed it over to Solomon.
“Good. Now the rest.”
Blearily, the man dug into his pocket and dropped several coins and pieces of gold on the table. There was more left than Solomon expected.
“Go on now,” he said. “And keep this in mind. If I see you doing to others what you did to me, I’ll be back for you.”
The man stared at him for a second, then staggered away. At the door, he turned back, spit on the floor, then disappeared.
“Sorry about that,” Solomon said to the bartender, buckling on his sword belt and scooping up his other things.
“No problem here, friend,” the bartender replied. “He was in here causing problems, drinking for free and implying that if I didn’t like it, he’d give me the sharp end of that thing. Good riddance, I say. Offer you a drink?”
“No, thank you.” Solomon looked out the door to where the kids stood gathered, watching through the opening with wide eyes. “But maybe you can tell me where a man can buy lunch for some friends around here.”
♦ ♦ ♦
It was late afternoon by the time they finished eating. Christoph let out a huge belch, which caused the others to laugh and try to top it. One of the girls was the clear winner until Solomon sat back and stunned them all with a horrifically loud one. The laughter that rang out after that was pure childhood joy and Solomon wondered how long it was since it was heard there.
“Thanks again,” he said. “I wouldn’t have gotten my things back without you.”
The kids smiled and jostled each other.
“Now, want to do some more? This one isn’t as dangerous.”
“Sure,” Christoph shrugged. “You’ve been square with us, so why not?”
“Great. I’m searching for someone else. Someone who came to Dunfield a few weeks ago. She’s a woman, but she’ll be like me. Taller than anyone else here. Her name is Celia. If you help me find her, I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Who is she?” one of the kids asked.
“Just someone who means a lot to me.” ‘
“Ooooh…is she your girlfriend?”
Giggles rose from the kids, including Christoph, which Solomon was glad to see.
“Yep, she is,” he said easily, “and I’d really like to find her.”
“All right,” Christoph said, “we’ll keep our eyes open.”
“Great.”
He was rising to his feet when one of the smaller boys tugged on Christoph’s sleeve and motioned him away with a jerk of his head. Solomon stopped and watched the whispered conversation. Finally, Christoph straightened, nodded, and came back.
“Micah has seen her.”
“What? Already? Where?”
“Several nights ago. He was with someone else. Someone bad, but don’t blame him. He was scared and didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
Christoph stared a challenge at Solomon, ready to protect his young friend. Solomon raised his hands. “No problem. I know how it is. Where did he see her?”
“In an alley, not that far from here. They came across her sleeping, after those things were gone for the night. The guy Micah was with…well, he tried to get her…”
Christoph’s voice stumbled, apparently unsure of how to say what he was trying to get across.
“I understand what you mean,” Solomon said. “Go on.”
“Anyway, this woman, she broke his leg. Micah and the other, the one who’s still with the guy, they dragged him away. After that, Micah doesn’t know what happened to her, but she’s here, or she was anyway.”
Solomon smiled again. Not only was Celia here, she was protecting herself. A far cry from the entitled, snobbish girl he first met.
“This is great news,” he said. “Thank you, Micah. Do you think you can find her again?”
Now Christoph smiled. “Of course. I already told you. We know this city better than anyone!”
♦ ♦ ♦
It was heading toward evening when the kids found Solomon again.
“No luck,” Christoph muttered.
“No problem,” Solomon said. “We’ll try again tomorrow. You guys hungry?”
As they all ate again, Solomon looked around. The ever-dim light of Dunfield was starting to fade and soon the weird people in the bright clothes would be out and about.
“Where do you guys stay at night?” he asked.
Christoph shrugged as he took a last bite of his food. “Wherever we can.”
“Well, tonight you’re with me. Let’s go.”
He rose to his feet and led the
m along the streets, heading back to Doc Mia’s. But it was later than he first thought, and the sun disappeared while they were walking, allowing dusk to fall over the town.
“We have to hide,” Christoph said. He and the other kids were glancing around nervously.
“No, let’s keep going,” Solomon said. “I’ll protect you.”
They continued, but strangely, there were no whistles and no sign of the brightly dressed people.
“What’s going on?” he wondered aloud.
After a few more streets he was convinced that there was no danger from those things. Although Dunfield at night still held other perils. They walked along the main street, coming to a large fountain that contained only a shallow pool of still, fetid water.
“That’s where they come from.” Christoph pointed up the street to where it ended at a large house.
“Really? How do you know that?”
“I told you—”
“No one knows the place like you guys,” Solomon finished for him. “I remember.”
He turned back the other way. “Where does this go?”
“Back to the gates. The way you came in, remember?”
Solomon shrugged. “Not really. I was kind of out of it. Let’s go see though. Maybe it will jog my memories.”
With the kids clustered closely around he made his way down the street, noting that once full night fell, others came out furtively. These were the truly dangerous ones. Solomon put his hand on his sword hilt and made eye contact with several of them. They passed unmolested.
“Down there,” Christoph said, pointing.
Solomon saw the gate, but what he saw in front of it was what had his full attention. It couldn’t be so easy, not after all this time.
But there she was, her back to him, studying something in the darkness beyond the broken gates.
He neared, walking quietly, wanting this moment to go on. Finally, he was close enough to speak, expecting his voice to hitch.
“Dark out there.” He winced. Of all the stupid things to say…
Then she was running, and he was meeting her, and Dunfield lit up in his mind like it was paradise.
Chapter 46
Thaddeus’s head was spinning, and he kept fading in and out of consciousness, but the screams kept bringing him back. He didn’t know where they were coming from. They were high-pitched and sounded like a soul in agony.
“I can relate,” he muttered, and then laughed, blood spitting from his cracked lips.
His laugh turned into a groan as sharp blades scraped up and down inside his throat. How long was it since he had a drink? Water, wine, anything? Something to ease the terrible dryness.
He shifted as much as his chains would allow, trying to ease some of the pressure in his shoulders. It didn’t help. There was only so much movement you could do when suspended from your wrists, with your feet, one of which was still sending shock waves of pain through him, barely touching the floor.
Strangely, he was finding the pain from his foot was the least of his worries. He must be getting used to losing body parts, he thought, and tried to stifle another giggle that threatened to follow.
That wasn’t a good sign, him laughing. He was hung in a dark cell like a bird about to be plucked. He’d been sliced open and allowed to bleed, losing enough of his vital fluids that he was barely aware of anything. And now he was listening to some other poor sod get the same treatment.
A woman from the sounds of it. He would have said Melanie if he hadn’t seen her right before they took him. Her eyes open, staring accusingly at him, yet with no light in them. The cold, vacant eyes of a corpse. That’s all she was now.
“Sorry,” he whispered, and meant it.
He wasn’t sorry that they’d tried what they had. He was sorry that Malachi had slipped away from her and they got caught. He still didn’t know how that could have happened without her knowing. Not that it mattered.
There was a clanging from the door to his cell and it creaked open, the flare of a torch stabbing into his eyes. He turned his head as far as he could, knowing what was coming.
Footsteps approached. He refused to look. It was an act that infuriated Malachi every time he came, but it was a small gesture of defiance, no matter how much he paid for it.
This time, it felt like a hook passed through his cheek as his head was turned against his will. He screwed his eyes tightly shut, feeling like a petulant child. If I can’t see you, you can’t see me.
“Open them, or I’ll do it. And this time, I’ll make it so that you can never close your eyes again.”
Malachi’s voice was calm, which was when he was at his most dangerous. Thaddeus had learned over the last couple of days precisely how surgical Malachi could be in his work and was under no illusions that the man was idly threatening him.
He opened his eyes.
“Better,” Malachi said. “Now, where were we?”
“You were going to go to hell,” Thaddeus answered.
Malachi laughed, then closed his own eyes for a second. The screams, which had ceased for a couple of minutes, resumed, louder and more desperate.
“Do you think I need to be in the same room to hurt her?” Malachi asked. His eyes opened, and the screams died down.
Thaddeus tried to shrug, an impossible act given his position. Instead, he answered.
“What do I care?”
“You don’t know…” Malachi smiled, closed his eyes and an especially loud scream rang out. “It’s her, you know.”
“You lie. She’s dead. I saw it. You killed her because she made you her toy.”
“Not dead. What you saw was what happens when a mind is shut down, that’s all. I gave it back to her.”
“Sure you did.”
“Suit yourself. I have nothing but time. Tell me, what exactly did you think you were doing? Did you think to replace me? You? A mere novice in our House?”
“At first.” Thaddeus saw no reason not to answer. It might avoid a little pain for himself, and if that really was Melanie…but no, it wasn’t. Malachi was lying.
“And then?” Malachi coaxed.
“Then it was to stop you, and whatever sick plan you have. Ruling the Greenweald is one thing, I can understand that. Ruling a shattered, broken land? Why? What’s the sense?”
“Ah, Thaddeus. You know so much less than you think you do. I wish you would have come to me. You have strength, great ability, if it’s focused right. Even now, I can feel you fighting against the wards I put between you and your magic. Like a fly, buzzing at a pane of glass. An annoyance, until I choose to crush it.”
“Sure, great. Do your worst. At least then I won’t have to listen to you anymore.”
Even as he spoke, Thaddeus was fighting the worm of dread that lay coiled in his belly. Asking Malachi to do his worst was doing much more than asking for death. It was asking for pain without measure. He was so tired of it all, though. From the very first interactions with this wretched House to now. Let it all end. And if he could provoke him enough, maybe Malachi would lose control enough to do just that.
“No, I won’t.” Malachi had pure glee written all over his face. “What? Did you think your girlfriend was the only one capable of reading your thoughts? You have no idea the things I can do.”
Thaddeus didn’t answer. The worm was turning into a snake, writhing in his stomach, hissing. Sweat, which he thought long dried up, sprang out on his brow.
Malachi laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to hurt you this time. I have what I came for. You wished to stop me from breaking the Greenweald, for reasons that I will never understand. I tell you that will never happen. I have friends now, friends who are of like mind. They see the injustices of the worlds and are taking steps to fix them.”
“Leave me out of it, you maniac.”
“No, I’m afraid I can’t do that. See, my friends’ methods work best from within. That’s how they change things and how I will change this place. But I have a secret…one tha
t I’ll tell you since it will never leave here.”
Malachi made a show of looking around, then turned back to Thaddeus with an exaggerated whisper.
“I’m going to take their worlds too! When I have the Greenweald and the lands outside of it, I’ll use the same means as my friends, and take what they have as well.”
“So, you’re not only mad, you’re a traitorous bastard as well.”
Malachi laughed. “And you’re a fool. I see things that others don’t. Things that they think are hidden from me. My friends think to use me and this House to take what is ours. They will be sorely disappointed.”
Thaddeus had nothing to say. For all his scheming, Malachi didn’t sound mad. He was sadistic and bitter, he was angry and spiteful, but he wasn’t crazy. And he was insanely strong in magic.
Again, he dug deep, reaching for a flame. One sheet of hot, white fire that could burn Malachi to ash, ending all of this.
A bolt of pain spiked through his head, then a sudden scream from the other.
“Ah, ah, little fly,” Malachi said. “Not yet.”
He laughed again and turned to leave the room.
“Oh, before I go, allow me to introduce you to someone. I don’t have his name…or at least I think it’s a him, it’s hard to tell. Anyway, I think you two will get along famously. And pay attention, Thaddeus. This one is the future. Or at least, your future.”
He opened the door and a short, stocky figure entered. Thaddeus stared, unsure of what it was he was seeing.
The man, if it was a man, wore bright yellow clothes that almost seemed to glow in the dim light of the dungeon cell. But his face was indistinct, almost like it was missing, or…no, not missing. Covered by a featureless white mask, with no holes for the eyes, or mouth, or nose. Yet somehow, Thaddeus felt that it could see him hanging in his chains perfectly.
“Play nice, you two,” Malachi said, sticking the torch into a holder on the wall and slipping out. “But not too nice.”
He shut the door with a boom. In the sudden silence, the figure in the bright yellow outfit moved toward Thaddeus.
Chapter 47
Solomon's Journey Page 24
