The Colour of Vengeance (38 page)

“Chade’s new governor, Rose, is her own woman gifted with the art of diplomacy, especially diplomacy with those of the male persuasion. Now if this new governor decides to subtly steer the free city into directions that benefit Drake Morrass who am I to argue?”

Anders just stared at Drake. “Uh huh…”

“She also has no idea you work for me and I would very much like to keep it that way,” Drake added.

Anders winced and took another pull from his cup of whiskey. “I do still work for you then?”

“Three times I’ve saved your life now, Anders,” Drake reminded him. “That’s a hell of a debt.”

“I’m sure I’ve saved your life at least once,” Anders argued back.

“Just the once, as it happens. Which puts me two up on you.”

Anders sighed.

“Now then,” Drake continued, thrusting the whiskey bottle in Anders’ hands. “I’ve got a pressing need to get back to the Dragon Empire, the Empress tends to get a little… wrathful when I’m gone for too long and I’ve already been gone for far too long. So,” he paused and pointed towards the door, “get off my ship.”

“What?” Anders protested. “I’m not even sure if I can walk yet!”

“You best start crawling then.”

Anders was limping, dripping with sweat and breathing hard by the time he stumbled through the door to the
Bastard’s End
. It was a fancy tavern located in the heart of Goldtown. Truth was it was not the sort of place one would expect to find a man such as the Black Thorn nor his crew of criminals.

There weren’t many of them left; they arrived in Chade thirty strong and now only three remained, all seated round a table, supping at steins full of wondrous dark liquid. Anders put the alcohol from his mind and limped towards the group. Henry was the first to spot him and she watched him with that permanent sneer of hers though it didn’t seem to stretch past her scarred lips these days. Six-Cities Ben was in full flow, talking at the Black Thorn and waving his hands in the air. Seemed the bounty hunter had a few more lines on his face these days. Thorn sat silent, grinning at Ben’s words but adding nothing.

Anders stopped by the table, leaning heavily on the back of a chair and trying his very best not to collapse at the effort. Truth was he desperately needed to sit down but he couldn’t here, not until they asked him to. Ben fell silent and Thorn stared on with his emotionless mask, only Henry seemed pleased to see him. Either that or her smile was a prelude to her stabbing him.

Anders knew he should open with an apology. “Fitting name for a tavern, don’t you think?” Not exactly what he’d meant to say but it earned a horrific smile from the Black Thorn.

“Aye, well Rose owns the place. Figured she’d rename it in honour of our… service ta the city,” he laughed. “Never thought the likes of me would be welcome in a place like this but I suppose some good’s gotta come from knowin’ the governor.”

Six-Cities Ben laughed. “If that’s what you’re calling it I’d like to know the governor as well.”

Anders laughed along and looked down, trying to summon the courage to apologise. That’s when he noticed his clothing; he was still wearing the same tunic and trousers he had been wearing during the fight with Swift. A fine, dark-green suit it had once been but now it was torn and faded, recently cleaned so most of the blood had been washed away but an old suit none the less. Thorn on the other hand was wearing a new set of clothing, a fine black tunic and a new leather duster of far superior quality to his old one. Ben and Henry were similarly decked out in new attire. Henry’s new hat was even wider than before and the feather was longer and more elaborately coloured; a swirl of greens and purples with a dark black eye in the centre. Ben was wearing a set of boiled leather that any lordling would be proud to own. Anders in comparison to the other three looked to be a beggar come in off the streets and, seeing as he currently owned somewhere close to nothing, he supposed that was exactly what he was.

“Weren’t sure you were gonna make it,” Thorn said. “Morrass reckoned you’d pull through but… you were pretty far gone.”

“I’m sorry, boss,” Anders said quickly. He still couldn’t quite meet Thorn’s eye.

“Are ya? An’ are ya still workin’ fer Morrass?”

Anders nodded. “Yes.”

“An’ what exactly does that bastard want with us?” Thorn asked.

“I don’t know,” Anders said; it was only half a lie. “I just know he wants me at your side.”

Thorn scratched at the stubble on his cheek, he seemed to be letting it grow out a bit but no hair grew over the burn scar. “An’ what if I say no?”

It was a possibility Anders had spent no small amount of time considering. “Well… the
Fortune
has already set sail so I suppose I’d probably find the nearest bottle and see what’s at the bottom.”

“Dangerous place to get drunk on ya own is Chade,” Six-Cities Ben said with a wink. “Good way to earn yaself an iron collar.”

Anders swallowed nervously; that thought had also crossed his mind.

Thorn rasped out a laugh. “Sit down, Anders. Crew ain’t been the same without ya an’ we need someone fer Ben ta talk at. Gods know he startin’ ta try my patience.”

“I thought you loved my conversation, Thorn,” Six-Cities Ben said in an affronted tone.

“You called us a crew,” Anders said as he slipped into the chair with a grimace.

Thorn nodded. “S’pose I did. An’ now we’re all here I reckon it’s time we had a chat. First time in as long as I can remember me an’ you, Henry, we ain’t got a price on us. Gives us some sort of freedom, I reckon. Freedom ta start somethin’ new maybe. Freedom ta get out of the game.”

Henry said nothing. Ben grinned. Anders found himself more than a little shocked. The Black Thorn had always been one of the biggest names in the game. Even the blooded families heard the rumours of what he had done.

“What’s your plan, boss?” Anders asked.

“Well as it happens I’ve been talkin’ ta Six-Cities here an’ turns out folk like us can make a fair livin’ as hunters. Chances are there’d be a few less people lookin’ ta kill us too.”

The idea of the Black Thorn on the other side of the game hunting the players was a little more than Anders had expected. He was in fact fairly sure the only way he could have been more surprised was if Thorn had declared he was quitting the game to take up agriculture.

“Now I already know Six-Cities is in. Lookin’ ta hear from you two,” Thorn continued, looking at Anders.

“I’m with you, boss,” Anders said mustering as much conviction as he could manage. “To the gritty end! Not that I’m hoping they’ll be an end… or that it will be gritty. I’m just… you know… I’m in.”

“Uh huh,” Thorn grunted. “What ‘bout you, Henry. Not said much an’ I could do with a second.”

Henry looked around the table in silence. She no longer looked at Anders with the hostile stare and that was something he was glad of but neither did she look at him with that same hungry longing she used to.

“What ‘bout Kessick?” she asked.

Thorn sniffed loudly and nodded. “Can’t say I’ve forgotten ‘bout the fuck but truth is he’s gone. Even if I wanted ta go after him I got no idea where ta look, no idea what he even looks like. Right now this crew needs ta earn itself some bits an’ as the boss that’d be my responsibility. So… you in?”

Henry grinned.

Pern sat and watched the small group as he had for the past two weeks. Part of his fascination was with the small woman, he was sure. The extent to which her aura had changed was a miracle. Some of the red still remained but it was heavily obscured by the blue of control. She was an emotional creature, of that much Pern was certain, but before she had been wild and out of control. Her killing of Swift seemed to have reined in those emotions.

“Two o’ the biggest names in the game become two o’ the most feared names huntin’ those that play it,” the little woman said. “Not a bad idea.”

“Two?” said the one with the moustache, the one they named Ben. “I’ll have you know the name Six-Cities is both feared and respected all over the wilds.”

“So how come I never heard of ya ‘fore?” Henry asked.

As their banter continued the tall one, the leader, the one they named the Black Thorn looked directly at Pern. Despite his new clothing and the hood to disguise his features Thorn always seemed to notice Pern. For a man with only one eye he had excellent vision.

The leader leaned over to the small woman and whispered something in her ear. Her eyes flicked up and she saw Pern. A moment later she stood from the table and walked towards him. He couldn’t help but notice she no longer limped. She didn’t sit but neither did she reach for any weapons, Pern took that as a good sign.

“Thorn wants me ta bring you over,” she said.

Pern nodded. “I see.”

“’Fore that happens I need ta know some…”

“Your secret is safe with me,” he assured the woman.

She sucked at her teeth and then nodded and smiled. “Come on then.”

Pern stood and followed the woman over to the other table. Thorn greeted him with a nod, the man named Six-Cities remained neutral but the blooded one, Anders, looked caught between fear and hostility. Pern couldn’t blame the man considering how complicit he had been in his torture.

“Shouldn’t you be dead?” Anders asked.

Pern nodded. “Yes.”

“Well don’t let us stop you,” Anders continued. “Hell I’ll even help if you like.”

The man they named Thorn looked a little confused. “What are ya talkin’ ’bout, Anders?”

“He’s Haarin and his master is dead,” Anders said. “Their rules…”

“Our code,” Pern corrected.

Anders snorted. “Their rules dictate that if the client should die before the contract is up then the Haarin must take their own life in order to protect the client in the underworld.”

“Afterlife,” Pern corrected again.

“Sorry what was that?” Anders asked. “I didn’t realise I was talking to you.”

“Leave it, Anders,” Thorn ordered.

“Easy for you to say,” Anders said then stopped and looked at Thorn. “Oh… right. Good point, boss. Sorry.”

“So,” Thorn continued. “Why aren’t you dead?”

It was a question Pern had been asking himself a lot of late and the truth was simple. “I didn’t want to die for a man like Swift.”

“That at least, I understand,” the little woman said grinning at Pern.

“An’ why’d you save us?” Thorn asked.

“Wait,” the blooded one interrupted. “He did what?”

“You fought for each other, protected each other,” Pern replied. “Swift fought for no one but himself, cared for no one but himself. I didn’t want to die for him and I didn’t want anyone else to die for him. Enough already have.”

Thorn nodded. “Makes a certain kind of sense, I s’pose. So now maybe ya’d like ta tell me why ya’ve been hangin’ round watchin’ us fer the past two weeks? Don’t sound like ya lookin’ ta take some revenge.”

Pern shook his head. “I need a place to be. I am no longer Haarin. I am disgraced. I am Honin. My people will hunt me. They will try to kill me to force me to take my place by Swift’s side in the afterlife, to protect him from the horrors of death.”

“Taking on a hunted man ain’t exactly the best way to start a career as a bounty hunter,” said Ben.

“But he ain’t too bad with a sword,” replied Henry.

Anders snorted. “Neither is he bad at holding a man prone while he takes a beating.”

“I am sorry for that,” Pern said earnestly.

Anders laughed. “Oh well I suppose we’re all good then.”

Pern nodded. “Good.”

Henry laughed and Ben joined in but Anders did not look happy.

“Way I see it,” Thorn said, “Ben’s got the right of it. Ain’t a good start takin’ on someone who’s hunted an’ I’d rather not have others like you comin’ after us. Reckon…”

“There is something else,” Pern said.

“Aye an’ what would that be?” Thorn asked.

“I know where to find Kessick.”

Jacob’s head was the very definition of pain. That was the problem with blessings that were always active; he felt everything but he felt it so much more than a normal person. His skull throbbed, his brain ached, his jaw screamed and his mouth felt as though it were on fire.

He opened his eyes and light rushed in, momentarily blinding him and sending him to even newer depths of pain. As the white began to clear he realised he was in a cell, not his cell back in the Inquisition but a cell nonetheless. The four stone walls, ceiling and cold floor brought him comfort. He belonged here amongst the forgotten. Here he couldn’t hurt anyone anymore.

Something nagged at him though, something he hadn’t done. His mission. Inquisitor Jeyne had been the one to authorise this mission and Jacob didn’t like to let the Inquisitor down. Not once had he ever failed and he wasn’t about to do so now… if only he could remember what his mission was.

Two eyes appeared at the small opening in the heavy wooden door; they peered in at him. Pretty eyes; they were blue with flecks of dark green around the edges and huge black pupils. They disappeared and a few seconds later the door opened. A woman stood on the other side; she was tall but not overly so, muscled without being too burly and about as handsome as a squashed mouse. She had very pretty eyes though. She had a scar as well; it stretched across her neck from one side to the other. It was a proud and ugly scar and had obviously cut deep. Jacob thought it a wonder that the woman had survived such a wound.

The woman had a long sword buckled at her left hip and a dagger at her right and wore a look that spoke of murder. The sight of her sparked some sort of memory but Jacob’s head hurt when he tried to think of it.

It seemed to Jacob he should probably introduce himself. He opened his mouth but all that flowed out was a series of noises none of which held any meaning and none of which sounded like any language he had ever heard. It was then he realised his hands were manacled to the wall. Iron manacles, heavy and tight. He could barely move. Jacob had spent a long time in his cell in the Inquisition but never before had he been in chains. He opened his mouth to ask where he was but again all that came out was noise.

The woman stopped a few paces from him and looked down at Jacob. Her dirt brown hair was tied in a tight ponytail and her pretty eyes were hard as glass.