Venator, Page 21

  Lorin rolled so the smashed-faced man writhing in a growing puddle of his own blood was between him and the red sash. It helped, but before Lorin could stand, the man began attacking. A sword stabbed into the ground a split-second after Lorin tucked in his leg. Lorin thought to grab for the handle, but the idea came too late, and red sash brought the sword back for another attack. An overhead slash gave Lorin time to shuffle to a knee away from the blade's path. Dust and pebbles flew up from the impact, and Lorin took the opening. He grabbed the sword’s hilt and pushed himself and the man toward a wall. They both hit hard, but Lorin hardly noticed and kept smashing their hands and the sword into the wall. A few hits in and the sword fell, so Lorin grabbed the man's head to smash it as well, but he couldn't overpower him enough to make the hits matter. While Lorin grabbed the thug's head, he wrapped his leg behind one of the man's, then Lorin pulled his leg back as he pushed the man's head away. The man with the red sash didn't keep his balance and fell flat on his back, the weight of his armor forcing out a gasp. Lorin grabbed the sword and slashed against the man’s chest, cutting the black cloth and sash away to show the shine of steel underneath. Before Lorin could speak, the thug grabbed his ankle and tried to pull Lorin down. He succeeded.

  Lorin fell and landed hard on one shoulder while he tried to stop his fall with the sword. Lorin rolled back and got to his feet, ready to fight, but the man that pulled him down was now clawing at his own throat. There was no blood, but a rasping, sucking sound came from him. When Lorin had fallen, the band of steel used to protect the thug’s neck stopped the sword from cutting. However, when Lorin's full weight pressed down, the steel kinked inward and was now choking the man.

  Lorin sighed and leaned his back against a wall. His breathing normalized as he focused like Ashmere had taught him to. He noticed a trickle down his neck and touched it to see blood on his fingers. He reached up to his ear and could feel two pieces of flesh where there used to be one. It stung, but at the moment it wasn't serious. But what was serious was that he was missing a thug. There had been three at the start, yet only two remained now. The first one with a broken hand must've run off.

  Where had he gone?

  Lorin was about to walk over to investigate when Gunter's door opened. It didn't open much, just a crack big enough to see one side of the alley. Lorin was against the wall beside the door, so he couldn't see who opened it.

  Gunter's voice came through the crack, "Regan? Are you done yet? I still need his head for proof."

  Before the door could open further, Lorin was there and had shoved it wide open. The blow from the door threw Gunter to the ground while Lorin stepped in.

  "My head for proof of what?" Lorin demanded, standing over the old man. The door creaked behind him until it clicked shut. The alley grew still as a large puddle pushed its boundaries to their limit, then the alley grew quiet when the rasping suck of breath faded into silence.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  The door from the alley led to the first half of Gunter's shop—a single chair beside a table with an empty jug were the only furnishings on this side. A counter with iron bars reaching to the ceiling separated the room. Behind the bars and counter, a plethora of objects drew Lorin’s eye: weapons, jewelry, books, maps, clothing, armor—everything packed in tight. Tight enough that items crowded out others, blending together and creating a thick wall of stuff.

  Lorin found a doorway through the counter and bars that had been left ajar. He pilfered bandages for his ear and stuffed more in new shoes to soak blood and cradle his injured toes. His large toe had only lost its nail, but the other four felt boneless as he bandaged them. Once he felt comfortable, he began admiring the collection and enjoying the smell of oiled leather that permeated the shop. A tea set made of scaled rock sat atop a glass end-table so clear the pot and mugs seemed to be floating. A bandana made of black and red scales was draped over a large tusk as thick as a man's torso. Old tapestries were rolled up and bundled in a corner, held back by a gold chain. Beside those, a full suit of armor shone past the black steel chain-mail draped atop it. He didn't give the items more than a glance because everything blended together. The tour of the items was to keep his mind from drifting to the reality of what he had left in the alley.

  Lorin was examining an arrow made from spiraled white roots, when Gunter began to stir. He put the arrow back and walked over to the little man. Gunter's face was beginning to blacken in spots, and a small trickle of blood still dripped from the corner of his mouth.

  "Still with the living, Gunter?" Lorin asked when he reached the chair. A pained moan was all he got for a reply. With a shrug, Lorin pushed the chair with his foot and spilled the man onto the floor.

  Gunter cried out weakly, more for exaggeration than actual pain. The fall did wake him, though, and his bones began to move under his loose old skin. Lorin had cut away the old man's clothing after Gunter had pulled a dagger from a hidden pocket. Not taking another chance, Lorin made sure the old man wasn't hiding anything else on his person. Now, though, seeing each bone move inside the loose bag of flesh that made up Gunter, Lorin regretted not covering him up.

  "You'll live. Now sit back down," Lorin said.

  "There has been a misunderstanding… I… I… have done nothing wrong," Gunter said, holding his throat to speak. "And you would beat an old man?"

  "You attacked me with a knife."

  "I didn't know if you were a brigand like those outside. I feared for my life."

  "Gunter." Lorin squeezed the man's arm. "Who was Regan, then?"

  The old man kept his eyes to the floor and shook his head back and forth so quickly his jowls quivered, "I don't know anyone by that name."

  "Strange, you said he was to bring you a head. Mine. Don't you remember? You said it before you pissed yourself and passed out."

  "You must've misheard."

  "No, I don't think I did. Why do you want my head 'as proof'?"

  The old man sat quivering. "Where did you get such an idea? I… I… would never…"

  Lorin hit him. An open hand slap that made a satisfying smack echo through the room and left a red handprint visible on his cheek.

  "Don't… don't… kill me."

  Lorin turned away from the man and walked a few steps to where a jeweled dagger lay, the one Gunter had pulled. He picked it up and turned back to Gunter while he admired the carving traced along the handle and blade, "Pretty," Lorin said, still looking down at the knife. "I came here to buy as recommended by my innkeeper. She said this is the best place to spend coin."

  The old man looked up and nodded eagerly. "It is, my Lord, it would be an honor to barter with you. Just let me get a change of clothes and I'll…"

  "Sit."

  "As… as you say."

  "I came here to buy, and yet I am almost murdered outside your door by men you knew. Please explain to me why I shouldn’t dull this edge on your old bones."

  "I… didn't know…"

  "You’re lying," Lorin said, taking a step toward Gunter. "Why? What are you afraid of more than me?"

  "I don't… it's not the way I do business," Gunter said. He raised his eyes higher, but didn't make contact with Lorin's gaze. "If I said anything my customers wouldn't be able to trust my services."

  "What services? I can't trust your services!"

  "My shop doesn’t always operate above the table. Coin is coin. I won't be able to sell anything if my associates find out I broke their trust. It's bad business."

  "Trying to kill your customers can't be that good for business either."

  "I would've made a profit without losing inventory.”

  "So you were trying to kill me."

  The old man nodded quickly, his chin barely moving off his chest, but it shook his whole body.

  "Why? Who would pay you to kill me?"

  "I can't tell you."

  "Yes you can," Lorin said and walked over to dig his heel into the old man's foot. "It's very hard to make a profit from the grave."

>   Gunter whimpered.

  "I don't want to kill you. Too many are dead already. I just want to leave, and the sooner you tell me the sooner I leave. I'll even buy some items that caught my eye. Please, just tell me why my head is valuable to more than just me."

  The old man's eyes looked side-to-side and Lorin let his foot off while he waited.

  After a few moments, Gunter said, "A bounty was put up for a man your height and build with a heavily scarred neck. Two-thousand gold dead."

  "Who put that much as a reward?" Lorin asked and shifted his weight while his mouth gaped slightly. That was enough gold to make Lorin consider claiming the bounty himself.

  "I don't know. Honest. Someone who shits gold, owns a quarter of the city, or is willing to drown in debt. Above all, they want you dead," Gunter said. His shaking was starting to calm.

  Varron. It had to be, but why? He could've saved the money and done it himself while Lorin was imprisoned.

  "Could I dress myself now?" Gunter asked, snapping Lorin out of his thoughts.

  "Was there a notice I could see?"

  "No, some of the Thornguard were spreading the word. Seemed a little strange to keep a bounty quieter than normal, but the price was worth a little uneasiness."

  "Fine, grab a robe. You try anything again—"

  "I may be a bit greedy, but I am not dumb. I'd rather live longer as well as get richer," Gunter said.

  "Until you get an upper hand, and then you'll saw through my neck."

  "That hurts. Truly. You bested my men and myself; I am smart enough to know when I am beaten. You have my word you're safe in my shop." The old man put a hand on his heart and bowed.

  "What about when I leave? Will I find more of your men?"

  "I cannot be responsible for walking you home. In here, though, I will treat you like my honored customer. You didn't kill and rob me, so I trust you want to trade rather than pilfer."

  "Depends on the price and what you are selling."

  "Let me show you, I'll give you my best price. Call it a water-under-the-bridge discount."

  "I'm looking for some weapons, a change of clothes maybe, and anything unique."

  "Follow," Gunter said and walked toward the bundled tapestries. He pulled one of the braided ropes binding the rolls together, and after the click of a latch sounded, a doorway opened.

  "I keep the more valuable items away from the front," he said as he pulled the doorway open.

  Lorin grabbed a fistful of wrinkled skin on Gunter's shoulder. "Better not be a trap."

  "It is only my back room. I don't want to die today."

  With that, Lorin let go and followed the old man ducking below the archway. The new room was about the same size as the last, but without the large counter and bars it felt more spacious. Everything was meticulously organized in the room, with one glass display case in its center that lit up the room's corners with a pale white light. Bordering the room were weapon racks, standing mannequins dressed in armor, more display cases, and a heavy steel door on the opposite end of the room.

  "Why hide this?" Lorin asked, while he ran his fingers along a butter-soft piece of leather armor.

  "I told you, these are the more valuable things. Serious buyers only," Gunter said. The old man then walked to one of the mannequins and pulled an overcoat from it that shimmered a deep blue. The fabric looked to pulse in waves from top to bottom as it moved—it was mesmerizing. "Please look around. I sold most of what I had as gifts for the upcoming wedding, but there are plenty of things that might interest you."

  Lorin turned to Gunter and stood balanced on the balls of his feet. "What did you just put on?"

  Gunter shifted his weight and put his hand on the material at his chest. "It is a cloak made from a blue ray." Gunter paused, and his jaw trembled. "Nothing special. It’s eye catching, but it's just a covering."

  "Don't worry, I trust your word." Lorin didn't trust his word. "What's in the case?"

  "I… it holds baubles and smaller items that deserve to be clearly shown." He walked to the opposite end of the case from Lorin and pointed, without touching the glass, to a matching pair of gray-stone daggers. "These were cut and made from a stone beast. They’re harder than most metals and they will never dull or chip. Four hundred gold for the pair."

  Lorin swallowed, holding his stern expression even though he nearly choked on his own saliva.

  "This is a pendant that charms anyone the wearer chooses. It actually doesn't do anything by itself, but if you have it between two tits it might." Gunter laughed for longer than the joke deserved. "The ruby is stunning enough to be worthwhile even if it isn't charming. Six hundred gold. Ah, maybe not what you were looking for. This here"—Gunter moved to Lorin's side—"is a very unique weapon, made from a steel alloy. Meticulously crafted so it can remain small, palm sized, but at a moment’s notice it will unfold into a full bo—"

  His last word was drowned out by a cry. Shrill and pain-filled, the sound cut through the room from behind the steel door. Lorin grabbed Gunter by the neck and pressed his face hard into the display case, cracking the glass.

  "What was that?" Lorin held his dagger's point to the small of Gunter's back.

  "Nothing to be alarmed about, just some other merchandise. I would show you, but they have already been sold." Lorin could feel the shake in the old man's body.

  "Slaves?"

  "Yes, and what I offer is no mud-born rabble, but never mind them, they are sold—" Gunter sucked in a large breath when the tip of the dagger pushed against the shimmering cloak and threatened to go further.

  "Show me." Lorin's voice was cold and firm.

  Gunter nodded and gingerly walked to the metal door, his back straight as a board. He reached the door and pressed it in a few different spots, as quick as he would tie a lace or crack his knuckles, and the door clicked open.

  The room past the door brightened as the opening widened. Lorin, before he realized it, sucked in a sharp breath. The room was a closet a little less than half the size of the cell he had been imprisoned in. The waft of shit, sweat, and urine clearly repulsed the old man. He tried to back up, but straightened before he managed a step when he felt the blade’s edge at his back. Lorin could see them, though the three occupants only hid their eyes from the light. One of the children, a small boy, was bleeding from an infected cut on his forearm. It wasn't deep, but the skin was recently opened. From Lorin's guess, the oldest one looked to be a year or so younger than his daughter had been. Lorin stood, a gargoyle in his own right.

  "Good merchandise, like I said. These have been spoken for, but I can get more in. The wedding will put a lot of money into the city, so it will be a while before I can get fresh ones. If no one is selling I can always special order more," Gunter said, all business.

  Lorin stood, mouth agape, still holding his first breath. He saw his children, their faces over those of these scared, enslaved kids.

  "The girl is still pure, and she fetched a good price, though the two boys were what the buyer really wanted. When he saw the girl, however, he couldn't say no. I do have the best in the city there is little doubt."

  The kids, adjusted to the light at this point, sat and stared out from the dark room. Everything was silent. Gunter paused, seemingly to wait a response. Lorin remained like stone.

  "The buyer paid up front for all three." Gunter squirmed in Lorin's grasp as he spoke, but couldn't do more. "I could get whatever you need. I just need a bit of time. You understand? Older ones as well, but if you want this young or younger that is also possible."

  One of the children sucked in a stuttered breath, like a breath taken while crying, an ugly shaking inhale that his body forced through sorrow. Lorin stood just looking. Listening. Remembering.

  Gunter continued, "I can't guarantee they will be unspoiled. Those understandably command a much higher price."

  Lorin shifted his weight.

  "I… I could get you one, but you would need to pay a bit of coin as well—" Lorin's grip c
lamped down on Gunter’s neck. "No! No extra coin needed, that's fine. I… I could get one by the end of the week, I—"

  "Close the door," Lorin said, his voice flat. No emotion, just the words.

  "Yes of course, these are not worth your time. I… I could get you one tomorrow. Yes, that would be better." Gunter grabbed the heavy door and began to close it. The light from the room slid to darkness across the children's faces. Before the door fully closed, Lorin stuck his unbandaged foot out and stopped it from fully closing. There was an intense flash of pain that Lorin didn't feel. As the door hit his foot, he took the dagger and stabbed Gunter. It was instinct, something deep within that forced his hand. The first jab glanced off the cloak in a blue shimmer, repelling the thrust like it was ice, and Lorin didn't register what had happened until his second thrust. He looked to the blade as the blue light from the cloak arced to the steel and kept the point from forcing through. The dagger would have had a better chance of piercing a stone.

  "No don't—" was all Gunter could say before Lorin drove the tip of the dagger up under the corner of his jaw, cracking teeth. Before a drop of blood fell, Lorin stabbed again, and this time the entire blade disappeared through Gunter's ear. Lorin withdrew his weapon and pushed the body away from the door. The old man's form twitched here and there, crimson pooling around him.

  Lorin pushed open the door his foot had kept from locking and let the light once again brighten the squinting faces. He motioned for them to follow. Their eyes went from Lorin, to what they could see of the body, and then back to Lorin. All three stood on wobbly legs and walked out from the room, passed Lorin, and stood around Gunter's corpse. The boys stood at the red shoreline, but the young girl walked through the puddle to the lifeless head. She stared for a moment with no expression, no movement, she only stared. She lifted her foot and stamped her heel on his head, again and again, until she seemed too weak to continue. Then twice more. She looked up at Lorin, eyes wet, but her face remained cold and apathetic. Her voice was scratchy, like she hadn't spoken in a while, but her words were clear. "You killed him too quick."