Dark Legion (36 page)

 

We were led to a sitting room, and its five occupants stood as we entered. Hobart left his wife's side, walking over to clasp our hands and kiss Neysa's.

“Welcome, welcome,” Hobart said. “I am so pleased you came by. You remember my wife, Mariana. And these are my sons, Albert and Joseph,” he said, pointing to his left and right, respectively. “And last but most certainly not least, my father, Emmitt.”

Emmitt bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment. “Welcome, honored guests. Hobart speaks highly of you and complains much of your achievements.” Hobart stared at the old man. “Oh, don't mind him. He's just bitter that you achieved in less than a year what he could not in ten.”

 

Some polite small talk followed, the conversation lubricated with tea and biscuits. I did not much care for tea, but it felt rude to ask for coffee. We soon moved on to dinner at an overly long table. Hobart's sons were sent away, looking relieved to be away from the boring old people.

Servants came in with a constant barrage of smaller courses. I ate a lot and became concerned that my appetite would be long dead by the time the main course arrived. Each course required its own cutlery, and the space beside my plate still had quite a number displayed like weapons of war, ready for battle. It would be a battle, alright, and I doubted I would emerge victorious from that many more courses. Belatedly I realized that the others were not finishing each course served. Well, Marcus did, but that man's stomach would never be satisfied.

The food was nice, but the company tedious. I felt sorry for Hobart, as Emmitt rubbed our success in his face at every opportunity. It was an awkward affair, so to steer the conversation away from how awesome we were, I inquired about Emmitt's business.

“Glass windows, my friend, the likes of which you have never seen. Open those shutters,” he commanded of a servant. The shutters were opened, but I failed to see what the man was on about. “What do you think?” Emmitt asked.

“I'm not sure what I am looking at,” Marcus said.

“Exactly! Come, take a closer look.”

Marcus, Neysa and I walked to the window. When I stood it became apparent that my legs were not as solid as they had been. They appeared to be full of wine. When we approached the window, I saw my reflection but little else.

“Unbelievable,” Marcus said, thumping on the glass. “It's so clear…”

“Please… do be careful,” Emmitt said. “It is like to shatter. But your delight in my product warms my heart.”

I marveled at the glass. The things you could do with something like that… Neysa tapped my elbow and pulled me back to the table. The others were already sitting down. We did the same, and I placed the large white napkin back on my lap.

“Would I be able to purchase some glass panes on short notice?” I asked.

“Usually, no,” Emmitt said. “But for you, I can make an exception. Leave me the dimensions, and I can have it ready in two or three days' time. Will that suffice?”

“It will,” I said. “Thank you.”

Pleasant conversation followed, for a short while at least, but Emmitt found his way back to praising us. The others at the table looked as awkward as I felt. “Truly, it is a fine job you gentlemen did,” Emmitt said. “Not only did you brew a fine ale, but you managed to get it distributed throughout the Empire. And beyond too, if my business contacts are to be trusted, which they most certainly are not. How do you keep up with demand? Our modest business is currently experiencing difficulties in this area.”

“Easy,” Marcus said. “We bought most of the other breweries in Sagemont, as well as another in Qash.”

Emmitt shook his head. “Such a simple solution, and yet… I hate to admit that it has eluded me. Not only do you increase supply, but you crush the competition at the same time. I like it. I propose a toast,” Emmitt said, raising his glass. “To the Bleeding Wolf.”

We raised our glasses, though not with much enthusiasm. It was not the first time that night that Emmitt had toasted our business. The man respected the brewery far more than he did us—that was for sure.

Marcus stood, and raised his own glass. “As you all know, we will be attending the Harvest Festival at the palace. We would be blessed if Hobart and Mariana would grace us with their presence on the evening. Without Hobart's fine training, we would not be where we are today. To Hobart!”

Marcus's toast was heartily received by all but Emmitt. Hobart looked at his wife for a long moment, and I was sure there was a moistness to the man's eyes. They hugged each other, rocking back and forth a few times before releasing each other. They both beamed. A part of me regretted it. I wondered how they would feel about this when they woke up on the floor, with the purveyors of fine ale having robbed their emperor. I hoped they would not be implicated, being our guests, but I doubted they would be. Not lying on the floor like the rest of the nobles. I was quite sure it would put a dent in Emmitt's high esteem of us.

But this was a night for celebrating, for eating and drinking. As the night wore on, the number of empty wine bottles at the center of the table increased, and I felt the ground below me become less sturdy by the glass. For a man with a brewery, several really, I rarely got drunk. But it seemed the night for it.

 

On our way back to the Eagle's Perch, three sheets to the wind, we took twice as many steps as would have been necessary if we'd followed a straight line. The steps to our suites were particularly troublesome. When we finally reached the top, I said my goodnights, went to my room, and collapsed on the bed. The room was just starting to spin around me when I heard a knock at the door. With a groan, I got to my feet, waddled back through the suite, and opened the door.

Before I knew what hit me, Neysa wrapped her arms around my neck, went on her toes, and kissed me full on the mouth. She withdrew for a moment, smiling at me. I realized I was smiling too. I opened my mouth to speak and found she was back, biting my lip, then kissing me again. I returned it. Hells, I half thought I was dreaming. She stopped and leaned back, hands still locked behind my neck.

“Aren't you going to invite me in?” Neysa asked.

I smiled, nodded, and took a step back into the suite. Neysa did not let go of me but kicked the door shut once inside. We made our way to my room, embracing, stumbling, kissing, and tripping over each other. Once in the room, she put her hand to my chest, shoved me onto the bed, and followed me down. Her long hair tickled my face, glowing in the moonlight. Her elbows rested on either side of my face as she looked down at me. Gods, she was beautiful. She leaned down and kissed me gently, tasting of wine and something else, perhaps it was just her. The gentle kisses turned to more breathy ones, accompanied by awkward fumbling and touching.

After a while of this, clothes became too much of a barrier. Neysa pushed herself up, got to her feet, and smiled. She hummed, and slowly started swaying, rocking her hips. I had no idea what she was doing—it wasn't her usual magic—and I would have rather she came back to bed, but I could not take my eyes off her. Perhaps she used a different sort of magic, as the movement was quite hypnotic. The dance became much more interesting when clasps and straps started being undone. Then, like water, her dress slipped from her, cascading onto the floor. She gestured at her body, and the dance continued on.

“Do you approve of my purchase at the market yesterday?” Neysa asked.

I nodded, a goofy grin on my face. She wore undergarments that showed more than they hid. They were a very long way from being functional in the traditional manner. It seemed their only real purpose was to draw the eye, and that they did very well indeed. It was with great effort that I peeled my eyes back to her face and gestured for her to come back to bed. I had sobered up a lot since earlier in the evening, which pleased me. I wanted to remember this moment clearly.

The undergarments, as enticing as they were, soon decorated the floor. Our lovemaking was awkward, but passionate, hungry, and… did not last overly long. The second round was a lot more measured, and twice as good.

 

The next morning I woke with a start. There was a loud thumping on the door. Neysa's arm lay draped across my chest, so I gently lifted it off and got out of bed. I couldn't help but smile. Light was streaming through the window, and at a guess it was an hour past dawn. I had no memory of ever sleeping that late. I pulled on some pants and made my way to the door as the knocking grew increasingly insistent. I yanked it open and saw Marcus standing there, his hand still raised to knock. Marcus barged into the room.

“Trouble,” Marcus said. “Neysa is gone…”

“No, she's not, calm down.”

“I just went to her room to get her for breakfast, Saul—she's not there. I think something happened to her last night.”

Neysa came walking into the room wrapped in a sheet. “What in the hells is going on in here! There better be a good explanation. Marcus, who has died?”

Marcus was wide-eyed, with a huge grin on his face. “No one, it seems…”

“Then get the fuck out of here, man! We have unfinished business…”

Marcus's smile did not wane, but he bowed, walked backwards out of the door, and winked. Neysa took me by the hand and led me back to the room.

“Got some stamina left in you?” she asked.

“I think I can find some to spare.”

 

The day passed quickly, and we found Marcus gone by the time our business in the bedroom was finished. I passed the dimensions of the glass panes to Hobart, and made sure that it was understood that I needed them as thick as possible. We also stopped by a butcher and ordered a whole pig to be picked up in three days' time.

The people of Morwynne were busy, and preparations for the Harvest Festival were well underway. The residents were bubbling with a nervous energy. Food vendors were practically overrun with customers, and I saw a group of young ladies holding pieces of clothing up, admiring each other's purchases. It was busy, but I thought it less showy than what had been happening in Sagemont when we left. Perhaps there was little that decorations could add to the splendor of Morwynne.

Marcus did not return for dinner that evening, but I was not concerned. Marcus could look after himself. I suspected the man was giving us some privacy and had gone looking for someone to share his own bed. Or, more likely, paid someone for the privilege of sharing theirs. The man had no shame, and I was glad to be away from him for a while.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Troubled Waters

 

With Harvest Festival the following day, my nerves were a mess. The days preceding it, too, were about as relaxing as awaiting one's turn at the dentist. Marcus occupied himself by sowing his seed far and wide. He did not say as much, but his shit-eating grin spoke volumes. If he was sowing a field, my own efforts were limited to a potted plant, though that was perhaps a crude analogy.

Even when not tangled in sheets, Neysa and I spent most of our time in each other's company. Our conversations were pleasant, but they rang false after a while. False, because none of it spanned past the next two days, as neither of us were willing to commit words to an unknown future. It was clear that Neysa wished to continue her studies with Malakai. And my plans—well, I guess you could say they were ambitious. It was hard to see how our two paths could intersect, never mind align, and both of our futures depended rather heavily on having survived our planned heist. So we talked of simple, mundane things.

Late in the afternoon, we were talking some such nonsense when a small bell chimed in my room. Not having heard the damn thing before, I took some time to decide on its meaning. It kept ringing, and I was of the mind to cut it free. Eventually, I gave up and went down to the foyer to ask the old man what it was about, but when I arrived at the foot of the stairs, its meaning was clear enough. A boy stood waiting with my glass panes on a hand cart, waving a piece of paper at me like a flag of peace. I was relieved to see him. It was late in the day, and I feared the glass would come too late.

“Sign this, please,” the boy said, offering the piece of paper and a charcoal pencil. As soon as I did, he snatched it from my hands and was out the door. I arranged for the glass to be stored in the small room behind the desk until later, then climbed the stairs back to my room.

“I need to set some things in motion for tomorrow night,” I said. “Mind spending the evening without me?”

“Oh, how will I cope without you? I want you—no, I need you!” Neysa said, and stuck her tongue out at me. “It's fine, you do what you have to do.”

 

I grabbed my satchel and set off to the butcher to pick up the pig I'd ordered three days past. Along the way, I stopped at three different food stalls, eating as I walked. My appetite had returned, even though I'd consumed a generous number of poisons with breakfast, any of which would have been lethal to someone not subjected to them regularly. I was pleased with how quickly my body had readjusted.

The streets had far fewer people than I had come to expect. One of the food vendors informed me that most of the residents preferred to have a day of rest before the big event the following day. They called it “home day,” which I supposed was accurate enough, if lacking imagination.