Thick as Thieves (7 page)

“Ha! A
cloak of shadows
? Do you know how much magic such a thing requires? Or what skill is needed to weave one?”

He knew. After fleeing Gurgh, he had resolved to arm himself with every native gift at his command. His Gran had taught him spellcraft. He wasn’t good, exactly—with knowledge that was sketchy in spots and skills so rusty he doubted them himself—but he was no longer the inept street boy Ibeena remembered.

Ibeena clicked her nails on the arm of her chair. “If you had any skill at all, and ate a few mice, you could work a glamour upon yourself.”

“Can you get me a damn cloak of shadows, or do I have to go elsewhere?”

She leaned forward, bony elbows on wool-clothed knees. “Where else would you go? Too few of our kind, and we hide too well. You know I can provide what you need. You know, too, I will not simply give it to you. You know I will ask a price.”

“A thing of great value—”

“For a thing of great value. Yes.”

Madd nodded. He knew the terms. He felt Vorgell beside him, a tense, silent giant. “What do you want?”

Ibeena smiled. It was not a pleasant expression. “I will give the cloak to you upon two conditions. First, you give me all the gold in your purse. I have divined its weight, and it will serve. Second, once you have released the spell and the instrument is back inside the egg, you will bring it to me.”

“You want the fucking
basilisk
?”

“The skin repels spiders and serpents and the venom is most useful.” She shrugged. “If you fail in the attempt and either die or end up again in Flemgu’s bed, you will have suffered enough, and I will not penalize you. If you free yourself, however, and keep the egg for yourself, or sell it, I will curse you.”

Muttering under his breath, Madd dug into his tunic for the purse. He froze as Vorgell leaned forward and spoke up with a rumbling threat.

“Damn you, witch! We don’t need your shadows.”

“Vorgell, not now!”

“Madd, she takes our gold and issues insults—”

“I said I’d handle it!”

As much as he admired Vorgell’s readiness to take on the crazy old witch, Madd’s patience was already stretched thin. Vorgell stared at him in disbelief.

“Your plan rots,” the barbarian said. “Half that gold is mine!”

“And do you seriously think I haven’t thought things through?”

They locked eyes. If Madd had spoken the words bouncing against the barrier of his brain, Vorgell would have been reeling. He didn’t look away again until the giant had backed down, arms crossed and glaring from witch to witch.

Ibeena chuckled. “This one”—she waved dismissive fingers at Vorgell—“could use a few more cracks of the whip. He’s more likely to follow you into the castle than lead the baron’s men on a chase.”

“Just get me the damn cloak.” Madd freed the purse from his pocket and handed it to her.

She weighed the pouch and tucked it into her belt.

“Wait here.”

Chapter 7

“S
O
WHAT
do we do now?” Vorgell elbowed aside a thickset brute, sparing Madd from a jostle. He didn’t know why he bothered. Madd had just screwed him out of his share of their earnings. “You gave that witch all our coin, which means you can’t eat and I can’t fuck.”

They had left the witches’ sanctuary behind them and were making their way back along narrow, rutted streets. The afternoon had turned dark, threatening rain. Madd walked at his side, quieter than usual. He kept a tight grip on a hide-wrapped bundle.

“If all you want is a screw, you have only to park your prettified ass on any street corner and women will line up to pop your cork.”

“How many women?” This sounded promising.

Madd’s already thin temper frayed a bit more. “How the fuck do I know? I avoid women like the plague. You’re amazing, you know that? You get hard just from seeing a knot in a tree stump.”

Vorgell grinned. It was true. Ever since partaking of unicorn horn, he got erect with remarkable ease. He was half-hard already, envisioning that tree knot. But Madd’s statement about avoiding women interested him more.

“You truly do prefer men,” he noted.

Madd sighed. “Since birth, I think. I don’t… do women.”

“Not even in the dark? From behind?”

“Were you born an idiot? Do you even
have
a thought that’s not connected to your cock?”

Just listening to Madd sputter, Vorgell laughed. Needling his new friend had become his favorite entertainment, second only to imagining what Madd might be like in bed. Passionate, he thought, all silken skin and hard cock, hot and slick and tumbled. Damn, if they were not walking the street right now….

“At the moment,” he growled, “I’m thinking we don’t have coin.”

“Not true. I have three gold bits in my boots.”

If that was true, the scoundrel really had thought ahead. “Well,” Vorgell said, somewhat mollified by this revelation.

“Half of it is yours,” Madd hastened to confirm. “We used the rest to buy the cloak of shadows.”

“So
you
can sneak into Baron Flemgu’s castle while I stand outside dodging swords and cracking skulls?” Vorgell still did not think much of Madd’s plan. He doubted Madd had ever stormed so much as a barricaded privy.

His question earned him another sigh as Madd steered him behind a pillar. The stench of garbage and filth rose from a nearby alley.

“No, you oaf. It’s so
you
can sneak in with me.” A rat scurried past and Madd kicked at it, nearly catching the fat vermin with his toe. “Listen, I can conceal myself. I didn’t tell her because she’d ask questions and get all preachy on me, but I have skills—skill enough for that, especially if I avail myself of your… generosity. But I can’t place an invisibility glamour on you because your humungous body nullifies any magic directed at it. All I would accomplish would be to make your clothes invisible, which—believe me—the world does not need to see.”

“There are some who would disagree with you. Ibeena, I think, looked at my cock overlong.” He laughed when he received a venomous look in return. He sensed an answer near. “Just explain to me why this cloak will work.”

“Because the cloak is
made
of shadows, but it’s still just a cloak, a piece of clothing. The cloak’s magic confounds any who look at it. It confounds them, not you. They don’t see
it
… it covers
you
….” Madd looked at him expectantly.

Vorgell grinned. The little guy was cunning after all. He felt bad about not believing in him. Vorgell threw an arm over Madd’s shoulder and gave him a sturdy shake.

“Fret not, my little witchkin friend. My apologies for doubting you. I would buy you a drink if I had any coin.”

“These boots leave my feet when we get to the room and not a moment sooner.” Madd frowned at the filthy ground.

They set out again into the street. Vorgell pondered that he should feel so comfortable with Madd. The young witch was nothing like the band of Scurrian marauders Vorgell had thrown in with upon his father’s death and his sister’s sacrifice by their tribe’s shaman. That day had been the darkest of his life, and the period that followed had severed him from all he had previously known. His rage at being exiled had found a ready place among big, brawny men much like himself, with oversized lusts, a thirst for battle, and quick laughter. Madd, on the other hand, didn’t laugh a lot. As for lust… that was harder to say. Madd had the temper of a provoked hornet and was as come-hither as a serpent. A treasure house was less well-guarded.

He shrugged. Madd was clean and enjoyable to look at. He also possessed quick wits and a nose for survival. As companions went, Vorgell saw no reason to complain.

He recognized their surroundings when they passed the brothel of painted boys. A few languorous youths still lingered outside, advertisements of the pleasures to be purchased within. Customers stopped to peruse before moving on or entering the establishment. One pretty youth caught Vorgell’s eye, and he grinned at the lad, earning a decidedly nervous smile and quick retreat back into the building.

“This is not going to work,” he complained. “I really need to fuck something.”

“Something?” By the way he said it, Madd didn’t think much of the word he’d used. “You know, it might help your cause if you could actually state what it is you want to fuck.”

“That’s the thing. I really just want to fuck.”

“Then you don’t have a problem. Your solution is at hand.”

“No, it isn’t. Because a hand isn’t enough. It’s not really fucking. I want another body involved.”

“At least now you acknowledge you want another body. Warm, I take it?”

Madd was being difficult, and Vorgell was hardly in the mood to play. “Yes,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Good. That rules out corpses.”

Thanks to that exchange, Vorgell was no longer hard. Just as well. As they rounded the corner, he looked around, examining shadows and rooftops. He had never liked towns except for the good pillaging to be had. He liked cities even less. In particular, he disliked this one. Gurgh was made completely of hiding places and populated by the kinds of men who took advantage of them. One particular shadow caught his eye, and he soon noted it was not alone.

“Hold,” he said to Madd and drew him into the concealment provided by a sausage vendor’s cart. “Look closely at that roof.”

The roof in question abutted that of the tavern behind which they housed and provided a fine vantage from which to jump men entering the alley leading to their rented room. One of the chimneys looked too squat, and there was a shadow at the end of the alley that should not be there.

“Damn. Someone found us,” said Madd.

“We did make a noteworthy appearance last night. This way,” he said, turning to go back down the street toward the dubious safety of the crowded bazaar. That was when he spied two other men approaching, their black garments rippling over toned muscles. Swords glinted in their hands. He and Madd were armed only with their newly purchased knives.

“They want us alive, or we’d be dead already.” Madd spoke in clipped, cold words. Good. He was thinking, not panicking. “Baron’s orders. If I die, the basilisk in the egg he used to bespell my collar dies, and the basilisk is worth good coin. And you—”

“I know about me. Can you work any magic? Make them itch?”

“No. I haven’t—I can moonblind them, maybe. That works for a bit. The moon should be on the horizon at this time of year.” The pale orb was nowhere to be seen, given the cloudy day, but Madd sounded confident. “Moonblinding only blinds anyone close enough to see me. But it won’t affect you, so—”

“Do it, then. And be prepared to run.”

The men were moving toward them now. Madd focused, face intent and hands lifted, eyes fixed while his lips spoke a few soft words.

Vorgell soon heard cries to every side, in several languages. “What was that?” and “I can’t see!” People milled and turned in the street, hands stretched before them.

“Villains!” Vorgell drew his long knife and launched himself at their now blinded attackers. Madd screamed at him to run, but running had been the plan for his friend, not himself. It made more sense to take out their enemies. Two men were not so many, even if joined by the two from the roof.

He kicked the first man, his size a great advantage as his foot connected with a jaw and dropped his target immediately. Dispatching the second was easier—a simple slash of his knife across the throat. He then stomped on the chest of the first man and looked around to see if anyone was joining the fight. As he’d expected, someone jumped him from one of the roofs. There’d be at least one other. Because of their concealment and distance from the street, these two weren’t blinded.

His attacker lacked his brawn, and Vorgell easily ducked to roll the man off his shoulders, sparing his head and giving him a clear target. Stepping on the fallen man’s knife hand, Vorgell sliced his own blade deep through the back of the leg, cutting his opponent’s tendons. Hearing footsteps behind him, he looked and caught just enough glimpse to deliver a backward kick to that man’s groin. The fellow fell, writhing.

“Let’s go!” Madd grabbed at him. “You don’t have to kill them. The city guards are coming. We can’t stay here!”

Heeding his partner, Vorgell joined him, and they fled.

Buildings in this part of the city pressed close to the street, and the alleys were narrow. They ran until the crowd thinned and they could no longer hear the shrieks and cries of the still-blinded onlookers. Even with that in their favor, they could not return to their room. Too many people had seen them. Fortunately, neither of them owned enough yet to have left any possessions behind.

Barely avoiding the contents of a chamber pot being dumped into the alley, they slowed to a walk and recovered their breaths. The sun had dropped low enough that a few rays pierced the clouds and cast the alleyway in shadow.

“That was close.” Madd shook his head, his cheeks flushed prettily from exertion. He still clutched the bundle they’d gotten from Ibeena, his fingers curled anxiously into the thick hide. Beads of sweat trickled near his ear. A wild impulse to lick those drops swept through Vorgell, and he pushed Madd in one rough movement against the nearest building. Madd looked up at him in alarm.