Assassin of Dragonclaw (Nysta Book 7) Read online

  The kid lurched on his heels. Spun back to face the elf, disbelief in his eyes. Tears working loose. Then terror flooded his pupils. “No!”

  Agony as The Ugly, still wet with the mountain’s blood, took him in the chest. Slightly left of centre. The sound escaping the kid’s mouth was something like the cry of a seabird.

  Stretched, long and thin.

  Keening down the street and echoing in the caged balconies above. It winged upward, searching the skies for an end to the pain. An end which his broken heart and mind couldn’t imagine was close.

  Until she twisted her arm with a savage wrench. Left him screaming silence.

  “Shit, long-ear,” Korlam groaned, watching Baran’s body collapse to in a lifeless heap. “He was just a kid, for fuck sakes. Just a kid is all. You could’ve let him go. He wouldn’t have done you any harm. You didn’t have to do that.”

  Nysta worked the blade free of the boy’s chest. Violet eyes flicked toward little man. “You’re wrong, feller,” she said. “Had to do it. And I ain’t finished, yet. Have to kill you, too.”

  “Wait. No, don’t do that. I’ll talk. I know stuff, long-ear. Don’t kill me.” He looked around. Pleading to a crowd who stood in cool judgement. “Look, I’m a Caspiellan. But I’m not a nobody, right? I’m not just a peasant or anything. See? My father’s a prince. A prince in Linkata. Maybe not next in line for the throne, but he’s still a prince. And he’s rich. You hear me? He’s rich. He’ll pay for my return. He’ll pay gold. Lots of gold, I promise. All the gold you can dream about. Long-ear, please. Don’t kill me. I give up. Look. I haven’t got any weapons. Well, there’s a knife in my boot and you can have it. Take it. I surrender. I’d raise my hands, but you can see that’s impossible. You nearly cut off my hand. Isn’t that enough? I surrender. I really do. Guards! Call the guards. Guards! Take me to the Duke. Take me to him. Take me to him and I’ll tell everything I know. Let me speak to the Duke. I have secrets. So many secrets I can share. Just don’t kill me…”

  She aimed the bloody knife toward the man leaning on a rail near the edge of the crowd.

  He still had his book in hand.

  Stared back at her with a wide grin.

  “Feller there made a bet. Reckon he’s about to make a lot of coin, and I’ll want my share.” Rolled her shoulders. “My fair share,” she added pointedly.

  “Oh, you’ll get it,” the young man purred. “And more.”

  Turned back to Korlam. “Problem is, I don’t think I’ll get anything if I leave you alive. That weren’t the bet, you see. Bet was I kill you all.”

  “But I know-”

  “Secrets,” she said, finishing his sentence. Dropped down beside him on her knees. Tired. Rested the blade against his throat. Watched the vein in his neck throb in heart’s rhythm. Sweat dribbled down bristled throat. He swallowed. Hard. “We all have those.”

  Cut.

  Sent blood washing from his body on a crimson tide.

  “Ah, that’s bullshit,” Fuldor sighed. “She’s some kind of freak.”

  “Aye,” Monty growled in agreement.

  “Don’t bother me none,” the ork bartender chuckled. “I weren’t stupid enough to bet against her. Look at her. She’s got more knives than you lot have sense. Anyone carrying that much steel can fucking use it.”

  “Alright, you lot. Pay up,” the man with the book said. “And don’t think I don’t know who you are. Piss me off, and the bodymen will come for you. And your wives. Your parents. Your fucking dogs if you’ve got them. You know I’ll do it. Some of you know who I am. For the rest of you, you just take my word for it and pay up. Come on. These purses won’t fill themselves.”

  A collective moan went round as he weaved through the crowd, snatching coins while the burly bouncer shouldered himself off the wall and stepped into the street to survey the damage.

  Shook his head again.

  “And this,” he said. “Is why I don’t gamble. Too fucking dangerous.”

  “Bullshit, Jock,” Monty called. “I’ve seen you play trumps out back sometimes.”

  “That’s different,” he said with a sniff. “Ain’t no one ever got killed over cards. Well. Not when I’m playing, anyways. And I only ever play with people I like. People with a sense of humour. And only when I’m dealer. Can’t abide cheating. Or people who’ll slice you for every little fucking thing. Bit of bish is one thing. This? This is something else. World’s changing on us, Monty. Changing fast.”

  “Might want to be careful what you say, Jock,” Monty urged. “She don’t look like she’s got any funny in her bones. That weird young feller she broke got more laughs. Might not be smart to offend her.”

  “He weren’t that funny,” Jock said, though he cautiously moved the sourness from his face as he watched her move. Tried to appease her with; “Though, I guess they were a little strange. Even for a bunch of fucking Caspies. Got what they deserved, I suppose.”

  “No sweat, feller,” the elf said. Retrieved A Flaw in the Glass and slid the glowing blade home. Waved a hand at Korlam’s wet corpse. “Way I see it, we’re both a lot alike.”

  “I don’t see how.”

  “On account of we both like cutting cards.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “My father,” he said, tucking a purse into his coat. Another rested beside the elf’s hand with a few more coins than she’d had before. “Is a psychopath. One of my first memories is of him cutting the head off someone who owed him money. He wasn’t very good. It took him five or six shots with an axe to cut through the bone at the back. Well. Maybe that was his intention, now I think about it. He’s not too keen on quick deaths when someone owes him. What I’m trying to say is, I recognise an expert at murderous rampages when I see one.”

  The elf squinted at him over her ale. “What’s your name, feller?”

  He had to think about that.

  Cocked his head as though not sure if the elf was joking. Said slowly; “I’m sometimes called Hideg. Why? Are names important to you?”

  “Nope. But you talk like someone thinking about fucking with me. And I don’t particularly like being fucked with. Like to know your name in case I need to find you later.”

  That made him grin. “Oh, I’m easy to find. Come here most nights. Ask anyone and they’ll point you to me. No loyalty here, that’s for sure. Maybe that’s why I like it. It’s refreshingly honest in its dishonesty.” He looked around. Searching the crowd. Gaze lingered on a tall thin man pressed against the bar a few feet away. Then he shrugged. Turned back to the elf and leaned across the table. “I have an offer.”

  “Ain’t interested.”

  “There’s coin involved.”

  “I’ve got coin.”

  “More than what you have. A whole lot more. More than you can probably carry.”

  “I can carry a lot.”

  “Not this much.”

  “That’d be a lot.”

  “It is.” He licked his lips. “But I can’t talk about it here.”

  “Of course not. An alley would be better. Dark one. Probably with a few close friends around? I bet you know one we can walk to right now.”

  “No, you’ve got it all wrong. It’s not like that. Keep what I gave you. You earned it. I don’t want it back. Truth is, I only went out there because there’s something about you. An aura. I didn’t pay attention until you hit the boy. But I’ve seen it before. I’ve got a friend who works just like you. Hard. Fast. Nothing stops him. He’s unbreakable. But he’s too well-known for what I need done. Easily traced. And the job I’ve got in mind requires someone new. Someone who isn’t tied to me.” He winced as the tall man slid away from the bar and walked a little too close. “Look. Not here. Be at the Summer Market. It’s near the docks. You know the place I’m talking about?”

  “Place sells baubles mostly. Cheap shit.”

  “Yeah. That’s the place. There’s a stall there. Run by a feller named Stock. He deals in little glass flowers. They’re quite pretty, if
you’re into that kind of thing. Which you probably aren’t. You go to his stall. Just wait near it before midday tomorrow. I’ll meet you there.”

  “Sure he sells flowers?” The elf put the mug down with a sour grunt. “Smells more like he sells fish.”

  “You’ve got every right to be suspicious. But I promise you, it’s not like that. I’ve got a job for you. That’s all. Worth a lot of coin.” Hideg lowered his voice even further, staring intently into her eyes as though if he drilled his gaze deeper into hers she’d take him seriously. “Not copper. Not silver. I’m talking gold. Real gold. Yellow gold. The kind of gold that buys someone like you anything they want.”

  “Stock?”

  “Stock. He sells flowers.”

  “Glass ones.”

  “Yes.” He frowned as she rose to her feet and scooped up the purse.

  She bounced it in her palm a few times, violet eyes narrow as they searched his face. Wasn’t sure why she was even listening to him.

  But she was new to the city. And it was a place which might prove to be home if she allowed it. So, she’d need to start thinking how she’d earn a living.

  “You saw what I did to those fellers out there?”

  “I saw.”

  “Did that because the kid called me Tainted.” She gave her teeth a distasteful suck. “The others just didn’t let it pass, so I killed them, too. I’m gonna walk out that door right now. I’m gonna find another inn, because this one’s starting to bother me. And I’m gonna keep drinking there. Then I’m gonna find a place to sleep. And I’ll sleep. Won’t worry me at all that I just killed those men. Ain’t much really bothers me anymore. But I’ll tell you something that makes me mad. And not just a little mad. Makes me real mad. Mad enough that I’ll kill whatever made me mad.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Being fucked with. You fuck with me, Hideg, and I’ll kill you. Not like them fellers out there. I’ll kill you worse. Like your dad did to the feller who owed him. It’ll hurt. A lot. I still ain’t sure I’ll be there tomorrow, but if I am and you fuck with me…”

  “I won’t.”

  “It’s just my warning is all. If you’re thinking of it, you’d best start running. Faster you run, the longer you’ll live.” Violet eyes bright. “But even that won’t be for long.”

  “Trust me. It’s a unique opportunity. You found me at the right time. Right place. I was sitting here feeling like I was doomed to go nowhere. To fail. And then as soon as you started your business, I swear it’s almost enough for me to think the Dark Lord just blessed my ass.” He threw her another grin. “I think this is going to work out. You and I, we’re going to change this city. Maybe even the world.”

  She didn’t believe him, but she did think he believed what he was saying. With a shake of her head, she walked away.

  Left him sitting in the shadows scattering chuckles as she walked through a crowd which quickly parted to let her free.

  Into the night.

  Past the burly bouncer who watched with a mix of disgust and relief.

  The bodies were still where she’d left them. She had to step around the mountain’s corpse. A few rats were already nudging the puddles of blood. Sniffing. They scampered out of her way, but didn’t go far.

  They’d be back soon.

  They’d have to eat quick, though. The bodymen wouldn’t be far behind, and they’d take the corpses out of the city where they’d be buried or burned depending on who claimed them.

  She didn’t care.

  None of her business anymore.

  As she walked, she considered the Hideg’s offer further. It was probably bullshit, she decided. He looked too young to be involved in anything which could provide the rewards he was offering. And, even if he’d found something, he looked too young to plan it out properly.

  It was a fool’s errand, she figured.

  Guaranteed to fail.

  Add to that, this was a city of gangs. Gangs who fought for territory and control. They wormed into the fabric of society. He’d be doing nothing without the favour of at least one boss.

  And if that boss was weak, it could be even more dangerous.

  Everything about his offer screamed at her to walk away. To forget him entirely.

  But there was something she couldn’t shake. Couldn’t quite get from her mind.

  His eyes.

  They weren’t the eyes of a youth. Hidden inside the dark centre of his pupils was a cold and pitiless stare she’d seen in some men of Lostlight.

  Rich men.

  Powerful men. Men who’d climbed into the melting pot of the city’s elite and found themselves at home among lethal games of deceit and manipulation.

  He was, if not someone in a seat of power now, someone who’d take one soon. All he needed, she figured, was a knife to flash in the dark and remove whoever was occupying it now.

  Would she be his knife?

  Rolling her aching shoulders, she continued heading back to the docklands. Unconsciously angling away from Nearne’s small home. The home the young girl shared with Rockjaw. A home she’d invited the elf to use as her own.

  Another inn, she’d told Hideg. She’d find another inn.

  And drink more of the dark local ale.

  Maybe enough for her mind to stop turning every little thing over and over inside her skull.

  The elf wiped her cheek with the back of her hand and kept moving at an easy pace. Aware of eyes observing from the dark.

  This was Alley Rat territory. A small, but nimble gang who spent their time picking through garbage in surrounding alleys. Most were thin and wiry with sores on their skin which never healed.

  Sickly-looking.

  Prone to soft wet coughs and reedy voices.

  They lived like beggars. Worse, perhaps. Forsaking homes to find bedding within the foul waste, they grew to be part of it. Carried big heavy packs filled with their finds. Finds they took to markets before first light and sold to those willing to clean it up and sell it on for more profit.

  Wretched and sorrowful to look at.

  But they weren’t helpless.

  They used knives to dig through the waste. To kill vermin. To pick buttons from the clothing of foraged dead.

  The same knives they used to fight with.

  Rusted. Coated in rot and slime.

  One scratch meant a slow and painful death unless an alchemist could be found in a hurry. A good one.

  They watched her pass.

  Impassive, but curious. They’d seen her work and had no interest in her so long as she stayed out of their alleys. Stayed close to the main streets. Streets lit by magelights strung from ropes above.

  A few voices twittered but she felt no hint of impending violence.

  Doubted she would.

  All the same, she kept hands close to her knives and hoped this would be enough to dissuade any who might feel the allure of bravado.

  When she made it to the docklands, she was shivering. The sweat which had been trickling down her spine had dried on the brittle ghost of wind. Tugging on her collar, she walked toward a small doorway spilling a whisper-thin crack of light into the street.

  Walked up to the heavy door and thumped it with her fist.

  An iron grate slammed open and a mouth pressed against it. “Whatcha want?”

  “Open the fucking door.”

  “Whatcha mean open the fu-” Pause. “Oh. It you.”

  The heavy bolts were prised open and the door swung inward. Just enough to let her inside, although she had to swing sideways to get in. Was instantly washed with warmth from the fire. Humid air with the tang of old beer and bacha.

  The small goblin shoved the door closed again and worked the bolts back in place. When done, he grinned at her. Tapped gnarled fingers to his brow. “Knifehand,” he said. “You come back to Powell’s Place. Me know you would. It best place in all Dragonclaw.”

  “Powell around?”

  “He not here.” He waved to the bar. A huddle of old
men stood at one end. Couple of orks on the other.

  An elf draped unconscious in one chair. A rare sight. She’d seen few of her kind since arriving and those she’d seen had seemed as inclined to conversation as she was.

  Small barmaid cleaned behind the counter, focussed on trying to remove a new stain from the wooden bar.

  “You go in,” the goblin said. Dropped his voice. “Not eat pork today, Knifehand. It not good pork. Eat beef. You like beef. It new.”

  “Obliged,” she said. Stretched her neck and headed to the bar.

  The small barmaid looked up. Saw the elf then shot the goblin a withering look. “He let you in again, did he? Little bastard thinks you’re some kind of queen. Well, we don’t like royalty in here. Royalty’s a fucking pain in my ass. You more than most.”

  “Reckon you saw some of my blood last time,” the elf said. “Enough to know it weren’t blue.”

  “Yeah. I had to clean it up.” She threw the rag down, thrust out her lower jaw and challenged the elf with a hard expression. “Like I clean up all the shit around here. And I don’t normally mind. A bit of spit here. Bit of blood there. But, you. You always leave the worst mess.”

  One of the men watched the exchange with a frown. Took a step toward the elf. “Hey, Myrna. She giving you shit? You want me to-”

  “You keep the fuck away from her, Alan!” The barmaid hissed, pointing him to get back to his friends. “You piss her off, and if she doesn’t leave your innards all over my fucking floor, I fucking will. You don’t look at her. Don’t talk to her. Don’t even fucking breathe near her! You hear me? That goes for the rest of you, too. Take a good look at her face. Remember her face. You can’t forget it, can you? Look at it, you fools. And leave her the fuck alone!”

  He held up both hands and stepped back. “Woah, Myrna. I was just-”

  “Don’t.” She spun back to the elf, sharp fingers squeezing into fists. “Alright, then. What do you want? I ain’t cooking for you. Not at this time of morning. But we’ve got some cold pulled pork.”

  “I’ll have the beef.”

  Without hesitation, Myrna snatched a wooden mug and threw it at the goblin.

  It smashed into the wall above his head, bouncing away while he danced on the stool and cackled happily. “You little green fuck!”