Rise Of Empire (33 page)

“In that case, you can assume you’re correct.”

“Thanks for getting us out of there,” Hadrian offered.

“No need to thank me. It’s my job and, in this particular
case, my happy pleasure. We didn’t know where you were since leaving Colnora, but I was hoping you would happen by this way. Now follow me.”

Off she sprang again, and Arista once more struggled to follow.

“How is this here?” Hadrian asked from somewhere behind Arista. “This sewer is incredible but the city above has dirt roads.”

“Ratibor wasn’t always Ratibor,” Quartz shouted back. “Once it was something bigger. All that’s been forgotten—buried like this sewer under centuries of dirt and manure.”

They moved on down the tunnel until they came to an alcove, little more than a recessed area surrounded by brick. Quartz leaned up against a wooden panel and gave a strong shove. The back shifted inward slightly. She put her fingers in the crack and slid the panel sideways, exposing a hidden tunnel. They entered and traveled up a short set of steps to a wooden door. Light seeped around its cracks and voices could be heard from the other side. Quartz knocked and opened it, revealing a large subterranean chamber filled with people.

Tables, chairs, desks, and bunk beds stacked four high filled the room, lit by numerous candles that spilled a wealth of waxy tears. A fire burned in a blackened cooking hearth, where a huge iron pot was suspended by a swivel arm. Several large chests lay open, displaying sorted contents of silverware, candlesticks, clothes, hats, cloaks, and even dresses. Still other chests held purses, shoes, and rope. At least one was partially filled with coins, mostly copper, but Arista spotted a few silver and an occasional gold tenent sparkling in the firelight. This last chest they closed the moment the door opened.

A dozen people filled the room, all young, thin predators, each dressed in an odd assortment of clothing.

“Welcome to the Rat’s Nest,” Quartz told them. “Rats, let
me introduce you to the three travelers from Colnora.” Shoulders settled, hands pulled back from weapons, and Arista heard a number of exhales. “The older gent back there is Polish.” Quartz pointed over some heads at a tall, thin man with a scraggly beard and drooping eyes. He sported a tall black hat and a dramatic-looking cloak, like something a bishop would wear. “He’s our fearless leader.”

This comment drew a round of laughter.

“Damn you, Quartz!” a boy no older than nine cursed her.

“Sorry, Carat,” she told him. “They just walked into the Gnome while I was there.”

“We heard the Imps just crashed the Gnome,” Polish said.

“Aye, they did.” Quartz gleamed.

Eyes left them and focused abruptly on Quartz, who allowed herself a dramatic pause as she took a seat on a soft, beat-up chair, throwing her legs over the arm in a cavalier fashion. She obviously enjoyed the attention as the members of the room gathered around her.

“Emery was speeching again,” she began like a master storyteller addressing an eager audience. “This time people were actually listening. He might have gotten something started, but he got under Laven’s skin. Laven challenged him to a duel, but Emery says he’ll fight sword to dagger, which really irks Laven and he storms out of the Gnome. Emery shoulda known to beat it then, but the dispute with Laven gets him in real good with the crowd, see, so he keeps going.”

Arista noticed the thieves hanging on every word. They were enthralled as Quartz added to her tale’s drama with sweeping arm gestures.

“Laven, being the bastard that he is, goes to Bailiff Trenchon, right? And returns with the town garrison. They bust in and start arresting everyone for treason.”

“What’d Ayers do?” Polish asked excitedly.

“What could he do? He says, ‘What’s going on?’ and they tell him to shut up, so he does.”

“Anyone killed?” Carat asked.

“None that I saw, but I had to beat it out of there real quick like to save our guests here.”

“Did they take Emery?”

“I suppose so, but I didn’t see it.”

Polish crossed the room to face them up close. He nodded as if in approval and pulled absently on his thin beard.

“Princess Arista,” he said formally, and tipped his hat as he made a clumsy bow. “Please excuse the place. We don’t often entertain guests of your stature here, and quite frankly, we didn’t know when, or even if, you’d be coming.”

“If we had known, we’d have at least washed the rats!” someone in the back shouted, bringing more laughter.

“Quiet, you reprobate. You must forgive them, milady. They’re the lowest form of degenerates and their lifestyle only aggravates their condition. I try to elevate them, but as you can see, I’ve been less than successful.”

“That’s because you’re the biggest blackguard here, Polish,” Quartz shot at him.

Polish ignored the comment and moved to face Royce. “Duster?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

At the mention of that name, the whole room quieted and everyone pushed forward to get a better look.

“I thought he was bigger,” someone said.

“That’s not Duster,” Carat declared, bravely stepping forward. “He’s just an old man.”

“Carat,” Quartz said dismissively, “the cobbler’s new puppy is old compared to you.”

This brought forth more laughter and Carat kicked Quartz’s feet off the chair’s arm. “Shut up, freckle face.”

“The lad makes a good point,” Polish said.

“I don’t have that many freckles,” Quartz countered.

Polish rolled his eyes. “No, I meant just how do we really know this
is
Duster and the princess? Could be the Imps knew we were looking and are setting us up. Do you have any proof about who you are?”

As he said this, Arista noticed Polish let his hand drift casually to the long black dagger at his belt. Others in the room began to spread out, making slow but menacing movements. Only Quartz remained at ease on her chair.

Hadrian looked a bit concerned as Royce cast off his cloak, letting it fall to the floor. Eyes narrowed on him as they stared at the white-bladed dagger in his belt. Everyone waited anxiously for his next move. Royce surprised them by slowly unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it down to expose his left shoulder, revealing a scarred brand in the shape of an M.

Polish leaned forward and studied the scar. “The Mark of Manzant,” he said, and his expression changed to one of wonder. “Duster is the only living man known to have escaped that prison.”

They all nodded and murmured in awed tones as Royce put his cloak back on.

“He still doesn’t look like no monster to me,” Carat said with disdain.

“That’s only because you’ve never seen him first thing in the morning,” Hadrian told him. “He’s an absolute fiend until he’s had breakfast.”

This brought a chuckle from the Diamonds and a reluctant smile from Carat.

“Now that that’s settled, can we get to business?” Royce asked. “You need to send word to the Jewel that Etcher is a traitor and find out if a meeting has been set up with Gaunt.”

“All in good time,” Polish said. “First we have a very important matter to settle.”

“That’s right.” Quartz came to life, leapt to her feet, and took a seat at the main table. “Pay up, people!”

There were irritated grumblings as the thieves reluctantly pulled out purses and counted coins. They each set stacks of silver in front of Quartz. Polish joined her and they started counting together.

“You too, Set,” Quartz said. “You were down for half a stone.”

When everyone was finished, Polish and Quartz divided the loot into two piles.

“And for being the one to find them?” she said, smiling at Polish.

Polish scowled and handed her a stack of silver, which she dropped into her own purse, now bulging and so heavy she needed to use two hands to hold it.

“You bet we wouldn’t make it here?” Arista asked.

“Most everyone did, yes,” Polish replied, smiling.

“’Cept Polish and I,” Quartz said happily. “Not that I thought you’d make it either. I just liked the odds and the chance for a big payoff if you did.”

“Great minds, my dear,” Polish told her as he also put his share away. “Great minds, indeed.”

Once his treasure was safely locked in a chest, Polish turned with a more serious look on his face. “Quartz, take Set and visit the Nationalists’ camp. See if you can arrange a meeting. Take Degan Street. It’ll be the safest now.”

“Not to mention poetic,” Quartz said, smiling at her own insight. She waved at Set, who grabbed his cloak. “I know exactly how much is in my trunk,” Quartz told everyone as she dropped her purse in a chest. “It had best be there when I come back or I’ll make sure
everyone
pays.”

No one scoffed or laughed. Apparently, when it came to money, thieves did not make jokes.

“Yes, yes, now out with you two.” Polish shooed them into the sewer, then turned to face the new guests. “Hmm, now what to do with you? We can’t move around tonight with the city watch in a frenzy, besides which, the weather has been most unfriendly. Perhaps in the morning we can find you a safe house, but for tonight I’m afraid you’ll all have to stay here in our humble abode. As you can see, we don’t have the finest accommodations for a princess.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said.

Polish looked at her, surprised. “Are you sure you
are
a princess?”

“She’s becoming more human every day,” Hadrian said, smiling at her.

“You can sleep over here,” Carat told them, bouncing on one of the bunks. “This is Quartz’s bed and the one below is Set’s. They’ll be out all night.”

“Thank you,” Arista told him, taking a seat on the lower berth. “You’re quite the gentleman.”

Carat straightened up at the comment and puffed up his chest, smiling back at Arista fondly.

“He’s a miserable thief, behind on his accounts, is what he is,” Polish admonished, pointing a finger. “You still owe me, remember?”

The boy’s proud face dropped.

“I’m surprised they already named a street after Degan Gaunt,” Arista mentioned, changing the subject. “I had no idea he was that popular.”

Several people snickered.

“You got it backward,” an older man with a craggy face said.

“The street wasn’t named after Gaunt,” Polish explained. “Gaunt’s mother named him after the street.”

“Gaunt is from Ratibor?” Hadrian asked.

Polish looked at him as if he had just questioned the existence of the sun. “Born on Degan Street. They say he was captured by pirates and that’s where his life changed and the legend began.”

Hadrian turned to Royce. “See? Being raised in Ratibor isn’t always such a bad thing.”

“Duster is from Ratibor? Where ’bouts did you live?”

Royce kept his eyes on his pack. “Don’t you think you should send someone with that message about Etcher back to Colnora? The Jewel will want to know about him immediately, and any delay could get people killed.”

Polish wagged a finger at Royce. “I remember you, you know. We never met, but I was in the Diamond back when you were. You were quite the bigwig, telling everyone what to do.” Polish allowed himself a snicker. “I suppose that’s a hard habit to break, eh? Still, practice makes perfect,” Polish said, turning away. “There are dry blankets here you can use. We’ll see about better arrangements in the morning.”

Royce and Hadrian rooted around in their bags. Arista watched them enviously. Etcher had taken her bundle with him. Maybe he needed it as proof, or perhaps he had thought there could have been something of value in it. In any case, he had known she would not need it. Most likely, he had forgotten her pack was still on the horse. The loss was not great, a mangled and dirty dress, her nightgown and robe, her kris dagger, and a blanket. The only thing she still had with her was the only thing she cared about—the hairbrush from her father, which she took out. She attempted to tame the tangled mess that was her hair.

“You have such a way with people, Royce,” Hadrian mentioned as he opened another pack.

Royce growled something Arista could not make out, and seemed overly focused on his gear.

“Where
did
you live, Royce?” Arista asked. “When you were here.”

There was a long pause. Finally, he replied, “This isn’t the first time I’ve slept in these sewers.”