The Colour of Vengeance (30 page)

“The other members of the H’ost family?” Pern asked. “The true blooded members? I thought you killed them all.”

Swift nodded. “Aye. Seems most folk reckon I did fer ‘em an’ I’m sure as all the hells not about ta deny it. Way I see it all the H’ost’s had this potential so Kessick took ‘em, used ‘em fer whatever the fuck it is he’s doin’.”

“But not you.”

“More useful ta him alive. By the time he found me I was already on the council an’ in a prime position ta be findin’ him more folk with potential. Gave me some money, quite a bit of money actually, an’ three of those stones and told me ta find more folk that make it glow.”

“It’s beautiful,” Leese said, staring at the glowing stone with wide eyes.

Swift laughed and flipped the stone to her. “Show a woman somethin’ pretty an’…” He paused when he saw the reaction. Leese caught the stone in her right hand and it was glowing with a fierce inner light, a warm green colour with hints of white light showing through the cracks from within the stone.

Everybody in the room fell silent, everybody except Leese. “It’s so beautiful. An’ warm, almost hot ta the touch.”

“Huh,” Swift grunted. “Grab her.”

The guards moved first, used to following orders without hesitation. Leese was slow to understand the implications of the glowing stone, only realising as one of the guards took her sword and another twisted her arms behind her back. The glowing gem dropped to the wooden floor and dimmed again.

“Put her with the others,” Swift ordered. “Looks like Kessick might get all the people he needs after all.”

“No!” Leese shrieked. “You can’t. Swift. Swift don’t do this. Please!”

The guards were dragging her from Swift’s office and he was doing a good job of ignoring her protests. She struggled and kicked and even attempted to bite her way free but Swift had picked his guards well, they were big and strong and well armoured.

“Please, Swift, don’t give me ta…”

The heavy wooden door slammed shut and Pern didn’t hear the last of Leese’s begging. For his own part Swift did not seem to care at all that he had just given away one of his most experienced captains. Pern decided he was glad the stone did not glow at his own touch.

Swift was calm as he crossed the room to where the stone had fallen, scooped it off the floor and regarded its faint glow yet again. He snorted, fished in his pocket for a small bronze cage, slipped the gem stone inside and then shut the door on the cage and tossed it to Pern.

“Keep hold o’ that. Never know when it might be useful. Might help ya save my life one day.”

Pern plucked the caged gem from the air and regarded it again. In his hands it was nothing but a dull jade gem stone. The cage had a small chain attached which he fastened to his belt. When he looked up again Swift was busy pouring himself a drink. Of late Pern’s client had started drinking wine; he preferred the deep red type with vintages he assured Pern were rare and costly though he also claimed he couldn’t tell the difference between the cheap or the expensive stuff. As always Swift offered Pern a glass but the Haarin refused, the only time it would pass his lips was when he tasted each bottle as it was opened to ensure it wasn’t poisoned. He didn’t enjoy the taste anyway, all wine tasted like poison.

Swift perched himself on the edge of his desk then took a large gulp of wine, winced at the taste and proceeded to rub his temples. Pern stood by watching every corner of the room, waiting in case any danger should present.

“How many is that now?” Swift asked his Haarin.

Pern picked up the ledger with a list of names on it. Swift never looked at the ledger himself, to do so might expose his illiteracy. Pern scanned the list and then, picking up a nearby quill, added
Leese
to the bottom. It was unfortunate, he had actually quite liked the woman, she was bold and confident with a fun sense of humour that, though often went over Pern’s head, occasionally made him laugh. He would miss her, of that he was sure, but there was nothing he could do about it. He was Haarin; it was not his place to argue with his client’s decisions.

“Fifteen in the current shipment,” he hated referring to people as merchandise but Swift hated referring to them as people.

“How many in total?” Swift asked.

“Eighty-eight.”

Swift nodded. “A small army, I reckon.”

Pern frowned then shook his head. “Eighty-eight people is not enough for an army.”

“Not so sure they’re still people once that fuck gets his hands on ‘em.”

Before Pern could ask what Swift meant there was a loud rapping on the door. With a nod from his client Pern approached and pulled the door open. One of Swift’s mercenaries stood on the other side holding a small wooden box no more than a foot in height and width. There was a white envelope attached to the top of the box and the mercenary holding it had his nose wrinkled in distaste.

Taking the box Pern immediately noticed the smell. He knew the odour well enough by now. Rotting flesh was quite distinctive. He carried it to Swift’s desk and his client glanced at it.

“Another head, I reckon. I should keep them; I’d have a fair sized collection by now. What does the letter say?”

Pern tore the envelope from the top of the box and opened it. Inside there was a note and a small iron key.

“Box is locked,” Swift said poking at it.

Pern picked the key from the envelope and held it; he would not allow his client to open the box just in case there was something dangerous inside. Then he read the note aloud:

To my darling Swift,

I can no longer go on

Your war with the wonderful, handsome, dashing Captain Drake Morrass has brought me to this

Please, please, please don’t cause him any more trouble

I would so hate for any ill harm to befall anyone else

“Uh…” Swift started. “Reckon we should open it up an’ see who’s inside.”

Pern took the key in hand and inserted it into the small lock then opened the lid of the box and looked inside. He saw a head, old and rotting and nothing else besides. Slowly he turned the box round to face Swift.

For a long time Swift stared into the box saying nothing. As if his silence wasn’t ominous enough Pern could see his client’s aura changing before his eyes. Red was the colour of anger and Swift’s aura turned a bright, fiery crimson.

With a wordless scream of fury Swift plucked his glass of wine from the table and hurled it at the far wall. The glass shattered, leaving the red liquid inside to drip down to the floor. Pern took a step backwards as his client’s rage continued. Swift picked up his chair and slammed it down upon his desk three times. The box bounced each time and finally tipped over the side and spilled the rotting head onto the floor.

Swift stood, panting from the exertion, the remnants of the chair dangling forgotten from his hands.

The door to his office burst open and three of Swift’s most trusted guards rushed inside, weapons drawn and ready for violence. Pern held up a hand to stop them but his client turned angry eyes on the trio.

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” he screamed and the guards, knowing better than to disobey their master, immediately began back away. “Find me that bastard, Drake Morrass. Find him an’ bring him here alive!”

The guards nodded their obedience and fled from the room. It was a pointless order; they had been searching for the pirate captain for months to no avail. No sooner had someone seen him on the streets of Sarth he disappeared without a trace.

Pern looked down at the head now lying on the floor. It was a woman, of that he was sure, she had black hair with more than a few silver strands but most of that was patchy and matted with dried blood now. The eyes were gone and the streaks of blood running from the empty sockets suggested it had been done before the woman had been killed. A painful way to die, Pern thought.

Looking back at his client Pern noticed the change in Swift’s aura once again. The anger was still there but it was mixing with something else. Pern wouldn’t have thought it was possible but his client looked to be grieving.

“Who was she?” Pern asked, ignoring the hostile glare Swift sent his way.

“My ma’,” Swift said his voice thick as if he was choking back tears. “Tanda. Owned a whore house in Bittersprings. I’m gonna kill that bastard.

“Weren’t easy fer her, havin’ a little shit like me runnin’ ‘bout her heels while she was tryin’ ta earn her livin’ but she managed it.” Swift stared down at the head of his mother. “Taught me everythin’ I know. How ta speak, how ta act, how ta fight. Think I’m good with a knife? She was better. I saw her skewer a fly at a hundred paces with jus’ the one throw. Only woman worth a damn I ever met.”

Pern picked up the head by its hair and placed it back in the wooden box then closed the lid. Somehow he doubted his client would ever touch the thing.

“You got a ma’, Suzku?” Swift asked.

“I am Haarin.”

Swift sighed and shook his head. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Pern paused, unsure of how much to divulge. “We have mothers. All men have mothers. We do not know them. Those destined to be Haarin are separated from their parents before they can form… attachments or bonds. For Haarin there is service to the clan and service to the client. There is nothing else.”

“Right,” Swift said. “You care ‘bout the clan an’ the client an’ nothin’ else. So what happens if someone sent you my head in a box?”

“I would be required to take my own life,” Pern answered immediately.

“Eh?”

“That is the contract we enter into once the clan has taken payment. Our code is very strict on the matter. If a Haarin fails to protect his client in life he must take his own life and protect the client in death for eternity. It is rare that such action is required. It is much more likely that the Haarin will give his life protecting the client and then their soul is free to return to the clan and be born again into the next generation of Haarin.”

Swift sucked at his teeth and then spat. “You people got some fuckin’ weird ideas. Where I come from we know our ma’s an’ if some bastard kills ‘em… We fuckin’ kill that bastard right back. Revenge yeah.”

Pern looked at his client again. The mindless fury might be gone but the anger and hatred remained. Swift’s aura boiled a deep red. The colour of blood.

“You trust ‘em?” Bones asked.

Betrim shrugged. He was leaning against the railing, staring out into the opening of Rainbow Bay and watching the port of Chade grow larger by the minute. Last time he’d been here he had sailed out to Sarth with Arbiter Thanquil Darkheart and Jezzet Vel’urn. Both the others were dead now, killed because of his failure, because he had been too damned drunk to finish off Kessick when he had the chance. Some mistakes needed amends.

“Dunno,” Betrim said to the giant. It was good to have Bones back; the big man had always been a friend. He was near as gentle as breeze when he wasn’t killing folk. “Known Heavy-Hand fer a long time, man’s got a code of honour or somethin’, don’t reckon betraying folk comes into it.”

“What ‘bout the little one?”

“His brother,” Betrim spat over the side of the ship. “Six-Cities’ has got a reputation an’ no mistake but he follows Heavy-Hand an’ is a good man ta have in a situation. Reckon we might have one or two o’ those ahead. What about Beth?”

Bones laughed and, despite himself, Betrim joined in. “Well it’s fair ta say she ain’t never gonna like ya, Thorn. Don’t reckon ya got anyone but yaself ta blame fer that.”

Betrim glanced at the giant next to him. “Seem ta remember you had as much ta do with it as me.”

“Aye but I can get away with it seein’ as how I married her,” Bones replied with a grin. “She’ll be good, stick with me ‘til the end. What ‘bout ya little blooded friend?”

“He’s an odd one but he’s loyal. Proven that…”

“He’s a Brekovich,” Bones interrupted.

“Can’t choose ya family an’ I was there; they certainly didn’t choose him. Tried ta have him killed an’ me an’ Henry along with him.”

Bones grunted. “Got a plan?”

“Find Swift. Stab him ‘til he’s dead.”

The giant laughed. “Aye. Reckon it’s a start. Might need some work though. Seem ta remember Swift bein’ a tricky little bastard. Last thing ya want is him gettin’ his hands on a bow… or a knife. Might be best ta do him in his sleep an’ ya know who was always best at that sort o’ work…”

“Swift,” Betrim finished for the giant with a snort and a shake of his head. “’Sides, reckon Henry wants ta do him while he’s awake. Watch him die. I’ve got a mind ta let her given...” Betrim trailed off.

“Tortured the name out o’ her an’ left her fer dead,” Bones said. “Nothin’ else?”

Betrim didn’t tell Bones the whole truth. Wasn’t his place to tell. He said nothing and stared out at the port. Seemed there were a lot less boats than he remembered. Fact was Betrim had spent a good deal of his life in and around Chade and the port had always been the busiest part of the city, bristling with masts, full to bursting with ships and noisy with people and business. He couldn’t quite see the port clearly at this distance, nor hear it but he was certain of one thing; something was amiss.

Now he gave it a closer look he could see something else as well, black smoke rising from the city in plumes, a dark smudge against the sapphire blue sky. Even as Betrim watched one of the ships in port went up, bright orange fire spreading quickly across the deck and eating its way up the mast. The sails went up in a blaze. It looked a pretty sight from their distance.

“Cap’n,” shouted the sailor up at the top of the mast, Betrim seemed to remember it was called the nest. “Som’in’s up. Dock side.”

The captain, a grizzled man with more grey hair on his chin than on his head limped up to the front of the ship and stood next to Betrim. He pulled a small cylindrical device from his belt and held it up to his right eye. Betrim glanced at Bones who shrugged back.

Betrim reckoned he should have a word. “Uh, Captain…”

“Quiet!” the captain snapped without lowering the device. “Ain’t got time to be dealing with you damnable land monkeys.”