Chapter 3
3
“Strawman, get ya bloody hands offa me!” shouted the Gavik as he tried in vain to squirm out of my headlock. “This’s the thank I get for savin’ your arses?!”
The scant few passerby drifting by the rundown tavern that night slowed their pace to stare at our one-sided tussle just outside the front door, but I ignored them. “Me thanking you right now involves not using the rope!” I growled in the pissant’s pointed ear. “Or not feeding you a vial of that shit you used on our mark!”
He let out a sharp gag, still trying to pry my arm apart from his neck. “That’s a waste of perfectly good urchin vine milk, I’ll have you know!” he wheezed. Cretch now tried flinging the rest of his body back and forth, likely hoping the momentum would help him slip away.
“Oh is it now?” I replied, my feet barely shifting in the dirt below from his efforts. “Because you did a pretty fair job wasting a hundred gold with one coin laced with that shit!”
“Both of you knock it off!” Liviana ordered as she stomped through the curtain, smoothing out her skirt as she approached. “Thistlebrand already went to find Slatenauts, and I think we don’t need anymore attention.” She glared down at my bloodstained vest and crossed her arms. “And I thought I told you to take it easy as hurt as you are.”
“Doesn’t hurt,” I lied, still not releasing the puny bastard. Well, at least they wouldn’t have hurt until she pointed them out. Drosselmyer’s cheap shots still stung with every breath, but like every cut I ever had, the bleeding stopped not long after. That, and the raw catharsis in giving Cretch what he deserved could heal any wound. When I gave no sign of releasing the Gavik, Liviana crossed her arms and gave an icy stare.
“Drop him. Now.”
I rolled my eyes, letting Cretch drop to the ground. He was convincing, at least, rolling in the dirt and sputtering as if he had actually been flung from a greater height.
“How bloody rude of ya!” he gasped as he brushed the dirt from his cloak. “I have t’say it again: I go to the trouble of-“
“Rushing off on a bounty you weren’t assigned two?” I asked.
“…scouting ahead,” he continued, extending a clawed, frostbite colored finger at me. “And I waste a perfectly good bit of a poison that’s name escapes me at the moment saving both of you. Well you know what I’m gonna do now that I know my efforts go unappreciated? I’m-“
“Saving your grievances for later,” Liviana finished sternly. She stooped down to eye level with him, both hands holding the skirt of her dress just off the ground as she spoke to him in an even tone. “Believe it or not, we’re glad you came in when you did, Cretch. That being said, what did I tell you before we left the Bluff?”
Cretch stood with his mouth open in silence for just a moment, his finger still pointing at me limply. “I…Well, I got bored and left.”
Liviana nodded. “You got bored and left. This happens a lot, Cretch. It happens too much, in fact.” She glanced down at her shoulder, tossed her long braid over it, then looked to him with a look of absolute sincerity. “If we’re ever going to earn extra coin outside of the Bluff, all of us are going to have to stick to any plans we make, okay?”
The Gavik’s brow was furrowed in concentration, a rare thing for him. In all the years I had known the both of them, I couldn’t fathom how Livy could make Cretch listen to her, let alone focus. Maybe it was something all Faenani had laced in their words that made most people take more notice. Or maybe it was that Cretch would do almost anything for a woman with a pulse and any looks better than a Bruukai war chief. I had at least narrowed it down to one of the two, but I was taken aback nonetheless. If only she had thought to talk to the little runt before we took off for the night.
“And you,” she uttered as she stood back up turning to me, arms folded and expression no longer that of a doting mother. “I’m just as upset as you for losing that much gold as anyone, but that gives you no right to attack him after saving your life. I mean, Agramoth’s Blood, you were stabbed, Strawman! Twice!”
I shrugged. “That I was. Point?”
Cretch’s eyes darted between us for a moment as he held up Drosselmyer’s pocketwatch and many rings. “If ya wanted gold, it can be arranged.”
Livy didn’t acknowledge him with so much as a glance. “Point is you’re not invincible.”
“Had it not been for the Halfkin, I would’ve gotten that sleazy little shitbird.”
She stepped forward, now eye-to-eye with me. “You should’ve at least kept an eye on the only other person around, at least.”
“A Halfkin, Livy? We only know of one of those in Minnows Bydown, and he’s with us!”
“Well then, we’ve got to plan for anything,” she concluded. “Especially in regards to you keeping that temper in check. Unless you want to get in trouble with the Slatenauts again?”
Ah, there it was. Biting and completely unnecessary, but not uncommon when she needed to make a point. Didn’t make me any less furious, however; somehow I remained silent, but glaring her down as I clenched my teeth. Most folk at least flinched at that, my lower fangs extending further from behind my lower lip, but she never seemed impressed.
“Are we clear?”
I nodded at the street behind her, reaching for another strand of hay from the pouch at my belt.
“Pickup’s here.”
The covered, clay splattered carriage rolled in slow, impeded only by the progress of the gathra pulling it. Lilac, as we all jokingly referred to the stinking thing, was in her usual spirits that day, which is to say in complete contempt of everything around her. Soft, black, hairless folds of blubber jiggled with every step of her hooves, motes of dust scattering from her hide as if to flee her stench. Lilac’s bright red eyes remained in a perpetual scowl, viscous strands of drool dripping from her fangs as she lowered her head. The trio of horns atop her head threatened to drag through the dirt, tips as wicked as the point of a spear. I never liked the look of the things, more like bloated demons than any kind of livestock. However, Minnows Bydown had no horses, and the gathra were dull-witted enough to train.
“Went less than well, eh?”
Zeveth sat at the driver’s seat, plopping the reigns in his lap before slinging his arms over the seat behind him. He was dressed in the same cloak as we were, but the customary mission gear was unbuckled to reveal the clothes underneath. He was always proud of the clothes he scrounged up, various silks and cotton of bright colors that shine even in the darkness of the Innards. Today he wore a bright red jerkin with faux gold in the stitching, only brought out more from the impeccable white shirt underneath. It bulged from his thin frame slightly, as to be expected from someone with no less than ten knives on their person (admittingly a slow day). There were also traces of gold all along his person, from the buckles on his boots to the bands on his wrists to the shaggy shoulder-length hair on his head. He was a youthful looking man, the only blemish on his tanned skin the black, runic spiral dominating most of the flesh near his right eye.
“Well, you saw the whole thing,” I yawned at the Halfkin, the late hour compounded with my wounds finally starting to take a toll.
“You bet. Pretty slick, Cretch!” he called out with a smile.
The Gavik returned a toothy grin. I was not amused.
“Don’t you encourage him! Did it ever cross your mind to step in?”
He shrugged in apathy. “Looked like you were about to win, honestly. Plus, I was a mile away, so…”
I closed my eyes and nodded. As much as he would be opposed, that was the farthest he could “throw” his vision. Normally Livy and I would meet with him not far from wherever a mark was supposed to be, have him scout for ambushes or decoys, then we’d make a move. Unfortunately, he had other plans.
“How’d the other job go?” Liviana asked over my shoulder.
He fiddled with his belt for a moment, grabbing a modestly full purple velvet coin purse and tossing it from one hand to another. “Routine break and enter. You would think Coffin’s Nails aren’t nice people or something,” he confirmed with heavy sarcasm.
“I would guarantee that considering most of our jobs have been revenge on someone’s behalf,” Liviana noted, mostly to herself. “If it makes any difference, I doubt Drosselmyer would have been alive after we dropped him off.”
“Guess we’ll find out the hard way,” I replied. “Zeveth, hop down here and help me with the bodies, will ya?”
“Don’t you think about it!” Shouted a voice before anything else could be said. A blur of brown and green tumbled out from the back of the carriage, and Dina was already by my side. She was always comically out of place to me, barely coming up to my shoulders and lacking any muscle to speak of. That, and her olive-toned skin combined with her dark green and brown leather were more suited for the forests several miles from Minnows Bydown. She grabbed me by the wrist with intent to lead me to the carriage. However, she didn’t get me far as I simply stood in place, causing her to merely yank on my arm.
“Dina, what are you doing?” I sighed.
She whipped her gaze back at me, curly black hair obscuring the other half of her face. “Zeveth told me what happened! You’re not so much as walking until you get patched up!” She turned back to the carriage again and tugged to no avail. I narrowed my eyes at her before turning back to Liviana.
“You promised,” she reminded me with no trace of emotion in her voice. “That, and those hits you took could get infected.”
“And they could get infected,” Dina agreed. “Get a move on. The bodies will move themselves.”
I blinked twice. “But, no they…Never mind.”
If only to appease her, I started walking at Dina’s pace. Noticing my act of compromise, she must have taken this as permission to all but push me into the back of the carriage. I stumbled when I touched down on the rickety wooden boards, nearly falling face first onto a stack of barrels in the corner. Wincing as the sting of my wounds made itself known again, I tilted my head upwards, only to find myself face to face with a wet, coal black nose. A badger sat atop the barrel before me, staring at me with weary eyes as if I uncouthly awoke him from a nap. He was an older fellow, smooth hair with white and greying black stripes running down his narrow body and tufts of white fluff protruding every which way from his pointed ears.
“Hello, Rumbum,” I managed to say through the pain.
He extended his long pink tongue and licked my forehead in return. Dina glanced between the two of us before shaking the hair out of her eyes.
“Rumbum, no socializing with the patient. Strawman, sit down and lose the shirt.”
The elderly badger let out a quiet sigh before rolling over back into his slumber. I sighed as well as I shoved off the barrels and onto one of the two expansive benches. They were one of the few places to sit in the carriage, considering most of the floor was cluttered with several sets of clothing, satchels filled to the brim with various tools, and a few more stray barrels and boxes. It was partially my fault, I suppose; I never wanted to have equipment away from us on the job, and Dina never thought it needed tidying up. At least she seemed sure of where everything was.
“I’m telling you it’s nothing too bad,” I said as I unbuttoned my vest. “Liviana took a kick to the ribs that might’ve broken someth-“
“I know. Zeveth.”
“Right, Zeveth.” I tossed my wrinkled, sweat-soaked shirt into the mound of outfits around us. “I wonder if he remembers the last time he was surprised at something.”
“Mhmm,” she dismissively agreed with a threaded sewing needle in her mouth. Dina rummaged through a nearby satchel, setting aside a small glass jar of fine yellow crystals and a bundle of brown paper wrapped tightly with twine. I strained my ears to hear any noise from the streets or Thistlebrand’s, but heard nothing aside from the occasional trace of Cretch’s harsh voice. She glanced up at my bare, pale grey chest, plucking the needle from her mouth and flawlessly running a strand of twine through the dull end.
“Doesn’t look like the blade was poisoned,” she noted. “There’d be more inflammation than that.”
I glanced down at the wounds for the first time. A pair of index finger-long slits marred my stomach, one just underneath my ribcage and one running just along my right hip. Neither wound bled, but both were gaping slightly, providing a glimpse at the pink tissue within.
“It stung a lot more than usual,” I noted. “Maybe it was and the poison just didn’t take.”
She shook her head in wonder as she began untying and unwrapping the small brown package. “Bruukai blood makes absolutely no sense to me. This is going to hurt, by the way.”
Before I could question her last remark, she flicked a finger’s worth of white balm from the brown paper and rubbed it across the wound on my hip. I let out a growl as the substance stung at my flesh, letting out a barely audible sizzle as she slowly traced the cut.
“Could’ve warned me a little better,” I exhaled.
“Hey, I would be able to stitch you up if I don’t soften the skin first.”
A fair point. The only reason Drosselmyer even cut me was because he hit me hard enough. I gritted my teeth as she traced the second wound only slightly quicker than the last.
“Little more to the left, will ya?” a familiar, grating voice ordered from just outside the carriage’s rear.
“Really Cretch?” Liviana panted. “Just because you can’t help doesn’t mean you need to still participate!”
There was a heave, and a body was pitched inside, falling limply to the floor with a thud. Drosselmyer’s bloodstained head tilted back from the fall, swollen eyes glazed over and trace amounts of foam lining his thin, busted lips. Without turning away from her handiwork, grabbed a handful of stray clothes with her free hand and tossed them over the dead man’s face.
“Not much help for him now,” she murmured to herself dismissively. She rummaged through her pack once again, pinching out a small amount of the yellow crystals. “Sorry about the sting, by the way. Not really sure when it goes away.”
“Could be worse,” I remarked, nodding at the body. “That bastard over there could’ve been alive, tied up, and running his mouth while you try to work.”
She shrugged, then another thud. The Halfkin’s body had been pitched over as well, flopping over the corpse of his employer. He landed face down, but the lack of bindings and rigid stillness was enough to make me guess Liviana decided it was best not to hold back on him.
“Serves that bastard right,” I heard her voice confirm my suspicions.
“Hey, if it were up to half the people in these bloody cliffs, all Halfkin would be in his shape,” replied Zeveth. His voice was quiet, more so his natural tone than any hint of being somber.
“How d’ya even walk the streets?” Cretch chuckled. “Especially with that big a mark?”
“Well, the key is to not be caught on the streets, honestly. That, and townsfolk aren’t so bad so long as you don’t have a drop of Bruukai blood.”
I let the statement hang until he realized what he said. Thankfully, it wasn’t even a minute that time.
“No offense, Strawman!” He called out.
Before I could respond, Dina leaned over the wound near my ribcage, now tinted with a minute shade of pink from the balm. Dina’s handiwork was always impeccable, but at the cost of her being uncomfortably close. She sprinkled the powder directly into the cut, and the pain subsided almost immediately, replaced by an unbearably cold sensation. I noticeably shivered as the chill spread from the wound to my chest until every breath felt like I was letting out gusts from a snowstorm every breath. Dina noticed immediately, looking even more apologetic than before.
“I knew it’d clear out infection, but I wasn’t sure what else that would do,” she admitted. “I would’ve used maggots, but we know those don’t work on you.”
“H-H-How’s the B-Bluff?” I stammered, desperate to forget the side effects and past maggot-related incidents.
She smirked, reclaiming the needle and thread. “Same as you left it. And every time you ask.” Dina ran the needle through the edge of the wound and began sewing the gash closed at a surprisingly fast pace. Even without the chill of her medicine, I would’ve barely felt the series of pricks at all.
“No need to elaborate, eh?”
“Okay then, there’s a full house tonight, if you just have to know,” she chided as she moved to the wound on my side. “Cadryt’s the only one working tonight.”
“On Pike Night?” Cretch added as he poked his head over rear edge of the carriage. “Shit, who’s dumb idea was that?”
I narrowed my eyes at him from my seat as he continued to remain oblivious. As irritated as I still was with him, I needed him if only to host his foolish drinking game and drum up the most business we’d get that week. That, and trying to charge him with Dina tending to my wounds wouldn’t end well.
“She’s the only one who doesn’t do missions, Cretch,” Dina reminded him for what was likely the hundredth time. “As temperamental as she is, she’d probably haul off and get herself hurt.”
“Oh really?” The Gavik sauntered over to the barrels I had landed in previously and flopped down on his rear. “Girl’s scary enough around folks who don’t tip.” He glanced straight up at the top of the stack. “What’s up, Rumbum?”
The badger let out a low growl, still curled up facing the wall.
“Likewise.”
Suddenly, a pair of shoes flew through the air, landing just above Cretch’s forehead. Liviana hopped over the wooden divider in one fluid leap.
“Never…again,” she uttered before slumping onto the bench next to me. She looked down at the bodies with a grimace, then glanced towards the front. “The goodman is supposed to meet us behind the Bluff.”
Zeveth sighed. “Do we really have to? He didn’t look like he’d be much for consolation prizes.”
“I’ll talk to him,” I said, voice sounding weaker than what I would’ve liked. “The mark’s death happened on my watch, so it’s fair at least.
Livy glanced at me out of the corner of her eyes, but said nothing.
“Alright, get a move on, Lilac!” Zeveth barked as he cracked the reigns.
The Gathra flared her nostrils before giving the carriage a hard tug. All of us lurched forward from the pull (or in Cretch’s case, nearly hit to floor), but regained our postures once Lilac started on her usual, plodding pace. A quick glace out the small opening in the back displayed the trail of hollowed out boulder homes and ramshackle businesses, either vacant or more rarely glowing dim from firelight within. A nagging feeling in the back of my mind insisted that the lit homes had heard the commotion at Thistlebrand’s and decided to see what had happened, but there was some comfort knowing there wasn’t much to do with no Slatenaut patrols to tell. In fact, even by the time the carriage inched into the tunnels on the outskirts, not even a single red and white-clad foot soldier was spotted. Not to say that’s saying much; a Slatenaut almost always strikes from above or below.
Then we entered the pitch-black tunnel. The inside of the carriage, already as dim as the rest of the Innards, had now been completely shrouded in void. “Well to hells with this,” I heard Dina sigh, setting aside her sewing needle.
“You finished stitching the other one?” I asked.
“Yeah, probably. Might as well be finished…We’ll see.”
Thankfully Cretch and myself could see outlines and minor details with no trouble, I couldn’t imagine how Zeveth was steering through the tunnels as they grew increasingly more winding. Most Gathra had a habit of continuing down straight paths with little coaxing, at least. I felt slight movement to my left, and turned to see Liviana scooting closer to my side, arms folded as eye staring a hole in the wall in front of her.
“…Yes?” I whispered wearily.
“It’s cold,” she stated curtly. Her gaze never faltered.
“In that case, ease off my side a bit.” I kept a hushed tone, but annunciated every word.
I could’ve sworn I heard a chuckle from Cretch as the lithe silhouette beside me backed off slightly, the carriage hit a bump, and I couldn’t be sure. The bumps continued as the path continued upwards and the wagon rocked to the point I was worried for the axles. Of the two halves of Minnows Bydown, Scarp Eiger was far less well kept than big sister Scarp Ethra. While the latter was widely considered Baron Degren’s choice land, the former was about where the Goliath architects got to before whatever drove them out came along. This left most higher floors of the cliff crude and, if worked on at all, largely fused to the rock walls themselves. Most settlements there were cheap, but authority and the King’s law they enforced were slapdash at best. Never was this more apparent than when we traveled to the upper reaches, but the rough trip was always made worth it.
Then, several minutes later, there was light. Not an especially bright one, but a much strong flare of a roaring fire within and certainly enough to slice through the curtain of blackness that was the tunnel. The carriage slowed gradually, eventually coming to a stop.
“Made it safe and sound,” Zeveth announced.
“Finally,” I murmured to myself.
As we all filed out of the carriage, we were greeted by a gust of cool night air, allowed in by one of the few natural windows to the outside world in all of Minnows Bydown. Before us was a round opening in the cliff, overlooking the neighboring cliff a few miles away. The half moon and countless hung above, draping it and the rustling wheat field on top with an unearthly silver luster. Faint stitches of ropes and board could be seen far below the vista, rope bridges connecting the two cliffs in various places like stray strands of spider web. If you listened closely, you could hear the ever so faint rush of water several feet below, the river Shevek churning away.
Our destination, however, lay beyond a cobblestone path leading yards away from this precipice. My home. My pride, My public house. The Bluff was the result of more hard work than most would ever know, two floors of cherry wood with matching shingles painstakingly gathered from the surface. The glow of roaring fireplaces shown brightly from the glass windows, illuminating the porch and wooden sign hanging just above it: “Vagabond’s Bluff: Fine Drink and Lodging for All.”
Then that wonderful noise. While I could hear the sound of minstrels and violinists putting on an impressively boisterous performance, the truest music to my ears swelled from the main floor like a chorus of angels on high. Dina hadn’t lied when she mentioned a full house, as I could hear an ocean of voices, laughter, and drunken tomfoolery crying out as one. It was enough to put a smile on my face, despite the lingering pains of the job at hand.
“Couldn’t have hurt to bring us close in, eh Zeveth?” Cretch whined as slowly hopped off the back of the carriage.
“Hey, I’m giving you all a chance to get out before Strawman and I drop off the bodies,” he replied. “Plus you don’t want to be around when I have to put Lilac back in the stables.” The bovine-like terror let out a menacing mix between a hiss and a grunt almost on cue, causing Zeveth to flinch.
“That thing’s out of my hands,” Cretch said, backing away with both hands raised. “’Sides, I got to check our stock before the festivities get underway.” He scampered away before anyone else could say otherwise.
“But are you two enough for the Goodman meeting?” Dina piped in, walking over despite the weight of the many heavy satchels slung over her shoulders. “A few of us need to be ready in case things go south again.”
I paused in thought, letting my thoughts get lost in the wide-open spaces beyond the Bluff. “Well, you could wait for a signal from the roof, if you really feel the need.”
She nodded, already heel-toeing her way towards the crowded public house. “Gimme a minute to get my bow. Just don’t get killed before then.”
I turned back to see Liviana leaning against the side of the carriage, actually staring at me with a hint of worry.
“Think you can handle it?” she asked quietly.
I nodded slowly. “You know me better than that, Livy.”
She nodded in return before making her way to the tavern. I gritted my teeth; talking to her later would be a worse ordeal than anything Coffin’s Nails could do to me. A low whistle emanated from Zeveth.
“Geez…Tough break, man.”
I glowered back at him before I began to walk ahead of the carriage. “Just drive.”
He made no hesitation as we circled the Bluff, the merriment inside only growing louder as they drew near. My eyes strained through the thin smoke washed over the porch to see any signs of early foul play, finding nothing but two plump Gavik lounging about with lit cigars in hand and a group of three courtesans on a bench talking amongst themselves in whispers. It was a lower number than what usually offered their services outside my business. Either it was a busy night, or what I had told them about never buying anything at the Bluff had finally sunk in. None seemed to take notice as the carriage and I went past, but I kept my eyes moving about, particularly towards the roof. No Dina yet, but it was the only way anyone could watch us in the windowless rear of the public house. A soft white glow caught my eye, and I turned to see Zeveth, his spiral mark glowing as he shut his eyes.
“See anything?”
He shook his head, eyes still shut. “No ambush or anything. Just him.”
“Ah! The brave heroes return!”
My head snapped up at the heavily accented voice of the Goodman boomed at me. A bald human man, roughly six feet tall and draped in deep red robes, beamed at Zeveth and I with his arms open in welcome. He must have been a fit man once in his life, but now the robes draped over a clearly distended belly and stubby legs, no longer made for carrying out threats for himself. A bit presumptuous of me to assume he did this regularly, one might think, but the Goodmen we did jobs for were almost never good men. Even worse, this one was far less secretive than most.
“You took far less time than I thought you would!” he continued as he trudged forward towards me. “I’m assuming you had no trouble, old boy?” Beaming, he extended a hand to shake mine, but I ignored it as I circle him.
“More than you’d think,” I admitted. “Look, we-“
“Drosselmyer!” He called out mockingly towards the carriage, rolling his R’s to a ridiculous degree. “Drosselmyer, you sack of pig shit, you knew your day was coming!”
Zeveth looked to me with worried eyes, but I only shrugged.
“Drosselmyer, you didn’t think I’d be so loyal a customer for selling me faulty powder weapons, did you?” the man insisted. “You had no friends back in Baroke, you knew that!”
“Sir,” I began, gently holding him back from approaching the covered wagon. “If we’re going to do this, keep your voice down. Besides, he’s not going to hear you. He’s-“
“Knocked out, eh? I suppose you did have a spot of trouble!” he laughed jovially.
A low growl rose up from the back of the carriage, and a scratching stirring through the stray items within could be heard.
“Oh!” exclaimed the Goodman. “Our enemy awakes!”
A speck of black and white fur darted from the back; Rumbum landed on the ground, glanced in either direction, than ran full tilt towards the Bluff’s front door. The Goodman frowned at the sight incredulously until I cleared my throat.
“Never mind that,” I said dismissively. “Drosselmyer’s…dead.”
His thin eyebrows rose in surprise. “Dead, you say?”
“Him and his Halfkin bodyguard, yes.”
The was a long silence as he placed his hands on his hips and paced, slow deliberate steps towards the wagon and back again. Zeveth looked onward from the driver’s seat, still leaning back with his elbows propped up behind him, but he’d likely be the first to act out of all of us. I heard a soft crunch above, but was too afraid to take my eyes off the Goodman. Feet upon shingles?
Then the Goodman let out a short huff, turning to me with his jowls drawing a hard line on his face. “Well, I can’t say he wasn’t going to end up that way soon enough. That being said, that wasn’t the deal, Strawman.”
“I’m aware,” I replied. “He got the best of me in a fight, and one of my partners stepped i-“
“I didn’t ask for an explanation, did I?” he snapped. “Do you know how many men I’ve lost because those bloody machines he sold me jammed or backfired? I wanted to feed the bastard all my leftover black powder, and now I cannot. That, old boy, is a problem.”
We stood in silence for a moment, then he smirked, rummaging through one of the pockets within his robe. I heard the soft jingle of coin, and my eyes widened in surprise as he tossed a mostly empty pouch to the ground.
“What’s this?” I asked cautiously.
“Twenty gold,” he stated. “And you won’t ask for more.”
I swallowed hard. That was barely enough to keep the tavern stocked and live off of simultaneously, and quite a bit shy of the original price.
“The way I see it, this is a small token of my condolences,” he continued. “You see, if Vorstavi Drosselmyer simply vanished without a trace, disappeared to foreign shores, no one would be under scrutiny.”
“Are you getting at something?” I demanded. “Because I think we’re done here.”
“Now, Drosselmyer and one of his constituents are dead. Carcosa Coffin won’t forgive losing both a reliable arms dealer and a loyal Halfkin.” He shrugged with a bit more flourish than necessary as he strolled past the wagon. “Believe it or not, I won’t go spreading around what you did, but don’t be surprised if a few irate individuals come a knocking on your pretty little tavern’s door.”
With that, the obese man from Baroke left us. An empty feeling in my stomach began to take hold, and I could feel a slight tremble in my hands. I could see the faint glow of Zeveth’s spiral adorned eye in the corner of my eye as he shook his head at no one in particular. A quick glance at the roof, and I could see plainly what he was protesting; Dina was crouched on the roof, feet finding purchase between shingles as she aimed a stripped wooden bow at the Goodman’s back. She glanced down at us, ignoring Zeveth’s disapproval and looking to me for an order. I shook my head halfheartedly, barely registering the world around me as the familiar rage returned to me. Without giving it a second thought, I let out a growl, whipping around and punching the tavern’s wall in frustration. There was a loud crack, either from my knuckles or the cherry wood, but ensuing silence snapped me back to reality. I opened my eyes, taking in the cracked wood and my aching fist, then sighed.
“It’s a damn public house,” I uttered quietly.