Mountain of Daggers (12 page)

The cellar door burst open and her soft shoes padded down the steps. Ahren crossed the room and followed down the dim-lit stairs.

Wooden shelves packed with dusty casks lined the cellar walls. Rows of narrow wine racks ran the length like dominos. Ahren stopped at the foot of the steps to get his bearings when a bottle flew at him from the darkness.

He side-stepped as it exploded beside him, showering him with glass and burgundy wine. “Shut the door!” he hollered to the guard silhouetted at the top of the stairs. He darted behind a row of cases as the door above closed, pinching off the only light and flooding the cellar in blackness. If he couldn’t see her, it was time to even the field.

Hugging the wall of barrels, he crept further from where she had last seen him and listened. The room lay silent. “You can’t escape this time,” he said. “The exits are all blocked.”

He slid further away and knelt beside one of the freestanding cases. His eyes strained to see anything from the dim light peeking under the door above. “Your employer is dead, Polnoch. You failed.”

Wood creaked. Glass shattered as something slammed into the rack beside him. Ahren leapt out of the way as the case fell over then crashed into the adjoining one with a terrible clatter. He crouched beside a support pillar and listened, but heard nothing. Cold liquid ran between his fingers against the floor as decades worth of wine flowed over the stone.

“Are you all right,” shouted a voice from behind the cellar door. “We’re coming down.”

“Keep that door shut,” he hollered. “She’ll escape if you open it.”

Finally she spoke. “You’re just wanting me alone in the dark again.”

“Now we’re even,” he continued. “Or have you forgotten how you got that night ruby in Nadjancia?”

“That was different.”

Ahren’s eyes locked onto the direction her voice had come. If she was talking it meant the night ruby was out of her mouth. “Not really. You killed my boss, shot me with a drugged dart, and stole it.”

Tinkling glass came from the broken bottles across the fallen racks.

“I let you live,” she purred. “Your plan for revenge doesn’t give me the same option.”

“You left me to answer to my superiors. The Tyenee doesn’t forgive easily.” He slinked away from where he had last spoken and waited beside a stack of boxes.

“Poor Ahren,” she condescended. “Does the mighty Black Raven have a master? I always wondered why you would subjugate yourself to the Tyenee. Maybe you aren’t as brilliant as you think.”

Anger flashed, and then a chuckle escaped his lips. She was toying with him. “I foiled you, didn’t I?” He ran his fingers across the wet floor until he found one of the broken shards. Softly he crept further back behind the crates to where they opened up into the main storage area of the basement. Faint strips of light peeked in from the outside cellar door far in the back of the room. He only hoped she hadn’t seen it.

“I’m not beaten yet.” Her voice came from where he had hidden after the racks fell.

The guard behind the kitchen door called again. “Are you all right, down there?”

Ahren flicked the wedge of glass out several feet in front of him. It skittered across the floor stones. He held his breath and waited.

Unable to see, he heard nothing, yet the air in front of him moved slightly. He lunged forward, hoping she was there. His hands found her shoulder and he grabbed tight.

She thrashed, trying to get away, but he threw his arm around her neck and held on. Her elbow came back and jabbed into his stomach. Stumbling back, they crashed into a row of boxes, knocking them to the floor. Gasping for air, the night ruby fell from her mouth. She appeared suddenly in his arms as the round gem pinged on the ground and rolled away.

A small knife glinted in her hand. He released his sword just in time to catch it as she stabbed behind her. Pulling her hand away, he knocked it against the floor until the blade fell from her grasp.

She pressed back against his chest and purred, “I missed you too, lover.”

“Give up, Karolina.”

“You know that isn’t an option.” She twisted against him. “That’s not what you really want.”

He tightened his hold. “Surrender.”

She turned her head so her smooth cheek brushed his chin. “I always said we’d be good together, Black Raven. Just you and me.”

He pulled his face from hers, but not before he had caught her scent. Memories of Nadjancia flickered in his mind.

“Just you and me. And only one night ruby between us.”

“Don't tell me it was that important to you. I hurt your pride. You wanted revenge.” She slid her back up and down his chest. “And more. Don’t tell me you haven’t considered it. Or is vengeance your only dream about me when you go to bed at night?”

Her words stung. He struggled with himself to keep his tight hold of her. “You used me,” he growled. “You stole from me.”

“You used me too,” she cooed. “I saved your life, remember? Then I spared it when I could have killed you. It was more than just business between us, you know that. Why else would I have let you live?”

Ahren pulled them up to their feet and moved toward the door. Yanking her hand free, she twisted around to face him. It was too dark to see her clearly, but he felt her soft lips tremble against his.

She whispered her words into his mouth. “We’d be magical together.”

His grip loosened despite himself. Her leg slid up behind his as her hands glided up his chest.

The kitchen door burst open, spilling yellow light down into the wrecked wine cellar. He jerked in surprise and caught a glimpse of a guard boot starting down the steps.

Karolina’s lips pressed Ahren’s and kissed him. His flesh tingled as he returned the kiss, but suddenly her hand shoved away. Tripping over her leg, he crashed into a cluttered table and then onto the floor

“There she is!” a guard cried, charging over the fallen wine racks.

Karolina hesitated, scanning the floor once. Then she raced to the outside cellar doors. Ahren rolled to his feet just as she unlatched the exit and threw it open.

One of the guard’s feet broke through a fallen case as he climbed toward them. “She’s getting away.”

Something caught Ahren’s attention just before he stood to start after her. The night ruby lay on the floor under the table. He scooped it up as the guards ran past.

Cries of pursuit came from the yard above. Ahren’s lips still tingled from her kiss. He popped the night ruby into his mouth and bounded up the stairs. Cold night air hit his sweat-streaked face as he looked around. A black-clothed figure ran around to the front of the house.

The outside guards yelled and gave chase. She doubled back as she saw them and ran the other way. Ahren sprinted across the lawn past the gardens after her. He swiped with his hand but missed. He leapt, grabbing her waist and tackling her to the ground.

He scrambled up and held her down on the damp grass.

It was the first time he clearly saw her. Wisps of her auburn hair had pulled from her ponytail and hung across her face. Her emerald eyes darted to the closing guards.

“I wouldn’t let you die this way.” No lies, no seduction, just the truth.

“I can’t
let
you escape,” he said, the round gem clinking in his mouth as his body blinked into visibility.

“You didn’t.” She smiled then struck him aside the head. The stone fell from his mouth as he clutched his ear in pain. Snatching the night ruby from the grass, she pulled herself free and ran.

Two pairs of guards, their swords drawn, closed in from either side. Karolina hopped up onto the low wall overlooking the cliffs and turned back.

Ahren met her eyes and she gave a wink. Leaping over the wall, she slipped the gemstone in her mouth and vanished.

His heart pounding in fear, Ahren ran to where she had stood and looked over. White waves broke against the cliffs thirty feet below. The water looked black in the moonlight and he searched the surface for any sign of her. There was no body, no shape of her swimming away. Nothing.

She was gone.

Thieves Duel

A warm salty breeze blew across the harbor, carrying the sounds of ship bells and squawking gulls. Thousands of seamen chatted and shouted curses along the dock in half a dozen languages. Docksmen hurried along the piers lugging barrels and crates to and from the ships and cargo wagons along the wharf.

Adjusting the leather straps digging into his shoulders, Ahren sauntered down the pier. The fifteen silver the captain had paid him was more than they’d originally agreed. But the bribe to keep him aboard as a member of the crew wouldn’t work. He slipped the jingling cloth bag into his vest and away from the greedy hands of beggars and thieves. The heavy chest on his back rattled as he followed the boardwalk to the cobblestone streets. His eyes wary, Ahren made his way to the nearest harbor gate. He melded into the bottle-necked crowd and passed under the high stone archway and into the busy city.

It had been a decade since Ahren had boarded his first vessel to escape Lichthafen. He’d sworn to never return. As Mordakland’s largest port, Lichthafen was difficult to avoid. But he had. Until now.

Blue paint still flaked from the tailor’s shop. Plump gray pigeons lined the shoulders and outstretched arms of the green copper statue in the square. Ahren wondered if anyone ever knew the monument’s true identity. An ugly boot-shaped sign still hung above Kamler the Cobbler’s. Nothing had changed.

Weaving through the winding, narrow streets, Ahren plunged deeper into the city. The tall buildings loomed high above, their peaked roofs leaning across toward one another. A pack of children played dice in the alley beside an unpainted tavern.  An older boy with a filthy blue cap carved his name into the wall with a short knife, not ten inches from where Ahren had put his at that age. A small bell jingled as Ahren opened the tavern door and stepped inside.

Fresh stew bubbled in a cauldron hanging inside the fireplace. A square-jawed man with gray temples peeled potatoes on the bar. Ahren crossed the narrow room and put his back to the counter. He lowered himself until the chest
thunked
onto the bar top and then he slipped off the shoulder straps.

“What can I get for you, sailor?” the man asked while wiping his hands on a dingy apron.

Ahren said nothing.

The barkeep glanced to the hinged box on the counter. “Are you selling something? ‘Cause unless you got a pair of goats in there, I ain't interested.”

Ahren grinned. “That’s a shame.”

“That it is. So now that we’ve cleared up that I ain’t interested in what you’ve got, why don’t you tell me what you…” The man’s eyes widened. “Saint Vishtin,” he gasped. “Ahren?”

“Hello Griggs.”

“I can’t believe it!” He slipped around the counter and gave Ahren a strong hug. “How long’s it been?”

Ahren smiled trying to hide his discomfort at speaking to the man he’d once considered a father. “Ten years.”

“Katze,” Griggs shouted. “Come down. Ahren’s home!” He clapped Ahren on the shoulder. “This calls for a drink. I can’t believe you’re here.”

A lean young woman with curly black hair glided down the barroom stairs. “What a surprise,” she said, her dark eyes narrowing. “Where have you been?”

Ahren swallowed. He remembered Griggs’ daughter as a scrawny little girl with frazzled hair who had always tried to tag along. Her annoying fascination with Ahren had been a source of constant ridicule from his peers. His eyes traced along her hips and firm breasts rising from her leather bodice. Things had changed. “Hello, Katze. I’ve been seeing the world.”

Smiling, Griggs set a stein on the bar. “So what brings you back, my boy?”

Ahren knocked back a long swig and unlatched the box on the counter. “I brought these in for you.” He unwrapped a thick clay tankard and set it on the bar. “Picked them up in Frobinsky.”

Chuckling, the barkeep wet his lips. “That’s very nice,” he said picking it up and examining the swirling pattern along the rim. “But I don’t really need them.”

Ahren shrugged. “My mistake. Viston said you’d like them.”

Griggs’ smile vanished. “Viston?”

Ahren sipped his drink. “The diamonds are baked inside to pass them through customs.”

“I see,” he said, forcing a laugh. “Very clever.” He reached into the box and removed two more tankards and a stack of thick plates. “So you work for Viston? I had thought someone else was bringing the shipment.”

“The Black Raven?” Ahren asked.

Griggs froze. “So you know him?”

Ahren leaned across the bar and removed the copper pendant from under his shirt. “I always knew you were up to more than just organizing gangs of children. But I’d have never thought you were involved in anything like the Tyenee.”

The man’s smile faltered as he stared at the Tyenee’s glyph stamped onto the medallion. He glanced at his daughter standing attentively beside him, and then back to Ahren. “You’re… him?”

“I am.” Ahren slipped the pendant back beneath his shirt. “However, my reputation demands that you not openly refer to me by that name.”

Griggs nodded. “I understand. Let me show you to your room.”

#

An eye-watering haze of candle and pipe smoke filled the tavern as patrons packed around the small tables, trading stories and playing games. Ahren sat in the back, watching from a small booth. He recognized only a handful of the men as boys he’d once ran with. Most of the others were now rotting in prisons or graves. He had chatted with Clauser, an old cohort he remembered as a wiry stutterer. A deep knife scar now marred his once boyish face. He worked for Griggs as a fence in the Market District. Marten worked as a hired thug, and Feschtek was a pimp. A new generation of Alley Cats now worked the streets, too young to remember their predecessors like he and Clauser. He wondered if Griggs even remembered all their names. Did he remember Tretan?

“So Ahren,” Katze said as she slid into the seat beside him, “It seems you’ve done well for yourself. Father was right about you. You’d never leave the life.”

“Seems so,” he replied.

“Are they true?” she asked. “The stories we’ve heard?”

“Thieves gossip like whores. You shouldn’t believe everything you’ve heard.”

“I see.” She took a swig from Ahren’s tankard on the table. “So if you didn’t quit the life, why did it take you so long to return?”

Ahren gnawed his lip. “I was busy.”

“You were afraid.” She leaned closer. Her skin smelled of rose oil and smoke. “Afraid we’d know what you’d become.”

He snorted.

“I cried for a month after you’d left. We never heard anything. I never knew if you drowned at sea or got killed by pirates. First Tretan, and then you. That wasn’t fair.”

“It wasn’t about you.”

She shook her head. “Of course not. I was young and in love. Fortunately,” she purred, “there were many others to teach me about love.”

Her words stabbed and gnawed his gut. “You seem to have done well, Katze.”

“And you as well.” She ran her fingers along his shoulder. “A bounty hunter came by last month on a tip you’d be in the city. Father took care of him without even knowing who you were. It must be nice to live by a legend you did nothing to earn. Are
any
of the stories about you true?”

“More than enough of them,” he said, pulling away.

Katze smirked. “Are they? There’s probably a dozen thieves in Lichthafen more skilled than you, even me. That’s why you stayed away. You didn’t want anyone to outshine the Black Raven’s legend.”

Ahren’s cheeks grew hot. “Not likely.”

“That’s just what I wanted to hear,” she said with a triumphant smile. Katze slammed her fist into the table and leapt up onto her seat. “Attention!”

The bar fell silent and all eyes turned to Katze.

“Ahren, our wayward brother, has challenged me.” Low chuckles echoed across the room. “As Master of Thieves, I am left with little choice but to accept.”

Master of Thieves?
Ahren groaned, realizing what had happened. The setup was obvious, and he’d fallen right into her hands.

Griggs’ eyes narrowed from across the room at his flamboyant daughter. “Very well. If a challenge has been accepted then a Thieves Duel shall be set. Three nights from tonight. Wagers shall be settled here.”

Commotion erupted through the tavern as jokes were passed and bets placed.

Katze stepped down beside Ahren and grinned. “Now we’ll see how true the stories are.”

“I didn’t challenge you,” he growled.

“Yes, you did.” She leaned closer and whispered, “And if you try to back out, I’ll tell the world the Black Raven cowered from a duel.”

His eyes narrowed.

“You have three nights to re-learn the city. I suggest you get started.”

#

Ahren’s gray cloak fluttered in the nighttime breeze as he crossed Dishik Plaza past a stone statue to where two figures stood patiently at the mouth of an empty alley. Dark clouds sailed across the heavens partially blocking the half-moon above. He ran a final mental inventory of his gear: picks, two daggers, two shoulder satchels, one vial of lopiune, ten gold coins tightly packed to not jingle, dark green cloak packed into a satchel, raven feathers, and a short knife hidden in his boot. All more cumbersome than he would normally carry. But the night’s surprises might warrant each of them.

“Good evening,” Griggs said as Ahren approached.

He nodded to Griggs and Katze beside him. A tight braid of black hair looped out from her burgundy cloak.

Griggs held up two folded and sealed parchment squares. “The rules are simple. You will both be given identical lists of items around the city. Each are worth points based off how difficult they are. Whoever returns to the bar before dawn with the most point’s worth of items is the winner. Understand?”

Katze and Ahren both nodded.

“The only other rule is that neither of you can kill the other player.” He shot a cold glare at his daughter. “Anything else goes. In the event of a tie, the first one back wins. Got it?”

“Understood,” Ahren said. His skin began to tingle as he readied himself

“I’ll see you both by morning.” Griggs handed them each their list.

As Ahren took the letter, Katze’s boot smashed into his groin. Doubling over in pain, he fell to his knees.

“Good luck,” she said, and raced away.

Tears welled in Ahren’s eyes as he tried to shake the stabbing pang shooting through his body.

“I’ll second that,” Griggs said unsympathetically. “You’re going to need it.”

Leaning against a brick wall, Ahren pulled himself up and opened the list. His eyes scanned it over several times before locating his first mark. Catching his breath, he slipped the paper into his pouch and hobbled quickly from the plaza.

Nighttime dealers and merchants called out, hawking their goods as he passed their booths and carts. Whores and hustlers prowled the dark streets among the near endless supply of easy targets. Turning down a narrow lane, Ahren surveyed a wide indigo tavern dominating the corner intersection. Purple grapes spilled from an overflowing gold chalice on the hanging wooden sign. A burly man with a thick moustache stood at the door watching the passersby with contemptuous eyes.

He stepped before the doors as Ahren approached. “Where are you headed?"

“Inside."

Chuckling, the broad man shook his head. “The Golden Goblet is for gentlemen, not peasants.”

Ahren threw his shoulders back and curled his lip. “I have spent the past three weeks aboard a ship with ale-swooning scum. Before I can bathe and dress in something more human, I wish to wash the taste from my mouth.” He drew four gold dreins from his pouch and held them up. “A peasant wouldn’t carry my purse and unless you want your master to horse-whip you for rejecting my patronage, I suggest you let me pass.”

The man’s eyes widened as he stared at the coins in Ahren’s palm. “I…I…” he stammered.

Dropping the coins back in his purse, Ahren pushed the doorman aside and marched through the door without a word. Music from a minstrel trio filled the smoky air. Men in silk shirts and brocade doublets laughed and drank while richly-dressed courtesans in gold and perfume doted over them. Ahren strode to one of the blue-vested employees standing beside a massive wine rack along the sidewall behind a marble-topped counter. A black bottle rested on a wooden stand beside him.

“How may I help you, sir?” the waiter asked.

Keeping his pretentious manner, Ahren cleared his throat. “Your doorman’s incompetence is inexcusable.”

“My apologies, sir.”

“Are you the owner?”

The young waiter shook his head. “No, he is upstairs.”

“Then it is his apology I want.” Ahren glanced at the bottle displayed on the edge of the counter. The Golden Goblet’s crest stamped the purple wax seal atop the cork. Many of the other bottles on the rack bore the same insignia. “It has been a long while since I tasted Falkeblut.”

“We are the only hall that serves it, fine sir. May I pour you a glass?”

Ahren looked back at the open door behind him, and set a pair of gold dreins on the counter. “I would like a bottle,” he said, holding the coins under his finger. “I would also enjoy words with your owner. Fetch him for me.”