The Darkslayer: Book 02 - Blades in the Night (41 page)

“
And you would be Melegal. A thief. A one-time servant of the Royal houses of Bone. An urchin. Do you deny any of this?”

Melegal didn’t move; he only stared hard at the man.
Take off my hat, you sweaty pig!

“
Well … I see you don’t care for conversation,” Sefron said. “We have our ways to convince you that it would indeed be wise of you to speak. Actually … I have my ways.”

The foul cleric came face-to-face with his prisoner. The smell of Sefron’s rotted breath made Melegal want to gag. He didn’t move.
This fool’s not my captor.
He had to be patient; he could always kill the man that was wearing his hat later.

A door behind Melegal swung open and the cleric jumped back as if someone took a swing at him. Sefron knelt on the ground.

A deep rich voice spoke: “What are you still doing here, Sefron? I told you to wake him only and leave.”

Almen? This is not good.
Melegal listened close.

“
I am sorry, my lord! He has only been awake but a moment,” Sefron said, groveling on the floor.

“
Cleric, shut up! And take off that hat!”

“
But—”

The end of a spear poked the cleric in his fat belly. Sefron was squealing on the floor like a wounded pig, making a scene as if his leg had been cut off.
Good. A bit more merciful than I would have been.

“
Drag him out,” Almen said, still behind Melegal.

Two Royal household sentries came in and did as ordered without hesitation.

“
Stay outside and close the door,” Almen said.

After a few more moments, Sefron’s wailing could no longer be heard. There Melegal sat, trying to get the feeling back in his numb fingers.

The Royal lord then walked over in front of the thief and placed the hat back on his head. Almen pulled up a chair and set it down in front of him. The man was tall, handsome, and broad shouldered. His clothes were exquisite, typical of leading Royal household members. His long brown hair was pulled back behind his ears and his brown eyes were sharp, intelligent, and intimidating.

Melegal remembered him as the father from the dungeons where Venir had received the lash from his son Tonio. That was when all the trouble started. This was indeed Royal Lord Almen, of the Third House in the City of Bone. Melegal began to get the felling this man should never have been trifled with. He should have listened to Venir and got out of the city when he had the chance.

“
Thief, I will make this clear once,” Almen said, his voice commanding as he leaned forward. “We are going to have a conversation. If you do not engage in the conversation, you will die where you sit. Do you understand?’

“
Yes,” Melegal answered, fully convinced the man’s word was true.

“
That is good,” Almen said, sounding more diplomatic. “Now I pride myself on the gathering of information, which as
you
well know it to be common within the wall of Royal castles. Over the years, I have had many assistants, and one in particular has gone missing. His name is McKnight. Do you know this man?”

“
Yes, I know him.”

“
Good. Good. Then you know that he was in my service. What else do you know?”

He held the man’s gaze. How much did this man know already? He didn’t want to call his bluff. He worked his fingers harder.

“
The last I saw him he was having dinner with the swine.”

Royal Lord Almen chuckled. “Yes, I heard something like that too. So it is unlikely he will be returning to my service, which is disappointing because he was indeed skilled, enough so that he went unnoticed by my spies for some time upon his return to Bone. But he is gone—and that leads me to you.” He pointed at him. “One thing that Detective McKnight did for me was recruit talented servants. He talked about it with me from time to time. He also gave me a list. It seems that many years ago you were on it.”

I was?

“
You could read and write with a deft hand. I believe he also spent time with such people and tested them with other things. Is this ringing a bell?”

It was true that McKnight had singled Melegal out at one time and began a secret tutelage of sorts, but Melegal and Venir’s escape had brought that to an end. The detective did track the teenager down, and for a few years, the street urchin became his protégé. It was as if McKnight was preparing him for something more than just stealing off of the streets. But he didn’t like McKnight and went his separate way. McKnight had hated him ever since.

“
Yes,” he said.

Melegal considered himself lucky that he didn’t sweat. If he did, Royal Lord Almen would know how nervous he was.

This is not good.

“
That is good. Now McKnight was a loyal servant of mine for decades and his services will be greatly missed. I need a suitable replacement. That is why I brought you here. The replacement, assuming he or she is worthy and loyal, will have all of the pleasures and privileges that was typically bestowed on their predecessor. Do you understand everything that entails, Melegal?”

Are you serious?

He understood everything indeed. To have everything a Royal could have without being a Royal and being able to enjoy it all behind the scenes? Was this what McKnight had tried to prepare him for? And, if so, why him?

An inner struggle began to churn inside his thoughts, as Melegal hated the Royals and their cruel and twisted ways. His thoughts went to Venir and the boys, and he wondered if he would ever see them again. Certainly from this vantage point, it would benefit them all. He would be able to protect them. Then he considered the fine food, wine, and beautiful women he could indulge himself in from time to time. It was an offer he saw no reason to refuse, not a man of his ilk anyway.
What kind of greedy thief would ever say no to this?
he asked himself.

“
Yes, I do indeed understand.“

“
Then will you take my offer?”

There was only one answer to the question. Yes—or die. He would be bound to Almen or dead. A slave again. A slave with benefits. Lots of them. An
offer
from a Royal such as Almen was only made once. He knew what he was getting into. But he was getting older and he didn’t want to live off the streets forever. So he let his desires overtake his independence.

“
Yes.”

“
Excellent.”

The Royal lord stood up and walked over to the door. Melegal was feeling relieved already.

“
I shall have my guards unbind you then,” Almen said.

“
No need,” Melegal said, standing up, hands unfettered.

“
Impressive, Detective Melegal,” Almen said, walking over to the thief.

Almen was tall, looking down on Melegal’s head. So Melegal kept his eyes on the Royal lord’s chest.
Now what does he want?

“
I have another question of you.”

“
Of course,” Melegal said, wiping his hat. He needed to have it washed.

“
Have you seen my son Tonio?”

Again he didn’t want to call his Royal lord’s bluff. Lying to this man would not be a good idea.

“
Yes,” Melegal said, fully wanting to lie.

But Tonio had not resurfaced since the last time Melegal had seen him. How much did this man already know? He met the Royal lord’s eyes, ready for the next question.

“
There have been rumors that my son is near. I want to you see to it that those rumors disappear.”

“
Of course, Lord Almen.”

“
Indeed, now let’s get you cleaned up. Follow me.”

Melegal knew this was a bad deal, but what choice did he have? He thought of his friends and wondered about them. He had to play along. How hard would that be? Dread filled him with every step he took. He followed behind the Royal lord up into the warmth of the castle. Sefron was hanging around pestering the servants.. The men and women had been broken. A sick urchin was chained to the kitchen floor peeling potatoes. Death now seemed like a better choice.

Why did I do this?

Catten simmered with rage for days. It was clear that the imp was gone, and along with it, so were his plans to a quick and easy path of destruction for the Darkslayer. His brother Verbard was nonetheless too happy, either, but his suggestions to return to Oran’s lair were preposterous.

Catten hissed, “We will not return to the lair!”

“
Why not? We might find something else of aid! There is no need to be hasty! I don’t agree!”

Catten’s disdain for his brother had only increased after the imp’s sudden demise. He could have killed him, but he knew Verbard wasn’t to blame. Catten wanted to go home, but didn’t feel his brother did. The pair had exhausted themselves with scenarios about what happened with Eep, the leather sack, and the man, but ultimately there was only one way to find the truth. They had to track down the Darkslayer the old-fashioned way.

“
Let’s just do this, brother. We can’t avoid this fight forever,” Catten said.

Verbard was silent, then his silver eyes popped open in receipt of the obvious and he sighed. “Agreed.”

Catten led the party of evil and headed north, avoiding eyes during the day and making haste during the night. It was a shame the Current didn’t run farther north. If it did, things would have been easier. Being on the surface bothered him. The Darkslayer would come for them. He hoped they could locate the troublesome man first, before it was too late.

Fogle Boon trudged along, keeping the backs of Venir and Ox in his sight. Dwarven Hole must have been an eternity away. He was slowing them down. Ever since the imp had appeared and taken Venir’s sack, things had gotten worse. Fogle’s feet felt like they were on fire.
Venir waited for him to catch up. He was embarrassed.

“
Fogle, how are you feet?” Venir said with concern in his voice.

“
See for yourself,” Fogle replied.

He flopped down, wincing as he pulled off his boots. Red sores and blisters covered his heels, pads, and even his toe tops. Venir grimaced. It only made him feel worse.

“
Maybe I should cut them off,” Fogle said.

“
You’ll live. We aren’t too far from Dwarven Hole—a few more days maybe. If we make it, the lady dwarves will patch you up right. You’ll like them; they are excellent with their care. A little fella like you will be like tending a babe, ” he said with a wink.

“
I don’t share your enthusiasm,” he said, shaking sand from his bloody sock.

“
You will when you meet them.”

“
Can’t wait.”

“
Well, stay put, because there are ways in this wasteland to heal those feet, but the streams and grass I need are scarce. I can lance those blisters, coat them in the stream’s clay and mud, let them sit over night and they callous quick … make your feet tough. Me and Ox will make a stretcher if need be, but we have to keep moving.”

Venir was sincere, but Fogle Boon still didn’t care for it.

“
You try to put me on a stretcher then I might as well be dead and I am far from that,” Fogle said tugging his boots back on. It only made the pain worse.

“
If you’re almost dead, we’ll just bury you. You did have Ox bring a shovel, didn’t you? Why do you think I told you to bring one? ”

He could hear Ox’s goat-like laughter.

A smile cracked over Fogle’s dry lips. “I did have him pack one and all along I thought it was to help you dig down to the Underland.”

Venir laughed, but Fogle Boon could see something dark behind the man’s eyes. He remembered the story of when the underlings had buried Venir as a boy. Fogle grew silent and sensed an awkwardness overcoming his burly comrade. He then laced up his boots as he watched the warrior walk away. Ox followed along as if something was amiss.

Fogle gathered himself. Staring into the furnace of nothing ahead, he wondered why he’d gotten into this. Only a fool would follow another into the wasteland. He’d left his life for this adventure. He shook his head, leaned on his staff, and shuffled ahead. They walked for hours when Venir finally stopped. Fogle stood beside the warrior, peering ahead.

“
What is it?” Fogle asked.

“
We are being watched.”

Fogle didn’t like that answer.

Jarla, again worthy of the title “queen,” began carving through Bish to track down Venir. She had little idea where to start but she had means and knew where to call. She was a every bit the assassin that she was a soldier and she kept things
that tied her to her prey. When Venir departed from her, he left his clothes and she retained them all these years.

It was nothing more than a leather jerkin she had kept, but it was enough. She took it to a female enchantress and bartered payment. The enchantress spent hours inside her forested bungalow executing a spell that would locate the wearer. Jarla and her gang waited outside. She felt control again. Her confidence was growing.