Blood of the Underworld(31)

“Consider it protecting him,” Tarlak said, standing. “That is, if he’s innocent. And if he’s not, well...” The wizard shrugged. “You’ll be right there to stop him, won’t you?”

Haern thought of the way Victor had responded seeing the body in the alley. His anger, his revulsion...that couldn’t have been an act. Could it? The timing would have been difficult, but he didn’t have to be the one committing the killings himself.

“It’s not him,” Haern said, reaching for his sabers.

“I hope it isn’t,” Zusa said as she left for the door. “Because his scribe sits in our mansion, recording our every deed. Find him quickly, Eschaton. Our city is dangerous enough without a madman.”

Silence greeted them as the door closed behind her. Haern stood there, feeling unsure, then buckled his sabers to his belt.

“Where are you going?” Delysia asked.

“To speak with a contact,” Haern said. “If the Spider Guild is being targeted, someone in their organization might have an idea why.”

“Be careful,” she told him.

He leaned in close to gently kiss her cheek.

“I will,” he said. “I promise.”



“You sure it’s safe to be out here?” Peb asked as they neared the castle. His wide eyes darted every which way, as if guards were trying to sneak up behind him from all directions. With his big ears, the act only reminded Alan why Peb had once been called Mouse.

“I’m not sure it’s safe to be anywhere in Veldaren right now,” Alan said, twirling a copper coin between his thumb and forefinger, something he did when nervous. “So why should the castle be any worse?”

Peb nodded toward the rows of men and women waiting to be interrogated by Lord Victor’s men.

“Maybe because any one of them people might be blubbering our names any second?”

Alan ran a hand through his long dark hair.

“Thren wants answers, wants something new, so either we get him something new, or we get a tongue-lashing...if we’re lucky. Given the mood he was in, I’m not willing to gamble on that. I’d rather tempt the city guards than the boss.”

Peb didn’t look convinced, but Alan didn’t care. The guy was a coward, and more importantly, he hated to be alone. He’d follow Alan, so long as things still looked safe. Alan patted his leg, glad for the dagger hidden there. Taking a deep breath, he summoned his courage and then walked out from the alley and into the main street, where the interrogations continued. Peb quickly followed. The two were in ratty clothing, their faces dirty, their hands calloused. Anyone who bothered to notice them would think them nothing but poor, hungry peasants. At least, that was the hope.

Alan led the way, faking a limp toward the lines. At the front he saw scribes jotting down the guts that their current pigeons spilled. Not that Alan blamed them. When your life was on the line, or the coin was right, honor was nothing but a hindrance. Making as little noise as possible, he listened as they got closer, hoping to catch an errant phrase, but a soldier noticed them before he could.

“Stay back, you two,” said the armored man, his hand already on his sword. He stood between them and the tables of scribes. On his chest was a tabard bearing a crest Alan did not recognize, some strange circle with wings drawn in gold. “Any closer, and I’ll think you a threat.”

“Forgive me,” Alan said, bowing low and turning away. Peb followed, saying nothing.

“That was pointless,” Peb mumbled.

“Did you see Lord Victor?”

Peb shook his head.

“No. You?”

Alan glanced back, scouring the guards, the lines, the scribes.

“Not here,” he said. “But only twelve or so are set to talk. Yesterday had far more.”

“He’s slowing down?” Peb asked.

Alan shrugged.

“Either that, or he’s being more careful. Never know if...”

He had about two seconds to react before it hit. Alan grabbed Peb by the arm and pulled him hard into the side of a building. His shoulder throbbed upon slamming the wood, and Peb let out a cry when his forehead struck, having been unable to twist in time. Still, it was better than being impaled by the barrage of arrows that sailed toward Victor’s proceedings. Over twenty men stood far down the road, bows and crossbows in hand, their cloaks revealing their allegiance to the Hawks.

“Starting already,” Alan said before swearing up a storm. “Get down!”

The two dropped as another barrage flew. Screams filled the air. The first barrage had landed among the guards and scribes, the second aimed squarely for the men and women brought out for interrogation. People fled every direction, while the guards swarmed in a panic, some flinging the older men to the ground for protection, others rushing to meet the new threat.