I paused on corners and in doorways, asking after old names, slipping the occasional coin to jog memories. Most of my former contacts had either vanished or become tight-lipped. I wasn’t local anymore, and that meant I wasn’t to be trusted. I couldn’t turn up anything on Nicco, or Kells, or even on the Dealer I had been sent to find, Fedim.
Finally, when I had paid three different Kin to track down one of my more reliable sources from a decade back-a Whisperer named Elek-only to find he had died six months ago, I lost my temper.
“So who the hell has taken over for him?” I demanded of the ragpicker who had informed me of Elek’s demise-after I had paid her for the privilege.
“That’d be, ah… ah… ” she began, before breaking into a nervous coughing fit.
“Eliza,” said a dark voice off to the side.
I looked over and saw a cloaked figure sitting in a doorway. His outline was barely visible, so well did his clothing match the shadows.
“Silent Eliza?” I asked.
The man nodded, or should I say, the cowl of his hood did.
“Where is she standing now?” I asked.
“Rose and Castle.”
I knew the tavern. I tossed a copper owl his way, saw him pluck it out of the air. He chuckled as I walked off down the street. Degan eyed me as we went, but he refrained from saying anything.
Silent Eliza was anything but; she was loud, raucous, and still one of the best Ears there was in Ten Ways. When people think you are too busy talking to listen, they let things slip. It cost me more than I would have liked to get the information from her, but a jug of wine and a handful of hawks passed under the table got us directions after an hour or so of listening to her go on about… everything.
The sun was just beginning to edge below the horizon when we left the Rose and Castle. We had only gone a few blocks before Degan nudged my arm.
“That’s the third one in as many blocks,” he said.
“What?” I said.
“Ahrami.”
I looked down and found myself slipping the pouch back beneath my shirt. Sure enough, I could feel a seed under my tongue, softening.
“And?” I said.
Degan shrugged. “Nothing.”
“It’s not as if I enjoy being here,” I said.
“Of course not.”
“I worked my ass off getting out of this damn place. Coming back is the last thing I wanted to do.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And then being charged four damn hawks by ’Liza for the location of Fedim’s shop?” I said. “That’s just insulting.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t.”
We walked on, turned a corner.
“So, what’s bothering you?” asked Degan.
“I just told you,” I said.
Degan nodded. “So you did.”
“Then leave off.”
“Of course.”
We cut down another alley. It was darker than the others we had been taking, the buildings closer on either side. My night vision began to awaken, highlighting the squalor around us in deep amber. The smell of urine and rotting meat grew stronger.
“So,” said Degan.
I kept silent, instead eyeing the shadows as we walked.
“So,” he said again.
Damn!
“Look, I’m here to lean on a Dealer for Nicco, all right?” I said. “Let’s just focus on that and get it done. The sooner I’m out of this hellhole, the better!”
“I just-” began Degan, but he stopped as a shape slid out of a doorway farther down the alley. A moment later, three more forms bled from the shadows to join it. Behind us, someone cleared his throat.
We were surrounded.
Degan didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, his sword sliding from its scabbard in easy time with his movement. “Front,” he said as he moved to meet the four figures lined up across the alley.
“Be my guest,” I said as I turned and lugged out my own sword and dagger. Thankfully, there were only two coming from behind.
My night vision showed one of the men to be carrying a heavy-looking club, its end studded with broken glass and metal; the other held a pair of knives. They came forward carefully, moving to bracket me in the narrow space.
Behind me, I heard the first songs of steel on steel as Degan met his four. He was taking the fight to them, making them react instead of deciding how to best surround him. I needed to do the same, but I didn’t relish the idea. I was no degan.
I edged toward the one with the knives, my rapier held out before me, my dagger low at my left side. His weapons had the speed, mine the reach. If he came into my range, I had first strike; if he stayed out, I had to deal not only with him, but eventually with his friend as well. Time was on his side.
He stepped back a pace, smiling, his knives flickering dully in my night vision. No dummy there. I took another step. He retreated again. I took one more. When he retreated for the third time, instead of following, I pivoted and launched myself at his friend with the club.
Neither of them had been expecting it, least of all the man with the club. His eyes grew wide as I came in, and he took an involuntary step back. Bad idea. By the time he had his weight resettled and was starting to swing, I was already inside.
I ducked in under his arm as the club came down, my sword raised to ward off the blow. Wood met the steel of my guard, sending shock waves down my right arm. Even as my grip on the sword wavered, I brought my left around and buried the dagger up to the cross-guard in his right kidney. He grunted. I twisted the blade inside him. He grunted again. Then he began to fall forward.
I pulled on my dagger. It wouldn’t budge. Leaving it, I stepped to the side, only to find the Cutter with the daggers closing on me, fast.
One slash passed inches from my face, and I felt another pluck at a fold in my shirt. I leapt back and just managed to dodge a thrust to my left side.
Too close, too close, too damn close!
There was no room to bring my rapier up, no way to back up faster than he could come forward. I pointed the tip of my sword down, brought the guard up, and made a moving vertical bar of steel between us, frantically blocking his thrusts and slashes. It was good in the short term, but, sooner or later, he would get past it.
The Cutter came on, pressing me hard. I blocked once, twice, and then punched at his face with the guard of my sword. I managed light contact-nothing solid-but it surprised him. He hesitated, and that was all I needed.
In an instant, I had my wrist knife in my left hand. I lashed out, not worrying about hitting him so much as letting him know it was there. He took a hasty step back.
I let out a shallow breath. I was at sword range again. I took my own step back and brought my rapier in line.
The Cutter was still busy scowling at this latest development when Degan spoke up from behind me.
“Are you almost done?” he said.
“Let me check,” I said. I smiled at the man with the knives. “Are we done?”
He looked at me, then past me into the growing darkness. I saw his eyes go wide. Then he was running away.
“I’m done,” I said, and turned around.
Degan stood amid four corpses. Not one of the bodies had more than a single fatal wound. All things considered, I couldn’t blame the Cutter for running.
“Just here to lean on someone, then?” said Degan, picking up the conversation where we had left off.
I came over and looked at the bodies. “This is local color,” I said. “They’re too rough to be any of ’Liza’s brood, and no one else I’ve talked to has the clout to gather up this many Kin on short notice.”
“Just a robbery, then?” said Degan.
“Yes.”
“You’re positive of that?”
“Yes,” I said.
Degan eyed me across the corpses.
“It was a damn robbery!” I said.
“I stand reassured.”
We began moving down the alley again.
“Of course,” said Degan, “if it wasn’t a robbery, things could get worse. And if that happens and I get pulled in…”