Night came again, and Zusa still hadn’t returned. Nathaniel once more tried to sleep alone in his room, but this time he heard monsters scratching, and every shadow bore a blade. He squeezed his eyes shut and pushed his face into a pillow, but then they were all around him, stepping closer, mouths drooling, claws reaching. Zusa wasn’t there to protect him. His mother’s guards weren’t about to rescue him. It took all his courage to pull down his blankets and look, and no matter how many times he saw his room empty, he knew without a doubt they were there.
At last he’d gotten up and left. He felt like a thief sneaking through the dark halls, but at each corner stood a house guard, looking somber and dangerous in the lantern light. They watched him as he passed, and it made his skin crawl. At his mother’s room, he stopped and gently pushed open the door with his arm.
“Mother?” he called out. At first, nothing, then louder, “Mother?”
“I’m here, Nathan,” she said, and he saw a feminine form lean up from the pillows.
Nathaniel curled his shoulders together, and he grabbed his stump with his other hand, as if he were cold.
“I’m scared,” he said. The question within was implicit, and his mother heard it well.
“Come here,” she said. “The bed’s big enough.”
He climbed up and then crawled forward until he reached the top. His mother’s arms wrapped about him as he curled against her and lay his head on a pillow. Immediately he felt his fears ebbing, and his exhaustion clawed at him with pent up fury.
“Getting too big for this,” Alyssa said as she moved to give him room.
“I’m sorry.”
She kissed the back of his neck to show she wasn’t angry. Nathaniel shifted and slid his legs underneath the blanket.
“Mom…when is Zusa coming back?”
For a long while she did not answer.
“I don’t know,” she said at last. Nathaniel closed his eyes, glad to be safe from the monsters, glad that he could rest. Still, the question nagged at him.
“She is coming back, isn’t she?” he asked.
An even longer pause. His mother sniffed, and he realized she was crying. It made his stomach queasy, and he pulled himself into a tighter ball to fight the uncomfortable feeling growing in his chest.
“I hope so,” his mother said. He felt her fingers brushed against his face, lovingly touching his features with her fingertips. “Gods, I hope so.”
He didn’t know what to say, but he wanted to comfort her. He wanted to make her feel better.
“I hope so, too,” he said.
He closed his eyes and slept. Come the morning, he awoke to find himself alone in the bed. Feeling embarrassed, he slid out from the blankets and hurried back to his room to change. On his way there, he passed by his grandmother’s room. The door was cracked open, and he heard voices from within. The past two nights had left him wary, and something about the hushed tones made him slow. Pressing against the wall, he peered inside to see Lord Gandrem talking with his grandmother. Melody sat on the bed, and he could just barely see her hands as they gestured along with her words. John stood before her, arms crossed. His face was turned away, so he could not read his expression.
“I cannot leave my lands unprotected,” John was saying. “Surely between Stephen and your daughter, the house guards are sufficient.”
“They aren’t,” Melody insisted. “Alyssa lost so many, and is yet to rehire, instead focusing on repairing her mansion. She puts her faith in that strange woman, Zusa. I don’t trust her, John. I just don’t. And Stephen’s guards are loyal only to him.”
John sighed and looked away, right toward the door. Nathaniel’s breath caught in his throat, and he pulled back and pressed himself tighter against the wall. Counting to five before peering in again, he saw his grandmother had stood and put her arms around John’s waist.
“My lands are tame, and my steward is a good man, and runs my affairs well,” he said. Nathaniel could hear weakness in his voice, a bending of his will toward his grandmother. “Are you really so sure we need more men to protect us? What of Lord Kane? They say Victor has done much to make the city safe.”
“I’m scared, John,” Melody said, pressing tighter against him. “I came back from such a dark place. I don’t want to be scared anymore. Victor can’t be everywhere, and those thieves are like rabid dogs. You saw what they did to our mansion. They’ll come again. They’ll come, with torches, with daggers, with…with…”
She buried her face into his neck, and as she shuddered, John wrapped his arms about her.
“I just want to feel safe,” she said. “Is that so terrible of me?”
“Of course not,” John said. “I’ll send for my footmen. They’ll stay until all of this business in Veldaren settles down.”
In response, Melody kissed him across the mouth.
“Thank you,” she said, then kissed him again. “Thank you.”
Her hands were at his belt, tugging. John reached down and grabbed one of her breasts.
Nathaniel ran, scared and confused and wanting to see no more.
Thren watched as the men and women gathered about the entrance to the alley, all thin and meager looking. They surrounded the hooded figure, who kept looking for guards as he took in silver and gave out his crimleaf. As if guards would come to the southern district. They were too busy in the north and west, protecting the trade and homes of the wealthy. No guards, Thren knew. No control. The Suns had come into the lawless anarchy of the slums, and it was time they paid for it.
He kept his walk lumbering, as if he was just another overworked member of the city, barely staving off his hunger each day. He’d discarded his guild colors, instead wrapping a thin coat about him. It was dark brown, stained, and had many holes, but it hid the swords strapped at his waist, which was all that mattered.
There were three men still buying when Thren joined them, lurking at their backs.
“Shit man, wasn’t it just one silver?” argued the closest. His eyes were bloodshot, and lice crawled in his hair.
“It’s two now,” said the Sun thief. “Don’t act all pissed off, either. You know you still can’t get it cheaper elsewhere, not by a mile.”
“I wouldn’t buy from him,” Thren said, stepping closer.
“Piss off, and mind your own,” the thief said, glaring. “My leaf’s good, and my prices fair.”
“That’s not why,” Thren said, taking another step. “It’s just not wise to buy from a dead man.”
He leapt forward, shortsword drawn. It rammed into the man’s stomach. A twist and a yank sent his innards spilling out across the ground. Two of the three men fled, while the third made a desperate lunge for the falling bag of crimleaf. A single well-placed kick knocked the man out, sprawling him beside the corpse. Cleaning his blade, Thren then sheathed it and knelt down to grab the bag.
“Save your coin for food,” he said to the unconscious man, spitting on his chest.
Leaf pocketed, he ran back into the alley, hooked a right, and then emerged into heavier traffic, where he allowed himself to slow. One by one he’d been taking out the Sun pushers, always on the lookout for the ones who strayed too far from the rest, or were too foolish to have others with them for protection. It was slow work, but he’d killed five so far. In a few more days, he’d have another five.
And by then, another fifty Suns might have moved in from the west. He shook his head. It was a losing battle, perhaps, but he’d still fight it until he knew of a way to really hurt Grayson. Out of instinct, he traveled toward his old territory, now claimed by three separate guilds. Not that he was surprised. With the city turning wilder by the hour, such a vacancy would never last long. A thought hit him, an image of other guilds using his former base as their own, and it stirred an anger in his chest. Heading that way, he found the old tavern, now shuttered and closed down after Victor’s raid. The upper levels were ruined by the fire, but what of the underground portion?