The Beast of the North (6 page)

Still she refused. Resolutely. She pulled the fabulous, glittering sword. ‘I said I shall go and fetch the coin. Then I shall be back. And this is how it will be. I am a Blacktower, not some common merchant with a reputation for thievery.’

‘Shit,’ Sand said softly, fingering his knife. ‘What will you do?’

‘Alrik worked for them, no?’ I said chokingly.

‘So he said,’ he agreed.

‘So, we will see how they will like meeting him again,’ I breathed.

In the alley ahead, the thugs had pulled long spears from where they had been hidden under the tavern floorboards and pointed them at the now obviously furious girl who was blocked by the chief of the criminals. Valkai was pulling a long skull pommeled dirk. ‘You know, it would be much easier if you just came along nicely. Might be you won’t go home if you take this attitude.’

‘I’m Shaduril Blacktower and no street wench to be held here ignominiously, against my will! I said I shall fetch the gold,’ she took a step backwards, and then the thugs rushed forward, careful not to hurt her with the spear blades, but they prodded and pushed her, and her glittering short sword swished in the air as she tried to fight them off.

‘You need to be humbled, girl,’ Valkai said darkly. ‘I’m sure that will be fine with your family. This is, after all, quite a delicate matter the king would love to hear. And thank you for warning me in the matter of my family. As I said, I’ll make sure they are safe.’

‘You bastard, I—’

‘I am a bastard, girl. Never knew my parents,’ Valkai said happily and dodged under her blade and pushed her so hard she fell against a rotten wall. ‘Ropes. Take her to my room.’

‘Give me our rope,’ I wheezed to Sand, my face twitched, and I nearly pissed myself from fear. It would have been perfect if I had, for my face flowed painfully, and soon it was Alrik’s, who had pissed his pants indeed when he died. ‘Get ready to run.’

‘This is crazy!’ Sand said and tried to grab me as I walked forward. I took the rope and left it on my shoulder and tied it around my neck. I bit my lip as hard as I could and felt the blood flow freely. I let it, and it trickled to my chin. I hoped my face was as pallid as Alrik’s had been at his death.

I took a deep breath, prayed to the Gloom Hand, and then moaned like the damned soul of children’s stories. A long and desperate wail filled the alley.

They turned to look at me in alarm.

I was still swathed in shadows as I shuffled forward, and I heard Sand curse and then quaff behind me, despite the dangerous situation. I did not feel like laughing, for I was about to die.

‘Who in Hel’s rotten name is it? The tavern’s closed,’ Valkai said gruffly. The girl was staring at me with a frown.

I stepped into the light.

I saw them suck in their breath. I adopted a feral, snarling look and shuffled forward purposefully, if slowly and uncertainly, blood flowing down my chin and the rope around my neck made me gag as I had pulled it too tight. The doppelganger, the man in king’s colors, was blanching, taking steps away, and so were the two brutes. ‘Alrik?’ Valkai asked very softly, surprised, and there was a satisfactory shudder of animal like fear in his voice.

‘Mmmgh,’ I complained, my hands coming up jerkily as if to embrace him.

‘By Odin’s ball hairs,’ one of the brutes whimpered, and then he ran, tripping over chairs and a table, wine, and mutton flying. The other one was taking steps away, shaking his head, and Valkai was struggling with his fear. I was Alrik. I had died. Everyone knew this, I assured myself. The girl was shuffling by the wall, inching her way past the dreaded criminal. I stopped to stare at Valkai with a confused frown. ‘Alrik?’ He breathed again, and then the girl ran. She stared at my face as she did and I, the idiot grinned and winked at her.

Next thing I remember was a stinging pain in my jaw and cheek and the kiss of cold mud on my lips.

‘Freak,’ Valkai said above me. ‘What the Hel are you?’ Then he kicked me, and I went to sleep for a while.

I
came to in a dungeon. First, I noticed a sputtering torch on the wall. Then I noticed my rope was hanging right above me from a rusty hook. It looked ominous, to say the least. The ceiling was glistening with moistness, fungus, and rot, and there was a tunnel leading somewhere to my left. I quickly discovered I had iron and leather clamps on my wrists and ankles, and I was stretched on a crude table that reeked of sweat, blood, and shit. All were alarming proof of the discomfort of the previous occupants of the dreadful thing. I also noticed my face was my own, and there was a cat staring at me from a dark shelf. I experimented with my chin and found I could speak.

‘Frigg’s milky tits,’ I cursed and moaned.

A figure chuckled in the dark. I yelped and composed myself as best I could as I tried to see the face, but could not. ‘Stop struggling, you idiot,’ it said, and I could not decide if the voice was that of a man or a woman. ‘Here, some wine? The best down under.’

‘Yes, thank you. Don’t have any coin to pay for it, though,’ I croaked.

‘You are a knight, are you not?’ the figure chuckled. ‘Hero of all the ladies in trouble, eh? They never pay their bills. Knights. Not the ladies either, for that matter.’

‘In that case, I’m a knight indeed,’ I answered, and the figure became known. It was wearing long, tent-like robes of black, and on its face there was a simple, ominously horned mask of silver. It carried a silvery golden goblet and stopped next to me. ‘Raise yourself a bit.’

‘Do I need to be tied down like a pig carcass prepared for a roasting?’ I asked it sweetly.

‘Yes,’ the masked one said, and I decided I had better not give them any more ideas on how to kill me. ‘Here,’ it grunted and poured many mouthfuls of liquid down my throat. I gratefully swallowed all I could though by the taste of it I should have taken the time to enjoy it. It was fruity, exotic, and sweet at the same time and likely very expensive. The figure pushed my face away and let drop the expensive cup. The clang on the moldy floor was gratingly loud, and I winced. Then the figure went to lean on a rotting shelf, and I was afraid it might fall on us. I shut my mouth and refrained from giving the strange figure any advice.

Thus, we stayed for a long time, and as I was finally done swallowing the last of the fine liquid, the ominous looking figure came forward to wipe some residue off my lip. The gloves were silken and dark. ‘Quite a dramatic figure you cut, sir,’ I told it.

‘I’m not a sir. Nor a lady. I’m the Jester.’

‘Ah, Valkai?’ I asked, knowing it was not the brute. Valkai would have been jumping up and down on my ribs already instead of serving me wine. Unless he had a sense of humor under the coarse, brute skin, which I was sure he did not.

‘No,’ it said with a dry chuckle. ‘Valkai is not here, to your comfort. He is conducting our business elsewhere. I must say, it was very impressive what you did to distract my dear captain Valkai. But I’m not impressed by your thieving abilities.’

‘She noticed nothing. Nothing, I tell you,’ I blurted with pride. ‘I whisked past her and took the pouch, and she came here, thinking she was still rich. And you—’

‘Ah, Maskan,’ the figure laughed, and I cursed for I just could not make out the sex of the thing addressing me. Not knowing that much left you curiously out of options. Flirting might help, if it was a woman, but if it were a man, the situation might get very uncomfortable. In many ways. Then again, if it were a woman, she might cut my balls off for such insolence. I told myself to be quiet. The masked one went on, running a finger on my forehead. ‘Of course, you did splendidly with the pouch, yes. But you failed after that, though; despite Valkai’s designs, the girl was in no true danger. Yet, a thief that felt responsible for her? The mark, the victim? Terrible business. Hardly professional. I’m sure you agree.’

‘Yes, I agree. But she had a lovely smile. And ample buttocks,’ I defended myself, cursing for I realized suddenly the creature had known my name.

‘She is fair. Takes after her mother, I am sure,’ the thing allowed, still not giving up its sex by agreeing or disagreeing with my brazen comments, not in any obvious way, and I felt it understood my game. The silver mask was hovering above me. ‘But I have to admit your other skill gives me pleasure. It was something … unexpected. And expected in some way.’

‘I don’t understand. What skill are we talking about? Any why is it both unexpected and expected?’ I said dully, and the finger pressed on my forehead with such strength I winced.

‘The last man who lay on this bench cried. We thought him merely stubborn. So very, very stubborn. Couldn’t understand why he would not speak. People came to see us play with him, and wagers were made widely in the guild on when he would eventually speak up. He was a bastard. He was a stubborn bastard, and one who did not pay his loans, and we hated him for it, for we knew he had hidden his gold and silver. But he wasn’t stubborn, and perhaps not a bastard either, just a mute. He had no tongue. As we broke him here on his very bench, we finally found out the truth as we tried to remove the tongue, which was not there. We had taken the toes and the fingers already, you see? We should have saved his hand so he could have written the whereabouts of the coin, but we lost him and the gold. Our mistake. And you can imagine all the grumbling after they had found the bets were all for naught.’ The thing went quiet, and I shrugged. It poked me once more. ‘The lesson is; while we make mistakes, the suffering is usually done on this bench. We lost gold, he lost everything and went to Hel. Do not play dumb with us.’

‘No,’ I agreed with a frightened smile I did not need to fake. ‘I shall not. We are speaking of Alrik then?’

‘Your face looked like Alrik’s, indeed. Your undead imitation left a lot to be desired for, and the blood was a gross exaggeration, but certainly, nothing takes away the brilliance of what you did otherwise. The king would likely shut you in jail to be examined, and the One Eye priests would kill you should you do something like that in their presence in the south. You know magic is not only forbidden, but it is also denied even. So tell us about this skill?’

‘I’ve always had this skill,’ I complained. ‘Not my fault. Can hardly ignore it.’

‘No, don’t apologize. You have kept it a secret for such a long time.’ The thing moved around me, and I could not see it.

‘Who are you?’ I asked, trying to keep calm.

‘Who? Call me the Horns.’ The Horns, I thought, is mad as shit, and I squirmed as I felt it was close to me, somewhere very close. ‘I’m the head of this fine establishment and the gang.’

‘Good. Yes, I guessed. Makes me feel important,’ I said. ‘Thank you.’

‘You are most important, young Maskan. Most important,’ it said. ‘And do not worry, for you will walk out of here free. One day.’

‘I will; thank you,’ I agreed, hating the last part of the promise. One day? Then there was silence for the longest of time. I was seething with impatience and lost the fight. ‘I could leave right now and let the day be today?’

‘No, not yet, young one,’ the thing said. Then I saw movement, and something was placed on my chest. It had thick braided hair, blue eyes, and thin cheeks. It had been handsome once. It was the man they had introduced to the girl and the one who had had a place in their common plans. It was bleeding on me, and I was swallowing in revulsion. I also tried not to squirm, so my breathing would not tip the foul thing over to my face.

‘Lovely present,’ I said with a hint of panic in my voice, ‘but I already ate. One of those sandwiches by the docks. I highly recommend them.’

The thing chuckled. ‘You know what that is? And who it is?’

‘I don’t know its name.’

‘Don’t be coy. I just told you. We make mistakes, but you will do the suffering. You heard the discussion on the alley. Asfal. That was the name of this lost waif of the south, one I saved once from starvation and debt, and I did it for he looked like someone. I gave him gold; he gave me his allegiance,’ the figure said happily and leaned over me, looking at me upside down. Dark eyeholes looked dead in the dark. ‘You know the Blacktowers have an agenda. A very, very dangerous agenda.’

‘Yes, they seem to be up to no good,’ I agreed. ‘Naughty.’

‘Alrik was working for me after he was caught in the Blue Door Section. He managed to accomplish his , and so his death was no big deal, after all. He died swiftly, and they thought he was but a thief.’

‘This … the head seemed to be significant for your plans, no? Was the person to imitate someone? A … bitch? Bitch, yes, who was to die as she visited her home from the Tower of the Temple. And this man was her companion?’

‘He is not her companion. He works for her. Yes. And now this one is dead.’ The mask stared at me.

‘Why is he dead?’ I asked, dreading the answer, and the head toppled away to roll on the ground. ‘Is the deal off?’ I asked after it had stopped rolling.

‘Did you get a good look at his face?’ it asked.

‘Oh,’ I breathed. ‘You want me to—’

‘Do it,’ it coaxed me with a savagely poking finger.

I concentrated, resigned to my fate. I felt my face run like liquid, and then the thick hair grew around me. I felt the bones and skin in my face writhe, and as I looked up at the silvery mask, I could nearly imagine it grinning. ‘Happy?’

‘The Blacktower girl was right,’ it said. ‘Our doppelganger was a coward. Sloppy. Useless, perhaps. But you will not be. No, you will not be useless. You are worth your weight in gold.’

‘I work for my family,’ I told it sourly though the thought of my weight in gold made me stammer. ‘And I have another rule. I do not abide suicide missions. What you are doing seems dangerous. Anything beyond the Third Ring is dangerous. Sometimes beyond the Fourth Ring.’

‘It is dangerous. Tell me, do you hate the king?’ the silver one asked.

I groaned. ‘I’m not a noble. I am a commoner. I cut purses in the harbor. I care nothing—’

‘But you do. Your father died at his hands. He, like so many others, was innocent. The king is going mad. Has been for decades. Danegells are a broken family of curs.’

‘Ah, so it is not only the Blacktowers who have a cause,’ I blurted, wondering how it knew of my family.

‘No,’ the Horns said. ‘And yes, I know who your mother is. I have my ways. And I know about your father.’

I mulled it over, upgrading my opinion of the Horns. Mad, but brilliant. ‘And why does a lord, or a lady, of such a well-to-do band of criminals care of the king’s many intricate problems with his nobles?’ I asked, brooding like a child, utterly unhappy.

The silver mask had no mouth, but I could see the person behind it get excited by the way it leaned back and then shot forth. I flinched as the horns in the mask nearly poked my eyes out. ‘We should all care. The alliance of the north is a fragile thing. We have the swords to fight the south when the so-called High King Balic eventually attempts to make slaves of us, but should the king be mad enough to topple without a fight, to attack our allies to the north over some damned insignificant trading port? He is insane and unable to lead us in the time of our great need. Such a time might come any day. That will not do. No. He is alienating the other kingdoms. The Fringe Lands are easy to gobble up by the south should our king fall to his madness and start wars that are totally useless. This is the Blacktower worry. And mine.’

I prayed and decided to argue. ‘Still, I doubt a change of a king would alter many things for the thieves and the guilds of criminals. Surely, they would still thrive if the High King or some minion of his replaced this king. Like rats, they would adapt,’ I disagreed.

The hand grasped my face, and my mouth fell open at the press of the savage strength. ‘The High King burns thieves alive. And you are as much a rat as we are.’

‘Ours hangs them slowly,’ I said rather thickly as it was squeezing my face fiercely. ‘Dead is dead. Rat or man.’

It nodded. ‘More, Balic makes sure not a stone is left standing of the cities he takes in the east and the southwest of the Verdant Lands. His Hammer Legions are not like our armies. They take very few prisoners and rarely leave civilians untouched. And the priests will question the ones that hide and survive his wrath. The High King thinks himself the mantle-bearer of Odin. He thinks he is Odin. He brooks no challenges to his rule, and thus he hates the north as he hates any land that does not willingly bow down to his cult. No, they will not spare a rat here.’

‘I see. And the solution?’ I mumbled, and the Horns let go of my face.

‘We need a new king,’ it said quietly. ‘We cannot replace the High King. But we can replace our Danegells.’

‘And this is a task … for … me? A cutpurse.’

‘Your task is to kill the queen, to be specific,’ the silvery one stated happily as if it were planning a breakfast meeting with the family. ‘The Blacktowers are right. They hired us, but I would have helped them without a fortune in gold.’

‘This is the bitch you were speaking of? The queen. I see. I see,’ I smiled, feeling an urgent need to shit my pants. ‘You want me to take the place of someone in her entourage. Someone close to her.’

‘Her slave,’ the silver one said. ‘The one who tastes her food before it is taken to her.’

‘Her food and wine taster?’ I asked, horrified.

‘He is called Falg Hardhand. Formerly a fighter of the southern mountains, he tastes anything and everything they serve her.’