The Colour of Vengeance (34 page)

“My lord,” said one of the soldiers at the gate. Mercenaries tended to be well-trained to treat blooded folk with respect and, as most people couldn’t tell one blooded family from another, they therefor deferred to all those with blooded heritage.

“I’m here to see your master, Swift,” Anders said in his very best imperial tone.

“Where is your retinue, my lord?”

Anders let out a loud and pointed sigh. “Please go fetch your master or at the very least, someone smarter than yourself.”

The soldier stared at Anders for a moment, his mouth hanging open, his bottom lip pulled the left. “Aye,” he said and wandered off to fetch someone.

Anders was neither expecting, nor prepared for who the soldier fetched.

“Can I help you?” the man asked. He wore a light chain-linked shirt underneath a white tabard and a bronze half-helm wrapped in a similarly coloured cloth. A curved sword hung at his side and his hand hovered near the hilt. The man was tall, not handsome but nor was he ugly and his skin had a bronze tint to it. Anders very nearly turned and ran but he was fairly certain the Haarin now standing in front of him could catch him with ease.

The Haarin narrowed his eyes at Anders and spoke again. “Perhaps you should come with me.”

“I, uh, need to speak to Swift,” Anders managed to stammer out. The Haarin continued to stare at him with emotionless eyes.

“Have you searched him?” the Haarin asked the other guards. The answer was of course a resounding
no
. No mere mercenary would assume enough import to search a member of one of the blooded families. Haarin, however, were a completely different matter. This one proceeded to prod and pad down Anders and came up empty-handed save for a single sheet of white parchment, the expensive kind, taken from Drake Morrass’ own stores.

“Come,” the Haarin ordered once he was satisfied Anders was unarmed. Anders followed and made a silent prayer that he’d stay alive just long enough to warn Thorn they needed a new plan, one that didn’t involve going up against one of the known world’s best bodyguards.

“What’ve ya got there, Suzku?” the man perched on the desk asked. He was taller than Anders by a good few inches and more heavily muscled but his features were without a doubt those of a blooded bastard. He looked, Anders had to admit, much like H’ost’s son, the one he had murdered so long ago. “Interesting. Was he armed?” Swift asked.

The Haarin shook his head and held up the letter. “He carried only this.”

Swift glanced at the letter then back to Anders. “Get ta that soon enough. Who are ya?”

“My name is Anders.”

“What family?”

Anders shrugged. “My father was one of the Brekovichs, or so I was told. Never did bother finding out which one.”

“Aye. Bastard is it? Well my da’ almost executed me once,” Swift said.

Anders said nothing. The fact that his own father had tried to have him executed quite recently was still a little fresh in his mind. Besides, he had the feeling Swift was the type of man who didn’t like to have his stories outdone.

“So what d’ya want?” Swift asked.

“Here to deliver a letter. Then I’ll leave.”

“Will ya?” Swift asked with a cruel grin. Again Anders chose not to respond. “Read it, Suzku.”

Brother, when we was just twelve years of age we carved our names into the corpse tree behind the springs

“Um…” Swift grunted, a confused look on his face. “What’s this?”

“It’s proof,” Anders said. “That we have your sister. We told her to write something down that only you and she would know.”

Swift was silent for a long time, studying Anders. “What is it ya want?”

Anders smiled. “Money. Ten thousand gold bits for your sister’s life. I promise you she is unharmed… for now. But her continued good health depends on your prompt delivery of those gold bits. You’ll drop them off behind the guildhall in the craftsmen quarter and we’ll set your sister free.”

“An’ why shouldn’t I jus’ torture her location out o’ ya right now?” Swift asked.

“Because I don’t know it. The boss isn’t stupid, he sent me here knowing very little,” Anders replied and thanked the Gods that he was such a good liar.

“That so? Guess ya ain’t much use no more then,” Swift replied grinning.

“If I do not return to my meeting point within the hour your sister will die and the rest of my crew will vanish,” Anders lied. He couldn’t help but notice Swift’s Haarin was now standing behind him.

The grin disappeared from Swift’s face and he pushed himself off of his desk. “Well I suppose we best make sure we deliver you ta ya meetin’ place then. Hold him!”

The door to the warehouse opened and a figure stumbled through, barely closing the door before he collapsed to the floor. Didn’t take long to figure out it was Anders and took even less time to figure out he was in a bad way. Betrim ran over with Ben just a step behind. Anders managed to push himself back onto one knee with his right hand but truth was he didn’t look like he’d be making it back to his feet without some help.

Blood covered Anders’ face with an unhealthy amount of cuts and bruises to compliment the red. His left arm hung limp and useless by his side, likely broken. As Thorn got closer he could tell Anders nose was broken and his right eye was swollen shut.

“Fuck,” said Six-Cities Ben before turning away and calling out to his brother. “Get the kit out, Joan. Reckon he’s gonna need patching up.”

Betrim bent down and helped Anders up by his right arm. With a closer look the blooded drunk seemed to be missing a tooth or two.

“Anders,” Thorn said. “How ya doin’?” Always best in these situation to keep the person conscious.

“I’ve been better, boss,” Anders slurred out, his voice whistled a little through the new gap in his teeth. “Wouldn’t say no to a drink though.”

“I ain’t nobody’s boss,” Betrim said. “Reckon we can sort ya out with that drink though.”

“Much appreciated, boss,” Anders said, looking as pathetic as Betrim had ever seen him. “I think we should probably leave before Swift gets here.”

That made Betrim pause. The entire point of this charade was to lure Swift in so that they could kill him. Might be the beating Anders had just taken had made him a little scared but it didn’t seem like reason enough to go running off and forget the whole idea. Besides, Betrim doubted Henry would leave now if they tried to drag her away. He looked around for the little murderess, seemed she should be close by given her relationship with Anders. He spotted her leaning against a crate close by with a dark look on her face. It figured, she wasn’t the type to show concern or sympathy, for her it was probably just one more reason to kill Swift.

“Don’t reckon we’re goin’ nowhere, Anders,” Betrim said as Joan set to looking at the blooded man’s wounds. “We’re here ta do a job an’ we’re gonna get it done.”

Anders took a swig from a wineskin and his vision seemed to focus a little. “You don’t understand, boss. Swift has a Haarin.”

“A what?” Joan asked as he snapped Anders’ left arm back into position.

Betrim waited until Anders’ screaming had stopped before answering. “Fancy bodyguard from some place east o’ here is all.”

“They’re not just fancy bodyguards…” Anders started to protest but Betrim cut him off before he could spook everyone.

“Anders, I’ve killed Arbiters an’ fought with Blademasters,” he said. “Reckon I can take out a Haarin.”

Anders sighed. “Haarin are taught to fight and taught to kill from the moment they’re old enough to stand and by all accounts they tend to do that fairly early as well. They protect their charge with their lives. They have no mercy, no feeling. Boss we should rethink our strategy here. A head-on conflict is a bad idea.”

Betrim spat. “It’s alright, Anders. Your part in this is done. You jus’…”

“It’s not me I’m worried for!” Anders eyes flicked sideways. Betrim followed his glance to Henry. The little murderess just snorted and walked away. Just about the worst thing Anders could’ve said, Betrim reckoned. If there was one person he knew could take care of themselves it was Henry and she didn’t like others implying that she couldn’t.

“Plan goes ahead,” Betrim said. “Joan, get him patched up best ya can, don’t let him get too drunk. Ben, mind puttin’ ya eyes out front. I want ta know soon as Swift gets here an’ how many folk he’s got with him. Everyone else best start gettin’ ready fer a fight.”

As all those gathered started preparing Betrim couldn’t help but look towards Rose. She stared back at him with dark eyes and he felt his pulse quicken, felt the urge to walk over and tear off her clothing. She pouted at him and that just served to make his frustration even worse. Maybe once they were done with all this she’d want a man like the Black Thorn around but then once they were done with all this she’d be rich and powerful and the only use rich and powerful folk had for the Black Thorn was killing other rich and powerful folk. Truth was Betrim wanted a little more out of the relationship. Actually he was fairly certain he wanted a lot more.

“Thorn,” Betrim had to stop himself from startling at the sound of Bones’ voice. He’d been too distracted to even notice the big man’s approach. “Reckon we’re jus’ ‘bout set but me, you an’ Henry might wanna get ourselves hid ‘fore Swift gets here. No sense in revealin’ ourselves ‘til he’s in the trap up ta his neck.”

“Aye,” Betrim said, pulling his hood up to conceal his face. If he stayed near the shadows there was no way Swift would recognise him.

“Don’t worry, ey. We’ll get the fucker, Haarin or no.”

Betrim grunted at his friend, still unable to tear his eye from the sight of Rose pouting at him.

It seemed to be almost an eternity before Six-Cities Ben reappeared through the door to the warehouse with a wild grin on his face. “Well he’s here,” Ben said. “Got about thirty people with him.”

“Only thirty?” Bones asked with a laugh. “Bastard is confident.”

“I may have let slip during my all-too-brief interrogation,” Anders slurred from the crate he had taken to sitting on. “That there were only six of us.” His left arm was wrapped in a makeshift splint and hung from his neck in an equally makeshift sling and his face was half covered in bandages but he seemed to have regained some of his good humour.

Henry pulled her hat down over her face and stepped behind Heavy-Hand Joan. Bones lumbered over to his men and hunkered down behind a wall of flesh and leather and steel with Beth. Betrim tilted his head so his hood cast a shadow over his features and Rose walked up to join him, in fact she walked in front of him then stepped backwards and proceeded to give his front-side a quick rub with her back-side. Despite the impending danger of the situation Betrim could feel himself stiffening.

Rose tilted her head and purred up at him. “I missed you, Black Thorn.”

“Aye?” Betrim said in reply. Truth was there was a bit too much happening all at once and his mind was struggling to keep up. One part of him demanded he grab Rose, take her into the back of the warehouse, strip her down and do something they’d both enjoy. Another, equally important, part of him protested that her brother was about to break through the door with thirty armed men at his side and they should probably all set about killing each other.

“Mhmmmm,” Rose mumbled and then, just as the door to the warehouse started to open she stepped forward and pointed her beautiful face towards the floor. Betrim found himself struggling to breathe and thoroughly unsure of what was happening.

The door opened and a man wearing a white tabard and white hat stepped in. He glanced around at the thirty men arrayed in front of him then turned and shook his head. Swift was next through the door, ignoring his bodyguard’s warning with a wild laugh. Ten of his thirty followed him in and the door shut behind them.

“Bar it,” Swift ordered his men then proceeded to sweep his gaze around the folk in front of him. His eyes stopped on Rose and the smile slid from his face. “You alright, sister?”

Rose looked at her brother and Betrim could just about make out a smile on her face. “Never better, brother. These fine gentlemen have been kind enough to keep me company.”

Swift nodded. “I don’t doubt. An’ how’s Drake?”

Rose took a step backwards and bumped into Betrim, her eyes flicked to his and he saw the uncertainty there. “What do you mean, brother?”

“I mean, sister. How is Drake Morrass? The pirate you’ve been fuckin’. I’m sure ya’d recognise him. Very pretty but a right smug cunt. Can’t decide whether I should send him your head or keep ya around ‘til I can give you his.” Swift laughed. “Don’t look so surprised. It was fairly fuckin’ obvious. Ma’s head turns up in a box from Drake an’ jus’ a few weeks later I get one of Drake’s minions turnin’ up at my door tellin’ me he’s holdin’ you fer ransom.”

Rose looked a little bit beyond flustered so Betrim pushed her behind him and took a step forward. Swift’s Haarin responded by positioning himself between his charge and.

“An’ who have we here?” Swift asked. “Too tall fer Morrass…”

Betrim pushed back his hood and took a great amount of pleasure at the evident surprise on Swift’s face.

“Well fuck me,” Swift said, grinning. “I did not expect that. Heard you were dead, Thorn.”

“Didn’t stop ya puttin’ a bounty on my head,” Betrim shot right back.

Swift laughed. “True enough. Seemed a good investment; got me some good will from the folk o’ Chade an’ I certainly didn’t expect anyone ta come collect.”

Betrim saw Henry step out from behind Heavy-Hand and take her hat off.

Again Swift laughed. “Seems ta be a day fer ghosts. Gotta admit it’s unusual fer the women I fuck ta come back from the grave fer seconds but fer you I s’pose I can make an exception.”

Henry said nothing but Betrim could see the glare she was sending towards Swift and he didn’t reckon there were many men alive wouldn’t be cowed by it.

“Any more of ya? Not a real reunion ‘less we have…” Bones stood up, towering over his men by a good foot even with his permanent stoop. “Bones. Thought we had a deal, big man?”

Bones stopped just behind Betrim, a reassuring presence at his back, just like old times. “We did. ‘Til I heard ‘bout how much gold you didn’t pay me.”