The Cost of Betrayal (22 page)

Tessanna stood, her bare skin shivering in the autumn air. She went to bathe in the stream.

“I’ve slept with many men,” she said, turning back to him. Her tears were gone. Apathy had stolen over her. “But you were the first I’ve ever made love to.” With that, she slipped into the water. As she bathed, Qurrah slept, the doubts and whispers in his own mind alleviated for one glorious moment.

Fallen angels rejoiced in black song as they watched. The promise of death had brought the two peace. Never before had Karak’s truth shone so pure and so lovely.

11

I
n the back of the crowded bar sat a man with three empty tankards in front of him. He smoked in the shadows, only his eyes and the smoke of his pipe visible. A young boy entered the bar, glanced around, spotted him in the corner, and then approached.

“I have a message from Melhed, sir,” he said.

“Out with it.”

“He says the best purse is held in yellow clothes, to be bought by tomorrow’s eve.”

The man blew a ring of smoke and tossed the kid a dull coin through it. “Get on out of here.”

The boy bowed and left.

“So Aurelia’s in the hands of the Eschaton?” he muttered, filling the end of the pipe with more blackweed. “Puppets like them shouldn’t be allowed such a fine catch.”

If the message was true, someone from the elves would come to take Aurelia by tomorrow night. That left little time to plan an ambush, but he was confident his boys could get it done.

“Another mug,” he shouted. A serving wench heard his demand and rushed a glass to him, fast enough that froth drifted down its sides.

“Good girl,” he said, offering her a wink. She smiled, holding in her shudder until her back was to him. The man laughed, having seen that same reaction a hundred times before. Luckily for the wench, he was in a good mood. He might have killed her otherwise, if only to cheer himself up.

An hour later, he paid for his drinks and left.

C
ome in,” Aurelia said as she heard a knock on her door. She expected Harruq, but instead Brug entered, his face already in full blush.

“I have something for ya,” he said, one of his hands hidden behind the door.

“Well let’s see it,” she said, leaning up against the pillows of her bed.

Brug stammered a bit, sighed, and then brought his hand out. The elf gasped when she saw what he held. It was her staff, bearing little resemblance to the original plain stick of wood. The whole of it had been tarnished and darkened so it resembled a long, thin branch. Beautifully painted leaves spiraled down the length. Carved along the sides were spiders, frozen in the process of making a web that spanned from leaf to leaf. The webs thickened near the top, crisscrossing into a dizzying display. In Brug’s hand, the staff radiated a soft green, highlighting only the leaves and bits of web that touched them.

“Brug,” she gasped. “It’s beautiful! Please, let me see it closer.”

He handed the staff to her, his blushing reaching ripe tomato color.

“I try to make something for every member we get,” he stammered. “I’ll get ya that pendant, but for now, will the staff do?”

At first, Aurelia said nothing, too busy running a finger across the smooth webs and sensing the slight aura of magic.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, this will most definitely do.” She pulled him close and kissed his forehead.

“None of that mushy stuff,” he said, jerking away. The red of his face spread to his ears. “Anyway, Tarlak said to tell ya Dieredon is coming sometime tomorrow to claim your beauty…uh, bounty.”

“I’ll be ready,” she said, grinning. “Thank you for the staff.”

“Was nothing,” he mumbled, beating a hasty retreat from her room.

W
hen Qurrah and Tessanna returned, the half-orc went to find Tarlak.

“What’s the matter?” Tarlak asked, shutting the door to his room behind Qurrah.

“I wish Tessanna to stay here,” the half-orc said. “Not as a member of the Eschaton, but merely as a guest.”

The wizard plopped into his chair and leaned back, his fingertips drumming the desk. “A guest? We usually don’t do that type of thing here. But, who cares about what we normally do, eh?”

“Can she stay with Aurelia and Delysia?”

Tarlak shrugged. “I have no objection. You will need to ask them. Oh yeah, I finally got that portable hole. Harruq’s been working upstairs the whole day. You have a room now, instead of a cubbyhole among boxes.”

“Much appreciated,” said Qurrah. “And I will ask the girls if they mind her staying. If you wish, you may take her rent out of my pay.”

“Nonsense,” the wizard said, emphasizing this with his hand. He stood and walked Qurrah to the door. “You’re family now. You don’t charge family rent. Not the members you like, anyway.”

Qurrah chuckled. “Very well. I will speak to the girls.”

“Don’t go too far tomorrow,” Tarlak said. “We might need you when Dieredon comes.”

“I understand.”

The half-orc told Tessanna the news. Aurelia and Delysia readily agreed to let her stay, albeit on a few bedrolls piled between their beds. The tower was getting crowded, but no one seemed to mind.

M
elhed paced inside his small but luxurious home. His frame was scrawny and triangular, matching the shape from the top of his head down to his laboriously trimmed black goatee. Throwing daggers lined his belt, oiled and well cared for.

“They won’t show,” the man said, his voice sounding like a rat squeaking. “I knew they wouldn’t. They drank themselves dumber than mules, and now I’m stuck.”

A knock on his door ended his whining. He looked through a peephole to see a mammoth muscled chest covered with blue and black armor.

“About time,” the spindly man said, throwing open his door. “You’re late.”

The floor creaked under the giant weight as the highest paid killer in all of Neldar stepped inside.

“Shut up, Melhed. I’m here, and that is all that matters.”

“Where’s your men,” Melhed asked. The giant man chuckled. It was a deep, dangerous sound, and he knew he was treading on very thin ice.

“They are warriors of Karnryk!” the giant man shouted. “They will be here.”

Melhed disappeared to get drinks ready. Karnryk picked at his teeth. He was a half-orc, his human mother raped by an orc. Karnryk had grown up an outcast, his large ears and chubby face earning him names like Dogface and the Pig. His enormous size and strength, however, had granted him a few perks. He had been educated. He had been trained. Nearly every guild in Neldar had seen his enormous potential, and the half-orc had milked training from every single one before abandoning them when their usefulness was at an end. Now he worked for himself. The pay was better, and his reputation had spread far and wide.

“You heard about the spider guild?” Karnryk shouted to Melhed, who was two rooms away.

“Someone told me it was no more. I assumed they were joking.”

“It’s no joke,” the half-orc said. “The Watcher killed most of them, and the rest begged themselves into the other guilds. Sickening, really.”

“How so?” Melhed asked, returning with huge pitchers full of ale. Karnryk downed one in two huge gulps.

“They quiver at the name of the Watcher,” he roared. “They act as if he were a demon or a god. It is my name they should fear, not his!”

“To be fair, you approve of what the thief guilds do, while the Watcher, well, doesn’t.” Melhed sipped at his own, much smaller cup. “If you called a bounty on the heads of all thieves, people would cower at the thought of your approach.”

The giant man leaned back in his chair, which creaked loudly in protest. He wore little armor, feeling no need for it. A sword the length of an average man hung from his back, notched and chipped from many battles. Scars ran down his face. His eyes were an ugly yellow. Still, he was stronger and meaner than a raging bull, and such attributes lent him many friends.

“Knock-knock,” a voice shouted at the door. A group of men barged in, all carrying drinks. They were armed to the teeth, and beneath their ragged street clothes shone glimpses of old chainmail.

“Put your ale away,” the half-orc said to Melhed. “They’ve already had enough.”

“Of course, Karnryk.”

The pitchers of ale vanished, to the groans of the small rabble.

“Hey, I’m thirsty,” one in particular said, starting after the scrawny man. The half-orc grabbed him, wrenched his arm, and slammed his body to the ground. The man cried in pain, his hand pinned underneath him at an awkward angle.

“Shut up all of you,” the half-orc roared. “This ain’t the usual crap we go after, so I need all of you sharp. Now spill the beer and listen up. We finally get to do what I’ve always wanted to do.”

“What’s that?” asked one, sneering at the pinned man.

“The Eschaton tower. We’re going to make it ours.”

A cheer rose throughout the men crammed into Melhed’s home.

“Don’t the Watcher live there,” one man dared ask. Karnryk grinned at him, his eyes filled with anticipation.

“Yeah, he does, and get ready to collect the hidden bounty. By tonight, every one of us is going to be stinking rich.”

Another cheer. Karnryk didn’t bother to say he would claim the bulk of the secret reward offered by the heads of the thief guilds. The others would be well off, but nothing six months of binging on ale and women wouldn’t whittle away to nothing.