Summa Elvetica: A Casuistry of the Elvish Controversy and Other Stories (60 page)

Blood sprayed toward the ceiling in a crimson arc as Nicolas hit the ground and released the convulsing body as it flipped over his side, then rolled to his feet with the bloody knife in his hand.

People were screaming, but Nicolas could hardly hear them as he saw the woman punch her blade into Jervais’s stomach, rip it upward to gut him, then remove it before burying it again in his throat to silence his screams. It was a good kill, fast and sure, and Nicolas thought that she would have easily been able to escape through the window behind Aetias if Nicolas hadn’t known exactly where she was headed.

Aetias stumbled backward and fell. He was screaming in fear as the woman moved toward him with her second blade. But Nicolas had chosen the purple dress she wore specifically for the way in which it shortened her stride, it slowed her down enough to permit him to catch her from behind in what was almost a leisurely manner.

One broad sweep of his arm sent her tumbling as his foot smashed against her ankles.

She grunted hard as her back struck the marble floor, then again a little more softly as he kneeled on her stomach. His knife found her heart as his other hand gripped her throat. She looked nearly as astonished as Jervais had when she’d gutted the little merchant.

As she died, Nicolas whirled around in a crouch, as if he was ready to meet any more attackers, even though he was the only man in the mansion who was certain there were none.

How amusing it would be if there were, he thought, and he nearly laughed out loud before managing to control the violent passions that were rampaging through his body. He didn’t actually enjoy killing, but sometimes the act could prove alarmingly exhilarating in the bloody moment.

 He counted to ten, partly to add verisimilitude to his actions and partly to calm himself, before dropping to one knee at Jervais’s side. The merchant was still alive, but barely, and his eyes were wide and frightened like those of a thoughtless animal that couldn’t understand its fate.

The woman’s blade was still in the merchant’s throat, blocking the free flow of blood that would finish him, so Nicolas carefully drew it from its fleshy scabbard. Choking and gurgling, his eyes bulging in unseemly terror, Jervais finally expired with a disgustingly loud release of his bowels.

Nicolas sighed and sat back on his heels, shaking his head as if in sorrow over his failure to protect his charge.

A hand came down upon his shoulder. Nicolas didn’t look up. He could guess to whom it belonged.

“You saved my life,” Quadras Aetias told him. “I don’t know who you are, man, but I cannot tell you how grateful I am.”

“No, I… I failed,” Nicolas muttered, still staring at the slackened face of the recently deceased merchant as if he were in shock. “Master Jervais—he hired me… I tried to stop them, but I was not in time. I was too slow.”

Staggering slightly, he let the other man help him to his feet. Quadras Aetias was a tall, lean man with a bald head and a bony face. Everything about his elegant demeanor suggested the banker, not the whoremaster. But was there really a difference, in the end? The man’s expression was deeply solicitous.

“I am deeply sorry about poor Jervais, but there was nothing you could have done. You say that he hired you—does that mean he had cause to fear for his life? Do you know, I was certain they were after me. The first man you killed was rushing directly toward me when you so bravely intercepted him.”

“I don’t know,” Nicolas replied. “Master Jervais didn’t tell me anything. It all happened so fast. I’ve only been here for two weeks. I was hired through the guild, but Master Jervais never said anything to make me think something like this might happen. He didn’t speak of any enemies. I suppose my impression was that he hired me because he wanted to look important for this affair tonight.”

Aeties nodded as if he had begun to understand. “I see. May I ask your name, good sir? We must acquaint ourselves, I am afraid, because poor Jervais is in no condition to perform any introductions, and because I begin to believe that you have absolutely no idea whose life you just saved!”

Nicolas looked into the sincere face of the wealthy man and stifled a smile. My dear whoremonger, I suspect you would be very surprised if you knew exactly how much I know about you.

• • •

Lodi sat in darkness in the company of the four dwarves he’d purchased from the slaver. He didn’t own them, not under dwarven law. The Law of the Deep forbade one dwarf to hold title to another. But all four of the newly free had readily agreed to follow his lead until he could arrange to get them safely back to Iron Mountain.

Now, however, he was having second thoughts about making use of them to free the elfess. He had an obligation to see them home, and he doubted their fathers would appreciate him putting them at risk this way. Especially since it could be quite reasonably argued that he was putting them in danger on behalf of an elf!

On the other hand, with their aid he would be able to rescue her tonight, instead of in the two weeks he estimated it would take him working alone. After some quiet inquiries gave him sufficient confidence to conclude that the elfess was indeed to be found somewhere inside the Golden Rose, he’d rented a small room on the ground level of a building that was behind and slightly to the west of the upscale brothel. It was expensive, so he’d taken it for only one week, and this had rendered the assistance of the four young dwarves a necessity. And, to be fair to himself, the elf was nothing more the means to an end that every dwarf understood.

A shape emerged from the floor next to him. It was Gulfin’s head, his cap covered by dirt, cobwebs, and small bits of wood. He handed over a large bucket of dirt, which Lodi added to the big pile growing in the corner.

“We’re deep enough. You wanted twenty fores, and you’ve got them. Do you want us to start with the horizontal tunnel yet?”

“Not yet. They keep late hours in these parts, and we don’t want to wake anyone overhead. Does the ladder extend all the way down?”

“We’ve just been boosting each other up to reach it. It’s only about five fores, so we can lash whoever comes last to the dwarf before him.”

“No, make sure it reaches the bottom. We may be in a hurry, and if someone is injured, not having it will slow us down even more.”

“What if we put in a pulley system too, just in case? That way, if we have more than one or two who need help climbing out, we can get them up quickly. It shouldn’t take long.”

Lodi nodded, impressed by the young dwarf. “Yes, do that. We have time. You have a good head on your shoulders, Gulfin. How did you ever manage to get yourself captured by orcs?”

Gulfin grinned ruefully. “Listening to Thorald. He never worries about anything, that one, not even when he should. A pair of human hunters told us there were mountain orcs raiding about, but he didn’t believe them.” He looked over his shoulder. “You know, he’s convinced we’ll dig right in there, grab the girl, and stroll out without any trouble.”

“I hope he’s right,” Lodi said. But he had made preparations operating under the assumption that Thorald wouldn’t be. He didn’t have the coin for properly equipping all five of them for an armed raid, but he’d pawned his battleaxe and used the money to buy four sturdy leather jerkins, three hand-axes, and a pair of small wooden shields.

He’d borrowed the two pickaxes and the shovel they were using for digging from a dwarf at the Pick and Axe. In the hands of a dwarf, a pickaxe could be a fearsome weapon, although a little awkward for indoor use. The shovel might actually be the most useful tool since Lodi didn’t intend to kill anyone if he could help it. It was considerably easier to recover from a crack over the head with a shovel than from a pick driven squarely through the chest.

It occurred to him that regardless of how well it went tonight, he’d probably need to arrange for someone else to procure his battleaxe from the pawnbroker. It seemed likely that he would henceforth be
nana non grata
in Malkan.

As Arbhadis, the second moon, came into view, Lodi decided it was time to start digging again. The picks gouged out chunks of the clay-heavy earth, the shovel filled the buckets, the buckets flew up and down the hastily rigged pulley system, and Lodi was satisfied with the rapid progress they made underneath the stone foundation of the building next door.

The tunnel was shored up every few fores with a thick wooden beam. It wasn’t an approach Lodi would trust in a mine, but it would serve for tonight’s purpose. Soon they reached the point that Lodi calculated had them directly beneath the whorehouse.

It took nearly as long to work their way through the bricks and mortar of the building’s foundation as it did to dig the tunnel since they didn’t dare use their picks. Instead, they picked carefully away at the mortar then pulled out the bricks one by one. Some sort of granite or marble lay over the hole they’d created, but a single hard thrust with the flat top of the pick cracked it, and they were inside.

It was dark, but not pitch black, as a faint light came from the top of the stairs. It was more than enough for their dwarven eyes, accustomed as they were to the darkness of the tunnels that were often dug a league or more beneath the roots of the mountains. They appeared to be in some sort of storage room, as there were kegs and small barrels of what looked like wine and spirits, plus a number of mismatched chairs, tables, and a red velvet couch that looked as if it had seen some abuse.

“Remember, we just want to grab the girl. She’ll be easy to spot—she’s the only elf here. We go in, we grab her, and we get out.”

“An elf?” His companions looked at each other in confusion. Thorald was the first to object. “I thought we were rescuing one of ours! Why should we risk ourselves for an elf?”

“The long-ears left us to die in the siege! Why shouldn’t we leave this one to the tall ones?”

“How much do you think your fathers are paying for each of your worthless hides?” Lodi growled. “I can get ten times that for the elf—fifty, if she’s highborn. Do you think that slaver gave you to me because he liked my beard? But never mind, I don’t need any of you for the next part. You did enough with the digging. If you’re not going inside with me, then you can go back and wait at the other end until we come out.”

There was some abashed shifting back and forth, and Thorald glared at Lodi, but none of the four dwarves made any movement toward the hole.

“All right then. Now remember, we’re not trying to make a scene or kill anyone. Don’t stick a pick in anyone either if you can help it. Picks can be hard to get out, and we don’t want anyone tracing it back to the inn. If one of the guards gets in the way, just bash him in the face and keep moving. Thorald, you’ll stay here and guard our retreat.”

“I may not like long-ears, Lodi, but I’m not afraid—”

“I know you’re not. But your father is the one who made the down payment on you lot, so you stay here. It’s not a coward’s job. You’ll be the last one in the hole when we come back, so you have to pull the supports and collapse the tunnel behind you as we go.”

The young dwarf was mollified at the news he’d be sharing their risks. “I can do that.”

“Good.” Lodi looked at the faces of the three dwarves he was about to lead up the stairs. Their bearded faces were grim but showed no fear. This isn’t a battle, he reminded himself. Just a smash-and-grab. There may not even be any fighting. “You three, follow me, and stay close. If I tell you to run, you don’t ask why, you just run back to the tunnel and get out as fast as you can. You don’t wait for me. Go back to the Pick and Axe. The innkeep has instructions for you that will see you home if I don’t join you before morning.”

They murmured in wordless remonstrance, but he snorted and turned toward the staircase. This was a whorehouse, not the bloody camp of the Goblinsbane’s army. There was no field of bones here, and the survival of the Iron Mountain dwarves was not at stake—just the fate of an unlucky elven slave. All the same, his heart was beating faster as he quietly began to climb the wooden stairs, axe in hand, followed by his three young companions.

The stairs led them to the ground floor of the brothel. The building was silent, but a few of the torches were still guttering in their brass holders mounted to the walls, telling him that while the commercial activities might be closed for the night, there were still likely to be Men awake and active on the premises. Gulfin was right behind him, with the two brothers, Hodli and Glodli, bringing up the rear as they moved quietly down a corridor, the only sound being the occasional creaking of their leather armor.

Lodi stopped when he caught sight of the landing in front of them, seeing from its width that it appeared to be at one end of a large chamber. But when he peeked around the corner, he could see no one. So he continued to the marble stairs, pleased to see that a runner ran down the middle of the stairs, as it would mask the sound of their footsteps.

He had just reached the first landing when a sudden scent of heavy perfume filled his nose, and he turned to see the shocked face of a female Man standing four steps above him, wearing little more than the sheerest slip of purple silk.

Her mouth gaped open at the sight of him, but before she could scream, Lodi leaped up the steps at her and attempted to stuff his free hand into her mouth to silence her. But in his haste, he missed and accidentally smashed the calloused bottom of his palm into her upper jaw.

She collapsed limply on the stairs as if he’d struck her with the butt of his axe before tumbling awkwardly down the steps to the landing. She slammed against the miniature marble columns there just as Gulfin reached the platform and he was very nearly tripped by her unconscious body.

Hodli, joining him, looked at Lodi and waggled his axe, but Lodi shook his head. There was no need to kill the whore. Between the steps and his hand, she had taken at least two solid blows to the head, and he intended to be back in the tunnel and out of the building before she was likely to stir.

His three young followers seemed either fascinated or horrified by the fallen Man, so Lodi had to snap his fingers to get their attention, then he resumed climbing the stairs.