Secrets of Arkana Fortress (27 page)

              There was, however, still a distinct essence of sanity in the city. The more stable people kept themselves to themselves; avoiding unnecessary contact where possible – these were just the paranoid ones. The city had its reputation as being a hub of life – the centre of the eastern lands’ activity following the Traseken fall – and had the image to maintain. Its advancements had a certain attraction to the masses as well as an allure to the city’s leaders – wealth, power, and influence.

              Being so solidly held as the pinnacle of magical technology, the city’s officials had banned any kind of sharing of technology with unlicensed individuals. Of course, this gave rise to Yingtzo’s biggest problem above all else – smuggling. With the state of the world, there were plenty of people who started to see the profit margin information had attached to it. Information was a lucrative commodity – always had been – and this pioneering city had a virtual gold mine’s worth. Many people had attempted to copy the Yingtzo tech, but to no avail – there was a certain method to combining magic and technology.

              San Kiln licked his lips then replaced the tome into his backpack and put it over his shoulders. In his line of work there was always a sense of caution, the type of caution that had been drummed into him when he was a much younger explorer. Always look over your shoulder, keep a concealed blade ready for a fight, and do not trust blindly – these were but a few of the advisory things his old mentor had told him. San Kiln had the find of his lifetime in his bag; he was not willing to let it go without a fight.

***

‘Well well, look who we have here,’ Torlat hissed, his scaly arms folding across his chest like an impenetrable barrier. ‘San Kiln the Fourth. Where you been hiding yourself?’

              ‘I would love to dance with you, Torlat, but I’ve got a prior engagement to get to.’ San Kiln stepped to one side of the scaly thug, but was halted by an unyielding palm. He peered at the lizard out of the corner of his eye, examining his ridged face and profound jaw line. ‘Let me pass, Torlat. I don’t have the time for this nonsense at the moment.’

              Torlat flicked his tongue in and out of his mouth in thought. ‘Nonsense? Nonsense you say? All I want is to have a catch-up. What’s wrong with that, huh?’

              This wasn’t the time or place for a face-off with this pest of a mercenary. They were in the middle of a busy street for crying out loud. Torlat had been an age-old contact of San Kiln’s until an impromptu conflict of interests tore their trusted relationship apart.

              With a swift swipe, San Kiln pushed Torlat’s arm back at him and strode forward only to be yanked back by two overly firm hands and thrown to the floor. A couple of well-dressed women stopped and stared at the tussle. It was as if the people of this city gagged for some entertainment they didn’t have to pay for.

              San Kiln clutched his backpack and growled at his scaly attacker. ‘Are you seriously doing this in full view of all these people? You need to start growing up, Torlat. You’re going to get arrested needlessly.’ The matter-of-factness of his statement bore no fear to the reptilian who had taken a looming step forward, casting a shadow over San Kiln.

              ‘Who cares?’ he hissed.

              ‘It’s an awful long time to hold a grudge, my friend.’

              A sudden rage came over Torlat. ‘I am not your friend!’ he cried, hands raised in the air in protest. ‘Our friendship ended a long, long time ago, you furry fuck-face.’

              ‘Petty insults don’t do any good for your image.’ San Kiln knew that this would irk Torlat – playing it cool and evasive was a quick way to get him angered. In situations like this he took some sort of perverse pleasure in riling the lizard up.

              ‘Image? What the fuck has that got to do with anything? I want what’s mine for fucks sake.’ His voice held its anger. San Kiln had no doubt that this cold-blooded creature was now boiling over.

              ‘You know that’s not possible. It’s not…’ He paused as he saw that a crowd of onlookers, adults and children alike, had gathered to watch the altercation. ‘I am not going to do this in public, Torlat,’ he stated forcefully as he clambered to his feet and dusted himself off. ‘How about we meet and discuss this tomorrow?’ His slit-pupil eyes squinted at Torlat’s.

              Torlat blinked both sets of eyelids slowly and kept his tongue in. He lowered his voice and leaned his head forward, his pure black eyes setting in stone. ‘The time for talk was over a while ago, San Kiln the Fourth.’ Hatred.

              ‘Oh… so what’s it to be then? You’re going to gut me like a fish in front of all these people? Hang my hide on your wall for a trophy or something?’

              It was then that two lightly armoured sentinel soldiers plodded through the ruckus, parting the chatting viewers like a prophet dividing the seas. They were both dressed in brown tunics adorned with silver armour straps that wrapped around their torsos like snakes; black slacks, and lightly coloured boots. Both wore a steel circlet that had the gear emblem of Yingtzo stamped at the front of it. These two men were the common light patrol units that wandered the depths of the city day and night to keep the peace – they were quick, agile, and well trained peacekeepers.

              One of them spoke up with an authoritative boom. ‘What’s going on here? You two are disrupting the peace.’ The solider looked at the floored feline and then to Torlat. ‘Have you assaulted this citizen?’ The man rested his hand on the hilt of a sword he was carrying on his back while his partner lifted up a glowing hand. It was standard protocol in the city for there to be at least one magic wielder in a patrol. They needed to be ready for a multitude of things.

              Torlat hissed and backed off, the gravity of the two-on-one scenario visibly humbling him. ‘No problems here, officers,’ he grumbled. He glanced down at San Kiln and shot his tongue out at him menacingly. ‘Another time for this dalliance then.’ He quickly turned and trudged back up the street, turning a corner with an enraged gait, disappearing out of sight.

              The soldiers stood down their arms and saw to dissipating the crowd quickly. The man with the sword walked over to San Kiln and held out a hand. ‘Are you alright, sir?’ he asked, his voice a soothing tone all of a sudden.

              San Kiln took the man’s hand and eased himself up, the backpack clutched in his other paw. ‘Thank you, officer,’ he grumbled before cracking his back. The floor had been his other greatest enemy.

              The magic soldier turned around and rubbed his smooth face as he wandered over to his partner’s side. ‘Do you wish to lodge a complaint against Mr Torlat?’

              San Kiln’s ears pricked up. He adjusted his outfit and purred out of annoyance. ‘You know him then?’

              The soldier looked at his partner, who had returned from his crowd control duties, and smirked. The sword wielder clucked his tongue thoughtfully, his mouth meandering from side to side. ‘We are very… acquainted with the gentleman.’

              ‘Trust me, he’s no gent,’ the other soldier remarked before being promptly hushed by his partner, his obvious superior.

              The man then squinted at San Kiln through youthful eyes. ‘If you wish to lodge a complaint, please come by the outpost located in the central plaza and we can arrange further proceedings if necessary.’ He held up his hand in a warm gesture. ‘Have a nice day and stay safe, citizen.’ The pair of them bowed slightly and continued on their patrol, their presence still felt among the populace in the street.

              San Kiln was still dazed, but carried on.

              The sentinel soldiers here in Yingtzo were always efficiently paired up. The chiefs of the military enforcement put their people through rigorous training, including social interaction. Pairing people up with just anybody was a recipe for disaster as it was known to cause more trouble than good. Partners needed to be like-minded, and equally co-operative with each other to ensure peak efficiency and teamwork. It had worked well over the years. There was, however, a small portion of troublesome sentinels that had difficulty working with anyone. Such people were forcefully exempt from patrols and stationed as guards or pencil pushers. There were plenty of people joining the sentinels that just wanted the power. That being said, they didn’t last long once people realised it.

              San Kiln purred to himself as he regained his bearings. He placed the satchel onto his back and moved swiftly down the street again. He had a schedule to keep.

***

‘I think there’s something you don’t understand, Mr, or Mrs, Pakros… or whoever you are.’ Kelken shut the door to the study behind him and abruptly glared at Pakros as she took a seat behind her desk.

              She smoothed the fur on her head with her paws and licked her lips. Her petite figure was lost in her regal robes. She strummed her claws on the desk as she looked at Kelken and Breena in turn. ‘What seems to be the problem? Is there something wrong with gratitude these days? I was merely celebrating a job well done by a pair of cracking mercenaries.’

              Breena hissed a little as she took a deep breath. ‘In our line of business,
Mrs
Pakros, there is a certain level of discretion required on both parties’ part.’

              Pakros let her fangs slip out over her bottom lip. ‘Oh? I was unaware of such a thing.’

              Kelken grunted his disapproval and folded his arms, averting his glare to a favourably sized window behind Pakros’s chair. ‘The mercenary guild requires this discretion so as to ensure
safety
of its members, as well as maintaining reputation.’

              ‘The guild has a commendable reputation, hence why I hired you.’

              ‘It’s commendable because the advertising is minimal. We’ve seen them other guilds, who advertise themselves too much, go to absolute pot. And do you know why?’

              Pakros shook her head.

              ‘It all comes down to money and how the people perceive ‘em. I’ve seen guilds of all kinds run out of money before they’ve even started due to shit loads o’ advertising. Advertise something that’s untested? Fail. Advertise too much? People think you’re desperate.’

              ‘And what about this safety thing then?’

              ‘Are you seriously asking that?’ Breena chimed in as she occupied herself with a bookcase adorned with numerous volumes. ‘Me and my partner here…’

              ‘Your father,’ commented Pakros correctively.

              Breena ignored her as she picked up a brown leather covered book. ‘Me and my partner here have an extremely dangerous occupation, and have to cross some extremely unpleasant people that don’t always agree with our actions.’ She flicked a couple of pages into the book. ‘Announcing who we are and what we do is a right opening for danger. Anyone could stab us in the back, or give our not-so favourable friends information about us.’ She carried on skimming through the pages.

              Pakros purred rhythmically, strumming her desk again. ‘I see…’

              ‘That all you gotta say?’ Kelken remarked, irritation rising in his voice.

              ‘It isn’t so bad,’ began Pakros. ‘I could have given people your names, vital statistics, and so forth.’

              ‘Good thing you don’t know them ain’t it?’ Kelken leaned on the desk and stared at the tabby cat indiscriminately.

              The air suddenly changed as Pakros slid her chair back and opened a drawer. She rummaged around for a moment then produced a few sheets of paper tied together at one corner. ‘Kelken and Breena Lexos of Traseken. Mercenary duo related by blood.’ She glanced up at a stunned Breena, and a now fuming Kelken. ‘You see, the thing is…’ She took a moment’s pause to stand upright. ‘In my line of work I have numerous enemies, and must treat people with a certain level of scepticism until things can be taken as a hundred per cent trustworthy.’

              ‘And how did you get that info exactly?’ Breena stepped forward, her reptilian eyes more aflame than her hair, as if the very depths of hell’s own rage had found its way into her stern gaze.

              Pakros purred with a sly smile while she slid the papers back into safety. ‘Cats have very good hearing you know? I hear certain things now and again, and keep notes of what I think I can use.’

              Kelken rubbed his chin lightly, regarding Pakros like a piece of prey unable to escape. ‘Eyes and ears everywhere, is it?’

              She nodded, licking her lips.

              ‘A person like you needs the claws in all of the pies, eh?’ He was eerily calm about being spied on by his client, almost as if he was taking amusement out of the situation.

              Breena looked sideways at him, furrowing her brow. ‘She looked us up for fuck’s sake, dad. I thought we were supposed to have full privacy with the guild?’

              He waved his hand at her and shook his head, his stare still locked onto the preening feline. ‘She didn’t obtain this information from the guild… did you, love?’

              She raised one hand and scratched the air twice. ‘One all,’ she laughed. ‘I see you are not a dimwit, Mr Lexos. I see where your daughter gets it from.’