Blood of the Underworld(64)

Tarlak tipped his hat, and then they trudged off with their soldiers, leaving Alyssa to deal with the mess. Zusa tried not to think about it. Entering through the door, she gave a quick scan of the mansion, looking upon the destruction. Paintings were slashed or stolen, furniture broken. Every shred of silver or gold, from the candles to the dinnerware, was taken. The bodies of servants and guards lay in every room, side by side with thieves and looters.

At the foot of the stairs she found Alyssa, come to survey the damage.

“We’ll rebuild, replace it all,” Zusa offered. “Your loved ones survived. That is what matters.”

Alyssa slowly wrapped her arms about her, leaned her head against her breast, and cried.

“Ten years,” she whispered. “Gods help us, ten years.”

“Not this time,” Zusa said, stroking her hair. “Not this time.”

It was shallow comfort, a weak promise, but right then, she had little else to offer.





16



Grayson knew he should be furious by the defeat, but he was far too amused for that. He’d gathered together men of all guilds, united with promises of the Watcher’s death and a luxurious future. At each guild he’d been treated like a prince, and cheered with raised glasses despite them knowing so little about him. Only a few had glanced his way with untrusting eyes, realizing what the others did not. He was a fearsome man, and a thief, but a thief from a distant nation, and of foreign guilds.

Foreign guilds eyeing Veldaren with hungry mouths open.

“To the Watcher’s killer,” said one of the members of the Spider Guild as Grayson stepped into the guild’s tavern, the man lifting his glass in a mocking toast. Grayson grinned at him, the look sapping away whatever cheer the man had.

“I stuck my sword through his gut and out his back,” Grayson said. “Perhaps this Watcher of yours is a devil after all. No man lives through that.”

The thief was smart enough to say nothing, only shrug and resume drinking. Still grinning, Grayson looked about the tavern, counting numbers. A pathetic remnant of what they’d been, especially compared to when he and Thren had been working together so many years ago. Hardly a merchant would quake at seeing the ragtag group of fifteen men drinking and bandaging wounds. Thren would recruit like mad to replace his numbers, but it would take time. With so much death and conflict, and so little coin in return, he’d gain only the desperate and delusional.

Now that he thought of it...

He found Thren drinking with a group of four in a far corner. Stealing a drink from the man who had mocked him, Grayson guzzled it down as he walked over to Thren’s table, slamming his empty cup atop the hard wood. Three of them jumped, but not Thren.

“So how goes your night?” Grayson asked, grin spreading.

“As poorly as your ill conceived plan,” Thren said, leaning back and looking as if he had not a care in the world. He couldn’t pull off the image completely, though. Thren was never much of a bluffer, Grayson knew, never had been and never would be. His eyes always gave him away. Too much intensity.

“That so?” Grayson glared down at the man opposite Thren, who glanced at his guild leader.

“Go check and see if any others have made it back, Martin,” Thren said.

Martin shrugged and gave up his seat so Grayson could take it.

“I must say, I thought things would go differently,” Grayson said, his elbows on the table. “With the rioters loosening up the guard, should’ve had easy pickings. Sadly, looks like the looters got the bulk, and we just shed the blood.”

“Blood that shouldn’t have been shed,” Thren said, tilting his head slightly. His eyes narrowed. “You are no master here, no leader. Whatever your influence with the Suns, this is Veldaren, not Mordeina.”

“Don’t remember you forbidding it,” Grayson said, and he laughed at the way Thren twitched. He was furious, he could tell, but something kept him in check. Was it the way the attack had failed? Perhaps, but with his guild suffering such losses, that couldn’t be enough. Had to be something more. Had to be...

“So where were you during all this?” Grayson asked, looking over to the bar and frowning when he realized he would have to fetch a drink himself. “With you at our side, I daresay we still might have broken through with ease. Might have even taken down the Watcher.”

Thren stared him in the eye, not moving, not answering. So smug. It was answer enough.

“Yeah, guess it’s foolish of me to think you’d have helped,” Grayson said, standing. “You couldn’t kill the Watcher all these years, doubt you’d be able to now. Shit, you’d probably take his place if you could.”