The Hammer and the Blade (9 page)

  "Friend, just let it go and go back to your tankard, yeah?" Nix said. "You don't want this to go bad, do you?"

  The hiresword sneered. "Maybe I do. Would you wet your blade over a whore, Nix Fall? This whore?"

  "Nix…" Kiir said behind him.

  On the stairs, Tesha, still staring at him, raised her eyebrows and shook her head.

  "Maybe I would," Nix said philosophically. "I've bloodied an edge over less. But that's neither hither nor yon, since she's more than that to me. It happens she's a rent-paying tenant. My rent-paying tenant, since I own this place."

  A few murmured comments, one soft "huzzah" from one of the teamsters.

  The hiresword guffawed. "You own this place? Ha! You lose a wager or something? I heard you was called 'lucky.' This place is a shithole."

  The slam of Egil's tankard on the bar, as loud as the report of a blunderbuss, cut short the chuckles of the hiresword's companions. All eyes turned to the priest. The stool groaned with relief as Egil rose.

 

Rakon sat his horse, blinking in the drizzle, Rusilla's slouched form before him in the saddle. The eunuch sat a horse beside him, his ham hands clutching Merelda's limp form to prevent her from falling off the mount. Rakon's men stood around an uncovered, horse-drawn wagon. All but Baras, the head of Rakon's personal guard, had cloak hoods drawn against the rain.

  "That's it there, my lord?" Baras asked, pointing at the decrepit building across the street.

  Rakon squinted through the drizzle at the sign that hung over the building's door. He couldn't make out the faded writing, but the image limned on the board looked like a dark tunnel.

  "That's it," Rakon said.

  "And they're inside, this Egil and Nix?"

  "They are," Rakon said. Or so his informant had told him.

  Baras nodded. His face wrinkled in a question but he did not give it voice.

  "What is it, Baras?" Rakon asked.

  Baras looked up at Rakon, droplets of rain adorning his beard. "My lord, why are we bothering with these two? I don't see–"

  "We'll need them when we reach Afirion," Rakon said.

  "Yes, but these two men are thieves by reputation. There are others–"

  "No," Rakon said sharply. "It must be these two. Now do as I've said, Baras. No more questions."

  Baras stiffened. "Aye, my lord."

  "I need them alive. Bring them to the warehouse in the docks, the one we've used before. I'll meet you there."

  "Aye, my lord."

 

"It may be a shithole, slubber," Egil said to the hiresword, "but it's our shithole. And you and yours are no longer welcome in it."

  Nix smiled, pleased to see Egil taking some pride of ownership. "I'm glad to hear you own up to–"

  The hiresword let Lis go and put a hand to his blade hilt. His three companions pushed back their chairs and stood.

  "Is that right?" the hiresword said to Egil. "You mean to kick us out?
Of here?"

  He chuckled darkly and his comrades echoed him. The chuckles died, however, as Egil walked toward them, shoving empty chairs out of his way as he went. Nix fell in behind him, seeing how it would go.

  "This is our place," Nix hissed. "Whatever you break is our lost coin."

  The priest seemed not to hear him and went nose to nose with the hiresword. "I'm not kicking you out. I'm telling you and them to leave. If I was
kicking
you out, my boot'd be in your arse."

  Anger colored the man's pockmarked face. His mustache and stubble twitched. With his narrow chin and large nose, he reminded Nix of a river rat.

  "Ain't you a priest or something?" the man said, his eyes flicking over the scalp tattoo.

  "Or something," Egil said. "Now, get out."

  The man looked over at Nix. "Is this slubber serious?"

  Nix rubbed his chin and made a dramatic show of studying Egil's face, the furrowed brow, the narrowed eyes, the way his chest rose and fell. Egil's eyes never left the hiresword's face.

  "Hmm. Not yet, I'd say, but–"

  The man whirled back on Egil, spraying spit as he spoke. "Then tell him to stop wasting my fakkin' time, eh? And maybe get out of my face? I want to get drunk and then laid."

  "Ah, don't we all," Nix said, nodding sympathetically.

  "You'll do neither here," Egil said, and Nix heard the promise of violence in his tone. The priest stood half a head taller than the man, and several stones heavier.

  "Shite," Nix said, and shook his head regretfully.

  "What now?" the man said.

  "
Now
he's serious."

  The man seemed bemused. "What are you two, a comedy troupe?"

  "No, but I'm flattered you'd think–"

  "Apologize," Egil said.

  The hiresword blinked. "To her? For calling her a whore? Fine, apologies to milady the whore."

  He made an exaggerated bow in the general direction of Lis.

  "I think that resolves it, then," Tesha said from the stairs, clapping her hands once. "Let's all go back to–"

  "We done?" the man said. The way he leaned in toward Egil suggested that matters had not ended.

  "No," Egil said. "Now apologize to me for calling my place a shithole."

  "Your place!" Nix exclaimed. "This is
our
place. And I
knew
you'd come to see the potential–"

  "You're pushing now just to push," the man said.

  "Isn't that what you were doing when you stood up and started shouting about whores and shitholes?" Egil said, his deep voice low and dangerous. "When you bumped into Nix and me outside? Pushing just to push, right? You and your boys used to havin' the run of places, are you?"

  The man's lower lip trembled. "You know what? Fak you, Egil the Priest and Nix the Lucky. Yeah, I know your name, too." He spat on the floor. "I was trying to be cordial, but this is too much now."

  "You were trying to be
cordial
?" Nix said. "Really? You need lessons."

  "Too much now, is it?" Egil said.

  "It is," the man said, his tone hard. "Far too much."

  The man's three comrades nodded, muttering agreement.

  Nix saw how things would go and sighed. To the man, he said, "Friend, I'd wish you well, but I'm not one for fruitless wishing. I think maybe those lessons I mentioned are forthcoming."

  The man licked his lips. The lump in his trachea bobbed up and down as he swallowed. "And who's going to teach it? This priest?"

  "Don't kill him," Nix said to Egil.

  "Ha!" the man said. "There's four of us and–"

  The smack of Egil's backhand across the man's cheek nearly knocked him to his knees. The onlookers gasped, even Tesha.

  Snarling, red-faced from embarrassment and the blow, the man reached for the hilt of his blade as his three companions did the same.

  Egil lunged forward, seized the man's wrist before his blade showed half its steel, and punched him in the jaw hard enough to mist the air with spit, blood, and at least one tooth. The man hit the floor like a poleaxed bull. Meanwhile, Nix bounded forward to the nearest of the man's companions while clearing his punch dagger of its wrist sheathe. He put its point under the man's chin before the man had cleared his own sword.

  The two remaining hireswords got their weapons out and backed off a step, bumping into their table. They took half-hearted fighting crouches, looking around nervously. Sweat glistened on their foreheads.

  The man at the end of Nix's dagger glared at Nix but dared not move. Nix winked at him.

  "Your friend there forgot that I'm called both lucky and
quick
. But I wager you three will not soon forget that, and you can remind your loudmouthed friend of that when his senses return, yeah?"

  The man bared his teeth. Nix pricked him with the blade.

  "Yeah?"

  "Yeah," the man agreed.

  "You show respect to the workers here from now on," Egil said, loud enough to be heard by everyone. He grabbed the semi-conscious man by an ankle and dragged him toward the doors. The other two men made no move toward the priest.

  The hiresword groaned, his eyes rolling, his hair collecting bits of the filth from the floor as Egil pulled him along. Bloody drool dripped from the corner of his mouth.

  "Go on, now," Nix said to the other two. "Follow. And give your blades a home before I lose my smile. This is all done now, unless you're stupid. This goes any further and my friend will start plying his hammers rather than his fists."

  The pair shared a glance, looked at Egil, who pulled their friend along as if he weighed no more than a child, and scabbarded their blades. As one they headed for the doors, mumbling inaudibly. Nix took his blade from under his man's chin and pushed him after them. He realized he had the man's coinpurse in his off hand. He must've lifted it. One day soon he'd have to break himself of the habit, lest it land him in trouble.

  "You," he said, and the man turned. Nix tossed him the purse and the man fumbled it. "You dropped that."

  The man collected the purse, what was left of his dignity, and shuffled for the door.

  Egil opened the door and tossed the hiresword out onto the rain-soaked walkway, nearly hitting a group of four other men just about to enter.

  "Pardon us," Egil said to them. "Rubbish drop."

  The four newcomers wore mail shirts, metal caps, and long blades. They waited off to the side while the three remaining hireswords filed out.

  Nix called after the three as thunder rumbled outside.

  "Egil and Nix own the
Tunnel
now, you hear? You three are welcome to return, but next time bring your manners. Oh, and maybe leave the loudmouth behind? Done?"

  Grumbles and an obscene gesture from the one he'd pricked under the chin were the only responses. Nix figured he'd get no better.

  Nix turned, grinning, and looked around the room. Everyone save Tesha had already turned back to their drinks, conversation, stew, or work.

  Again, no applause, no congratulations, no accolades, nothing.

  "Come now, people," he muttered. He saw Tesha eyeing him, one hand on her hip, an irritated glint in her kohl-lined eyes. He made a "What?" gesture with his hands and immediately wished he hadn't.

  Thunder boomed as she strode down the stairs. She walked up to him like she intended to put a blade in his innards. Instead, she jabbed a finger into his chest. "You won't improve my business, or yours, by bludgeoning the customers."

  "What? But he said–"

  "I know what he said. She
is
a whore, Nix. Hearing the truth offends neither her nor me. It goes with the work."

  "True," Lis said, walking past him and up the stairs.

  "But… he was disrespectful."

  "So?" Tesha said. "That goes with the work, too. Do you beat everyone who's disrespectful to you?"

  "Well not me, no, but Egil…"

  "Don't do it again, Nix. I mean it. I can't have everyone who might be interested in one of my men or women worried about saying the wrong thing and getting crosswise of you and Egil. You want this place to make money, don't you?"

  Nix found himself at a loss for words. He located some only by changing the subject. "You're quite lovely when you're angry. Did you know that?"

  "And you're quite small of stature, angry or no," she said.

  And with that, she turned on her heel and walked for the stairs. He stood there sputtering and she shot him a final withering glance before she ascended.

  "I believe I'm in love," he said softly, watching the sway of her hips under her blue dress.

  "You're always in love," Egil said, stepping beside him, and checking his fist, where he'd scraped it on the hiresword's teeth. The priest nodded surreptitiously at the four men who'd just entered. "You see those four who just came in?"

  The men, all hard-eyed and armed, stood just inside the doors. They were eyeing Nix and Egil uncertainly, whispering among themselves.

  "I see them," Nix said softly, then called to them, "And here are men of quality to replace the low men late of this establishment. Welcome, goodsirs."

  The men pasted on fake smiles, gave half-bows, and went awkwardly for a corner table. Nix saw how they fell in behind the older, bearded man among them.

  From their helmcuts and bearing, he made them as bodyguards, city watch, or soldiers. The bearded one caught Nix studying them, so Nix pasted on a fake smile of his own.

  "Morra, see to those men," Nix said, waving to the serving girl.

  "In a moment, luvs," Morra called to them, placing frothing tankards down at another table.

  Egil took Nix by the arm and walked him toward the bar.

  "Have to be watch," Egil said.

  "Looks that way to me, too. We're not wanted by any authorities, though. Wait. Are we?"

  Egil shrugged. "Pits if I know."

  Nix wondered if his mouthiness at the Slum Gate had landed them in trouble.

  "Well, even watchmen just want a drink sometimes, right?"

  "Possible," Egil said. "Or maybe they're here on some other business not involving Egil and Nix."

  "Are you referring to us in the third person now?"

  "Shut up," the priest said, and tended to his tankard.

  Kiir stood at the other end of the bar, her dress showing her curves to good effect. Nix sat and patted the stool next to him. She smiled and moved to take it, but Tesha's voice from the top of the stairs cut through the cacophony of the common room.

  "Kiir, attend me here, please."

  Nix tried not to look crestfallen, but doubted he succeeded. He took Kiir by the wrist as she turned to go. "Maybe we can speak later?"