Savage (3 page)

DRAISHA

THE dark room was lit only by a single torch. A thick oak door and even thicker stone walls insured the conversation was for their ears only. In the middle of the room was a simple and plain desk, made of the same oak as the doors. On the other side of it sat a man. Jasper walked up and took the seat across from him. He eyed his prospective client with care. The man was dressed poorly like a commoner, ragged cloth pants and tunic with a thick hood covering his face. He obviously was trying to appear poor, but Jasper knew this to be a ruse. The man had hands as soft as a baby’s butt. Besides, no commoner had the kind of coin necessary to arrange a meeting with him. Not that it mattered to Jasper how the man dressed. If he thought it necessary to hide his identity, that was his problem. Jasper’s fees were expensive, but he was worth it. Since becoming a mercenary, he had never failed to complete a mission, and his reputation as a swordsman was fast becoming legendary in the mercenary world. Jasper was an elite mercenary. So the man had better not try and pretend to be too poor when it came time to put coin on the table.

“Thank you for meeting me. Semaj says you are the best.”

Semaj, bar owner and all around shady fellow, was often an intermediate for Jasper. People would come to Semaj with a job, often dangerous, always illegal, and Semaj would find the right person to do it. When it came to murder, espionage, terror, and kidnapping, Jasper was often the right person. When Semaj said he had something big for him, Jasper accepted the interview. He rarely met with clients, but this one insisted. But for the money, Jasper would put up with his eccentricity. “Semaj is correct,” said Jasper.

“For your sake I hope so. You will need to be for this job.”

Jasper shrugged his shoulders. He’d heard this song and dance many of times. Every client thought his job was the most important, dangerous, rewarding, blah blah blah. “How about you tell me about the job.”

“I want to wage war against an individual. I was to hit his business interests. I want his friends murdered and his allies too terrified to support him.  I want him living in a sea of confusion and despair, unsure where the next attack is coming from, or who it will strike. I want his life to be a living hell.”

“It can be done with the right resources, but these type of jobs bore me. Perhaps you need someone else.” Personal vendettas were easy; they didn’t offer any challenge or enough pay to offer to make it worthwhile. 

“Oh, I don’t think so. I think this job is sufficiently difficult enough that you would do it just to say it could be done. More importantly, I think you will take this job for personal reasons,” said the potential client in his bad disguise.

“Who could you possibly have in mind that you think would inspire me to take such a job.”

“Prince Valentine Astor.”

Jasper smiled. Well, that was interesting, very interesting. “That is a rather large job. One that would take significant funding if I were to undertake it.”

“I understand. I am prepared for such costs.” The man slid a coin sack across the table to Jasper. “That should get you started.”

Jasper ignored the coins. “Besides the cost of such a venture, there is the risk factor for myself to consider. Once I start down this road, there will be no turning back. I will likely have to flee Draisha if I am found out. Even if it is successful, I may have to leave if things don’t play out the way you plan.”

“There is enough coin in this for you that you will be able to go anywhere you desire and live out your days as a rich man. The reward equals the risk. I have a list of names of people I want to meet a most tragic end. There are also several shipments of goods that can’t make their destinations. They will be part of well-guarded caravans, especially after the prince realizes he is being targeted.”

“Caravans are easy. There are plenty of bandits and mercenaries that can be bought for cheap. The killings, I will take care of personally. We can’t afford any screw-ups.” He’d seen enough plans destroyed when a would be assassin was caught and interrogated that he wouldn’t risk using any underlings for those important parts of the plan, those he would do himself.

“So I take it you are interested?”

Prince Valentine Astor was a man Jasper would gladly kill, getting paid to make the man’s life miserable was a job he couldn’t say no to. “Yes, but how do I know you actually have the coin to make this all happen? One small sack of gold coins isn’t enough for something like this.”

The man lifted the hood off of his face, revealing his identity.

Interesting
, thought Jasper.
Not someone I would’ve expected to hate the prince
.
But it does make sense.

“Now you know who I am. You know I have the coin, and you know I am now tied to you. I expect results. Failure will have a high price.”

“Save your threats for your lackeys. We both know failure means death or worse for both of us.”

The man smiled. “True. But the chance to destroy the prince is worth it. Now, this is what I had in mind to start…”

DRAISHA

KYRA opened the shop door. The pleasant aroma of fresh baked sweets and exotic teas filled her nose. Her mouth watered reflexively as she identified the scent of cinnamon tarka cake. The sweet and savory treat was her favorite, and was her second favorite reason to visit the bacco. Hoggard’s bacco was a simple affair, a few tables spread out to offer maximum privacy and the main counter where his treats were displayed.

Kyra walked up to the counter and grabbed the piece of tarka cake that Hoggard had waiting for her. The soft and sweet cake melted in her mouth. Kyra slowly savored the treat before turning her attention to the waiting bacco owner.

“Do you have the merchandise?” asked Hoggard.

Kyra glanced down the counter. No one was within hearing distance. Hoggard was confident that none of his patrons were spies or the sort to sell him out, but Kyra wasn’t willing to trust that easily. She only trusted a few people and none of them were here. She slid a leather pouch across the counter. “Release papers signed by the duke. Not authentic, but only the duke himself would know the difference.”

Hoggard slid the pouch under the counter, opened it, and quickly inspected the forged document. “You truly have a gift, Kyra.”

Kyra smiled. It was true, she had a gift. Anything she saw she remembered and was able to replicate. A signature, a painting, she could even duplicate a statue if necessary, but she didn’t like working with clay, too time consuming and messy. Besides, the real money was in forged documents. She hardly ever got requests to do artwork. “Thank you, Hoggard. Have you anything else you need? I’m a little light on the cash this month. Grundal and his goons are looking for me.” Normally this wouldn’t be an issue but her last few bets had been fairly large, and Grundal sent the more dangerous goons out when the money got big.

Hoggard shook his head. “You’d be a rich woman if you’d simply quit gambling. Haven’t I told you Grundal’s races are fixed?”

Kyra shrugged. “I had a can’t miss tip. I thought I’d beat Grundal at his own game.”

Hoggard scoffed. “Grundal likes to do that. He has one of his low level grunts make the rounds, hinting that the fix is in but for the right price he’ll cough up the secret. Sound familiar?”

“Too familiar. Okay, Hoggie, I vow to never gamble with Grundal again. Now can you help me or what?” Hoggard wasn’t just Kyra’s preferred middle man, he was a fatherly figure that treated her with respect, and over the years their comfort level with each other had grown to the point where teasing and nicknames were common. The age difference was enough to remove any sexual issues. She was just into her twenties while Hoggard was at least double that. Kyra didn’t have any daddy issues and Hoggard had never acted inappropriate towards her. Not that she entirely trusted him, he was after all, a man. And men by nature were not trust worthy.

“Perhaps. But I’m not sure this job is a fit for you. I don’t think it requires any forging. It’s more a mystery job.”

Kyra was intrigued. A mystery was right up her alley. “Hoggie my dear, don’t tease me. You know I love a riddle. What kind of mystery can’t I solve?”

“I’m not saying you’re not smart enough, I’m saying you probably want to avoid this job. It could be dangerous in a way you’ve never dealt with before.”

“What could be more dangerous than stealing orders from a military camp? You had no problem sending me on that job.”

“I have faith that you can sneak into any place, and I know once you look at something, you can replicate it perfectly. This isn’t about your skills as a thief or your smarts. Come to the back and I’ll explain.”

Kyra was really curious now. Rarely did Hoggard feel the need to leave the bar to discuss a job. Normally, if he was comfortable with the crowd, he simply talked in low tones.
There must be something special about this job for him to be so secretive
, thought Kyra.

Hoggard sat at his desk and waved at the open chair across from him.

Kyra sat down and waited for an explanation.

Hoggard said nothing.

“Are you going to tell me or are we just going to sit here and meditate?” asked Kyra.

“Shush, child, I’m deciding whether or not to tell you.” Hoggard paused, “Damn it! I never should’ve mentioned it. I know you’ll just pester me until I tell you.”

Kyra gave a sly grin. It was true. She could be very persistent, or annoying, depending on who’s point of view one was getting.

“Here is the job. A client has an enemy who has been sabotaging his business interests and killing his allies. He has had no luck finding out who is behind the attacks with the normal methods. It is likely that some on the city guard are on the payroll of whoever is behind these attacks. He needs to find out who it is.”

Kyra frowned, her brow furrowed as she pondered the problem. “This doesn’t sound like a job for a thief or a forgery artist. Nor does it sound incredibly dangerous. I mean sure it is dangerous, killers and all that, but I’ve dealt with dangerous men before. What makes this job any more dangerous than those ones? What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s more dangerous because of what I haven’t told you. The client is Prince Valentine Astor.”

Suddenly, she understood. Prince Valentine, son of Tristan Astor, ruler of Draisha, was the future king of Draisha. If he had an enemy powerful enough to take on the prince, whoever was sent to find out the secret would be dealing with a highly motivated killer who would not want someone snooping around. It also explained why it was strange that the normal methods hadn’t worked. Prince Astor had access to the city guards, the royal palace guards, and unlimited funds to hire investigators, mercenaries or sellswords to find the information he was seeking. That Prince Astor would come to Hoggard with the job meant everyone else had failed. “How many people has the prince hired so far?”

“Three that I know of,” admitted Hoggard. “He has put enormous pressure on the city guards as well, but they seem incapable of making any progress.”

The city guard was corrupt. Everyone in Draisha knew that. However, if the prince couldn’t get info out of them, then no one could. His pockets were deep in coin and influence. Everything a corrupt city official desired. “How many of the men he hired are still alive?”

Hoggard scratched his chin nervously. “One. Well… possibly one. Two were found in alleys with their throats cut, the third is missing. All were ex-soldiers, very capable warriors with experience in such matters.”

“If the sellswords who specialize in such work are getting killed, why did the prince come to you? You aren’t the one people come to for thugs or mercenaries. You are the one they come to to obtain things.”

“I said the same thing to the prince. He said he wanted someone with a different approach to tackle his problem. He wants someone who thinks outside the box, someone with unorthodox methods who can hopefully find out the information he needs without dying first. I told the prince, I only know one person smart enough and crazy enough to take the job.”

“And what did Lanister say when you offered him the job?” asked Kyra jokingly.

“Ha! Lanister is certainly crazy enough to do it. Just show him enough coin, and he’d do just about anything. No, Kyra, you are the only one smart enough to actually figure this little mystery out. But how to do it without getting your throat cut is what concerns me.”

“Trust me, Hoggie, I’m too fond of my neck to let it be slit. But I will take the job, under certain conditions.” Kyra couldn’t resist the challenge, and the opportunity to establish a working relationship with a prince was a very special opportunity, but she was no fool either. If she did this job, it would have to be done right. And that meant bringing in protection. Protection she could actually trust.

“I’m listening.”

“I’m going to have to hire some muscle for this job, and it won’t come cheap. I get coin for that upfront. I will also require triple my normal fee.” The prince was rich, Kyra figured he wouldn’t balk at such a price.

“Done, and done. Actually, I already negotiated a price for you far above what you are asking. Figure this out for the prince and you can easily wipe out your gambling debts and then some. Do you want me to arrange the muscle? I know a few sellswords who might be up to the task.”

Kyra shook her head. “No, the type of men you could hire are not what I need. I need someone that isn’t from Draisha. I need someone who scares the type of men you know.”

“Kyra, no! You can’t be serious. This isn’t protecting a caravan, or rescuing a hostage from bandits. You can’t bring that savage into Draisha,” said Hoggard in protest.

“He may be a savage, but I trust him. Maybe a savage is just what we need to get this job done. Besides, he can be civilized when necessary.”

Hoggard groaned. “Bazur has destroyed the bar in Pera more times than I can count. I am tempted to sell that damn place just so I don’t have to deal with him.”

Kyra laughed. “You old liar. You like having a bar in the badlands. It gives you access to all sorts of shifty characters you can’t find in Draisha. Besides, if you didn’t want your bar destroyed, why did you put a bounty up in your bar for the first man to beat Bazur up?”

“Because that bounty has made me triple the coin from fools going out there to try their hands at beating up the half-orc. Most of the time, the fools just sit around drinking, waiting for the opportunity to fight him, but most never get the opportunity as he visits so rarely. But I spend half my winnings fixing the place after Bazur is done destroying it.”

“My math says you are still making a healthy profit off of him.”

“That is true,” conceded Hoggard. “I would make a lot more, but he barely ever visits Pera, and when he does, he only stays long enough to trade, have a few drinks, and take on whichever challenger is waiting for him. If he’d be more reasonable, I would make a fortune off him.”

Kyra shook her head. Bazur was rough and tough, and enjoyed fighting, but he had a particular code of honor. He wouldn’t become Hoggard’s prize fighter, or for anyone else. He was too independent for that. “You’ll never get him to agree to being your fighter. Just be happy he likes your bar.”

“It’s the honey mead. Orcs drink mead. Orcs and elves love the stuff. Thank goodness the bartender keeps bees. Getting the really good stuff in from Irri is challenging.” Hoggard pulled a purse out of his desk and threw it to Kyra. “The prince wants you to start right away. There is more than enough coin to hire Bazur.”

“Have you taken your cut yet?” asked Kyra as she jiggled the purse. It was heavy with coin.

“No. I’m not taking a cut on this job.”

Kyra raised an eyebrow. That was very unlike Hoggard.

“Don’t give me that look. The prince is going to be king one day, and he will owe me a favor. That is worth far more than ten percent of your earnings.”

Kyra smiled, she could only imagine what kind of crooked deal Hoggard was cooking up that required a favor from a king. “True enough. Arrange a meeting with the prince. I’m going to need more details if I am going to sort this out.”

“Good luck, Kyra. Don’t get yourself killed. And for love of the gods, don’t let Bazur destroy the city.”