Book 2: Chapter Twenty

Razai waited for her contact at the rear of the tavern, tapping her finger on the table as she idly considered whether the seaborn were paying her enough to make it worth sticking around. Maybe it was time to consider moving on, back to High Cove, or even up to Lanport. They were smaller cities, but there was still plenty of work to be found.

Then she realized what she was doing, and forced herself to stop. She had no desire to go north in the middle of winter, but lately, if she let her mind wander, she’d start coming up with excuses to head that way. It was probably Vatarxis, trying to manipulate her into following his pet warden around.

Without thinking about it, she checked Corec’s direction. It had become an almost reflexive habit at this point. He was still north and a bit west. Possibly Ironholt, or somewhere in the Storm Heights or the northern plains. What kind of idiot would head that way at this time of year? Unfortunately, she couldn’t tell how far away he was. That would make it easier to avoid him, but all she could judge was the direction he was in.

Someone stopped in front of her, blocking the light, and she looked up to find a hard-eyed man watching the pattern her fingers were tapping out on the table.

“Razai?” he asked uncertainly.

She nodded, letting her Aden disguise flicker away for just a moment. He was blocking anyone else’s view of her anyway. He sat down across from her.

“What’s with the secrecy?” she asked. “And why are you dressed like that? Does this have something to do with why the buyers came out to meet us today?”

Stavo was one of the guards Renny Senshall had hired to help with her divers’ cooperative until the gang threat had been dealt with, but instead of his normal armor and uniform, he was dressed as a dockworker, similar to the illusionary clothing that Razai’s own Aden disguise was wearing.

“Talai’s crew was ambushed and robbed last night after selling to us. Their bodyguard was killed. Mistress Senshall thinks we’ve gotten too predictable, since the crews have all been coming to the same place for their sales. Talai got in after dark, and her crew went through an alley on their way home after we paid them. They’ve been going the same way every night, and the gangs were lying in wait.”

Razai growled. She’d never spent any time with Talai’s bodyguard—a human who didn’t seem to like demonborn—but she was beginning to hate these gangs. The thugs stayed away when she was on duty, but two of Lanii’s men had been caught and beaten the previous week after the crew had split up for the day. Razai couldn’t be everywhere at all times, and she wasn’t getting paid enough even for the hours she was officially working, but she didn’t like letting the gangs get away with what they were doing. Unfortunately, like Vash, the seaborn didn’t want to upset the balance, fearing what the result would be.

“That doesn’t explain what we’re doing here,” she said.

“Mistress Senshall sent the buyers out to the docks today instead, until she can come up with a better solution, but she didn’t want them carrying too much coin with them, even though we were there to watch over them. Nobody realized Sifoo and Lanii were going to bring in pearls, so the buyers were short. I brought you the extra silver to take back.” He passed her a full coin pouch under the table.

Razai sighed. “Lanii could have just told me that. I was there!”

Stavo shrugged. “Maybe she didn’t want anyone overhearing. She’s the one who suggested you and your disguises. I took the idea back to Mistress Senshall, who thought I should be in disguise too, so nobody would follow me to see the handoff.”

“This is stupid. They could have just brought the rest of the money tomorrow—in public, in the daylight, when all the guards are on duty.”

“It has something to do with the contract, I think. Something about paying on the same day.”

Razai shook her head, exasperated. They should have been dealing with the thugs, not grousing about contracts or playing children’s games with disguises.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll take it. I’m seeing Lanii after this. I’m sure she can get Sifoo’s share to him if he’s not there.”

She left the tavern through the back door, shifting to the guise of an elderly drunk man. She staggered along to another tavern three doors down, again changing disguises as she entered, this time to the illusion she’d chosen for her bodyguard work. She’d modeled it after Vash, since the lucky bastard could intimidate people without even trying, but she’d made enough changes for it to be apparent that they were two different people.

Sitting down at a long, crowded table, she greeted Lanii, Sifoo, and Wotar. Before she could ask about Vash, he joined them, bringing a new pitcher of ale and the serving girl who was supposed to be carrying it.

“Well?” Lanii asked, the elderly stormborn woman staring a full foot above Razai’s eye level. That was the only problem with the Vash-like disguise—it was much larger than Razai herself, so it was sometimes difficult to coordinate her movement with the illusion.

She passed the pouch over, and Lanii glanced through it before handing it to Sifoo.

“Was all this really necessary?” Razai asked.

“After last night’s attack, that silly human girl wants to stop using the stall where we’ve been selling our catches. She wants to vary the locations instead, so the gangs can’t set a trap. But her buyers didn’t bring enough money, and they didn’t have the authority to accept a late payment penalty, so rather than sending messengers back and forth all afternoon, I figured I’d annoy her a bit.”

“What’s all this about?” Vash asked. He’d swung the red-headed serving girl into his lap and hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation.

Razai rolled her eyes. “It looks like you’re busy. I’ll tell you later.” She turned back to Lanii. “I don’t think you annoyed the girl—I think she liked the idea. She sent her own man in disguise, too.”

Lanii cackled. “We should be making better use of your ability, I suppose.”

“Not like this.”

“Oh, very well. We’ll figure something else out next time. Personally, I think we should go back to using the stall, and just be more careful. Get back in daylight, for one.”

“But the days are so short right now,” Sifoo protested.

Lanii waved that away. “We’ve got to do something.”

“We could always stop this nonsense with the human’s plan and go back to what we used to do,” suggested Sozu with a dour expression. He was the crew leader that Vash worked for.

“We’re making more money now than we were before,” Lanii said, “and besides, the gangs were after us then, too.”

Razai said, “We need to actually deal with them. If this keeps up, they’re liable to start following your crew members home.”

“They haven’t risked coming into the warrens so far,” Sifoo said doubtfully, referring to the rat’s nest of cheap, aging buildings where many of the docks’ citizens and seaborn lived. When the new gangs took over, the docks’ old gangs had been pushed back into the warrens, but they still kept tight control over their remaining neighborhoods.

Razai sighed, knowing the crew leaders would once again talk themselves into doing nothing. The seaborn divers and sailors who worked out of human cities were a far cry from the real seaborn crews she’d encountered a few times in the past, on their proud sailing ships. Seaborn ships rarely came this far east, and their people who lived in Tyrsall had been among the humans for too long. Just like her own people, Razai reflected.

Vash had been whispering into the serving girl’s ear, and she suddenly jumped up from his lap, giggling.

He followed her up. “I’ll see you tomorrow, folks,” he said. “I’m going to turn in for the night.” He took the girl’s hand and they headed for the stairs.

“I don’t know how he does it,” Wotar said, staring after him. “Do you know, she doesn’t charge him?”

That gave Razai an idea, but it wasn’t one she could voice to the group.

Instead, she said, “I think I’ll head out, too. Lanii, you’ll walk home with the others, right? Not by yourself?” Her shift was over, but she wanted to make sure her crew leader would stick with the big group of seaborn that would be heading back to the warrens together once they were done with their carousing for the night.

“Oh, go on, I’ll be fine. You young folk should go have your fun.”

Razai smirked. She’d never told the woman how old she truly was—older than Lanii herself.

“I’ll see them back safely,” Wotar promised.

Razai nodded, then left the inn, sticking with her Vash-like disguise for the moment. She almost hoped that one of the gangs would recognize her from her bodyguard work, and try to attack her while she was alone.

#

An hour later, she entered yet another tavern, this one in the heart of the territory held by one of the gangs trying to take over the docks. She’d had to stop at her rented apartment on the way, to change into a blouse and skirt that would at least roughly approximate the feel of the dress her new guise was wearing.

With a self-confident swagger in her hips, she strode up to the bar and addressed the tavern keeper, a rough-looking bald man with a gold tooth. “I’m lookin’ for work if ya got any,” she said.

He eyed her disguise’s mostly illusionary cleavage. In Tyrsall, the cut of a tavern girl’s dress indicated how likely she was to be a whore, and her fake dress was cut very low indeed.

“What’s your name, girl?”

“I’m Molly, boss.”

“Molly, you look like you done this before.”

“I used ta work for Miss Rosa’s House of Comfort—ya know, over in the crafter’s district?” There was no Miss Rosa’s, at least as far as Razai knew, but she doubted the man would bother to check up on her story.

“Why’d you leave?”

“Oh, uhh, no reason,” she said, stammering, as if she hadn’t thought to come up with a lie in advance. “I just wanted to try another place.”

“You skimmin’ from her?”

She looked down at her feet without saying anything.

“We won’t have any of that here or you’ll answer to me,” the man said with a glare. “You charge at least a silver an hour, more if you can get it. Twenty percent goes to me and twenty to Eben, and that includes from your tips, you hear me?”

“Eben?” she asked, as if she didn’t already know.

“He and his men spend some time here. You be nice to them. His boys get a ten percent discount, and that comes out of your share.”

She scowled at that, as he would expect her to do, but then she nodded.

“Good,” he said, “I’m glad you understand me. You can start tonight. Room four upstairs is open. You can work as many hours as you want, but you got to be upstairs at least three hours a night.”

“What if there aren’t enough customers for that?”

“Then you better make it up by the end of the week. Got it?”

“Yes,” she said sullenly, looking down again.

“Then get to work. Ask Priss over there if you have any questions, and don’t steal any of her customers.”

Luckily, it was a busy evening, and the tavern keeper didn’t insist on trying her out before she started. Or perhaps it was because Eben always liked to be the first to sample the goods.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Without telling Lanii, Razai had been scouting out the place in various disguises after she’d realized that Eben was the stupidest of the gang leaders threatening the divers. She’d mostly done it out of habit. She certainly wasn’t getting paid for the extra work, but she couldn’t help herself—she was good at what she did, and she hated to leave a job half done.

At the Senshall girl’s urging, the constabulary had increased its presence within the docks district, but so far they hadn’t made much progress against the gangs. The thugs looked like any other dockworkers, and could split up and blend in with the crowd if they saw a constable coming.

Razai, however, could come and go at will, and the gangs never knew. She spent her evenings amusing herself by looking for weaknesses, and Eben was the biggest weakness in the bunch.

Where is he? she asked the whispers, but they didn’t reply. They had little interest in the goings-on in the docks district, which was yet another sign that it was time for her to move on. Maybe somewhere north. She’d never spent much time in Ironholt before; it might be interesting to… She caught herself again, and pushed all thoughts of leaving Tyrsall from her mind. She had to concentrate on the task at hand.

“Hey, girly, why don’t you come over here?” slurred a drunk fisherman, who still smelled like the catch of the day.

The tavern keeper watched suspiciously while Razai tried to come up with a way to turn down her first potential customer. Then she realized Priss, a blonde wearing heavy makeup to cover the lines in her face, was glaring at her. The fisherman must belong to her, which gave Razai a convenient excuse. She pointed the drunk man to his regular girl, and went on her way.

Before anyone else could accost her, Eben came in the front door, only a few minutes after his usual time. He was followed by two of his men. “Hello, my friends!” he boomed. “What a fine evening it is!”

The gang leader couldn’t have been more than forty years old, but he’d let himself go. He was the width of two men, and was prone to excesses of food, drink, and women. From the sound of his voice, he’d already gotten a good start on the first two, which meant he was looking for the third—right on schedule.

She sauntered in his direction, not quite aiming for him. When she was about to pass him by, he reached out and grabbed her by the arm. She had to keep a tight grip on herself to refrain from punching him in the face.

“I haven’t seen you before,” he said, looking her up and down. Or looking Molly up and down, at least.

“I’m new here,” she replied, managing a bright smile. “My name’s Molly. What’s yours?”

“They call me Eben, and I own half this place.”

“Oh!” she said, her eyes wide with what she hoped looked like awe. “The boss told me about you. Would ya like some company?”

She suspected he would. She’d constructed the Molly disguise quickly, not having considered the idea until that evening, but she’d based pieces of it on Vash’s various lady friends. Vash had good taste—in looks, if nothing else—and not many men would be able to turn her down. She’d used her own height and voice to make the work easier.

“Why not?” he said, slapping her ass. “Go get us a pitcher and four mugs.”

She managed to keep from growling, but found herself clutching her daggers—hidden under her illusory dress—all the way to the bar.

When she returned, she served Eben and his men, then sat down next to him, but only took a few sips from her own mug. He was settling himself in for an evening of drinking and pawing at her body. Worried he’d reach out for a bosom that appeared much larger than it actually was, she managed to convince him to come upstairs with her. There, she found the room she’d been told to use—the number had been carved into the door.

Inside, he said, “All right, girl, get those clothes off and let’s see you.”

“Of course,” she said brightly, locking the door. There was no bar on it, so if she made too much noise, his men would be able to break it down. “Why don’t you get on the bed and get comfortable.”

She faced him, slowly unlacing the fake dress strings while he undressed. She bared one shoulder, then paused to open the window and peer down at the street. They were on the second floor, so the window was ten or twelve feet from the ground. She’d be able to make that, even if she had to leave in a rush and couldn’t climb out carefully.

One of Eben’s weaknesses was that he didn’t limit himself to a single base of operations. His men were spread out, and not just within the docks district but in his old territory as well. The two he’d come in with were the only two downstairs, though it was possible there were others somewhere on the upper floor. She planned to be gone before they could react, but if something went wrong, she could probably take out the whole group by herself.

“What’d you do that for?” he asked. “It’s cold out there.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll warm ya up,” she said, turning away from the window. “I thought we might want some fresh air.”

She stood at the foot of the bed, pretending to slip off a dress that didn’t exist, but then ran into a problem. The dress was part of the disguise. She couldn’t actually take it off or it would disappear, leaving her real clothing visible. She hadn’t had time to come up with a naked version of the disguise.

Figuring it was now or never, she leapt up onto the bed, switching to her Vash-like appearance as she jumped. She landed with one knee pressing down on the fat man’s chest, holding a dagger in front of his face long enough for him to see it before she pressed it down against his throat.

Eben’s eyes grew wide, his drunk mind trying to process what had just happened. “What…” he gurgled.

“Don’t make a sound!” Razai growled in the deep voice she used for her bodyguard disguise. “If you talk or move, I’ll cut you.” She slid her other dagger down against his manhood. “It’s your choice where.”

He squeaked and twitched, so she pushed her knee harder into his chest, making him gasp. She wasn’t as strong as Vash, but she was strong enough to fake it.

“Do you know who I am?” she continued. “Do you know why I’m here?”

His eyes blinked in recognition. “You work for the divers,” he croaked.

Razai pushed her fist down against his collarbone, the curved blade twisting in her hand and nicking his ear. “I said don’t talk!”

She quickly shifted disguises, first to her own appearance, then to Aden, then back to Molly, then to one of Eben’s men downstairs, then back to her Vash-like disguise.

“I can be anyone, anywhere, anytime,” she said coldly. “If you ever bother the seaborn again, I’ll become one of your own men and kill you. I won’t tell you which one, though. Or maybe I won’t kill you. Maybe I’ll just use this other knife instead.” She wiggled the dagger she was holding against his crotch. “Do you understand? Nod if you understand.”

He nodded and she felt a warm wetness on her right wrist. Looking down, she realized he’d pissed on her dagger. That pushed her over the edge, and unable to hold back her rage any longer, she backhanded him across the face, the hilt of the dagger in her fist adding weight to the strike.

He cried out, so she held the blade up in front of his eyes again, before laying it back along his throat.

“Shut up!” she said. “Tomorrow, you’ll tell Dallo and Kahlvin that you’re out.” Those were the other two gang leaders who’d been attacking the seaborn. “If you or your men ever go after the divers again, I’ll come for you and you’ll never know who I am. Do you understand?”

He nodded again, his head bobbing up and down rapidly.

Razai was worried she hadn’t scared him enough, so she decided to go further. “Maybe I won’t be one of your men when I come to kill you. Maybe I’ll be your sister,” she shifted disguises again, and then again, “or even your dear old mother, in that yellow dress she was wearing when you visited her last week.” She’d only practiced those guises briefly, in case she’d needed them to get close to him at some point, but they came in handy now. “How funny would it be if your own mother slit your throat?”

Eben started sobbing, so Razai figured her job was done.

If she’d been working for her father, she’d have simply stabbed him in the heart, leaving his body in the room as a message. She debated doing that anyway, but as far as she knew, none of Eben’s men had been involved in any of the actual deaths among the seaborn. Beatings and muggings, yes, but not deaths. She’d still kill him if he didn’t do as he’d been told, but she had to at least give him a chance.

Unfortunately, the other two gang leaders, Dallo and Kahlvin, wouldn’t be so easy to scare away. If the Senshall girl and the constabulary didn’t come through, Razai would have to start dropping bodies, and that would annoy Vash and Lanii.

It occurred to her later, after she’d slipped out the window and was walking back to her apartment wearing her drunk-man illusion, that she’d changed disguises more often this night than she’d ever done before in a single day. Perhaps there were some benefits to being bonded to a warden.

#

Corec stayed out by the fire until nearly midnight, when Shavala and Gregor trudged back into the camp, their sled holding a small elk. Small for an elk, anyway; it was still larger than a deer. Gregor was struggling to pull the sled while Shavala walked ahead of him, holding up a lantern to light their way. The two of them looked as exhausted as Corec felt. All the snow caves had been built—mostly—and the log wall was now twenty feet long and six feet high. It would hopefully provide enough protection so they could keep the big fire burning during the storm. They’d allowed the smaller cook fires to die out once they were done with the evening meal, to make sure there was plenty of firewood left.

The two hunters stopped to take in the changes that had been made to the camp. Corec joined them, and Sarette and Fergus showed up a moment later.

“You got a lot of work done,” Gregor said.

Fergus nodded toward the sled. “So did you, m’lord.”

“Shavala got the elk. I found a brace of snowshoe hares. They’re underneath, somewhere.”

“I can take care of skinning and quartering the elk before it freezes solid,” Fergus offered. “It’s too late to do anything else, but at least it’ll be ready.”

Shavala nodded, so Gregor said, “We’d appreciate that. It’s for your people anyway.”

Fergus hauled the sled off, and Sarette cornered Gregor to give him an update, so Corec led Shavala away.

“All these little hills are the snow caves?” she asked. “It’s like a whole village. Which one are the girls sleeping in?”

“We ended up splitting into smaller groups. The bigger caves are harder to build. Some of them collapsed, and we gave the others to the larger families from Jol’s Brook. Katrin insisted you should stay with the two of us. I’ll show you.”

She nodded. “Which watch am I taking tonight?”

“It’s late. You don’t need to take a watch; it’s all covered. Are you hungry?”

“We brought along some of that pemmican the stormborn make. It was filling.”

Corec could barely stomach the stuff, but he had to agree that it quelled his hunger, especially in this weather.

“Here we are,” he said as they reached their snow cave. A pale silvery light shone out the entrance, from the mage light he’d left inside for Katrin. “Your pack is already in there.”

Shavala knelt down and crawled inside, and he followed. Once they were in, Katrin greeted them, and they climbed up onto the sleeping platform to join her. There wasn’t enough room to stand. The girls could sit up as long as they hunched over, but Corec was too tall and had to lean down.

“You must be frozen,” Katrin said to Shavala. “Why did you stay out so late?”

“The wolf helped me track down a herd of elk, but it was some distance from where we’d left the sled. It took us a long time to get back.”

“Wolf?” Corec asked.

“The one I keep running into.”

“You mean the one you showed me before?” Katrin said. “You went hunting with him again?”

Corec had heard the stories, but hadn’t paid much attention to them. Shavala had always had an odd relationship with any animals she came across, but the horses listened to her well enough that he figured she knew what she was doing.

“Are you sure it was the same one?” he asked. “We’re a long way from the Terril Forest. Maybe it just looked similar.”

“No, it was him; I can tell. I’d helped him before, so he helped me. I warned him about the storm too, but he didn’t seem to care.”

Corec wasn’t sure what wolves did during a heavy snow storm, but just said, “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

Shavala nodded and peered around at the cramped dwelling. “It’s smaller than I thought it would be from the outside.”

“The walls are thick,” Corec agreed. “I’m not sure we’re all going to fit.” The place had looked tight even when it was empty, and now that the three of them were actually inside, it didn’t seem big enough.

“We’ll manage,” Katrin said. “I was able to fit all the bedding.”

Corec looked down at how the blankets were arranged and laughed. “How small do you think I am?”

She grinned at him. “You can roll over on to my side. Or Shavala’s. She doesn’t take up much space.”

“Wait, you’re putting me in the middle?” he asked.

“Well, Sarette insists the room will warm up eventually from the heat of our bodies,” Katrin said. “I figure that means you’re our fireplace.”

“How about I take the spot nearest the entrance, instead?” he suggested. “I think that’s supposed to be the coldest.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea.”

He turned to Shavala. “This one was meant for two people, but we all have to make do with what we were able to build. Everyone’s in tight quarters. I’m glad you’re here, though. I’ve been wanting to talk to the two of you ever since Jol’s Brook. I’m worried that there might be another attack from the red-eyes. Those people died because of me.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Katrin said.

“Maybe not, but if I hadn’t been here, they’d still be alive. I’m thinking of going back to Larso.”

“What? We can’t fight the prince and his armies by ourselves!”

“I didn’t mean all of us. I was planning on going alone.”

“You can’t do that,” Shavala said. “Katrin’s right, and Boktar was right when he said you should stay as far away from Larso as you can, at least until we know more.”

Corec sighed. “I just feel so guilty. And I don’t like sitting around waiting for something to happen.”

“You couldn’t go by yourself anyway,” the elven woman continued. “You decided to be a real warden, which means we’d have to come with you and help.”

“I don’t think there’s a rule that says that. I appreciate the thought, though. Ellerie said something similar.”

“She did?” Katrin asked, looking surprised.

“Well, I didn’t mention going to Larso, but she thinks we should stay together in case there’s another attack.”

“What if he’s after you because you’re a warden?” Shavala asked. “Perhaps we should ask Yelena about it.”

That brought Corec up short. He’d assumed the attacks were related to why he’d left Larso, even though that made no sense, but if it was because he was a warden, it at least provided a reason for why he’d been singled out. And his experience in Snow Crown proved that there were people who could recognize him as one.

“I didn’t think about that,” he said. “You’re right. Yelena might have an idea. It would mean another trip to Tyrsall.”

“After these mountains, I think I might like staying in a city for a while,” she admitted. “A warm inn, with beds. Does it snow in Tyrsall?”

“Sometimes, but nothing like this,” Katrin said. “We’ll make a city girl out of you yet.”

In the pale light, Corec thought he saw Shavala hiding a smile.

He said, “I’ll talk to Ellerie and the others about returning to Tyrsall once we’re done here.”

“What’s going on between you and her, anyway?” Katrin asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve noticed it too,” Shavala said. “The two of you are taking turns making decisions.”

“And you each wait for the other person to give some sort of signal,” Katrin said. “It’s been happening since we left Snow Crown.”

“Oh, that,” Corec said. “It turns out that Ellerie and I actually agree on what needs to be done most of the time. This way, whoever’s most convenient can just decide.”

“So the two of you worked out a scheme to signal each other?”

“Uh, well, we’ve never actually talked about it. It just started happening. But we should probably go back to having discussions with the group. Treya and Boktar haven’t said anything about it yet, but I know they’d like to have their opinions heard. I assume you two would as well.”

“Yes,” Katrin said, “but it has been more peaceful lately, with you and Ellerie getting along.”

Shavala said, “Perhaps instead of group discussions, we just need to figure out who makes which decisions. You and Ellerie already trust Sarette and Gregor to make decisions here in the mountains. And neither of you has ever complained about how I handle the hunting, or about how Boktar buys supplies or organizes the camp.”

“That might work,” Corec said. “The group just keeps getting bigger. It makes sense for each person to have their own area of responsibility. I hadn’t considered that. With the knights, things were more tightly regimented, and there was always one person in charge of any group.”

“Wait,” Katrin said. “Ellerie complains about Boktar all the time.”

“Not for real, though,” Shavala said. “They complain about each other the way Corec complains about Bobo. That’s just how they show their friendship.”

“Hey!” Corec exclaimed. “Have you heard his snoring?”

The girls laughed.