The Cost of Betrayal (11 page)

“Open,” she commanded, hooking her fingers in strange, fluid formations. The locks around her feet clicked and fell. She stood, tossing her hair off her face.

“How do we get out?” she asked. Not a bit of gratitude revealed its presence in her voice.

“You did not need me to free yourself. Why do you need me now?” Already he felt foolish. He was no savior to this girl. At any time, she could have cast aside the chains that held her.

“I cannot walk through walls,” she replied. “Locks are a different matter. We can leave through the front entrance, but people will die.”

“They will hunt you if we do,” Qurrah said. “Give me your hand.”

“No.”

He took it anyway. She glared at him, her eyes bulging with anger, but the anger melted away. He held her hand so gently. Qurrah closed his eyes to think, and when he opened them again, Tessanna was blushing. He raised an eyebrow.

“Your hand is soft,” she said in a quiet, shy voice. Qurrah pretended not to notice.

“Follow me. My former master taught me this spell, but I have never used it before.”

“You’ll do fine,” she said. “I know it.”

He cast the spell. A black door formed against the wall, constructed of shadows and magic. They stepped inside, the door vanished, and then they were far away.

T
he shadow door reopened inside a tiny, decrepit building. The two stepped out, the entrance scattering into nothingness behind them. Tessanna looked around, her arms wrapped across her chest. There was barely room for them to stand side by side.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Still in Veldaren,” Qurrah said. “This is where my brother and I used to live, before we were evicted and forced to travel to Woodhaven. It has long been abandoned.”

She looked away, her arms still wrapped tight about her body. “Why did you come? Good does not come from me, Qurrah Tun. It never has.”

“That does not mean it never will.”

Before going to the prison, he had stashed blankets and a pillow in the corner. He picked them up and offered them to her.

“Thank you,” she said, gripping the cloth as if her life were at stake. “Please, how can I repay you?”

He shook his head. “We are kindred, Tessanna. We both sense it.”

“But I want to thank you,” she said. She put the blankets down and stepped closer. “Don’t you want me to thank you?”

She reached for the sash around his waist. He grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Thanking you,” she said. Her voice was so soft, so child-like, it hurt him. “Please. It’ll be okay.”

Her other hand slid through the tight cloth. She felt his knee, caressed it with the back of her fingers, and then slid her hand higher.

“Enough!” he shouted, shoving her away. She fell, and the look of pain on her face would haunt his dreams for nights to come. Curled up on her knees, she looked at him, tears in her eyes. His breath was heavy, and he did his best to calm as he spoke.

“I desire your company, Tessanna, but not in that way. I do not even know you. Tomorrow morning, I will come with food. Please, sleep well this night.”

She nodded. A hand wiped away her tears. When they were gone, so too was her emotion. The girl of apathy had returned.

“I will await you here,” she said. She took the blankets and spread them out in the corner. Without another word, she nestled in, pressed her head against the pillow, and tried to sleep. Qurrah stared at her, his skin hot and his mind blurred.

“Tessanna,” he said, his voice full of fear.

“Go home,” she interrupted. “My dreams are dark. I do not want you hurt. Go home.”

He did, cursing himself every step of the way.

Q
urrah,” Harruq grumbled in a drowsy voice. “That you?”

“I had trouble sleeping,” his brother said, sliding into bed.

“You sure nothing-”

“I am fine,” he said, sharper than he meant. His throat throbbed, his head ached, and his heart thumped as if it were to explode.

“Brother?” Harruq asked, rising from his bed. “What’s wrong?”

“Go to bed, Harruq,” Qurrah said. “I will explain in time.”

The big half-orc shrugged. “If you say so.”

Qurrah put his back to him and stared at the wall. His thoughts never left Tessanna, even when he slipped into the world of dreams.

M
y dear Eschaton, we have ourselves a beauty of a task,” Tarlak said to the collected mercenaries of the tower. They grouped together on the first floor, the two females sprawled across the couches, the men sitting unhappily on the floor, except for Haern, who haunted the stairs leading upward.

“How’s the pay?” asked Brug.

“No pay for this one. Charity stuff here.” Tarlak scratched his goatee, his eyes glancing over to Haern. “We do this one for the Watcher.”

“Not to sound dumb, but who is this Watcher?” Aurelia asked. The yellow wizard turned to her and beamed.

“I would gladly tell you, my dear-”

“I am,” Haern whispered, interrupting him. “I keep the thief guilds in line.”

Both half-orcs glanced at him with shocked faces.

“You’re the Watcher?” Harruq said. “Holy orcbutt, no wonder you beat me so bad.”

“Holy orcbutt?” Delysia asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Harruq shrugged.

“Got the point across.”

“So now I know who the Watcher is,” Aurelia said. “But how exactly do you keep the thief guilds in line?”

“Lovely Aurelia, do you have no knowledge of how the guilds operate in Veldaren?” Tarlak asked.

She shook her head.

“Who wants to inform the girl?” Tarlak asked the crowd.

“Twelve years ago,” Haern began, “the noble families in Veldaren declared war on the thief guilds. After five years of mercenaries roaming the streets and nobles bleeding out in the night, they made a truce. The nobles would pay the thief guilds what they were paying the mercenaries. In return, they gained protection, and not just for their homes, but the entire city. Five guilds accepted, and the rest were eradicated. Odd as it sounds, the thief guilds protect their territory, and only the poorest of streets are left to a few vagabond burglars.”

“So you have no crime here?” Aurelia asked. “A miracle.”

“We have crime, my lady elf,” Haern whispered, “just no robbery. Murder and rape are another matter.”

“Many thieves want to return to the days of old,” Tarlak added. “They feel like bodyguards now, bottom rate sentries. The number of members in each guild has doubled and tripled, with each member getting a smaller and smaller cut. Only guildmasters make a luxurious living. This leads me into our wonderful surprise for tonight.”

He cleared his throat and grinned at everyone.

“Guildmaster Thren Felhorn of the Spider Guild is to supposedly be assassinated tonight.”

“Supposedly?” Brug said.

“I say supposedly for I believe it a trap. All of you need to be on your toes. The largest obstacle to returning to the days of old is not the guildmasters. It is our dear friend, Haern. Those who speak out against the current system have a way of not waking up. Isn’t that right, oh wise and all-knowing Watcher?”

“Get on with it,” Haern said.

“Right. My informant claimed that Thren is meeting a higher up of the Shadow Guild, about what is irrelevant, inside an old warehouse owned by the Spider Guild. I want half of you inside that building, the other half out and around. We’ll hide best we can. If it is a trap, leave one or two of them alive. It’s hard to make dead people talk.”

“But not impossible,” Qurrah said. All eyes went to him. He had seemed mentally absent the whole meeting, and had not previously spoken.

“I take it conversing with dead is a hobby of yours?” Tarlak asked.

“I consider it a profession. The dead talk same as the living, and the dead can’t lie.”

Brug made a show of throwing up his hands and rolling his eyes. “Wonderful people you brought into our fold, Tar.”

“Shut up, Brug. I’ll leave it up to you all, then. Kill if you want, but let’s not be sloppy or stupid.” Tarlak started packing his maps. “Meet in this room by nightfall. And come prepared. Tonight, we’re going to have some fun!”

Q
urrah spent the day meeting with Tessanna. He brought food wrapped in another small blanket for her to use during the chilly nights. She was sitting outside when he arrived, staring at the sky.

“I almost took a quick trip to the fountain,” she said, her voice distant and emotionless. “But I figured I am too popular with certain men right now.”

“Are you hungry?” he asked. He unwrapped the pieces of bread, bacon, and hard cheese. She blinked at it and shook her head.

“I don’t need to eat, at least, not often,” she said. “Bring me something three mornings from now.” She held up her right hand, showing him a simple wooden band around her ring finger. “It looks plain,” she said, her voice almost bored. “My family handed it down for generations. It helped them survive famine. I only have to eat once every six days.”

Qurrah sat down opposite her. He awkwardly fumbled for words, for he had many questions, and he wished to ask them all at once.

“Where is your family?” he finally asked.

Her black eyes grew darker, the white at the edges deepening to gray.

“I have no family,” she said. The apathy slowly faded into anger. An animalistic being controlled the girl’s voice. “My mother died giving birth to me. My father died later, along with my stepmother. I have no family.”