He fished in his purse and pulled the remaining coins from within, opening his fist and letting them drop onto the table in front of him.
Six coppers. Wouldn’t last long, but then he didn’t have long left. What would that get him, maybe another two bottles? It would be enough to make him pass out, that was for sure. With any luck he’d never wake up again, and then he could avoid the whole messy event of drowning in his own blood.
The door opened again, and he looked up, not even bothering to reach for the sword at his side. It had served him well against Bolo and his men, but it would do him no good now. Sure, he could kill any lone assassin sent to do him mischief, but this was the Guild; there were always more assassins. Eventually they’d send one good enough to do the job right.
A young lad walked in, wooden tray in hand, selling cockles in vinegar.
Merrick let out a long breath. It had all seemed so right in that warehouse, sword in hand, remembering the old days. It had all come back to him so easily: parry, riposte, thrust, guard. Move with your opponent, not against him. Strike first, strike fast, strike hard, strike last.
And then there’d been that speech … what had he said?
‘I am the shepherd,’ he whispered under his breath.
What a load of shit. I am dog meat, more like.
Merrick took another sip from the glass, draining the rest of the peaty- tasting spirit. It made him grimace – cheap crap, lacking the smooth edge of the more expensive liquor he was used to. It was doing the trick, though, sending him blurry round the edges. He almost didn’t care about what was going to happen.
Almost.
‘Cockles, mister?’
The young lad made him jump, appearing out of nowhere with his tray. Merrick could smell fish and wondered if it was the cockles or the boy who stank the most. He looked down at the grim selection, and it did nothing to stir his appetite.
‘No thanks,’ he said, then noticed the little lad eyeing his remaining coins on the table.
Well … why not
? ‘Want to earn yourself one of those?’
The lad looked at him warily, as if this was some trick, and then nodded.
Merrick slid five of the coppers to one side, leaving one in the centre of the table. ‘If you can grab it before me, you can have it. If you’re too slow I get a pot of cockles for free.’
There was a short pause as the boy considered the offer. He must have been able to tell Merrick was drunk and fancied his chances, because he gave a sharp nod and put his wooden tray on the floor.
‘Right,’ said Merrick, flexing his fingers. ‘On the count of—’
Before he had time to begin his count, the lad’s hand shot out and swiped the coin off the table.
Merrick looked at the empty spot for a brief moment, before he started to laugh.
He couldn’t really argue with that, could he?
‘Is giving money away becoming a habit, Ryder? Perhaps there’s hope for you after all.’
Merrick almost jumped out of his skin. He hadn’t heard her enter the tavern, and she’d managed to walk right up to him without him even noticing.
Kaira nodded at the boy to be on his way, and he quickly picked up his tray of cockles and scampered off before anyone could take his winnings from him. When he’d gone she sat in the seat opposite Merrick, and he looked her over for a second: those broad shoulders, that chiselled look to her attractive face. Despite everything, despite her having condemned him to certain doom, he couldn’t help but admire her.
‘Come to gloat, have you?’ he asked.
What other reason could there be?
‘You don’t know me very well at all, do you, Merrick?’
‘I know you well enough.’
But did he? Fact was he hadn’t known her even slightly. Hadn’t known how she could fight. Hadn’t known the goodness in her heart. Merrick had been ready to run with that money and leave those people destitute. Setting them free was enough. Not for her. She simply gave the money away without a second thought for the consequences. Deep down Merrick knew it had been the right thing to do, but the side of him that wanted to stay alive couldn’t help but think he’d made a shit choice.
‘There’s the rest of my fortune,’ he said with a smile, waving at the five coppers left on the table. ‘Feel free to help yourself. I’m sure there’s someone more deserving. I’m going to be pigswill before the day’s out, anyway. May as well take it and be off.’
‘I am in as much danger as you, Merrick.’
That made him laugh out loud, long and disdainful. ‘Don’t talk rot. Just go back to your temple. They’ll take you in, that’s what they do. They’re hardly going to see you out on the street when there are killers on your trail.’
Now it was Kaira’s turn to laugh. ‘I have already returned to my temple. And I have left that place behind me. So you see, Merrick, we are in this mess together now.’
As much as he resented her for giving away his money, the prospect of having her watching his back did appeal.
‘What do you mean, left it behind?’
‘There is nothing there for me now. It is not the place I thought it was.’
‘Really? So now you think we’re kindred souls, cast out amongst the rabble with only each other for protection? Are you mad? People are coming to kill us. Hard bastards, without mercy. People who will take great pleasure in watching us suffer before we die.’
‘Then perhaps we should kill them first.’
There was steel in her voice, and in her eyes. For a moment Merrick liked the idea – the prospect of sticking it to the Guild before they stuck it to him was like sweet wine on his lips. He knew it was stupid. They’d get you eventually. There was no way this would end well for either of them.
‘We’d need an army,’ he said
‘No,’ said Kaira. ‘The Guild does not have an army. We would only need the right warriors to stand by our side. Warriors as feared and determined as the Guild itself.’
‘But there aren’t …’
He’d been about to say there was no one as feared as the Guild. No one as powerful and ruthless. Certainly no one that he knew of.
But actually, there was …
‘Come with me.’ Merrick rose unsteadily to his feet, leaving the five copper pennies on the table and staggering from the tavern as fast as he could with Kaira at his heels.
He made his way through the streets, keeping a wary eye out for someone, anyone, who might come at him from the crowds. It would only take one man with a knife and that would be the end of it.
That couldn’t happen now, not when he was so close.
Only when he reached the Crown District did he allow himself to relax. Only when he saw the palace barracks up ahead, did he begin to breathe that bit more easily.
Garret was sitting at the same table he’d been at last time. Sipping tea in the middle of the drill yard as if he didn’t have a care in the world. One of the Sentinels told the captain he had company, and he turned around to see Merrick and Kaira waiting there breathlessly.
‘Didn’t expect to see you so soon, Ryder,’ he said.
‘I didn’t expect to be back so soon,’ Merrick replied, slipping into the chair opposite him. Kaira stood to one side as though she were a guard on duty. Merrick only hoped Garret would be impressed by that.
The captain took a sip from his porcelain cup with the blue bird painted on the side, then said, ‘Have you reconsidered my offer?’
Right to business. Merrick liked this already. ‘I have. I think it’s about time I took on some responsibility.’
Garret smirked humourlessly. ‘You’ll have that all right. King Cael gone to the Halls of Arlor, assassins trying to murder the princess, Khurtas heading for the city. We’re up against it and no mistake. The Sentinels will be called upon to defend the city walls and everyone in it over the coming weeks. Chances are we’ll lose more than a few. Maybe worse than that. You ready to face your end head on, lad?’
It was better than the alternative. At least in the Sentinels he’d have a fighting chance. Up against the Guild he had no chance at all.
‘I’m ready. If you’ll have me.’
Garret’s humourless smirk turned to a genuine smile. ‘You know I will, lad. I owe your father that. But what about your friend?’
Merrick glanced to Kaira, who still hadn’t moved. ‘Oh, she can handle herself. I can vouch for her.’
Garret thought on that. ‘I’m sure you can, but I’ll need a better demonstration than your word, young Merrick. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d tried to fool me, would it?’
Merrick had to admit, it wouldn’t. ‘Feel free to try her out. I’d wager her sword arm against any of your men. Even give you two to one.’
‘Two to one? I’ll take those odds.’ Garret turned to the two Sentinels standing watch from the archway. ‘Waldin! Statton! Practice swords!’
As his men gathered their wooden weapons, Garret picked up his dainty table and moved it to one side of the drill yard. His men returned quickly bearing their wooden wasters, with a spare for Kaira.
Merrick nodded at her as she took up her sword and was pleased when she offered him a wink back.
‘Begin when you’re ready,’ said Garret, as his men took up a defensive stance. Kaira just stood and waited for their attack. ‘Waldin and Statton are two of my best,’ he whispered to Merrick. ‘This’ll be easy money, lad.’
‘Aye, easy money,’ Merrick replied.
Damn right it would be.
R
ag’s feet were like two lumps of meat on the end of her ankles. She’d been walking round for a day and a night but all these streets looked the same, all these warehouses had the same brickwork and slate roofs and big wooden doors. It was like she’d been walking round in circles.
When first she ran from the Greencoats’ barracks she’d been elated, couldn’t wait to get back to that bloke from the Guild and show him what she’d got. Now she just wanted shut of it in case the Greencoats caught up with her.
She was too stubborn to just ditch it. Rag hadn’t been through all this to throw everything away now. She was gonna hold on to that head until she found the right place or the Greencoats caught her, and that was just the way of it.
Rag had always been good at hiding in plain sight. She could probably have walked right up to the palace wearing King Cael’s rotting head as a hat and no one would have noticed, so wandering the streets with a bundle under her arm hadn’t garnered much attention. For the first time in a while, Rag was glad that no one gave a damn about her.
She was about ready to sit down and give up, walking down one abandoned road for what she thought must have been the umpteenth time, when she realised one of the vast wooden doors was ajar.
Rag glanced up and down the street, sure it was familiar. Dusk was fast approaching and even if this was the spot, would there be anyone still inside?
There was only one way to find out.
Rag peered in, pressing her face to the darkness. She couldn’t see more than two feet in front of her, but there was a sound coming from inside, a soft purring sound like the biggest cat she’d ever come across had fallen asleep.
This weren’t no time for trepidation. If she was gonna get what she wanted, if this was all gonna be worth the pain and hassle and blood and gore, she’d have to walk in like she meant it. No pissing about.
She grabbed the door and pulled it to one side. It protested noisily, rusty hinges squealing as its big bulk moved aside, shedding light on the interior of the warehouse and the dusty floorboards within.
Bloodstains on the wood, smear marks where someone had been dragged off.
This was the place, all right.
Rag stepped inside, following the telltale sound of snoring until she found him. He was lying on his back, hands crossed over his fat gut, leg dangling idly over the side of an old wooden crate. She didn’t recognise him as one of the thugs from the other night, but she had to take a chance. He had to be one of the Guild’s men. Why would he be here otherwise? He didn’t look like a vagabond sleeping rough; his clothes were too clean and it didn’t look like he’d skipped any meals recently.
Now, what was that bloke’s name? It had been mentioned more than once the other night but she’d been so scared she’d hardly taken any notice.
‘I want to see Friedrik!’ she demanded, her voice echoing through the abandoned warehouse.
The man on the crate sat up like he’d been stabbed in the arse, hand reaching instinctively to the dagger at his belt.
‘What? Who the fuck are you?’
They stared at one another, he with a bewildered expression, her forcing a look of determination onto her face.
‘I said, “I want to see Friedrik.” You’re one of his boys, ain’t you?’
The man nodded. Then shook his head. Then just looked confused.
‘What do you want with Friedrik?’ he asked, still sitting on the crate, obviously not feeling in the slightest bit threatened, even though if she’d felt like it she could have slit his throat while he slept.
‘I was here the other night, remember? I have what he asked for.’
Recognition slowly dawned on the bloke’s face, then he smiled. ‘You’re that little thief what helped kill the merchant. You best be off, lass. If Friedrik catches you he’ll cut your ears off for the laughs.’
‘We had a deal,’ she said. ‘I’ve come to claim on it.’
‘Look, girl.’ He was serious now, like Rag was starting to get on his nerves. ‘Piss off. I’m not summoning Friedrik here for some urchin who’s got too big for her boots.’ He glanced down at Rag’s bare feet. ‘And you haven’t even got any fucking boots. On your way, I’ve got sleep to catch up on.’
With that he lay back down on the crate.
Rag had just about had her fill of talking.
She walked forward, unwrapping Krupps’ head from the blanket that was now mostly congealed to the dead flesh. With that, she plonked it on the fella’s lap.
‘What the fu …’ he managed to say, before he saw the beaten and mashed face of Krupps staring up from his crotch and his words turned into a scream. With the back of his hand he swiped the head off him like it was about to bite his cock off.
‘Hells, what are you doing?’
‘I told you,’ said Rag, keeping her calm as best she could. ‘Me and Friedrik had a deal. Now go and bloody get him.’