Thieves of Islar: Book One of The Heirs of Bormeer (27 page)

Jaeron saw their eyes widen at that. Even Danine raised an eyebrow.

“But until then, what we need is information. We know the Fangs run an illegal gambling hall and fight club. They move both around between several locations. One of those buildings is here.” Jaeron pointed to one of the pinned flags.

“We know that the Fang lieutenants, Brale and Sukul, spend some time here at deBenn’s Boarding house. We also know that the Fangs run protection and are Islar’s main supplier of
gindi
. We don’t know the extent of their territory. We don’t know where, or even if, they have a headquarters. Or where Gerlido lives.

“We need you to find out what you can without raising questions. The last person who was discovered by Brale and Sukul looking into Black Fang business died on the steps of this building.”

Jaeron let that sink in. He also made sure that he turned around and faced the map. His guild was not going to see the emotions his face currently betrayed.

“Questions?”

There were none.

Jaeron stayed in the basement while Chazd and Avrilla escorted the guild back upstairs. He took the brief period of solitude to sit down and sharpen and oil his sword. During the motions he recited the Litany of Resolve.

Ortelli’s admission kept breaking his concentration. It was likely that Gerlido had given the orders that killed both of his parents. He struggled with the injustice of that.
To take away the second family of an orphan and not be punished for it?
Jaeron knew there were worse things going on in his city, but he had not seen those things. He had not felt them.

He wondered if he could do it again. He closed his eyes and saw deLocke’s body bleeding on the street. Lifeless and empty. Had he been someone’s husband? Father? Jaeron had not bothered to find out. Yes, the man had come after him, intent on killing him. Jaeron had defended himself. But this thing with Gerlido was different. He was making the decision to kill the man.

Woe be unto those who take a life.

Cursed be the soul of he who takes a life by inaction.

Cursed be the soul of he who takes a life in anger.

Cursed be the soul of he who takes a life in ignorance and neglect.

But thrice-cursed be the soul of he who takes a life in avarice for he shall be dealt with by my Hand of Justice, and his life shall be forfeit.

The passage came to Jaeron suddenly. It was not one of his or Matteo’s favorites. He set his sword down on the polishing cloth and rested his hands on the table.

Henri’s Hands.
Jaeron’s mind was stilled. A calm suffused his body. Was it possible they were to be Teichmar’s Hands as well?

~

Larsetta’s servant brought the main course to the table, serving Gerlido first and then his master. Gerlido felt a surge of primal hunger when the man lifted the lid off of the silver platter. It was laden with shaved slices of raw meat, venison by the smell, drizzled in sweet vinegar and a sauce concocted of local spicy peppers. It was accompanied by thick wedges of deep-fried honey potatoes and creamed kale. The meal was an obvious ploy by Larsetta to stir his corrupted senses. Gerlido reined in the emotion, calmly refolded his linen napkin, and waited for Larsetta to begin.

Gerlido had been quiet thus far during the evening, content to exchange the expected pleasantries on how Larsetta’s trip had been, how were things in the capital, and news of the guilds in Dun Lercos. He was careful to skirt questions about her visit to Islar, how long she was planning to stay, or what it meant for his guild's operations.

He watched her as she let a long strip of the meat fall to her tongue. Her head was back, eyes half lidded. She was savoring the flavor, but still in full control of her beast. She made it look effortless. When he took a bite and tasted the blood, Gerlido’s primal side exploded, threatening to take control. He fought it down and took a long drink of the dark wine served with the course.

This dinner is going to be trouble, regardless of the conversation.

“It’s hard for you still?”

Gerlido choked on the wine. He had not thought she was paying attention to him.

“It will get easier with practice. And after the
kelistra
.”

Gerlido could hear it then, the hint of a taunt in her voice. She was goading him with her mention of the second ritual.

“When–”

“Witaasen has agreed to my terms regarding the silver mine,” Larsetta cut him off.

Gerlido tried to keep up and focus on the new topic.

“I thought Mennat had his interests in the Islar silver. You told me the mine was off limits.”

“Mennat has his hands full with running a country and maintaining his pathetic little war. I think it’s become more of a burden than he anticipated. And my warning did not stop you from trying to get your hands into the silver production, did it?”

Larsetta’s gaze pinned him to his chair, a knowing smirk grew on her lips.

“Wha… but…”

Thrice-damn her to Malfekke’s hells!
He felt his features shift, his teeth grow and sharpen against his lips. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. Gerlido drove his Tainted form down once again. He was close to having it fully under control when he felt Larsetta at his back.

Her bosom pressed into his shoulders. Her breath was hot against his ear. She leaned down and bit him where his neck met his shoulder, her teeth sharp. Blood welled in the wound. Gerlido’s self-control vanished. He rose from the chair and spun on her. He grabbed her under her arms and flung her across the room. She landed cat-like on all fours.

He charged across the room after her, but never reached her. She lashed out with a sweeping kick taking his feet out. Gerlido landed hard on his back knocking the air from his lungs. Faster than he could move, Larsetta was on him straddling his waist. Then her lips were on his, pressing his head into the thin rug. Her mouth was feasting on his, lustful and hungry.

Frenzy beat in his chest and stirred in his groin. A heated rush of blood and something darker swept through his body. As he grasped her, all feeling paled to a sudden sizzle at the base of his skull. He felt like he was losing himself, and then he knew no more.

When Gerlido woke up, he was naked on a bed in what he assumed was Larsetta’s bedroom. He ached. A glance down at his body confirmed that the sex had been as violent as the kiss that began it. He had new bruises and felt the burning pain of deep scratches on his shoulders, back, and buttocks.

The room was lit by a couple of candles and the feeble beginning of the dawn. Gerlido found what remained of his clothes and got dressed. A folded note was in the breast pocket of his leather surcoat. Gerlido brought it close to one of the candles to make out the fine, looping script.

Have all of your books and records delivered tomorrow. It’s time to take an accounting of whether my investment has been worthwhile. Please be gone before I return. I don’t expect to be alone.

There was no signature.
Bitch.
Gerlido wondered again how Larsetta so capably manipulated him. Angry and worried, Gerlido pulled on his boots and left the apartment.

“C
ome on down,” Jaeron called out in response to the knock on the cellar door.

“How did it go?” If Coatie were impressed with the improvements to their cellar, it was not obvious.

Jaeron shrugged, still focused on the city map.

“I’m not sure. No one raised any objections once I told them we were going to petition for second rung. You know their resources better than I do… how much do you think we’ll learn?”

“This group may surprise us. It’s an interesting mix. You made it clear – no direct action?”

“Yes, until we’ve been established. Which brings me to our next question. How do we go about doing that?”

Coatie moved to the table and sat down. “I’ve given that a lot of thought, Jaeron, and I think your best approach is doing someone a favor.”

“We’ve already done one favor, and while I appreciated the new start Ortelli gave us, it was not financially favorable. The guild will want to make more money on the next one.”

Coatie nodded. “I understand. There is an option for the promise of a favor.”

“Tell me.”

“There is always a certain amount of inter-guild bickering. A robbery pulled in the wrong territory. A protection scam on the wrong block. My black market warehouse was looted… You see the picture?”

Jaeron nodded. He could understand both the accidental and the purposeful backstabbing that could be taking place.

“Sometimes it comes up at the Guild meetings. Most of the time, though, it’s just rumor and bar side complaints. No one wants to involve the Grandmaster directly.”

“Why not?” Jaeron asked.

Shaels rocked back in his seat and waived off the question.

“Jaeron, that is… well, not that it is unimportant. Eventually, we’ll need to have that discussion. It’s enough for now to understand that the Grandmaster has the power to eliminate any of the other guilds. Maybe all of the other guilds. There are reasons why there is only one first rung guild and reasons why deSwan has held that position for over twenty years.

“So, the rest of us try not to annoy him too much. He sets the agenda for what will or won’t be discussed at the meetings. And he generally thinks that such issues are beneath him.”

Jaeron did not feel satisfied with the answer, but the expression on Shaels’ face told him to move past it for now.

“Okay, go on.”

“It turns out nearly every guild has a complaint about the Black Fangs. Gerlido has been pushing his boundaries, bumping into most of the other guilds. And when he hasn’t been giving the orders to do it, his guild members tend to have a unique way of making themselves unwanted.”

“So, you’re suggesting we help out another guild as part of our overall agenda to strike against the Fangs?”

Coatie fanned out his hands. Synchronicity.

“You have something in mind?”

“I had a couple of thoughts, but as I sat here with you, I came to the conclusion that only one of them makes sense. It aligns better with your…”

Jaeron could see that Shaels was searching for a word and was worried it may insult him.

“Don’t hedge with me, Coatie. Say it.”

“Ah, well… sensibilities come the closest. I won’t say chivalry.”

Jaeron thought about that. When it came to his beliefs, he saw that he was transparent. Even with his brief interactions with Shaels, the man could see that he was trying to elevate a thieves’ guild to be something more noble. His personal courage and conviction could be viewed as a guild weakness. He would have to learn to better conceal his beliefs in the future.

“Okay, I’m listening.”

Shaels searched Jaeron’s face for a moment and then dove in. He gave Jaeron the details of a guild complaint, the best way to contact the guildmaster, and suggestions for bargaining points. Jaeron made a few augmenting suggestions for changes to the plan, to most of which Coatie agreed.

When they were finished, Jaeron escorted Coatie out and climbed the stairs to the second-floor bedroom. Despite the late hour, Chazd was not in bed, not home. Jaeron worried about his brother’s excursions and wished Chazd would let them know his whereabouts. Over the past weeks, they may have slipped the searches of both Islar Guards and Black Fangs, but that did not mean Chazd could not get himself in trouble and Jaeron would have no way to protect or help him.

A second of indecision passed and then Jaeron got undressed and into bed. He was not going to wait up for his brother just to start an argument with him. He would invite Chazd to go with him tomorrow hoping that would maybe make him feel more included. Although he was exhausted, Jaeron still tossed on the bed awake for a full bell before finally succumbing to sleep.

~

The way that Jotar Venghsat in the sauna reminded Chazd of a great, sweaty toad. The man was not large. He barely topped five foot two standing, coming up four inches shy of Chaz
d’
s own medium frame. But seated on the wooden bench, his belly extended out like a great round pouch, pale and pock-marked. His chest supported two large man-breasts, not protruding but hanging down like thick flaps. His arms and legs were thin and gangly, seemingly composed more of bone and skin than muscle and fat.

Even Jotar’s face had an amphibious nature. The guild leader’s lower eyelids sagged and exaggerated his already bulging eyes. His mouth was wide, and looked even wider because of his overly large upper lip and an expanse of skin between it and the bottom of his nose.

He stared glumly at the deAltos as they crossed the sauna and sat down, carefully arranging their towels about them. He was silent, not even welcoming them to the luxuries his meeting place afforded.

“Good afternoon, Guildmaster Vengh,” Jaeron said. “And thank you for granting us this meeting.”

Jotar did not reply. His strange eyes just flicked back and forth between Jaeron and Chazd as if searching for the next meal.

“Guildmaster, as guild leaders of Henri’s Hands, we are requesting that your guild, the Three Mill Legion, relinquish all protection services in the Ninth ward, from Garner Street to Walnut up to the tobacco warehouse.”

Jotar laughed, “Now why would I ever do that?”

Chazd shook his head and chuckled aloud. “I told you! You owe me five
mizecs
!”

Jaeron made a quick cutting motion with his hand. Chazd quieted his outburst. His brother took a quick breath, and let it out more quickly than normal, unused to the thick heat entering his lungs.

“Jotar,” Jaeron said, “you really have no choice. Our guild is taking over that portion of the ward, and you really don’t have the strength to fight us on it. Especially not with six of your best footpads in the dungeon awaiting sentencing. And you wouldn’t get it accomplished without serious cost.

“You’ve moved out of favor with the Grandmaster, especially since that pearl heist got botched, and you are desperately trying to recover.”

Chazd could see red blotchiness growing on the man’s face as his brother continued.

“Plus,” Jaeron spoke more quickly, trying to get everything on the table before Jotar could recover. “We are going to do you a favor. Our guild is prepared to do a job for you.”

“What job?” Jotar asked, his eyes squinting in the steam.

Chazd smiled. He thought Jaeron was taking a chance playing the greed card this early in the discussion, but it seemed to have worked.

“We understand that you have had some payment difficulty at Madame Usher’s and the courtesans have been being mistreated, mainly attributed to members of another guild.”

Jotar’s eyes finally narrowed, giving Chazd and Jaeron a vicious look. “You hear a lot for a group of nursing pups!”

He paused, almost waiting for an explanation, and then he seemed to deflate a little when he realized he was not going to get one.

“What is your proposal?”

“We have some issues of our own with the guild in question, and we suspect that despite their rung status, no one approves of their abuse of your girls. So, we’re going to punish the bastards that have hurt your courtesans and,” Jaeron paused to clarify his intent, “if there’s a little punishment overflow, so be it.

“We’re willing to give you fifty percent of the money that comes out of this, as compensation for the release of your territory. You’ll get half of whatever remains of their assets, with the Grandmaster’s approval.”

Jotar appeared to give the offer initial due thought, but Chazd guessed that the man had already made up his mind. He would not look either of the deAltos in the face.

“You understand that the area is already contested?” Jotar asked.

Jaeron nodded, “We already have a way to address that.”

“You understand who you are going up against?”

“We do. And if we fail, we can afford you some protection against backlash. You don’t lose anything.”

Chazd was not sure about that, but his brother seemed to have a plan.
Or Coatie Shaels does.

“It doesn’t balance. You are… giving too much,” Jotar said suspiciously. “What am I missing?”

“We want your full council support to be introduced and voted in as a second rung guild.”

Jotar hesitated, but in the end agreed. He provided them the information on how and where to contact him regarding the next meeting of the Thieves’ Council. After the meeting, the two deAltos strolled home in the afternoon sun. The air was cooling and Chazd was glad to carry his cloak after being so thoroughly heated in the sauna.

“Do you still think I owe you our bet?” Jaeron asked him, half seriously.

Chazd threw his brother a wide smile. “No, no, I’ll pay you. Besides, it all came out the way you knew it would.”

“Then why in the name of…,” Jaeron could not complete the curse. “Why did you push for the bet?”

Chazd stopped walking and spun on his brother.

“You just don’t get it, do you?” he asked. “You need me to poke holes in your plans. If I don’t, you get so focused, you don’t either!

“Look, I admire your confidence, Jaeron. But sometimes you let it blind you. And you tend to believe that everyone thinks things out the same way you do. That everyone is so logical, selfless, do-gooding! But people aren’t like that. Some of them think of themselves first. Some of them live moment to moment, running purely on emotion. And some of them are just plain crazy.

“So, you keep doing what you’re doing. But you ought to make sure I keep doing what I’m doing, too.”

Then Chazd turned back up the street and walked off, leaving Jaeron behind.