Blood of the Underworld (30 page)

Once the crates were stored, Grayson gathered around his men and began divvying out smaller bags.

“One silver,” he told them. “Stay close, and stay together. Let them come to you. And I’ll drag back to Mordeina in a bag anyone I hear charging more and pocketing the top.”

The men began to scatter, each eager for their first step in taking over the streets of Veldaren.

“Pierce,” Grayson called out, stopping the man.

“Yeah?”

Grayson grinned at him.

“Go find someone in a guild, don’t care which, or how old they are. Just find someone, and then gut them. I want to send a message that we aren’t to be messed with, understood? So make it brutal.”

Pierce’s grin was ear to ear.

“That I can do,” he said, twirling a dagger in his hand.

“Good. Go get to work.”

As the rest scattered in groups, only Boggs and Tracy remained behind.

“Not many places to stash three wagons,” Boggs said, climbing up into the first.

“We aren’t leaving for a while,” Grayson said, glancing up and down the street. “Should be an inn nearby desperate enough for coin to let us hole up all three for a few months. At worst, we can sell them at market.”

“Come on, lovely sister,” Boggs said as Tracy climbed up to join him. “Let us find some clean, comfortable beds for our companions.”

Tracy snickered.

“So not too much lice in them, then?”

Before they could move out, the back two wheels of the wagon exploded, and with a loud bang the wood hit the ground. The oxen jostled, startled, but Boggs kept them calm.

“The fuck?” Boggs asked, looking back. Tracy hopped down to take a look, but Grayson could already tell what had happened. Smoke rose from a magical fire that burned out into nothing. Grayson drew his swords as a man in a gray cloth mask approached from down the street. Ash swirled about his face, hiding his dark features. Grayson recognized him from the failed attack on Alyssa’s mansion. He gripped his swords tighter.

“Grayson...” Tracy said, also seeing him, but Grayson raised a hand, gesturing for her to remain calm.

“Well, now,” Grayson said, approaching the intruder in a way that got him nearer to the first wagon, and therefore cover. “This is a surprise.”

“Perhaps,” said Deathmask. “But your arrival isn’t. I’ve been expecting one of the guilds from Mordan to arrive for years. Honestly, your delay proved irritating.”

Grayson let out a laugh.

“No more than your interference. What is it you want? If you’re here to protect your territory, you might as well give up now. Our money, leaf, and coin are pouring in from Mordeina like a flood. You won’t stop us.”

“I don’t mean to stop you,” Deathmask said, crossing his arms. “Other than your wagon, of course. I did mean to stop that. As for your Suns spreading across Veldaren, they’ll encounter resistance soon enough, though not from me. The guilds won’t go down quietly, not unless things change. Not unless you have my help.”

“I can’t decide if you underestimate us, or overestimate your own worth,” Grayson said. “Speak plainly, wizard.”

“I am no wizard,” Deathmask said, and he was surprised to see the anger glowing in those mismatched eyes. “And my offer is plain enough, even for you. Let me help your guild take over the city, every single brick and stone. In return, you split your profits with me.”

“How much?” Grayson asked, honestly intrigued.

“What else would a split be? Half.”

His intrigue died amid his laughter.

“Do you think I need you so badly that I’d sacrifice a fortune for a victory I will already achieve? Show some intelligence.”

The ash swirling around Deathmask’s face slowed, grew thicker.

“I am no fool, Grayson. The guilds are crumbling, dying to both you and Victor. I can help you finish them off, show you where to shove your sword. What I ask for isn’t much, not when you consider that every coin you take from Veldaren is a coin you didn’t have the day before. But do not think your takeover of these streets is inevitable. Not when Thren still stalks the city. Not while I’m still alive.”

“Well,” Grayson said. “I guess we should take care of that, shouldn’t we?”

Fire was already surrounding Deathmask’s hands before Grayson rolled to the side, using the wagon as cover. The expected attack from the wizard came, a burst of fire that consumed where he’d stood. It was slow, though, and more flash than heat. He was being played with, Grayson realized, as he leaned his back against the wagon.

“Doesn’t have to go like this,” Deathmask said, his voice drawing nearer. “We could be partners, and work together.”

“Bullshit!” Grayson shouted, his mind elsewhere. Tracy had rolled from the wagon to the door of the shop, hidden from Deathmask’s view. Boggs crouched just above Grayson within the broken wagon. Grayson held up three fingers to Tracy, counting them down. At one, they leapt out, but Deathmask was no longer alone. Men—twins, by the looks of it—stood before him, each holding a pair of daggers. Grayson slid, and he swung his arm in the way to knock Tracy down, as well. Four daggers sailed above them, hitting nothing.

“Back,” Grayson said as he turned and ran, sheathing a sword so he could grab Tracy by the arm. No spells gave chase like he thought. Instead, with a few words from Deathmask, his wagons caught fire one by one, burning as if doused with barrels of lantern fuel. Tracy let out a cry for her brother, but amid the smoke, Grayson could not tell if he escaped safely or not.

They ran for the door, but instead of finding safety in the shop, a woman with a wicked scar across her right eye met them there, bearing the colors of the Ash Guild. She held a dagger in her hand, and it glowed with purple fire.

“This is hardly the way to leave a negotiation,” she said.

“Nor the way Veldaren will fall,” Deathmask said, calmly walking toward them, the ash circling his head faster and faster, his smile hidden behind cloth yet clearly visible in his eyes. “The four of us have held our territory for years against all challengers, yet you would think to brush us aside like children?”

Boggs fell from the back of the nearest wagon, coughing and hacking. Tracy tensed, and Grayson could tell she wanted to go to him. His hands and face were black from the ash, but his burns didn’t seem too severe. Far more worrisome were the twins, who hurried to his location.

“Still breathing,” said the first.

“Just barely,” said the second.

Deathmask stepped closer and closer. Grayson could almost reach him with a lunge, but he looked unafraid, as if he actually believed he was the dread ghoul he appeared to be. The scarred woman seemed far more tense, and she kept her dagger at the ready.

“Don’t you dare lay a finger on him,” Grayson said to the twins.

“Or what?” they asked in unison.

In answer, Grayson flung himself at the woman, catching her across the face with his fist. As she fell back he tried to stab, but she was faster than he expected. Instead of fleeing further, she dove to the ground, narrowly avoiding the downward thrust that would have skewered her. Continuing on, she joined the twins, who stepped before her protectively. The woman fumed, but Deathmask only chuckled.

“How is the burned friend of theirs?” he asked as Grayson and Tracy stood there, still tense. They might flee into the shop, but that way was a dead end. If they wanted to escape, it had to be through the streets. Grayson had fought spellcasters before, and he knew he’d be pressing his luck trying to avoid their attacks in open streets for any length of time.

“He looks like he’s seen better days,” the woman said, lifting Boggs up with both hands, her dagger pressed against his chest. Boggs let out a gasp at her touch.

“A shame,” said Deathmask. “Veliana, if you’d so kindly put him out of his misery.”

The woman was only too happy to oblige. Before Grayson could think of what to do, Veliana pulled her dagger back, spun it, and jammed it through Boggs’s throat. Tracy let out a choked cry, part horror, part fury. Veliana dumped the body to the street, retrieved her dagger, and then burned away the blood with more purple fire. The twins shifted wider, just outside sword reach, blocking off the other side of the street. Only the shop remained, and for some reason, Grayson felt like he was being herded inside.

Glancing behind him, he realized much of his merchandise was still within in the shop. If he were trapped inside, and the Ash Guild summoned the city guard, then they’d be out their lives, and their coin. Worse, their guild’s intentions would be revealed to the King’s men. When word reached Mordeina, none of it would be of the Ash Guild’s involvement, either, the blame pinned on the city guard instead. Deathmask didn’t want to just kill him. He wanted to humiliate him, and make life far more difficult for the rest of the Sun Guild.

“All that smoke will be attracting attention soon,” Deathmask said, confirming Grayson’s fears.

“You bastard,” Tracy said, tears in her eyes. “I’ll kill you, I promise it.”

“Shouldn’t make promises you won’t keep,” Veliana said.

“Last chance,” Deathmask said. “Partners, or the executioner’s axe. Your choice.”

“Tracy,” Grayson said as movement across the rooftops caught his eye. “You do exactly as I say, you understand?”

She nodded. Lowering his swords, Grayson stood to his full height, delaying as long as possible. He had to time it just right, just when the attack hit...

“I guess I have little choice,” he said. “But I’m thinking I’d much rather have you dead.”

Spinning about, he leapt into door of the shop, smashing it open with his shoulder. Tracy followed without hesitation. Barging in, they flung themselves to the side, avoiding another barrage of daggers. Grayson rolled onto his back, swords up to fend off an attack that didn’t come.

Explosions of fire rocked the street, and they weren’t from Deathmask. Shrapnel from the wagons clacked against the side of the shop, and a long plank shattered a window. Tracy crouched low to the floor, stunned by the sudden barrage of combat.

“We should go help kill…”

“No,” Grayson said. “Either they’ll live or they’ll die. I’m not foolish enough to step in the middle.”

The ringing of steel on steel intensified. From the window, Grayson heard a roar of wind, and then what sounded like a battering ram slamming into a castle gate.

“Who’s out there?” Tracy asked, stunned.

In answer, Grayson only shook his head.

In less than a minute, the combat was over. Holding his swords at the ready, Grayson made his way to the door and stepped out to survey the wreckage. Their wagons were ruined, each one exploded into pieces. Three of the nearby buildings burned, and a fourth had a gaping hole in its front, from what, he could only guess. There were no other bodies on the ground besides Boggs. Tracy rushed over to her brother, cradling his head in her hands. Tears flowed down her face, but only for a moment.

“What happened here?” she asked as she calmly removed the rings from his ear.

“Saw their coat for just an instant, but the damage is enough to answer,” Grayson said, putting away his swords. “Still think it was a mistake to hire them, but at least they saved our ass instead of getting in the way.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Bloodcrafts,” Grayson said. “If the Ash Guild lives through this, it’ll be a miracle.”

Tracy paled at the name.

“We need to check on the rest,” she said. “The Ash Guild might not have been the only one to...”

“No,” Grayson said, offering her his hand. “We need to move, now. The city guard will be here any second, and we can’t risk them finding our cache. We must take whatever we can carry, and then hide.”

Tracy nodded, pocketed the last of Boggs’s earrings. She kissed his burned forehead and then whispered into his ear.

“I’m sorry.”

She took Grayson’s hand and stood. Inside the shop, they gathered every bag they could carry, and as the first of many arrived to investigate the destruction, the two ducked into the nearest alley and lost themselves in the darker parts of the city.

22

Z
usa was in her room when Alyssa found her.

“What are you doing?” Alyssa asked. Zusa ignored her, instead continuing to put on her wrappings inch by inch. Lifting one arm, she began circling them across her breast, around her sides, and then back again. Loop after loop after loop....

Alyssa grabbed her hands, forcing her to stop.

“Look at me,” she said. “Zusa...”

“I have to go,” Zusa said, gently taking Alyssa’s hands in hers, then pulling herself free so she might continue to dress.

“Go? Go where? I need you here. You know that. Whoever it is...this Widow...he followed us here. He’s
here.
And you’re to leave me?”

Zusa turned her back to Alyssa, not wanting to see the worry in her eyes. It was dark now, but in the waning hours of daylight they’d found another body, this one dumped against the walls of the Connington estate, a crossbow bolt still stuck in her chest. It had been one of the servants left behind to care for Alyssa’s mansion while it was repaired. Her eyes had been removed, coins replacing them. The rhyme had mocked Alyssa directly yet again.