Blood of the Underworld(119)

Thren leaned close, so they were mere inches away.

“You know who he is,” he said. “Your arrival was not coincidence. You’ve spat in my face, and for that you’ll die, but first you’ll tell me who.”

“What are you talking about?” Grayson asked, still struggling against the two blades. Thren had purposefully made sure neither punched through a vital organ, wanting to control Grayson’s death, to have it be exactly when he desired it.

“The man mocking me,” he said. “The one who has killed my members, taken their eyes, and left his words written in blood. Tell me who he is.”

“I don’t know,” Grayson said. He reached toward Thren with a shaking hand, and despite his wounds, tried to grab his neck to strangle him. Thren admired his dedication, but had no time for that. He released the hilts of his swords, grabbed Grayson’s wrists, and held him down.

“You lie.”

“I was never told his name.”

Thren’s eyes narrowed.

“Told by who?”

Grayson shook his head, and he laughed despite his pain.

“It’s all a game, Thren, and I played along because it suited us well. His name’s Laerek, a priest of Karak.”

It made no sense, but he detected no lie.

“A priest?” he asked. “What have I done to them that Karak’s followers would hate me?”

Another laugh.

“I don’t know, and I don’t give a shit.”

Thren grabbed Grayson’s neck with a hand and pushed his head down.

“Tell me where to find him.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

Thren swallowed, and then he nodded.

“Yeah. I will.”

Grayson let out a soft sigh. His dark skin was turning pale, yet he kept total control of his voice.

“So be it. He’ll be waiting for me in an alley off Songbird Road, by that shoemaker’s place.”

Thren again sensed no lie. He stood, and his hand closed around the hilt of his sword.

“Thren,” Grayson said, and for the first time his voice wavered.

“Yes?”

Grayson grinned darkly.

“Make sure that bastard suffers.”

Thren yanked the blade free, spun it around, and then slashed open Grayson’s throat. His body convulsed for a moment as blood spilled across his neck and chest, and then he lay still. Thren stood over him, breathing heavily, and despite himself, he felt tears run down his face.

“You loved Marion more than I,” he told the corpse. “A shame it cost you so.”

He yanked the other sword free, not bothering to clean off the blood. He still had work to do.

“Laerek,” Thren whispered as trumpets sounded, the raid on the Sun Guild nearing its end.





30



Alyssa tossed and turned, but she could not sleep. Zusa had still not returned, and with the setting of the sun she felt her hope dwindling. With every creak of a board she sat up in bed, looking to see if Zusa was opening the door or climbing down from the ceiling. Always, nothing. She’d give so much to have the Faceless Woman climb into her bed, to wrap her arms around her and tell her everything was well, everything was safe. Despite her wealth and fortune, she could not buy the one thing she so desperately needed.

Still feeling anxious, she at last gave up on sleep and slipped out of bed. She threw a robe over her thin nightgown, then stepped into the hallways. It was dark despite the many candles. Something gnawed at her tired mind, but she couldn’t place what it was. Even more impatient, she hurried to Nathaniel’s room. If she were stuck awake, at least it’d be with her son. Seeing him asleep, and at peace, was often what it took to reassure her troubled mind that all was well. She’d done it plenty when he was a newborn, and though it felt childish to do so now that he was older, she didn’t care. Reaching his door, she again felt that gnawing fear, an awareness that she was missing something both troubling, and obvious.

Opening the door to her son’s room, she stepped inside, and was surprised to find that he was still awake.

“Mom?”

His head tilted higher, and he clearly looked relieved. Two candles burned on the other side of the room, filling the room with yellow light.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, sitting down beside his bed. He sat up, which revealed the stump of his arm. It was scabbed over, with several spots bleeding from him picking at it. Nathaniel seemed oblivious, just scratching repeatedly with his hand as he shuddered and looked away. Alyssa felt the worry in her gut strengthen.

“I don’t want to sleep,” he said.

“You know you need to. I can see how tired you are.”

“It’s not that,” he said. “I...I don’t want to dream. I keep seeing him, mommy, and I don’t want to anymore.”