Harbinger: The Downfall - Book One (11 page)

Rogen smiled as he gestured for Cite to board the Lady Luck. Cite started up the thin walkway, still clutching the book. They found a spot by the rail, out of the way of the busy crew.

“By the way,” Rogen said as the gangplank was drawn aboard and the lines were cast off, “do you smoke? I packed a few pipes and cigars to go with my brandy.”

The curtain fell back into place as the figure turned away from the window, his leathery wings rustling as they scraped the ceiling. He had seen the one who had caused a surge of magic powerful enough to alert others half a continent away, in Everyway. Now he just needed to determine which side the Cite would choose and arrange to destroy the boy if he chose wrong. And Grenedal Dragonblood knew just whom to contact to help determine that.

Chapter 8: Deals at Midnight

“A dagger in the heart from behind is kinder than one delivered with a kiss.”

Catalysis, Madam of Dark Rendezvous Brothel

5854 – Thon – Quebal – Bestuf

The night shifted as she leaned over the edge of the wet roof to see the men coming down the street, easily keeping her balance. The rising mist and cobblestone below were well lit by the full moon. The twelve men, four foppish and powdered minor nobles, with two men-at-arms each, laughed as they walked. The nobles wore bright jewel tones with accenting ivory lace and they sang out in high-pitched voices and nasal accents. The one named Juhnunt, the leader of this little group, was singing a particularly bawdy tune. The rapier and a main-gauche hanging from his double wrap leather belt accented his long maroon doublet. The other fops laughed and leaned into each other drunkenly as they covered their rouged cheeks and powdered noses with scented silk handkerchiefs to repel the odors and disease of the lower classes.

The dandy’s hired guards trailed behind them and looked bored. It was a trained look, for the gold flowed when the effeminate carousers were happy, and it trickled to nothing when they were not pleased.  The second fop wore a deep green coat, the third a navy blue with silver clasps, and the last had a bright gold doublet, each accented with ivory lace, pearls, and silk ribbons. Their hair was curled and tied back; the silver and gold buckles on their shoes shone in the dim light of the lantern their hired soldiers carried.

A boy stepped out of an alleyway. Pale and pink in the cool night, he wore only a pair of knee breeches. He looked startled as he saw the group of men. “I don’t want to do it anymore,” he said as he backed up in fear with his eyes wide. “I don’t care if it makes me rich or whatever, I don’t wanna do the things they want me to do!” The boy began crying as he backed into the alley from whence he had come.

“This must be one of Berdful’s Brood, the Untouched,” Juhnunt said as he pointed at the boy. Then pointing to the building beside them he added, “This is his private pleasure house. Well, we are close enough to it for the boy to be one of his.” He looked at his companions with lust in his drug-hazed eyes. “We won’t have to pay if we don’t go inside for a young boy, and this one does not seem to be fully trained, we can break him in!”

Understanding touched the eyes of the other noblemen; wolfish grins broke their faces and one giggled high and girlish. With nods and a quick command for their hired swords to watch the ally entrance, they followed the boy into the alley, unlacing their breeches as they went.

The girl watched and moved silently as she followed the four rich pansies as they stalked their prey down the alley. Like a pack of rabbits pretending to be wolves that hunted a deer, they bounced and giggled as they approached the boy. The boy backed away from them, frightened and crying. He begged for mercy, and pleaded for them not to do this. He begged to stay untouched by men. He begged for his dignity and freedom. On their honor he begged. The men were only excited more by the pleas that fell on deaf ears.

“Too bad they aren’t more wolves than bunnies,” thought the short watcher from above.  “Then again, even a hare would smell this trap.” She watched from three stories up as the men cornered the boy in the dead end alley. They grabbed his hair, punched him and tore off his breeches. They forced the boy to do the things he had been trained to do. The boy struggled. As they began to violate him in earnest, he yelled, “Now! Damn it, you said you would come before this! Now!”

The preoccupied fops didn’t notice three of their hired guards coming down the alley, swords drawn. The fop in the bright gold doublet fell dead, alerting the others that they were no longer alone. A guard had stabbed him through the back, the sword erupting from his chest. The fop in the deep green coat turned, and with the same motion that withdrew his manhood from the boy, pulled his stiletto from his boot and threw it. The weapon appeared in the guard’s throat. With a gurgle, he stumbled backwards into his companions, as blood flooded from his throat and mouth, and dropped his sword that was still in the back of the dead fop.

Juhnunt’s pants weren’t unlaced yet and didn’t impede his movements. He drew his rapier, and the blade of the fop dressed in navy blue. He stepped forward and a thrust overhand with the left rapier, and pierced the second man-at-arms through an eye. The third guard called out to the other hired swords at the alley’s mouth. The other two fops finished retying their breeches as the boy laid forgotten in a pile of trash behind them.

Gruedo watched all this from the rooftop, her curly black hair tousled in the wind. She had seen these deranged young nobles hunt the back alleys of the poorer sections of town for months, which is why she was eager to help her old gang rob them. Now she had decided to do something about it on a permanent basis. Not to help anyone, but to tie up loose ends, and to test a few toys she had come up with. She loved her poisons and chemicals, but she never knew when something would make a bigger explosion than she thought until it was tested. She drew a thin cord from her satchel and made the loop she needed. She tossed it with expert precision towards the young boy below and watched with satisfaction as it landed over his head and upper body and dropped around his feet without anyone the wiser. With one quick pull Gruedo would have it snug around the boy’s chest and pull him up unharmed.  Well, mostly unharmed. But we learn our best lessons from pain.

The two men-at-arms waited, swords at ready, as two more of the hired men joined them. Gruedo noticed that they left three to guard the entrance of the alley but still make the odds in their favor over the three remaining powdered nobles. She admired their strategy. Juhnunt stepped towards the approaching men, the two rapiers held steady in front of him.

“You men work for us!” he whined in his nasally tone. “What in the name of Torgoth’s scales do you think you are doing? You will be killed for this! I demand you drop your weapons immediately!”

The men just laughed and moved towards the dandies, spreading out to better use their weapons. Gruedo wrapped her line around a chimney of a stovepipe and leapt into the air, sailing down as the young boy, providing counter balance, rose into the air. She landed behind the fops. They heard her and turned, swords ready. The dandy that had his sword taken by Juhnunt held his main-gauche.

“Good eve, gents, I have something for you,” Gruedo said with a smile as she sprayed a fine mist into their faces from a small bottle. With a squeal, the two fops who had so just finished lacing their breeches danced backwards into the waiting arms of the hired guards. One guard kicked the knees out from under the dandy in the green coat, who fell to the ground clutching his face. The other two guards grabbed the second dandy, relieved him of his weapon, and restrained him. Juhnunt’s eyes narrowed as he wiped the liquid, smearing the makeup on his face.

“Aren’t you the powder merchant we bought from earlier?” Juhnunt asked with suspicion.

“Yes, I am,” Gruedo grinned, “thank you so much for your purchase. Now please hand over your valuables and you may go.”

“I don’t think so!” Juhnunt began, but stopped and pressed the butts of his weapons to his cheeks. His voice rose in volume and pitch as he shrieked. “It’s burning; my face is burning! Damn you, what have you…?” The words died out as he dropped the two rapiers and his screams began in earnest. His cries were echoed by similar shouts from his two friends behind him. The guards let go of the fop they held as he began to clutch his own face and yell. The nobleman on the ground was rolling back and forth, vomiting. The men who had just held them backed away in horror as they watched the young noblemen claw at the skin on their faces. The skin pulled away in torn sheets as their faces melted.

Their screams became whimpers, and then they lay still and quiet. As the guards stared at the dead bodies, Gruedo stole a look to the rooftop where the forgotten boy had clamored to safety.

“Well, good sirs, it seems you get the added benefit of any money these men had yet to spend this eve, as I promised,” Gruedo said as she gestured at the dead men. The two men who had been guarding the mouth of the alley had joined the others when the screams began. Seeing the grizzly scene, one turned and loosed his most recent meal into the trash beside him. The men relaxed and laughed, making jibes at the one who got sick. They began looting the men they were hired to protect. Gruedo knew she probably would not be safe from these seven in mere moments, and with a smile and a wave at the backs of the men, she leapt and grabbed the second line she had dropped into the alley earlier, pushed off the wall, and scaled the three stories to the roof in a matter of seconds. The men looked back at the noise of her exit, only to see her standing on the rooftop above them. Gruedo gave another wave, her smile visible in the bright light of the moon.

“A parting gift for your help, gentlemen,” Gruedo said as she tossed half a dozen objects into the alley with a marksman’s precision. Two of the guards dove for cover, expecting an attack. The sound of a coin clinked into various metal canisters on either side of the dead end. One of the men turned and laughed at the others who had dove for cover. He took the fiery blast his smiling face, tearing most of it, and his chest, away. Five more blasts showered the passage, with a hollow ‘thoop’ noises. The side street clouded with a thick acrid haze and the sounds of coughing and gagging screams drifted up to Gruedo and the boy.

“What was that? What did you just do?” asked the boy, who had come from behind a chimney to look.

“No loose ends. I merely repaid them for what they had planned for me and turned the tables. I followed them all night and heard how they planned to ‘split’ things with me. A simple compound in six canisters throughout the alley and when the last item, the coins I specially minted, was added we got a little light show and they get to never worry about repaying me! Besides, who could ever trust men who would turn on their employers so cheaply?” Gruedo grinned as she tossed the boy a sack of coins for his part in the night’s events. “Sorry the guards didn’t come sooner,” she said in parting as she set a line, preparing to climb back into the alley to relieve the men of the wealth they no longer needed, as well as the item she was hired to retrieve. Well, as soon as the smoke from her toys dissipated, she thought with another grin.

Cyril awoke to a tapping on the window of his room in The Loose Goose. He rose from bed, straightened his nightclothes, and crossed the room. He was surprised to see Gruedo hanging from a thin rope in the cold night air as he drew the curtains back. He opened the window, and Gruedo swung in and dropped to the floor. Cyril leaned out and looked left and right, then up and down, before closing and securing the window and drawing the curtains.

“Did you expect someone else to be out there also?” asked Gruedo with a laugh. “At least you lock your window. I’m glad to see that you don’t rely on your god for all of your protection.”

Cyril shivered from the wet, cold night air and crossed the room to don his heavy robe. He looked at Gruedo in the dim light of the moon that filtered through the crack in the curtains. He went to the small fireplace, stirred the glowing embers and added a log to the fire.

“Did you get it?” Cyril asked without turning to look at Gruedo.

“Of course I did. Here it is.” Gruedo held the buckle with the belt still attached towards Cyril’s back.

“Set it on the table.”

Gruedo did as she was bid, then sat in one of the high backed chairs and leaned back on two legs. Cyril looked at the belt, then at Gruedo.

“You can go. You have done what you were paid to do.” Cyril crossed to the washstand, poured some water into the basin, and washed his face and neck.

“You paid me too much. I won’t return it to you, but I figure I can hang around and maybe help you with something else, it’s only… just.”

Cyril looked at her as he dried his hands and face and returned the small towel to the bar on which it hung. “Suit yourself.” Cyril closed his eyes and spread his arms wide. He chanted a prayer in a dull monotone. “Jonath, I call upon your wisdom, power, and protection to reveal what is yours. Use me as your tool to regain your lost treasures.” At the word ‘treasures’ Gruedo leaned forward, her interest obvious. “I am your faithful servant and ask for your strength in this step upon dealing your justice.” Almost before he uttered the last word there was a loud pop and a spark from the table. Gruedo jumped sideways out of the chair, knocking it over as she scurried backwards to the wall and faced the table. The leather belt on the table smoked and curled into black ash. The buckle had fallen into two pieces, though the bit still attached to the belt had melted into a puddle of silver. The remaining portion shed the leftover silver from it surface and revealed a square of reddish metal in the shape of a rough trident. Gruedo looked from the table to Cyril and saw Cyril was watching her with what was almost a mischievous smirk on his face.

“You could have warned me, damn it!” Gruedo swore.

“You chose to stay, I figured you knew enough not to get in the way,” Cyril answered, his face smooth. Gruedo regained her composure, leaned against the wall nonchalantly and looked back at the table.

“So, what is it?” she asked.