Death's Reckoning (33 page)

Unri regarded him with patience, a serene expression on his face. “Please to forgive, but what happens is bad, very bad. This whole town will die.” Emotion choked his voice, and Cubbins believed every word. “There is… nothing to be done. All will die.”

Jenkins looked about to say something else, and Cubbins would have punched him had he opened his mouth, but he sat back, and they drank together again. Silence reigned. It was eerie, sitting at a sullen table amongst all the festivity around them. Cubbins sobered some as he saw the crestfallen look on Unri’s weather beaten features. His empathy outweighed his frustration.

“I can’t see you going home after this, Unri. Something like this must have happened before. You’ve lost people.”

Unri took a deep breath and nodded. When he spoke, he sounded better as if reminiscing on even a bad memory gave him comfort. “Yes, is true. My family, those left to us, were numbered some fifteen when first we begin. Three other brothers and Yuri, some women cousins, many of us fought, traveled, all for vengeance. Now all dead.”

“Well, looks like you’re still alive,” Jenkins said, sounding gentler, more sympathetic. “That counts for something, right? Hey, maybe we can be your family now.”

Cubbins felt taken aback by the remark, but Unri seemed impressed by the words and nodded his head in solemn repose.

“My thanks, Officer Jenkins. These words are true, but what hope is left? All my family gone, murdered again by creature of death. Appreciate help, but we are too few, all is lost.”

“But you know what to do. You have skills we don’t. Right, captain? We can help out.”

Cubbins wasn’t listening to their conversation anymore. He was too busy looking at Madam Dreary. There was something so very strange about the way she stood. Some aura around her never noticed before, so it must have been something new. Cubbins knew this even through the haze of inebriation clouding his mind.

“Captain? Captain Cubbins, you okay sir?”

He thought he might’ve been for the first time in a long while. “Tell me about this man again,” he said to Unri, and the man gave him an odd look. “You said something about him not being human. You said he couldn’t be killed. I need to know what you meant by that.”

“Is true. If we come to find him, we could take things from him that would weaken his position and might leave this place to seek another. Wish is for city near death. This is attracts him.”

“’City near death’?” Jenkins said and sat forward. “What does that mean? How is Sea Haven near death?”

“
Al Kush Nuir Luz
comes only to place which has suffered great calamity. This city ripe for collapse, death comes for many. My city suffer many years of war before he come.”

“I’m sorry, what did you call him?”

“
Al Kush Nuir Luz
, the One Who Walks with Death as you say, has many names. Translate perhaps to Malthus Benaire. He has much strength and ability.”

Cubbins thought this fit the situation in Sea Haven well. The city was hurting. The people bedraggled, despondent and angry, at least those with the energy to be upset. Few had the power to do anything about their situation.

“Then he finishes the job and kills the city,” Cubbins said. “You said he’s been doing this for a long time.”

“Yes,” Unri said and looked sober again. “Ours not first, and because of my failure, is not last. More death will follow.”

Jenkins patted the older man’s hand, and Unri looked like he were about to burst into tears. He nodded thanks to the young officer. Cubbins felt buoyed by the show of affection.

“Appreciate kind words, Officer Jenkins. But road is difficult one. I will fight until he at last takes me like others, but death is final judgment. Nothing can stop. Does not to involve you.”

“Give me more details on this man,” Cubbins said. “What it is he wants, what he needs, be specific please, like where he might be headquarters in a city like this.”

Unri frowned. The crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes stood out. “Would find place where life meets death, make easy for him, where energy of city is strongest, so he can finish. Crush life and take away. He looks for city’s
chanqui,
the city’s heart. This what mean? I know not why matters now.”

Cubbins kept his eyes on Madam Dreary while they spoke, noticing again how odd she looked. There was a dreamy look on her face as if she were sleep walking. No one else seemed to notice and Cubbins wondered why. Maybe because normal people didn’t notice anything unless it was right in front of them; sometimes not even then.

He made eye contact with Unri and flicked his head towards Madam Dreary. “Madam Dreary is interesting. Look at her real close.”

Unri squinted, peering at Dreary across the red silk covered room. “Know not how she look before this moment. Seems strange, yes.”

“She didn’t always look like this,” Cubbins said and stood. “Something’s going on here.” He felt very off balance and cursed himself for drinking too much.

The captain waved Jenkins and Unri to stand as well. It was almost comical the way they pushed away from the table and got to their feet. They even knocked over some bottles. Jenkins cursed and tried to straighten up, but Cubbins didn’t have time for trifles.

“Move it, you two.”

“What are we doing, Captain Cubbins?” Jenkins wobbled and steadied his feet.

“Our friend has been here. I know it. This is where he would come to work his plan. This is the city’s heart, not the cemeteries.”

Jenkins tried to ask him another question, but he grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him along, Unri behind them.

“I thought it might
be
the graveyards,” Cubbins said as they walked, weaving in between several people, girls and customers alike. “I thought that’s what that… that arm meant, that it was a clue, which he was speaking to me. But it was a lie to trick me into thinking I was dying, that my future held nothing but death. But that isn’t what he wants! He wants you to be alive, at the height of your energy. That way he can take more from you. See, this case got me moving again, working again, like I needed to be after what happened with Castellan. It gave me more life, and that’s what this thing wants.”

“Captain, I don’t understand.”

“Just come on.”

They followed him towards Madam Dreary. She spoke with a small group of customers and girls, but neither of his companions understood what he meant. In all fairness he wasn’t sure he understood it all either. Unri was very upset and confused, trying to grab at Cubbins’ arm, but the captain swatted his hands away.

“What is mean by this? What is… what is word?”

The swarthy man shook his head and muttered something in his native tongue. Cubbins grew annoyed with them both. Damn children couldn’t hold their liquor. He urged them onwards, but it was difficult being so drunk. The floor was hard to walk across. Stupid fur, stupid silk bullshit.

“You chased that man here when we first met,” Cubbins said. “There is no other reason Giorgio would come here. It was instinctual because he ran back to his master. This is the perfect place. Must be.”

He frowned and pointed at Madam Dreary, almost losing his balance. Cubbins cursed and pointed again. But Jenkins slammed into him, and it was all he could do to stop from hitting the ground face first. The police captain grabbed the two men by their collars and shoved them forward.

“Look at her, damnit! Really look. She isn’t herself, she’s changed.”

Jenkins got bumped by the crowd which somehow was getting thicker. “Cap’n, I don’t know. What do you see?”

Cubbins didn’t answer, only kept moving forward to where Dreary stood. She was a thousand miles away. A black cloud brooded over her face like a silk shroud, dark and foreboding. It hovered there. It might have been there all along though he might’ve imagined things. He was drunk and exhausted. His mind wasn’t right.

No, this was real, he told himself over and over. This was right.

The three of them stumbled to Madam Dreary, Cubbins in the lead with his hands up, fingers extended, twitching. She regarded them with a wary yet amused expression.

“Officer Cubbins, what a pleasant surprise. How is it I may be of service to ye this evening? We got a shipment of fine wine from Lateria last night, a wonderful vintage with fabulous taste.”

Her voice was as smooth as the silk around her shoulders, but to him it sounded grating and evil, full of deceit and lies.

“Show us where he is. You heard me. Take us to him right this instant. Don’t play any games with me. I want to see him.”

His two companions stiffened but said nothing. The tension in the air rose, but their inebriation combined with their confused stupidity confounded them to inactivity. Madam Dreary remained composed as the perfect host. She smiled, a mocking, knowing smile to him that smacked of arrogance. Bitch.

“I can’t imagine what you mean. Take ye to whom? Is there someone here you wish to see, Captain? I would be happy to help if ye would be more specific.”

Her face went darker still, and Cubbins saw what looked like the flash of a skull cross her features. It was only for a moment, but he swore it was there! This wasn’t his imagination. He
knew
. Cubbins grabbed her arm in a fit of drunken rage as the weeks of frustration boiled within him. She sucked her teeth in pain, and people near them gasped in shock and backed away.

“You stop this nonsense right this minute and show me where he is, or I’ll break your fucking arm like a carrot.” He twisted her arm behind her back. She resisted him. Madam Dreary was stronger than she looked, but he overwhelmed her, grabbed her opposite shoulder from behind.

“You’re hurting me! You’re mistaken, Captain. There is no one here.”

Several people nearby attempted to aid her, Jenkins’ voice the loudest among them. They tried to get closer, but he glared at them.

“Captain! Hold on a second here,” Jenkins said. “We can be reasonable about this. Let’s talk this out.”

Captain Cubbins shoved them back and kicked at one of her security men. He pulled his sword and put it to her throat. A few girls screamed.

“You people need to take a big step backwards,” Cubbins said, feeling sober all of a sudden. “Right. Now.”

They obeyed.

Jenkins backed away with hands up and a very frightened look on his clean shaven face, “Everything is fine, Captain… we had a little too much to drink is all. Everything is fine. No problem here at all, sir.”

“Stop talking, Jenkins. The next words out of anyone’s mouth will be the madam here explaining where her master is. Now do it!”

Her demeanor changed in an instant. Her smoothness returned, her nonchalant attitude towards them made her body relax, and Cubbins had the distinct impression he was no longer looking at the real Madam Dreary. Someone pulled her strings. She stood straight.

“Why of course, Captain Cubbins. There is no need to be upset as I will show you the way if that is what you desire.”

Something about the way she spoke unnerved him, but he was compelled to act. She cocked her head back at him, a faint smile on her rosy lips. “This is what you want, is that correct?”

It was as if she could read his innermost thoughts, his hidden feelings. His mind was still too befuddled with drunkenness to bring out the logical strength to question her easy compliance; he was satisfied with the idea that this was in fact what they had come for.

“Okay,” he said and relaxed his grip on her arm, lowering his sword at the same time. “Yes. Let’s do that now.”

The room held a deep tension, but most of it deflated when he let her go. She turned away from him, and he sheathed his sword. Madam Dreary smiled, all class and sophistication. She swept her hand to the back rooms of her house and indicated they should follow her.

“Please, gentlemen, if you would. All of your questions will be answered.”

Cubbins shared a look with Jenkins and Unri. He wasn’t sure if they had improved their situation at all.

Chapter Nineteen

The room smelled of smoke and unwashed bodies. More people filled the betting tents than ever before. Winnings were up, but so were overall losses which meant good things to the management.

Jerrod smirked when he thought of the last time he had been there and the morons captured and tortured. It had been fun. He leaned against the bar and ordered another whiskey. It was almost like being back at his cabin. The bartender gave him a sour look, but the man could’ve stuffed it hard.

He grabbed the drink, chuckled in the man’s face, and slammed it down. He ordered another one. To hell with these scum; they wouldn’t ruin his good mood.

An interesting game of double deck was being played. An outside display of the heavy bettors that Zandor had set up a while ago. In normal times the elite bettors, the people will real money in town, would have to pay to go inside the deeper sections of the tents. The idea was to give the regular bettors an idea of how much might be won if they wagered more, yet at the same time, it kept it exclusive. People playing at this table had to pay more, but had better odds than those stiffs playing in the other section of the tent. It worked well for everyone.

It worked for Jerrod and his people because the house always won. There was no stopping that.

One man was winning big at that table. A crowd gathered around to watch. Most nights the big winner at the double deck table would win the lot. They could have lost a couple of hands in a row and then walk away while they were still on the winning side. That’s what Zandor always told the man to do, a plant he put there to make it seem like a good place to be for any fools watching.

It worked. People wanted to know what the big deal was, and they would always put down their coin, even if they couldn’t afford. No one ever questioned it. Zandor had them all running around, blowing coin they didn’t have. The lenders had been brought out again, a practice Zandor insisted upon, and no one questioned that either. More payments, a lifetime of debt, slavery, for the miserable fools who thought they could win big, but no one ever did. Damn fools.

The tents were making more money than ever before, and now Jerrod was on the right end of it though he never played anymore. It was fun to gloat and rub it in the employees’ faces, those that remained from the old regime anyway. The newer people all kissed his ass, and that only annoyed him more.

He had to admit it, even after only three or four nights like this. It was boring him. Jerrod lit a cigar and downed a couple more whiskeys before the warmth spread too deep in his gullet. He needed to urinate. The big man pushed the urge aside. He only wanted to sit there and enjoy his victory.

There was still plenty of excitement to be had. He kept his eye on the older employees, positive they were stealing from the house. Derek and Desmond assured him no worker had stolen from either the arena or the tents in seven years. Jerrod didn’t believe them. The tents had no replacement head manager yet, not since Jerrod had murdered him that night he tortured the majority of them. Zandor said that was fine. They had control of the arena, and Derek and Desmond were happy to receive another portion of the profits in lieu of acting as managers.

Everyone was happy, and Jerrod didn’t like it. He didn’t trust any of them. Not Zandor, not Derek, Desmond, nor any of the smiling curs working both spots. He didn’t trust the foolish customers either. They were so stupid, playing every night and losing. Almost no one had anything to show for their work, only empty promises and debt slips. They deserved to be enslaved.

A serving girl strolled by without looking at him, but he got her attention fast enough. She made a face but came over and said nothing. He’ll have to teach this bitch who was boss around here.

“Get me some food and some wine, the good kind. I’ll be in the dining hall.”

She scampered off to the back to relay his order.

That’s right, bitch, move your little ass.

Another section garnered his attention. It was a roped off collection of tables in the back room, and he found Marko and some of his toughs lounging around, enjoying a night off from the arena. Others still worked the crowd there, but where Jerrod went, Marko and his best went. Jerrod had ordered it that way.

The shorter, stocky man glanced up and watched Jerrod walk over. “Sir.”

Jerrod asked him and the others if there was anything of interest going on in town, but there wasn’t much to tell. Not much Jerrod didn’t already know about.

“Same grumblings about the guild and city council as before, sir,” Marko said. The brawny man rolled his neck until it popped. “I think they are having some war over who will run the guild. They’re all still waiting for a regent to come and take Lord Falston’s place. But I have a feeling that won’t happen until all this trouble is over.”

Jerrod looked at him askance. “How the hell does a fuck like you know all this?” He asked him.

“Well, sir, I know someone in the Royal Guard. A man I grew up with in Logansport is a sergeant. We talk some times. I give him inside information for the arena, what fighters are looking strong, how they match and so on. And he gives me information.”

Jerrod grunted. Made sense. He hadn’t noticed that Marko was much more intelligent than he led on. Jerrod would have to keep an eye on the man. A person like that had ambitions of their own. It wouldn’t have been smart to keep his guard down. Paranoia was a welcomed bedfellow in their business.

“The city council is moving on though, sir,” Marko said. “They are clearing away a lot of people. I’ve heard Lord Oliver Damour is gonna be put in place as the Lord Regent, with Cassius and the others running him from behind. They don’t care what the king says. They wanna run this city the way they wanna run it.”

“No shit,” Jerrod said and heaved a sigh, rubbing his eyes. In the betting tents his position was covered, even more so in the arena, but out on the street the council might come for him as they were going after Muldor.

Letting Castellan take the fall for the Janisberg attack was the first step. Using Muldor and Jerrod for scapegoats was the next. They’d ostracized him from the tents, but he’d busted back in. He was the highest ranking member of the loose affiliation of assassins in Murder Haven, but that didn’t mean they didn’t hunt their own from time to time. Whoever paid made the rules. He thought of Delios, and the idea of the man coming after him because of some order by Cassius was not a pleasant one. When your life was paid for, everyone was on equal footing.

“They want to hang some of the dock masters,” Marko said. “I can’t figure which ones because it changes every day.” He laughed. “The whole thing’s a mess, sir.”

“Damn fine thing to be mixed up with,” Jerrod said and felt drunk.

Marko looked at him with real concern in his eyes, and Jerrod almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. “We’re fine here, sir, all set up. No one can touch us here.”

“For now,” Jerrod said and regretted saying it. It was a sign of weakness to show fear, and he didn’t want Marko or anyone else to know what was in his mind. He rubbed his face and felt the harsh stubble. Reassurance flooded through him.

Maybe he was being too paranoid. Maybe they were fine. But, it was time to take action. Sitting around wondering meant you were about to die. That was how it worked in this city. It wasn’t going to happen to Jerrod. He did things to people
they
didn’t like; not the other way around.

“Get some men,” he said to Marko. “Lots of ‘em. It’s time to make some moves, bubba.”

Marko all but jumped out of his seat. “Yes sir!”

Jerrod left to go get some men of his own. The assassin’s guild as secretive and informal as it was still allowed for a secure form of communication. It was the only way it could’ve worked. He went to the eastside of town, towards the exit point of the city’s limits that led to his cabin.

It was a dreary patch of land. A dry trail headed into a small cleft of woods where his cabin lay. All the land around Sea Haven was of a much higher elevation than the city itself, and the run-off from the rains drained not only into the sea, but into the town’s environs as if it were the dumping ground for the whole continent. Everything spilled into Murder Haven at some point, trading goods, political strife, ancient evils, war, pestilence. All manner of elements mixed together and fermented until it made a bastion of whatever one wished to find.

Jerrod found a rock, a rather large one about the size of a man’s torso. It stuck in the mud off the side of the trail. It looked heavy, but the weight was deceiving as it was in fact a large goethite, hollowed out with crystal innards forming the center.

He pried it up with his sword and plopped it over and on its opposite side. To a casual observer, it was not much to notice except perhaps curiosity as to the disturbed ground and wetness on the top of the rock where it had touched the ground. But to Jerrod or any of his ilk, it meant it was time to meet up. He stabbed the ground, making groves in an intricate pattern then kicked some dirt over it.

The response time was random, but a call was never unanswered. In the cuts Jerrod had asked for a specific person, and a specific time and place. Later the next day he waited in that spot, standing in a darkened alleyway near the shipping yards. Dusk settled in around him, and a blessed relative silence reigned. Unusual these days because of the blaster fools rebuilding the city’s armada. The noise must be infuriating during the day for anyone that lived nearby.

The majority of the work was completed, but men still dragged supplies across the ground and put them on board the almost completed ships. These dock slugs would do anything for a copper or two. Fools. They broke their backs for nothing. It was always better to scam and steal. It was so much more money for your time, regardless of the personal risks, than to slave away on some physical labor job. It was better to have some guts and take risks.

The master assassin waited an hour in that alleyway, shooing away a few vagrants that approached him for a handout. Anyone stupid enough got a fist to the mouth, and Jerrod had a few more cuts on his scarred knuckles. A minute after he pushed away the latest idiot, an associate came trotting up to him in the alley.

It wasn’t the assassin requested, and that made him wary. The thin, black garbed man hesitated, looking back and forth across the opening. He spotted Jerrod and made a quick message in their sign language that they should go to another location.

Jerrod hesitated to move, signing back why, and the man repeated his urgings, more insistent. Not a man to take unnecessary risks, Jerrod signed back for the man to follow him, and that was that.

The other assassin capitulated. Soon, the two of them were a few blocks away and face to face in another alley. The other man was named Thulsa, a skinny little fellow no one would look twice at in a crowd.

Jerrod stared at him. “So what is the problem? And where is Delios? I asked for him to come here.”

“Delios is busy.” Thulsa looked around fast as if he expected someone to jump out of the alleyway and attack them from the shadows. “There’s been some talk about some impending war between factions. He’s dealing with his end.”

Jerrod curled his lip. “What are you on about? Assassins have no factions. We don’t even have an official guild, you git.”

“Not us. The thieves. They are reforming in this city, and there is a northern guild that is seeking revenge for a man named Turner. He was the head of Sea Haven’s thieves’ guild if you remember. They know about his murder, and they don’t like that the thieves in this city are working with merchants.

“They want to kill whoever murdered Turner as a sign of good faith, and Delios is meeting with them. He’ll have that contract when they figure out who did it.”

Jerrod’s blood went cold because the man that killed Turner was standing in his boots that very second. If Delios and the other assassins didn’t know already, they would find out sooner or later. He was culpable, under Castellan’s orders of course, but that wouldn’t matter, and they would kill him.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass that he’s busy,” Jerrod said and felt a flash of anger amidst his fear. “I’ve got some contracts here to finish.”

Thulsa listened with interest while Jerrod explained what he wanted to happen. “Easy enough, but why? Killing city officials is not all that lucrative. I’d rather set upon some land owners.”

“Don’t worry about why, you. Get two groups together, wait for my signal. That’s all you need to know.”

Thulsa nodded. “I understand. Does this have to do with the contract on the guild master?”

Jerrod hid his surprise. He should have heard about Muldor’s bounty sooner, but he had been so busy with Zandor and his nonsense.

“No,” he said. “Don’t worry about that. Get your two teams together and set it up for two nights from now.”

“Your team?”

“I have them. We’ll go in with three triads, my back-up’ll be in place the day before. Details will be provided later but simple protocol. Understood?”

“Understood. I hear the arena’s been good to you the last few days. That ogre is quite a sight.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’ll get a bonus for this one. Go take care of what you need to.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

He ran off into the darkness and disappeared. Jerrod decided it was necessary to keep a closer eye on everyone involved. Things were happening behind his back, and that was not good. Not one bit.