Sal reached into his jerkin pocket with his newly freed hand and rubbed what was left of the crushed skeev cap into his palm.
Then he grabbed hold of the locket.
Tendrils of energy stormed through his entire body, and he focused his will.
“I said drop the fucking—”
Thunder cracked as Sal burst across the room with a rush of vertigo, and closed the distance to Torvald in a blink.
With the locket still in hand, Sal struck the thug’s wrist and swept the blade away from Lord Hugo’s head
Then he hit the thug square in the face with his palm.
Sal focused his will, and through splayed fingers, he watched as Torvald’s eyes opened wide with fear.
Lightning burst forth.
30
The Shadow Guild
INTERLUDE, SEVEN YEARS EARLIER
Beneath the shadow of the great bridge, it was cool. The air smelled of wet and mud, yet it was somehow a refreshing scent of earthiness that removed him from the city for an instant.
“You not going to wear the thing?” Bartley asked.
Makes me sick to even look at it, Sal might have said, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he merely shook his head.
He could still hardly believe what had happened—thought he might retch right there as the image of Tristain flashed through his mind. It was an image that might never leave him—an image and a realization that had cut him to the quick—an ordeal that would undoubtedly scar him for good and all.
His uncle was a killer.
It was something he had always known. Yet it was a thought that had laid dormant in the back of his mind. That is until the truth had been thrust in his face, unexpectedly, and unwanted.
He had known what his uncle was, but he’d not truly believed it. He had known all along that Stefano Lorenzo was a killer, but until he’d seen the man do murder, it had been nothing more than an ungrounded concept.
Sal’s stomach turned, as an image of the handless boy flooded his mind. Screaming and writhing in the dirt, clutching at his bloody stump. The image in his mind begged for mercy—Sal’s mercy.
The boy screamed for Sal to help, even as Stefano’s axe fell. The blade of the axe cut through the screams, through the cries for mercy, cleaving straight through the skull of Tristain, and bringing with it the finality of silence.
“Everything all right, mate?” Vinny asked.
Sal snapped from the thought. “Yeah—sure, fine. It’s all fine.”
Vinny arched an eyebrow, but Sal walked on. There was a round Bauden woman seated beside the road. She was tossing bits of bread to the gulls that had nested beneath the Bridge of the Lady, yet it seemed she had gathered as many dogs as birds. The dogs were skinny ragged things, feral hounds that snarled protectively over their scraps as Sal passed by.
“Seems to me you got something up your asshole,” Bartley said. “Sacrull’s balls, mate, you got your uncle’s bloody ring, and you’re acting like some girls gone and broken your little heart. Come on now. You’re rightfully holding the ring of a Commission underboss. I mean, that pretty much makes you untouchable, don’t it?”
Sal didn’t know quite what it meant, and so he merely shrugged. Had his uncle known it had been Sal who’d planted the ring on Tristain? Had this all been some kind of lesson, or had his uncle truly meant the ring to be Sal’s, a symbol of the debt Stefano thought Sal owed. Either way, a debt owed or a lesson learned, Sal knew he didn’t want the thing.
Bartley shook his head. The little Yahdrish could hardly seem to believe that Sal was not beyond pleased with his achievement. To Bartley, that ring was a key, an invaluable item that could open any door and turn any head in the city.
But Bartley only knew the half of it. Sal hadn’t told them about Tristain. He’d not mentioned what he’d done with the ring after returning home from their last job. He hadn’t told them of putting the ring among Tristain’s things. And he’d not mentioned what had been done to the boy on this account.
To Sal, the ring was sullied with blood, and would forever be so. He could hardly look at the thing without feeling sick—no less, touch it.
A group of shoeless children ran past as they played, splashing at the water’s edge, laughing and shouting.
“You’re sure you’re all right?” Vinny asked.
“Yeah, I think so,” Sal said. “I think I’m just having trouble adjusting to things.”
Vinny nodded as though this satisfied his curiosity.
“So, what did you do with the lockbox?” Sal asked. “Were you able to pick it?”
“Got it back at my place,” said Bartley. “We’ll be into it soon enough I can promise you that much.”
Vinny rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything.
Might be the box was somewhat tougher to break into than they’d anticipated. Sal would have to give it a look when they got back to Bartley’s place.
“Grab that line there,” Bartley said as they passed a clutch of lobster traps secured along the riverside path. “We just have to pull it up quick.”
“You sure that’s such a good idea?” Vinny asked.
“Of course, I am. Would I be doing it if I weren’t sure?”
Sal and Vinny shared a look, and Sal couldn’t help but grin.
“Now grab that line and help me pull the thing in,” Bartley said. “If we’re fast enough about it, we can have it up, and be out of here before anyone has anything to say about it.”
Vinny scoffed but did as the little Yahdrish asked, grabbing hold of the trap line.
“Oy, bloody hell you doing there, boyo?” Shouted a man that was checking the lines some ways down the riverside path.
Vinny and Bartley ignored the man and continued pulling.
The man dropped his line. “Oy, I asked what you think you’re doing!”
Sal jumped in to help his friends as more heads turned in their direction.
By then, the man had covered half the distance between them, as he made for Sal and his friends. The fisherman was shouting, and soon every bystander was looking their way.
Sal dropped the line. “Fuck it. We’ve got to go.”
Vinny let go as well and began to run. Sal grabbed hold of Bartley and pulled him along as the fisherman drew within a few paces.
“Come on now, Bart!”
Others joined the chase as the trio ran north along the riverside path. When they reached they Ferryman’s Ford, they made their way up the incline and onto the main thoroughfare.
“This way,” Sal shouted, as he slipped into the press of the High Bridge crowd.
They crossed the river and along Knöldrus road before Bartley tugged on Sal’s wrist, and lead him off the road and toward the abbey grounds.
“In here,” Bartley said, swinging open the door of the broken tower.
The trio shuffled into the roofless edifice, and Bartley slammed the door shut.
“The hell is this place?” Vinny asked.
“Just an old hideout of ours,” said Bartley.
“Wouldn’t be doing it if you weren’t sure?” Sal asked mockingly.
Bartley blushed. “Well, all right. I suppose it wasn’t my most well thought out plan, but you’ve got to admit, it would have gone fine if the pair of you had just listened to me and helped out right off the start.”
Sal and Vinny shared a look before they burst into laughter.
Bartley had turned nearly purple by then. “You can laugh this way when it’s just us. But when I’m the boss of the gang, you’re both going to need to be careful the way you talk about me.”
Sal couldn’t help but laugh all the harder.
“Didn’t we talk about this one?” Vinny asked. “Thought it was clear that I was going to be running this crew?”
“You can both be in charge for all I care,” said Sal, the laughter leaving him as an image of Tristain lying dead on the ground flashed through his mind’s eye. “Last thing I should ever do is make a decision for anyone.”
>
Both Bartley and Vinny looked at him skeptically, but no one asked the obvious question.
“Well, once we’ve got that lockbox open, we’ll see where we’re at,” said Bartley. “Might be, we’ll be able to just buy our place onto the Commission.”
“Can you do that?” Vinny asked. “Buy your way in?”
Sal sighed. “Look, I don’t want anything to do with the Commission, and neither should you. Not now, and not ever.”
He reached into his pocket and took hold of the small silver ring. The falcon’s head symbol stared back at him with its single eye. Sal stared into that eye, hating it, and all it stood for. And without another thought, he threw it—winged it as hard as he could across the room.
The ring struck the stone. A tink sounded, as it ricocheted off the wall and landed somewhere in the dirt.
“Hey!” Bartley shouted, scrambling on the ground. “What’d you go and do that for?”
“I told you, mate. I don’t want anything to do with any of them. The gangs, the Commission, the dons, my uncle. I don’t want any of it.”
The Norsic kid only stared. Unlike Bartley, Vinny was tough to read. Vinny tended to keep his feelings to himself. He didn’t seem to mind sharing his thoughts, and he sure wasn’t above complaining, but Vinny never seemed to lose his cool. With eyes like the calm before a storm, Vinny was a rock.
“You’ll not hear me complaining,” said Bartley standing. “We’ve always gone about it our own way. Don’t see any reason we should change it now. Next time don’t go throwing a fit about it. Sacrull’s hell, you just about lost the thing.”
“Throw it out. I don’t want anything to do with it.”
“Yeah, right,” Bartley scoffed, “you said that. But look, the Commission and all the rest, they can do what they want, but the Shadow Guild will run this city one day whether they like it or not. There’s just no stopping it, not with the crew we’ve got here.”
Sal couldn’t help but crack a smile as he met Vinny’s eyes, and once again, they were back to laughing.
“Yeah, sure, laugh now,” Bartley said sullenly. “You won’t be laughing once you’ve finished your initiation.”
“Hold on,” said Vinny looking at Sal. “Thought I was already in the crew. What do you mean initiation?”
Sal shrugged, and they both looked to Bartley.
“You’re not official yet,” said the little Yahdrish slipping out his finger-knife. “Blood pact.”
“Bugger yourself, Yahdrish. I ain’t making no gods damned blood pact unless it’s with your blood, you hear me? You even come near me with that—”
Sal stood and shook his head as he put a hand on Vinny’s shoulder.
“Nobody’s making any blood pacts,” Sal said, reassuringly. “But how about this? We make a pact, here and now, no matter what, we will always stick together, and nobody needs to let any blood to do it.”
Bartley’s brow wrinkled, but he shrugged and put away his finger-knife.
“Suppose I can agree to that,” said Vinny. “Even if we decide later on that the name Shadow Guild is rubbish. It’s not just me, right? The name is utter rubbish for a crew, yeah?”
Sal could only laugh. It was good to have friends and a place to belong.
31
A Promise Of War
Lilliana met them at the gate, a host of guards accompanying her.
She'd run the length of the drive, all the way from the manor house to the twisted black iron gate.
“Daddy!” She shouted, practically falling into Lord Hugo’s arms.
The little lord nearly collapsed beneath his daughter's embrace and very well may have if Sal had not been there to hold him upright.
Lilliana began to cry, and Lord Hugo joined her. They held each other tight and wept for quite some time before it seemed Lilliana remembered Sal was there.
She looked at him with her beautiful blue eyes, even with tears streaming down her face, heavy shadows beneath her eyes, Lilliana Bastian was the most beautiful woman Sal had ever known.
A pair of guards stepped up and relieved Lord Hugo from Sal’s shoulder, and soon four men were carrying the little lord.
“Thank you,” Lilliana said, and hesitated for a moment before asking, “Will you join us?”
Sal shook his head. “Another time, m’lady. Keep safe until I’m able to take care of things?”
Lilliana nodded and hurried after the retinue of guards that carried her father toward the manor house.
Only one of the guards remained behind. A tall Bauden with a black mustache and a bastard sword slung to his back. He looked like a ghost of the man that he should have been, yet Sal could hardly suppress his joy at seeing the bodyguard—alive.
“Heard you were dead,” Sal said with a wink.
Damor Nev grinned and nodded his head slowly. "I thought the same myself, had to crawl three streets, a hand on my belly to keep my insides from spilling out. Them bastards hadn't been in such a hurry to run off with his lordship they might have finished the job right."
“Ay, well, Don Scarvini won’t be bothering you anytime soon. At least, not from this side of the grave.”
Euphoria—to Sal, there was no other way to describe the feeling. Like the tingling of pure ecstatic joy, it began at the back of his skull and worked its way forth until his whole body was filled with the tingling warmth.
He rolled the golden cap in his palm as white smoke drifted about the room just overhead. There had been a time when he'd given up everything for that golden-brown cap, for the feeling it gave him. For a time, he'd thought it was the only way: either the drug and the magic, or his friends and the girl.
But he had made his choice. He would keep it all—his friends, Lilliana, the magic, and the drug. He would cast aside doubt. And not fall under the foolish presumption that he could not simply have everything.
He would take it all.
With one last hit from the pipe, Sal stood and headed for the hall. He could hear the music even before he'd opened the door, the faint tune of ‘When Pigs Don Armor’ carried all the way up to the second floor of the inn. Sal hummed the tune as he walked. The noise grew as he headed down the stairs and into the taproom until he was able to make out the words.
“Don your armor foe of pig,
by tooth and tusk, we come at the.
Pig are we and war we bring,
by tooth and tusk, tooth and tusk.
Don your armor, or suffer thus!”
Vinny and Aurie were already seated at a table. They seemed not to notice Sal as they watched the singer, Vinny tapping his foot, Aurie bobbing her head, the pair of them holding hands.
“We don our armor cried king pig,
er’ be too those who misjudge the threat.
Pig we are, and pig we shall be,
for when we come, we do not sow.
Pig we are, and shall not go!”
Sal couldn’t help but smile at the startled looks they gave him as he pulled out one of the empty chairs.
Vinny smiled back at Sal, while Aurie blushed, as they let go of each other’s hands.
“You get Lord Cheese home safe and sound?” Vinny asked.
Sal nodded. “That Alzbetta is a miracle worker; she is. What’s the word on the street?”
“They say Giovani Scarvini is stirring the pot,” said Vinny. “Doesn’t seem to be very happy about what’s become of his family.”
"Can't imagine he would be," Sal said. "Half a year ago, his father was one of the most powerful men in the city, and neither of his brothers were being eaten by worms."
"Yeah, well, it seems Giovani has vowed not to rest until he’s avenged the deaths of all three.”
“What should we do?” Aurie asked.
Sal shrugged. "Nothing we haven't heard before. Besides, it was Dominik who took the blame for Giuseppe, and Garibaldi. All we need worry about is what to do about Don Scarvini."
“We should wait on Valla and the big man,” said Vinny. “See what they’v
e got to say on the matter.”
“You invited the big man?” Sal asked as an unfamiliar feeling came over him. He couldn’t explain how he felt about seeing Odie. But he did know he wasn’t ready to forgive him for what he’d done to Dominik, at least not entirely.
“The big man is one of us, mate. I mean, he’s practically Shadow Guild.”
"Don't use that name," Sal said. The cold feeling in his gut, rising up to his throat. "That name died with him—don’t use it.”
Vinny shrugged. “Whatever you want to call us, we’re a crew. The five of us. You, me, Aurie, Valla, and Odie. It’s us against the world, just like it always was.”
"Odie outed Dominik, he was one of us too, wasn't he? And Valla…” Sal shook his head. “I just don’t know that I can trust either of them.”
Any of you, he almost said but held that back. It wouldn't have helped anything to let Vinny know just how little trust Sal had left for him, or anyone for that matter. If the big man could turn, anyone could turn. That was a fact.
“They came back for you, didn’t they?” said Aurie. “We all did. But if it wasn’t for Odie, none of us would have even known what had happened to you and where they’d taken you. Besides, Valla was the first one to suggest we rescue you.”
Sal was somewhat dumbfounded. He hadn’t expected a chiding from Aurie of all people.
“She has a point,” said Vinny. “We all came back for you. That’s got to mean something.”
Sal shrugged. He supposed it did mean something. He just wasn't sure what it meant. “I don’t know, mate. How can I look Odie in the eyes knowing what I know now?”
"I suppose we will have to wait and see if they even bother to show," Vinny said. "Valla's been dodging us lately, and now we all have a pretty good idea of what the big man's done, well, I doubt if he'll want even to show his face."
The Man in Shadow Page 29
