City of Rogues: Book I of the Kobalos Trilogy Page 10

  Lucius stepped back with the palms of his hands facing his friend. “I didn’t mean to rile you, and I definitely didn’t mean to imply I have any desire to work for Belgad.”

  Gris huffed and stepped back, giving them both breathing space.

  Lucius lowered his hands. “I was only asking about the party because I thought you might be hiring on extra help.”

  “We’re hiring temporary recruits for that night, but I won’t be working. I’ve been invited to the damn thing.”

  Lucius grinned. “So, you warn me off, then you go and jump into the lion’s mouth.”

  “I might not be officially working, but it’s part of my duties to attend such events.”

  “Couldn’t I sign on for the night even if you’re enjoying yourself?”

  Gris’s gaze was not one of mirth. “I doubt I’ll be enjoying myself.”

  “Don’t make me beg,” Lucius said, holding out a hand. “I need the coin.”

  Gris shook his head and stared at the dirt beneath his boots. Lucius was trained in taking care of himself, but Gris didn’t feel right about sending the man to the home of Belgad the Liar. Then again, he had gotten Lucius employment at the Asylum, and there weren’t many local places more dangerous.

  “Alright,” Gris said, taking Lucius’s hand and shaking it. “I’ll get you signed up for deputy duty that night, but I’ll make damn sure you’re assigned outside the mansion. It’ll be street duty for you, my friend.”

  “As long as it pays.”

  ***

  A healer had to find time for relaxation and enjoyment, especially a healer who hailed from Kobalos. Randall told himself that as he eased back in a cushioned chair in his office and opened a leather-bound codex.

  It had been a long day for Randall, applying herbal wraps to Trelvigor’s flesh and focusing his own magic upon healing the wizard. Stilp had dropped in while sporting a nose nearly broken and had sought curing for his ills, but Randall had sent him to another healer within the tower complex. There was only so much Randall could do, and his body and mind were taxed enough.

  Randall needed to forget his weariness and turned his attention back to his book. It wasn’t often he had an opportunity to relax.

  A knock sounded at the door to his office.

  The healer placed his reading material on the desk next to his chair and sighed. “Enter.”

  The door swung open to reveal Maslin Markwood.

  Randall was instantly out of his chair. “Maslin, come in,” he said, motioning the wizard to a seat.

  “Thank you, my boy.” Markwood took a chair across from where the healer had been sitting. “Please, sit. I know how tired you must be.”

  Randall consented by returning to his cushioned seat.

  The wizard shifted slightly into a more comfortable position, with a hand flattening out his robes over his knees. “I apologize for not coming sooner.”

  “What happened with your divinations?”

  “Someone, most likely Verkain, was attracted by my presence.” The wizard did not appear happy at his own words. “There was a brief struggle in the outside worlds, but I managed to escape. I do not believe I was traced here.”

  “You weren’t. Otherwise I would already be dead.”

  Markwood nodded in agreement. “Which is why I’ve been keeping an eye on you. I had to be sure my little adventure had not caused you any ill effects. Only after a couple of days did I feel enough time had passed to warrant meeting with you.”

  “Did you find anything in Kobalos?”

  “Nothing informative, other than your Lord Verkain is likely quite insane.”

  Randall’s gaze traveled to the floor. “I don’t claim him as my lord.”

  “I understand,” the wizard said, waving off his words. “On the matter of this Darkbow character, I found out even less. What little I did discover gave me the shudders. Like Verkain, he is likely not in his right mind.”

  Randall looked up, his face somewhat pained. “What did you see of Darkbow?”

  “Rage and death. I don’t believe it was directed at you. However, I felt nothing good about the man.”

  “I will be wary of him.”

  “As long as you work for Belgad, you will need to be.”

  “It’s worse than that,” Randall said, his face clearing, allowing a slight grin. “I’ve been invited to a party.”

  “A party? Who is throwing it?”

  “Belgad.”

  The look Markwood gave the healer was not a happy one. “I’ve warned you to stay away from that man.”

  “I haven’t made up my mind if I’m going, but I’m glad you’re here. I was thinking of asking you to come with me.”

  Markwood huffed and twisted in his seat as if exasperated. “Why in the name of Ashal would you want to go?”

  Randall had to think about that. Why did he want to go? Because he was tired of spending all his time cooped up in one room or another at the tower? Randall wasn’t sure. He had not taken Stilp’s invitation seriously at first, but over the last couple of days it had crossed his mind more than once. He was also curious to see if Kron Darkbow would make an appearance. Randall wanted to see the man, maybe to find out if Darkbow was Kobalan.

  The healer finally answered the old wizard. “I’m not sure.”

  “My advice is against it.” Markwood frowned. “However, if you do decide to go, then I will allow it only if I am along.”

  Randall smiled. “I was hoping you would say that.”

  ***

  “Swans?” Belgad watched three of the white birds preen themselves on his front lawn.

  “They are all the rage this year, my lord,” Lalo the Finder said from behind his employer. “All the ladies are having them shipped in from Port Harbor for their gardens.”

  Belgad turned a skeptical eye to his servant. “Do they have to shit on my lawn?”

  “They have to go somewhere, my lord, and you said you wanted this to be a lavish event.”

  Belgad glared back at the feathered beasts. “How much do they cost?”

  “A mere three silvers apiece, my lord.”

  Belgad continued watching the birds, his eyes more those of a displeased hunter than a wealthy business showing off for the masses. “For that kind of money we’re going to eat the damn things after the party.”

  Lalo the Finder gave a rare smile. Humor was not something that surrounded the life of Belgad the Liar. Thinking he would find nothing more humorous in his day, Lalo was surprised at the sight of Stilp approaching through the front gates of the mansion’s surrounding wall. Stilp walking toward them wasn’t funny in itself, but the two pieces of thin wood wrapped to the sides of his nose were more than Lalo could stand. Belgad’s employee laughed out loud.

  Belgad turned to see what the laughter was about.

  Stilp pointed a finger at the Finder. “You can stop the hilarity right now.”

  As the man with the busted nose approached approached, Belgad and Lalo could tell small balls of wool were stuffed beneath the sticks on Stilp’s face, and the skin around the man’s eyes was black.

  Lalo had to put a hand over his mouth to stop his chuckles.

  Belgad’s visage was little more pleased than it had been watching the swans. “What happened?”

  “Darkbow.” Stilp could barely meet his boss’s gaze.

  A glance from his employer turned Lalo’s demeanor serious.

  Belgad grumbled. “What did he want?”

  “To tell you he’s going to be at your party,” Stilp said. “Then he gave me this cracked nose and took nearly all my earnings for the month.”

  Lalo suddenly appeared amused. “He’s resorted to stealing.”

  Stilp gave the Finder a dark look. “He said it wasn’t cheap fighting a war.”

  “I suppose it’s not.” Belgad glanced from Lalo and back to Stilp. “Did he have anything else to say?”

  “He said to stay away from the Docks.”

  “He’s still concerned a
bout that,” Belgad said with a smile, showing a slight delight in being able to perturb his enemy, even if in only a minor way. “But I’ve no ill intentions on the dock workers. He’s behind this. Not them.”

  “I also suggested he come to work for you.”

  Lalo let out another chuckle.

  “What was his response?” Belgad asked with a look of curiosity.

  Stilp pointed to his nose. “This.”

  Laughter burst from between Lalo’s lips.

  Belgad let out a chuckle of his own.

  “What’s going to be done with this madman?” Stilp fumed, one of his toes tapping. “Beating me up is one thing, but now he’s interfering with business. I don’t know how I’m going to pay your stipend this month.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Belgad said, still smiling. “If you’re a few silver short, I can swallow the loss for a month. The big prize will be Darkbow, and we have plans for him.”

  Belgad turned and pointed a finger at the swans.

  Stilp appeared none the wiser. “Birds?”

  “The party.” Belgad rolled his eyes at the dimness of his employee. “I have a special guest coming just for Kron Darkbow.”

  Stilp brightened. “You got Fortisquo out of retirement?”

  Belgad looked at the man. He was surprised Stilp had been smart enough to figure it out on his own.

  “Yes,” the northerner said, “and he has a student with him nearly as skilled as himself. I’m positive they’ll make short work of Kron Darkbow.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The day of Belgad’s party began with a red sun rising over the rooftops of Bond. The city looked at peace. The morning crowds trudged to one job or another, while the throughways were filled with carts and wagons weighted with goods from the Docks. Boats of all sizes were untied from quays and shoved off into the depths of the two rivers running through Bond. Ribbons of smoke curled their way to the sky from morning breakfast ovens. The scent of baking bread layered the streets of the working class districts in Uptown and Southtown, while the stench of rotting vegetables and sewage permeated the air of the Swamps.

  Amid all this normalcy, three swans the color of clean wool waltzed around the circular driveway of crushed stones that trailed from the front gate of the walls surrounding Belgad’s mansion to the entrance of the main building the Dartague called home.

  Belgad stood with his fists on his hips at the top of the stairway in front of his mansion’s main entrance. “We’re going to eat those damn birds.”

  Lalo dared to smile. “Whatever you desire.”

  “That’s right,” Belgad said, turning to enter his home. “And it’s going to be that way tonight, too. Now let’s finish the last of the preparations.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Lalo slunk through the door behind his master.

  ***

  As they were in better condition than his road clothes, Lucius decided to wear his Asylum uniform but without the floppy hat. He also went without the cudgel he carried for his employment. A sword would be more appropriate for a social setting, though Lucius was mildly concerned his large hand-and-a-half weapon was currently out of style except on a battlefield. It would have to do, however, because he had neither the gold nor the time to purchase a fancy-hilted broadsword or rapier.

  Once bathed and dressed, Lucius made his usual morning stroll through the Rusty Scabbard, pausing long enough to enjoy a breakfast of oatmeal and biscuits. Outside, he made as direct a route as he could to the barracks of the city guard. Gris had told him to show at least by lunch. Lucius wasn’t expected on actual guard duty until the night, but there were logistics and placements to figure before the party began. Gris expected trouble from whomever was giving Belgad grief of late, and he wanted none of it to spill over into the city proper.

  Lucius grinned as he walked. He expected the night to be one to remember.

  It was a simple matter to find the sergeant at the barracks. Gris had Lucius assigned one of the guards’ orange tabards and cast a doubtful eye at the big sword Lucius wore.

  “You planning on hunting bear tonight?” the sergeant asked.

  Lucius shrugged. “Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it.”

  “Carry on.” With a lopsided grin, Gris turned away to deal with other guards hired for the party.

  By the afternoon, Lucius and eleven other men in orange tramped their way along Beggars Row to the wall that surrounded the grounds of Belgad’s mansion.

  One of the younger guards stared up at the high walls behind them. “Think they’ll invite us in?”

  Lucius watched the road ahead of them. “Doubtful.”

  Sergeant Gris soon handed out placements outside the wall. Lucius was stationed with another man to the right of the large iron gate that would open to the grounds once the party commenced.

  “You twelve are to watch the streets,” Gris said, pointing east along Beggars Row. “It’s doubtful there’ll be any real trouble, but you have to keep a check on the riffraff. Lord Belgad will have four of his personal guard on the inside of the gate, but if anyone uninvited tries to get through, you escort them away. If they give you trouble, a good clocking of the head and a night in jail should give them a new perspective come morning. Do not enter the walls of Lord Belgad’s home unless there is an emergency. There will be a score of men Lord Belgad has hired, so your services should not be needed inside.

  “Any questions?”

  “What time does our shift end?” The man was stationed with Lucius.

  “When the party is over. I don’t know when that will be, but probably late into the morning. Anything else?”

  Another man stepped forward. “Food? Privy breaks?”

  “Lord Belgad has been kind enough to supply meals that will be brought to you around midnight,” Gris said, “but I must emphasize none of you are to drink any liquor. Any man with the reek on his breath will forfeit his pay and spend a night in jail. Toilet breaks you can work out amongst yourselves. The Royal Bear is just down the Row, so you can make yourselves familiar with their utilities.”

  With that, Gris was on his way home to change out of his street uniform.

  Lucius turned his eyes to the mansion behind the black iron bars of the gate. There would be excitement tonight. He could feel it.

  ***

  At lunchtime, Fortisquo found himself wandering the main hall of Belgad’s fortress where servants bustled around setting up dozens of long tables and high chairs for the night’s festivities. Several dishes had already been placed in the center of one of the tables. Fortisquo nibbled on dried fruits and salted minnows. It would be a light meal, leaving him hungry, but that was good. The duelist did not want a heavy stomach.

  Fortisquo swallowed a slice of pear as he watched Stilp emerge from behind Belgad’s thronelike chair atop a dais.

  The tall sword master dressed in foppish silks watched with a smirk as the much shorter man in tatty leathers nearly tripped down the wooden stairs. “I wondered when you’d show.”

  Stilp caught himself from falling and gave a crooked smile of his own. “Looks like Belgad finally got you out of retirement.”

  “It does, indeed.” Fortisquo pointed at Stilp’s bandaged nose. “What happened to you?”

  “Kron Darkbow happened to me.”

  Fortisquo couldn’t hold back his laughter.

  “It’s not funny!” Stilp stamped a foot as if he were a child.

  Servants near them suddenly had other, more important tasks to see to elsewhere.

  Once his laughter had died, Fortisquo pulled a chair from a table and relaxed. “Tell me, is there anything you can add to what Belgad old me about this Darkbow? You’ve had two run-ins with him from what I’ve heard.”

  “He’s fast and strong, and he’s pretty big.”

  The sword master appeared inquisitive. “What kind of weapons does he carry?”

  “Big sword on his back, but I haven’t seen him draw it. He’s a dandy of a shot with
a bow. And he’s got this little ... I don’t know what you’d call it ... some kind of a miniature hook tied to a rope.”

  “A grappling hook small enough to carry.” Fortisquo nodded. “It’s probably attached to a silk line. I’ve seen it done before.”

  “He’s good with his fists, too.”

  “And also apparently likes fires.”

  “That, too,” Stilp said. “So what do you have planned for him?”

  “Nothing special. No fancy, complicated plans. Just a party to draw him out. Once he appears, I’ll deal with him in my own way.”

  Stilp didn’t look convinced. “You’ll have to catch him. He can disappear like a black cat on a cloudy night.”

  “No doubt he has talents, but I’m positive I can deal with him when the time comes.”

  “Especially if you have my help,” a female voice added.

  Both men turned to look toward the entrance. Standing just inside the door was Adara dressed in silky garb similar to Fortisquo’s and wearing a rapier on her left hip. A black whip had been added to her costume, riding on her right hip.

  Fortisquo frowned. “I thought I told you to find something more fitting to wear.”

  “And I told you I wasn’t wearing a dress if there was fighting to be done.” The woman appeared adamant about her decision.

  Fortisquo chuckled and motioned her to come forward. “Stilp, this is my fencing student and current favorite female, Adara Corvus.” The swordsman gave a slight bow to the woman and motioned toward Stilp. “Adara, this is an old associate of mine and Lord Belgad. He is called Stilp.”

  Adara took Stilp’s hand and shook it. “Just Stilp?”

  The smaller man blushed. “It was what my mother gave me. She didn’t know who my father was.”

  Fortisquo continued to chuckle.

  “My apologies if I have offended,” Adara said, taking her hand back.

  Stilp looked as if he had not wanted to let go of that hand. He had seen beautiful women in his time, but few had both looks and the strength of body Adara conveyed. Though she was not a large woman, Stilp could plainly see the muscles in her arms and legs.