"You're pushing now just to push," the man said.
"Isn't that what you were doing when you stood up and started shouting about whores and shitholes?" Egil said, his deep voice low and dangerous. "When you bumped into Nix and me outside? Pushing just to push, right? You and your boys used to havin' the run of places, are you?"
The man's lower lip trembled. "You know what? Fak you, Egil the Priest and Nix the Lucky. Yeah, I know your name, too." He spat on the floor. "I was trying to be cordial, but this is too much now."
"You were trying to be cordial?" Nix said. "Really? You need lessons."
"Too much now, is it?" Egil said.
"It is," the man said, his tone hard. "Far too much."
The man's three comrades nodded, muttering agreement.
Nix saw how things would go and sighed. To the man, he said, "Friend, I'd wish you well, but I'm not one for fruitless wishing. I think maybe those lessons I mentioned are forthcoming."
The man licked his lips. The lump in his trachea bobbed up and down as he swallowed. "And who's going to teach it? This priest?"
"Don't kill him," Nix said to Egil.
"Ha!" the man said. "There's four of us and-"
The smack of Egil's backhand across the man's cheek nearly knocked him to his knees. The onlookers gasped, even Tesha.
Snarling, red-faced from embarrassment and the blow, the man reached for the hilt of his blade as his three companions did the same.
Egil lunged forward, seized the man's wrist before his blade showed half its steel, and punched him in the jaw hard enough to mist the air with spit, blood, and at least one tooth. The man hit the floor like a poleaxed bull. Meanwhile, Nix bounded forward to the nearest of the man's companions while clearing his punch dagger of its wrist sheathe. He put its point under the man's chin before the man had cleared his own sword.
The two remaining hireswords got their weapons out and backed off a step, bumping into their table. They took half-hearted fighting crouches, looking around nervously. Sweat glistened on their foreheads.
The man at the end of Nix's dagger glared at Nix but dared not move. Nix winked at him.
"Your friend there forgot that I'm called both lucky and quick. But I wager you three will not soon forget that, and you can remind your loudmouthed friend of that when his senses return, yeah?"
The man bared his teeth. Nix pricked him with the blade.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," the man agreed.
"You show respect to the workers here from now on," Egil said, loud enough to be heard by everyone. He grabbed the semi-conscious man by an ankle and dragged him toward the doors. The other two men made no move toward the priest.
The hiresword groaned, his eyes rolling, his hair collecting bits of the filth from the floor as Egil pulled him along. Bloody drool dripped from the corner of his mouth.
"Go on, now," Nix said to the other two. "Follow. And give your blades a home before I lose my smile. This is all done now, unless you're stupid. This goes any further and my friend will start plying his hammers rather than his fists."
The pair shared a glance, looked at Egil, who pulled their friend along as if he weighed no more than a child, and scabbarded their blades. As one they headed for the doors, mumbling inaudibly. Nix took his blade from under his man's chin and pushed him after them. He realized he had the man's coinpurse in his off hand. He must've lifted it. One day soon he'd have to break himself of the habit, lest it land him in trouble.
"You," he said, and the man turned. Nix tossed him the purse and the man fumbled it. "You dropped that."
The man collected the purse, what was left of his dignity, and shuffled for the door.
Egil opened the door and tossed the hiresword out onto the rain-soaked walkway, nearly hitting a group of four other men just about to enter.
"Pardon us," Egil said to them. "Rubbish drop."
The four newcomers wore mail shirts, metal caps, and long blades. They waited off to the side while the three remaining hireswords filed out.
Nix called after the three as thunder rumbled outside.
"Egil and Nix own the Tunnel now, you hear? You three are welcome to return, but next time bring your manners. Oh, and maybe leave the loudmouth behind? Done?"
Grumbles and an obscene gesture from the one he'd pricked under the chin were the only responses. Nix figured he'd get no better.
Nix turned, grinning, and looked around the room. Everyone save Tesha had already turned back to their drinks, conversation, stew, or work.
Again, no applause, no congratulations, no accolades, nothing.
"Come now, people," he muttered. He saw Tesha eyeing him, one hand on her hip, an irritated glint in her kohl-lined eyes. He made a "What?" gesture with his hands and immediately wished he hadn't.
Thunder boomed as she strode down the stairs. She walked up to him like she intended to put a blade in his innards. Instead, she jabbed a finger into his chest. "You won't improve my business, or yours, by bludgeoning the customers."
"What? But he said-"
"I know what he said. She is a whore, Nix. Hearing the truth offends neither her nor me. It goes with the work."
"True," Lis said, walking past him and up the stairs.
"But… he was disrespectful."
"So?" Tesha said. "That goes with the work, too. Do you beat everyone who's disrespectful to you?"
"Well not me, no, but Egil…"
"Don't do it again, Nix. I mean it. I can't have everyone who might be interested in one of my men or women worried about saying the wrong thing and getting crosswise of you and Egil. You want this place to make money, don't you?"
Nix found himself at a loss for words. He located some only by changing the subject. "You're quite lovely when you're angry. Did you know that?"
"And you're quite small of stature, angry or no," she said.
And with that, she turned on her heel and walked for the stairs. He stood there sputtering and she shot him a final withering glance before she ascended.
"I believe I'm in love," he said softly, watching the sway of her hips under her blue dress.
"You're always in love," Egil said, stepping beside him, and checking his fist, where he'd scraped it on the hiresword's teeth. The priest nodded surreptitiously at the four men who'd just entered. "You see those four who just came in?"
The men, all hard-eyed and armed, stood just inside the doors. They were eyeing Nix and Egil uncertainly, whispering among themselves.
"I see them," Nix said softly, then called to them, "And here are men of quality to replace the low men late of this establishment. Welcome, goodsirs."
The men pasted on fake smiles, gave half-bows, and went awkwardly for a corner table. Nix saw how they fell in behind the older, bearded man among them.
From their helmcuts and bearing, he made them as bodyguards, city watch, or soldiers. The bearded one caught Nix studying them, so Nix pasted on a fake smile of his own.
"Morra, see to those men," Nix said, waving to the serving girl.
"In a moment, luvs," Morra called to them, placing frothing tankards down at another table.
Egil took Nix by the arm and walked him toward the bar.
"Have to be watch," Egil said.
"Looks that way to me, too. We're not wanted by any authorities, though. Wait. Are we?"
Egil shrugged. "Pits if I know."
Nix wondered if his mouthiness at the Slum Gate had landed them in trouble.
"Well, even watchmen just want a drink sometimes, right?"
"Possible," Egil said. "Or maybe they're here on some other business not involving Egil and Nix."
"Are you referring to us in the third person now?"
"Shut up," the priest said, and tended to his tankard.
Kiir stood at the other end of the bar, her dress showing her curves to good effect. Nix sat and patted the stool next to him. She smiled and moved to take it, but Tesha's voice from the top of the stairs cut through the cacophony of the common room.