Mountain of Daggers (16 page)

Ahren nodded. “I’ll do it first thing tomorrow.”

“No. Katze can do it tonight. Tomorrow we’ll send the rest to Fritz in Lunnisburg. He should get a good price.” He folded the remaining jewelry back into the cloth and set it aside. “You did good, Black Raven.”

“Thank you.”

Skeroff opened a tiny box and removed a bronze medallion on a copper chain. “The Tyenee rewards those who serve us, and this is long overdue. Congratulations, Lieutenant.”

Stunned, Ahren took the round pendant. A mountain of upturned daggers, the glyph of the Tyenee, adorned the face. A shallow engraving of a raven marked the back. “I don’t know what to say.” He glanced nervously at Griggs, who gave an emotionless smile. Ahren was now the same rank as his former mentor and father of his love.

“There’s nothing to say,” Skeroff said, amused. He handed Ahren a filled goblet. “The days of the Black Raven breaking into every little house and shop are over. But don’t think the risks are done; only changed.”

Ahren’s heart pounded. He’d never heard of a lieutenant working jobs. They served as a general’s second, usually stationed in a city, orchestrating crimes they’d never perform. They grew fat. Bald. The joy faded from their eyes. Ahren looked down at the medallion growing heavy in his hand. They’d clipped his wings.

Skeroff raised his glass in salute and drank. “I’ll want you with me for the next couple days. There’s much to be done, and for you to learn.”

“I look forward to it,” he replied through a forced smile. He needed to talk to someone. Katze would understand. She could comfort him. He finished his wine and rose. “Now if you excuse me, I’ll be heading to bed.”

“Fine.” Skeroff gestured to the broach and necklace still on the table. “Take these to Katze and tell her what to do, Lieutenant.”

#

“F-f-fi-fifty?” Clauser stuttered. “I c-c-ca-can’t pay that much g-g-gold.”

Skeroff squeezed his gloved hands together. “You fenced over two hundred dreins worth of goods for Griggs last month. I know he hasn’t been your only client. Erik used you frequently, before the city guards caught him. All I’m asking is a fair share of what you’ve been skimming off the top.”

Ahren stood in the back of the storeroom, cleaning his fingernails with a wooden splinter as the two men talked. He rarely spoke during these meetings and had nothing to add when he did. His job was merely to observe, learn how it was done—and serve as intimidation for Skeroff’s guests.

“B-b-but I-I never made that much for m-my-self,” Clauser protested. He pulled at his aged and dingy suede doublet. “Would I d-dress like this if I d-d-did?”

“I said you were skimming. I never alluded you were stupid. Showing off profits would be too noticeable for any fence.” The thief master opened a stained logbook and flipped though pages of scrawled entries. “Griggs kept records of what business he gave you and what profit he made. You must think me as big a fool as him if you’re saying you only kept five percent.”

The fence turned to Ahren. “You-you know me Ahren. T-te-tell him. I’d never s-st-steal from Griggs.”

Ahren shrugged. They’d known each other since they were children, stealing and spying together for Griggs. He was like a father to them. Clauser might not be smart, but he was loyal.

“Yes, Ahren,” Skeroff said through a smile, “tell me.” It was a threat. Undermining the general’s argument would only make things worse. The point was to scare Clauser. Make him negotiate a lower amount or agree to some future favor and feel better for it in the end.

“Everyone knows you pocket more than you say.” Ahren flicked the splinter into the corner. “Griggs, Katze, me; we all know it. That’s just an unspoken fact. We also know you don’t keep as much from us as you do your other clients. Of which there are plenty. With us, you’ll still make more than you did before.”

“Ah-ah-Ahren, I swear I never s-st-stole from him!” Clauser blurted, his face paling except for the purple scar along his cheek.

“Enough.” Skeroff slammed his hand onto the table. “Your past with Griggs doesn’t interest me. What does is the fifty gold dreins I estimate you stole from your clients. Will you pay it or not?”

“I c-ca-can’t. I can p-p-pay f-five.”

Pursing his lips, Ahren cursed the stuttering fence for offering so low. He’d have been better to offer nothing.

“Five?” Skeroff balled his fist and pressed it to his mouth. “Five? What in Saint Vishtin’s name do you take me for?”

“F-five is still good money. M-more than y-y-you deserve.”

The crime boss’ eyes narrowed to dark slits. “What does that mean?”

“I know y-y-you s-se-setup Erik and had U-Ulrein killed. You can’t just sh-show up and ex-expect to force change on everyone. At this r-ra-rate you’ll be d-d-dead in a m-month.”

“Dead? Dead!” Skeroff jumped to his feet, knocking his chair back across the wooden floor. His hand clutched the sword at his side. “How dare you threaten me!”

Stunned, Ahren watched Clauser gulp and hold out his hands. How had this happened?

“P-p-please, I-I wa-wasn’t threatening you. I-I meant—”

“Enough!” Skeroff snapped. “Ahren. Kill this man.”

Terror seized Ahren’s gut. His mouth hung open in disbelief. “Master Skeroff…”

“P-please, I b-be-beg you!”

The general’s face warped with fury. He ripped his rapier from its sheath and plunged it into the seated man’s throat. Blood gurgled from Clauser’s mouth as his chair fell back, spilling him at Ahren’s feet.

“I gave you an order,” Skeroff growled, ignoring the dying man’s gasps.

“But he misspoke,” Ahren blurted. “Clauser does that.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Skeroff marched around the table and yanked the sword from the man’s neck. Blood belched across the storeroom floor. “I gave you an order. You hesitated.”

Eyeing the red-stained blade in the man’s hand, Ahren drew a breath. “I…apologize. I just thought—”

“No. You questioned me. What do you think would happen if by some miracle you had persuaded me to let him live? Everyone would hear. That would destroy us.” The rage calmed in the man’s pale eyes. Turning, he tossed the sword onto the table. “You’re weak. Maybe I misjudged you.”

Ahren glanced down at his childhood friend, still twitching in a crimson pool. “Forgive me.”

“Leave me.” Skeroff knocked back his cup of wine. “And send someone to clean this up.”

#

Oily smoke hung in the tavern air like mist, giving spectral halos to the candle-silhouetted patrons. Katze sat in a far booth near the stairs, absently watching a card game at a nearby table. All three players were cheating. Her gaze lifted as Ahren started down the steps from his room above. His empty canvas satchel bounced against his hip beneath the gray cloak.

“Are you ready?” she asked, standing to greet him.

His delicate blue eyes shimmered with excitement. She always loved his eyes right before a run. “Quite.” He kissed her, pulling her close against his chest. “I wish you were coming with me.”

“Marten will take care of you. You’re not still angry with him for our Thieves’ Duel, are you?”

“Not at all. I’d just prefer you.”

She kissed him again. “Father said I have to do something for him. Once I’m done, I’ll watch you from the rooftops.”

“Just be careful.”

“Me?” She slapped him playfully on the chest. “These are my streets more than yours. I’ll be fine.”

Marten stepped into the bar, rubbed his hand across his stubbled chin, then headed to where Ahren and Katze stood. “Are you ready?”

Ahren gently kissed Katze’s forehead before turning to the weasel-faced man. “Yeah.”

Marten adjusted a coiled rope hidden beneath his loose cloak. “Let’s go.”

Katze watched the two thieves head into the night streets. The bell tinkled as the door closed behind them, and she turned to where her father cleaned the bar. “You wanted to speak with me?”

Griggs didn’t look up as he scrubbed a stain caked onto the wooden counter. “Yeah. I’ll need to report that Ahren and Marten left, shortly.”

Her brow rose. “All right. But what did you need to talk to me about?”

“Tonight is important. But it’s nothing we can discuss right now.” Griggs finished his cleaning and tossed the frayed rag over his shoulder. “Have you ever paid attention to the view from the safe room?” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked around the counter to wait on a table of customers across the room.

Confused, Katze glanced over to the low hidden door behind the counter. The heavy cask normally blocking the entrance had been moved aside. The room was used for hiding merchandise or thieves trying to avoid chasing guards. The barrel was always left in front of the door unless someone was going in or out. She looked back to see her father leaning over the crowded table, his back toward her. Still puzzled, she followed his hint, weaving behind the tall counter and crouching at the gap between the barrels. She hooked her finger through a tight knothole, pulled the hidden door open, and crawled inside.

A hanging weight on a pulley closed the door behind her, plunging her into near darkness. The crevice was no more than two feet wide, but stretched the length of the building. Strips of thin light shone between the wall slats of the neighboring back room. The heavy stink of mildew and dust filled the uncomfortable crevice. Careful not to brush the walls, Katze rose to her feet and peered through one of the narrow cracks into the adjoining room.

Skeroff sat alone at his table, muttering silent words before scrawling his quill over a parchment. A knock rattled the door and Griggs stepped inside.

“Ah.” Skeroff stabbed his quill back into the inkpot. “I was just finishing your letter of recommendation. Once the Masters read my report, I’m sure they will follow my advice.”

“Thank you, Skeroff.” Griggs sat down and poured himself a healthy drink. “You’re too kind.”

“Rewarding those who prove themselves is essential. You’ve earned a generalship. I only hope whatever city you’re assigned will be useful for moving merchandise.” He handed the parchment to the barkeep.

Generalship?
Father’s always said he would never leave Lichthafen. Does he really hate Skeroff that much?
She shifted closer to hear them better.

Griggs scanned the letter before handing it back. “I came to tell you Marten and Ahren just left for the moneylender’s house.”

“Excellent. Once Marten has proved his loyalty, he will make a fine addition to the Tyenee. Your recommendation was critical in his choosing.”

The Tyenee already has enough members in this city. And Father’s never completely trusted him. Why not choose Jan or Adolph instead?

Griggs knocked back his cup. “He’s a good man.”

“And you’re sure he knows what to do?”

“I was very specific. I wish it didn’t have to come to this, though.” He glanced over to the exact spot Katze was hiding.

The handsome general brushed back his blonde hair and sipped his drink. “Neither do I. But defiance cannot be tolerated. Ahren has much respect and influence in more than just Lichthafen. If he questions his master, his peers will follow.”

“I understand. We agreed.” Griggs poured another drink. “Ahren must die.”

Katze’s chest tightened.
How?
She couldn’t breathe for fear of letting out a cry.
How could Father say that?

Skeroff gave an approving smile. “Good. Once Marten returns with word that he’s dead, we will hold a wake in his honor and I will send word to Porvov of his fate. Then we will speak of it no more.”

“Some of the other generals won’t be happy to hear of his assassination.”

Skeroff nodded. “Sentimentality can outweigh judgment. I’ll say he died on the job. No one needs to know the truth and the Black Raven’s legend will be forever unmarred.”

Griggs took a long sigh. He turned his head toward the wall behind which Katze hid, looking straight into her eyes. “You know what is right.”

Katze felt his words. Ahren was in danger and she had to save him. Quietly, she crept back to the hidden door.

#

Loud snores resonated beyond the closed bedroom door as Ahren worked his picks on the iron strongbox. Clouds sailed briskly along the heavens outside, occasionally shielding the moonlight from the open window. The lock clicked and Ahren returned his tools to their soft leather pouch. Hinges squeaked as he lifted the lid, revealing three bulging sacks crammed inside.

Careful not to spill any of the coins, Ahren lifted the first heavy bag and peeked inside to find it filled with silver sasiks. The next bag held copper and the final one gold. A leather book rested at the chest’s bottom. A quick flip under the pale moonlight revealed the names and debts of Vizeil’s clients. The moneylender’s records could prove even more valuable than the healthy treasure. Ahren slipped the journal into his satchel then placed a single raven’s quill into the empty box. With a small smirk of satisfaction, he lifted the now lighter chest and returned it to a niche in the wall beside the fireplace. The hole only half concealed the strongbox. Ahren then carefully set a leather stool before the spot. While the box was still technically exposed, the stool’s placement gave a near perfect illusion of nothing but a solid wood wall behind it.