Citadel of Fire (The Ronin Saga Book 2) (28 page)

“Where?” Zane asked. “The truth.”

Lucky rubbed his skinny arms uncomfortably. “Fine, I’ll tell ya, but don’t be angry, all right, Shade? At least, don’t tell Father. I don’t like it when he’s mad.” Zane gnawed on a particularly chewy piece of rat, holding Lucky’s gaze. Lucky threw up his hands. “Stop looking at me like that! I’m sorry! I… I was casing, skimming for easy pickings by the gates from all them new outsiders arriving from fancy places.
That’s
when I did see that dark-looking man.” He shivered. “See? I told you, it wasn’t no lie.”

“You know that’s not our way,” Zane said softly.

He gripped Zane’s arm with one hand, holding his gaze with teary eyes. Zane felt a tug on his coat, but when he looked down he realized he was imagining things. “I… I know it was wrong,” Lucky pleaded, drawing his attention back. “Please don’t exile me. I won’t do it again, I swear!”

Zane brought out his dagger, brushing it along his cheek in thought, hearing the scrape of stubble. It was a habit of his. With his other hand, he reached into his purse. Fishing from the pouch, he grabbed a heavy silver piece and tossed it to Lucky before rising.

“What’s this for?” the boy asked, confused.

“I always reward valuable information with coin. You needn’t steal any longer, Lucky. I’ll let you go this time, but if you do it again, I’ll toss you out of here myself,” he said. Lucky smiled and pawed the silver coin with delight. “One last thing—split it.”

Rygar and Dasher’s eyes widened.

“A whole silver?” Rygar boomed excitedly, voice cracking and his cheeks coloring.

It was his last silver, but Zane knew they would use it well. Both were good lads: Dasher, soft and spritely, and Rygar generous and as gentle as a leaf on the wind, a boy more likely to spend it on others and not himself.

“Wait a second,” Lucky squawked, “but I had the—”

“—Lost Ones aren’t about greed, Lucky,” he interrupted sharply. “You’ll find that out soon enough. And if you spend it without sharing, I’ll know.” He tossed the bowl into Lucky’s hands and stalked back into the night. Moving through the campfires like a shadow, he saw a figure in a dark gray coat standing at the edge of the Lost Ones’ camp, near the sentries.

Two faces he didn’t recognize guarded the Sanctuary’s border, watching the night nervously. The face of the dark coated man resolved itself, and Zane breathed a sigh of relief. When had he been holding that?

“Zane.” Trev beckoned, ushering him towards the light of a standing torch.

Zane approached. With scraggly brown hair and bright green eyes that were widely set, much like jewels placed in mismatched sockets, there stood Trev, second in command of the Lost Ones behind Father. He was lithe and light-skinned, and many of the younger female Lost Ones seemed to find him attractive. He was several years older than Zane. Trev looked strangely nervous, watching the shadows as if creatures lurked within.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked.

Trev leaned in closer. “I heard you talking with Father recently.”

“You were eavesdropping?”

The lean man shook his head, looking affronted. “No! Well, technically yes, but unintentionally. I only caught snippets. I heard your argument with Father, how he wants to exile you.”

“Then you misheard. It’s not like that,” he countered.

“No,” Trev said, placing a hand on his arm. “I did not mean to make it sound that way. I know Father, and you are like his son. I’m sure Father is only doing it because he cares for you.”

Zane pushed Trev’s hand away, kindly but firmly. “He is, but he is wrong this time.”

“Exactly. We need you, Zane. Without you and your thieving, we would starve.”

“Enough flattery,” Zane snapped. “What do you want? Get to your point.” He glanced at the shadows as if moving to leave when Trev spoke up, voice gaining urgency.

“This morning I overheard something… something dire that could change the fate of the Lost Ones
for good
. No more thieving, no more starving. An end to the suffering and misery. Naturally, once I heard that, I remembered your little spat with father and realized this
could be
the solution to all our problems.”

The hair prickled on the back of Zane’s neck. It sounded too good to be true, but his curiosity, his burning desire to save the Lost Ones was like an unquenchable fire in his gut. “Go on,” he bid him at last.

Trev lowered his voice so the nearby sentries couldn’t hear. “A shipment for Darkeye is being delivered to the Eastern Gate. From there, they will drop the cargo off in a warehouse nearby.”

“And the source?”

“Very reliable.”

Zane ran his tongue across his teeth, feeling the sharp edges as he thought. “What’s in them?” he asked finally.

“I’m not sure. All I know is it’s valuable. Very valuable. It will be a hard blow to Darkeye.” The words were a soft spot for him, every blow to Darkeye was a good one.

“The muscle?”

“Nearly a dozen, all disguised as Farbian guards.”

Zane raised a brow. It wasn’t unheard of. Darkeye often employed Farbian guards or had his men pose as them. “I can’t take a dozen men, especially not if they’re Farbian guards, and I won’t kill a man who isn’t of Darkeye’s brood.”

“That’s the thing. A dozen men to escort, but there will only be two guards at the warehouse, and both are Darkeye Clan to the bone.”

“Why two?”

“That’s the kicker,” Trev said, looking anxious. “It’s a Citadel warehouse.”

Zane nearly laughed, but the look on Trev’s face was deadpan. “That is a twist indeed. But it makes sense—I would never expect two guards and a Citadel warehouse to hold Darkeye’s goods.”

“Exactly,” Trev agreed. “And if I’m right, just one of those crates is worth its weight in gold.”

“I wish you knew what was in them,” Zane said.

“Me too. But it doesn’t matter. Take it and we’ll find out later.”

Everything about the job sounded perfect, aside from the Citadel’s warehouse. While it was safer than one of Darkeye’s, it was risky for other reasons. But it made sense and was immensely clever. Hiding Darkeye’s goods within the Citadel’s holdings was something Zane would never expect. It sounded just like Darkeye. But how had the man pulled such strings? Was Darkeye employed by the Citadel, or did he finally have a foot in the door of that dark keep? It seemed impossible. The two forces had seemed like oil and water. But either way, it was dangerous news. “Intriguing but, unfortunately, I only receive my orders from Father. He tells me about the shipments and knows the routes better than anyone.”

“But he won’t be helping you anymore, will he?” Trev stepped forward, looking anxious. Perhaps that look of his, that fear, was actually sympathy for those in need. He didn’t know Trev well but, without the man, Father would have had trouble keeping the Sanctuary functioning as it did.

Zane gave an uneasy sigh. He hated disobeying Father, but this was necessary.

“It’s your call,” Trev said at last, “I won’t force you.”

“First, you couldn’t force me, not if you had a dozen of you. And second, I don’t deal with liars.”

Trev reeled. “What?”

“I know when a man is lying better than anyone. After all, a master can recognize an apprentice when he sees one
.
And you aren’t telling the truth, at least not the whole of it. Tell me what you’re hiding, or I walk.”

Trev stood straighter, eyes hardening. His timid fearfulness fled. “The whole truth? Well the truth is I don’t like you. I never have. Father confides in you, but I don’t see why. I’ve seen the way you move and the way you eye everything like a threat, as if curiously wondering whether you can kill it or it can kill you. In the end, you are just a weapon without a sheath. ”

Zane made no move, he stood quietly. Trev sounded truthful. “Then why even talk to me? Why approach me now?”

“I didn’t say you weren’t necessary. A weapon has its purpose.”

“Then you wish to use me? To wield me?”

“You help us, you help the Lost Ones. Prove yourself this time, and I will consider trusting you.”

“Interesting, asking me for help with one hand, and striking me with insults and accusations with the other.” Anger simmered just below the surface. Trev was an ass, but at least he was an honest ass. “Give me one reason I should help.”

“Because it’s not for me, it’s for them,” Trev said, motioning to the fires of the Lost Ones in a fierce whisper. “And if it was me, and I had your skills? I wouldn’t think twice.”

Zane held Trev’s bright-eyed gaze. “You’re nothing like me.” The nearby torch flickered, and the cloying scent of burning fat hung in the air. It mixed with the acrid smoke, which lingered between them like an ill omen.

Unable to hold his gaze, Trev looked away. “Well?” he pressed nervously, sweat from the hot torch dappling his brow.

“I’ll do it,” he said at last, “but not for you.”

The lissome man let out a sigh of relief, looking over the Lost Ones as if he had just stopped a flood from taking them away. The man gave him directions and Zane pivoted without acknowledgement, his cloak whipping behind him.

“Wait!” Trev called and Zane hesitated. “If you want, I can show you.”

He glanced over his shoulder. In the dancing light, the man looked concerned. Though he did not care for Trev, perhaps the man was only trying to do what was best. Just as Zane was. “That won’t be necessary. But you could do me one last favor.” He pulled out the latest herbwort Father had given him. He laid it in Trev’s hand and gave directions to their hideout. “Give this to Hannah. Tell her I will see her soon.”

Trev nodded. “Certain you don’t want me to come?”

“I’ll be fine. Like you said, it’s what I do best.”

With a grave smile, Trev replied, “I’m sorry for doubting you. You’re a good man, Shade.”

“No, you were right about me all along,” Zane admitted, turning away, then added in a fiery rasp, “but I will make them fear this weapon.” With that, he moved away into the shadows once more, hand on his blade, readying himself for a night of blood.

A Red Night

A
S
Z
ANE LEFT
S
ANCTUARY, HEADING TO
the surface, he saw glimpses of moonlight on the walls. The light came from airshafts leading upwards. Dawn was only a few hours away, he figured.

At the fork between the ramp to the surface and the path that led to his hideout, he wavered.
Hannah.
His fist tightened. He looked back to the wide ramp.
She will have to wait.
Two new guards stood at attention, young men Zane didn’t recognize. They gave awkward salutes, but he paid them no mind, quickly moving on.

He wanted to hurry and return before Hannah awoke. He didn’t want her to worry about him, not when she was barely beginning to recover from the spark fever.

As he climbed, the gurgling of water faded and the air changed, becoming hotter and less stale with every step. At last, he took another turn and was at the mouth of the Underbelly—it was one of many. Hundreds of these existed around the city. Most were simply drainage outlets. Of course, there was a main entrance to the sewers, but this wasn’t it.

Ahead he glimpsed a dark alley.

Zane skulked forward, clinging to the shadows. Aside from the soft clop of hooves and the rattle of a nearby cart, the streets were quiet, almost vacant. Shreds of light from the moon shone on the tops of nearby buildings.

Pushing his hood forward, Zane stuck to the darker alleys, moving like a phantom. Soon enough, he reached the building. It was just as Trev described it, plain and dark. He slowed when he spotted two Farbian guards wearing conical helmets and thick chainmail. Upon their leather chest pieces was the red flame of Farbs, symbol of the Great Kingdom of Fire.

Directly behind them was a small side door bearing the Star of Magha, the insignia of the Citadel.