Thick as Thieves (11 page)

They were safe enough in Thieves Wart. Madd had explained it somewhat over a plate of eels at one of the murky taverns that lined the town’s rough streets. Though the quarter had its own share of bounty hunters and thieves, they were also loosely ruled by Tagard and his cronies.

“How do you know him?” Vorgell had asked, following the question with a swig of especially bad beer. The food wasn’t all that good either.

“I told you I was a street kid, right? Well, no one lives on the streets of Gurgh without Tagard knowing. He trades in services, and street kids deliver.” Madd’s mouth pulled a little to one side and he looked away, mumbling something about the subject being complicated. Everything about Gurgh was complicated, wrapped up in secrets.

And now Vorgell held that former street kid’s body to his. His lust, far from being sated, burned all the brighter. He didn’t want less of Madd… he wanted more. True, his ass was sore. Madd had a fine cock for a man considered short even in Gurgh, whose tall men would be counted puny among the Scur. Strange though it seemed, Vorgell felt complete—whole, even—to have been taken by Madd in that way. To have been fucked. Always before he had done the fucking. He liked this better. He squeezed his buttocks together and relished the burn. It reminded him that Madd had chosen him, even if only for the convenience of a willing ass in which to spend himself.

Madd had recognized that Vorgell was willing. He also had not rejected him for that.

One of Vorgell’s great fears had been that one of his Scurrian band brothers might recognize his secret desire. His rigorous keeping of that secret was why he had never sought to be penetrated even by one of the whores who would have done so only for the coin. Whores talked. Warriors talked also, and not many held men who enjoyed being fucked in high regard. All the more reason for him to be happy, then, because Madd’s opinion of him did not appear to have suffered.

In the sleepy gloom preceding dawn, it occurred to Vorgell that Madd knew what it was like to be scorned for taking a cock in his ass. The men who’d done so had only cared for their own needs. They hadn’t cared what Madd wanted. No more than Vorgell had upon first seeing him in the tower and being smitten by the prospect of planting his cock in a pretty man’s ass. No wonder Madd fought so hard. He didn’t want to be under other men; his desire for men was to set the pace of lovemaking, and to have them under him. Madd had even been careful about it, considerate.

Vorgell leaned in so he could smell the lingering scent of yesterday’s cleansing herbs in Madd’s hair, the soft ends tickling his nose. If Madd needed to be free of the baron, Vorgell would do whatever it took to help him. As he moved, he heard a creak of wood. A subtle creak, not from the bed or door… though it was near the door… or even a floorboard.

They were not alone.

Already regretting that Madd’s head rested on his knife hand, Vorgell raised his head. The predawn light was so weak it barely filtered past the oilskin covering the room’s one window, but it was enough to reveal someone sitting in the room’s only chair.

“Madd,” Vorgell said. He gently shook his sleeping partner.

He never took his eyes off the seated figure, taking note of a strong-featured face framed by short black hair and a neat beard. Bushy, full brows punctuated by two piercing dark eyes. He couldn’t see anything of the clothes the man wore, other than that they were dark also.

Madd propped himself upright and blinked at their guest. “Tagard,” he said in greeting.

“Maddog and… friend. Got yourself a big one this time, I see. Sure that’s wise?” Tagard had a pleasant voice, deep but soft, with the texture of morning.

“My problem, not yours.”

Tagard’s smile touched his eyes. “Everything in Thieves Wart is my problem.” He pointed to the bundle Madd kept on the floor beside the bed. “What’s that?”

“Cloak of shadows. I got it off Ibeena. Bought it fair.”

“So I hear. Gold got from the Sun Virgin Ciusla and her husband Thencu Lustre, perhaps? And I heard two bounty hunters died in Tanner’s Row yesterday, and two more badly hurt. This man’s doing?” Again Tagard pointed, this time to Vorgell.

Vorgell sat up taller. “Should have been four dead, but he stopped me from killing them.”

Tagard’s smile flashed white. He still had good teeth, which was rare in a man his age. “Maddog knows my rule. Never cause more death than needed to do the job. Leads to trouble. None of us need more trouble than we already have, and I suspect you don’t either.” He rose and gave them both a long look. “Dress. Let’s go to the water, talk in the open. Talk in the light.”

They dressed without a word. Vorgell followed Madd’s lead. If Madd trusted this man, then so would he. He was standing beside the door when Madd picked up the package with the cloak of shadows. After a moment, Madd walked over to Vorgell and shoved the parcel into his hands. “It’s ours and it’s going to stay ours,” Madd said. The look he gave Vorgell said if he lost it, Madd would tear out his spleen.

The alley on which the house was located ended with a plank fence and a gate. A strong odor of garbage filled the air. Past the gate, a dirt path had turned to mud after the night’s rain, and they walked on that through heavy weeds until they came to an old pier tucked behind the buildings and tight to the river. It was a nicely secluded spot. Vorgell caught sight of shadowy figures on surrounding rooftops and near the tree line, and guessed they were being watched by some of Tagard’s men.

“I was surprised when I heard you’d showed up here,” Tagard said. He was the same height as Madd and leaned slightly toward him as he spoke. “Got first wind after midday from Ibeena. Said you’d got away from that rotten baron, but were going back.”

Madd pulled down the high collar of his shirt, displaying the collar. “As long as I wear this, I’m branded his slave.”

“Is that why you came here? I can’t help you with wizard stuff.”

“You think I don’t know that? Tagard, I came here because we needed a place to hide for the night and… you know I wouldn’t show you disrespect. I asked to see you because I didn’t want you knowing I’d been in Gurgh—or Thieves Wart either—and then left without telling you. I’ll make good yet, just not this time.”

“And you think there’ll be a next time? There isn’t always a next time, young witch.”

“You know he’s a witch?” Vorgell hadn’t expected that.

“Of course. I’m a witch also.”

Madd nodded to Vorgell’s look of surprise and said, “He’s like me, outside the Circles.”

“Outside, but not alienated. Sometimes I work closely with the Circle of Stones, if there be need.” Tagard frowned, his gaze alertly picking at things across the river. Vorgell tried to see what he was seeing. Though the rain had passed, clouds mottled the early morning sky. “Our women don’t approve of men who dabble in magic, as I do. Even minor magic requires us to commit practices witch women abhor.”

“As if they are better?” Vorgell growled. “Show me a magic user who is not blighted by their use of it.” Yesterday he had sat silent beside Madd, bearing Ibeena’s insults. Her throne of boughs and the amulets she wore around her neck, her embroidered coat of arcane meanings… he had seen such things before. The chill that seized his spine bit to his core. He flicked his gaze away from the surprised look Madd sent his way. This had nothing to do with Madd.

“Don’t like magic, eh?” Tagard sounded interested.

He shrugged. “I have no love of magic users. Madd here”—Vorgell looped an arm over the young man’s shoulder and gave him a companionable shake before Madd pushed it off—“is the only magic user I would not slay for sufficient reward.”

“Are you serious?” Madd looked ready to bite his head off. “You’re talking like a bounty hunter!”

“Give him a chance to explain” was Tagard’s approach.

Vorgell turned his head to glare back at the mist-wreathed walls of Gurgh, then took a moment to study the sky above. Every man had reasons for where he stood, and he had his… the rotten core of why he had not sought to return to Scur. Why he had consigned his childhood and youth to the custody of ghosts and been willing to smoke pipefuls of asphodel leaf in hope of banishing memory….

“Vorgell,” Madd prompted, gentler now. Vorgell looked into those dark, searching eyes and saw both warning and concern. Madd’s trust was too fragile to manage doubt.

At last he said, “A magic user killed my sister. Upon my father’s death, my tribe’s shaman pronounced her possessed of a dead man’s spirit and demanded she be sacrificed to placate the Father of Wolves. She was not possessed. She bore a child none wanted to see born because its father was blessed by other gods.”

“Necromancy. Magic drawn from death, from life’s destruction. To kill a woman with child gathers more.” Tagard slumped and heaved a sigh. “Wizardry is such, but not witchery. We would not have harmed her.”

“No,” Madd snapped. “We would just let the child be born—and then we’d treat it like crap for the rest of its life.”

“Maddog—” Tagard barely spoke the name, yet the warning had iron behind it.

Madd stiffened. Then he seemed to shrink. His shoulders slumped beneath his threadbare cloak, and he averted his eyes for a moment before he reached out and placed his hand on Vorgell’s arm. Even through heavy garments, that touch could spark a man’s blood.

“I’m sorry, Vorgell.”

Vorgell tucked the bundle with the cloak of shadows against his side and laid his hand over Madd’s, glad for the gesture. Talking about this… was harder than he’d thought it would be. “I tried to save her. I failed, and was forced to flee for my own life. I joined an outcast band. You know the rest.” He dropped his chin to his chest then said, because the time had come to release his pain, “They hung her and skinned her. Skinned her so the shaman could wear her. She made him powerful.”

“Damn, Vorgell.”

“I have no family now. My father’s clan is ended among the Scur.”

“You mean you won’t go back?”

“Never.” He laughed bitterly. “It would not be a good idea.” But he was talking with Madd again, and that alone made the world seem better.

“But if you hate magic… well, I know why you saved me. But why did you ask me to use magic yesterday, for the fight?”

“Because I fight to win. A successful warrior uses every available weapon, even those he despises.”

“Do you despise me?” Madd was serious, his expression challenging. He was used to being despised.

Vorgell felt his heart melt. He could never despise Madd. “No,” he admitted. “I have yet to see you use magic for foul purposes. But if I ever get the chance, I will slay the shaman who killed my sister.”

“Well, if you’re ever crazy enough to go there, let me know, because you’re going to need me.”

Something splashed in the river. All three men turned to see the gentle rings left behind by fish. The sun had cleared the horizon, though the city still blocked it from view. Among the buildings at their back, shutters slammed open and cart clatter heralded people starting their day.

“Do you know why witch Circles despise males who use magic?” Tagard addressed Vorgell, his deep eyes sparkling like those of a friendly tavern keeper.

“No, Tagard! For love of the moon—”

Vorgell cocked a look at Madd. Why was Madd protesting? “But I want to hear this,” he said.

Tagard apparently took that as reason enough to continue. “They look down on us because male witches don’t use magic the way witch
women
do. Magic comes from life, you see, and women are fashioned to create life, so they create magic also. That gift is why wizards hunt them. Collect them. Why they can use our women to breed fiends. But witch men… don’t create magic. Before we can use it, we must consume it.”

“Aw hells.” Madd looked ready to throw Tagard into the river. He shot Vorgell a look that said he wanted to leave before worse could be revealed.

“What do witch men consume for this magic?” Vorgell asked. He had a pretty good idea already… but if there was worse, he wanted to hear it. How bad could it be?

“Oh, anything that’s alive will suffice. Fresh and still living, of course, not cooked. Cooking destroys life, hence destroying the magic. Fruits picked off the tree or vine, and greens straight from the earth are good. But higher forms of life yield greater returns. Again, the meat must be alive… not cooked.” Tagard looked almost gleeful. “Worms will do. Fresh eggs or fish. Insects in season. I prefer big juicy slugs—or a jigger of hot blood—myself.”

Vorgell looked at Madd with fresh understanding of their situation. Telling Tagard about his magic-laced semen would be unwise.

“Are you happy now?” By the look of him, Madd was ready to give Tagard all the blood—or river slugs—he could handle. “Why the hell did you have to go and tell him that?”

“Because it’s something your friend needs to know if he’s to be among us. The land he comes from doesn’t have witches, not like us. He’s short of information. Here in Gurgh, it’s easy to lose sight of what’s what. Eating living things wanders close to necromancy, to wizards, the very thing witches hate most.” Tagard shrugged. “I didn’t strike out on my own because I like to eat nasty things. I eat them because I find magic to be useful. Witch Circles prefer their men magic-less. Domesticated. I’m not content to be that. And neither are you.” He clapped Madd on the shoulder and cocked Vorgell a grin. “I like this kid.”

Vorgell smiled. “So do I.”

“We witch men survive just fine—thrive, even—on the same food that sustains other men. We’re not that different. If you don’t like his eating habits, make it so he doesn’t need or want to use magic.”

“Are you saying he shouldn’t?” Vorgell waited on the answer. Madd simply stewed. Vorgell could tell he was irritated because they were talking about him as if he weren’t there, listening to every word.

“I’m saying magic is costly. Ambitious men, greedy men… combine them with magic and the results aren’t good. I’m much more afraid of twisted magic users than I am of twisted men. When magic twists you, it’s easy to lose your way. There’s a temptation to want more, use more. More death means more power. Where do you think the first wizards got their ideas?”