The Onyx Throne - Ch.77-79

Chapter 77

The warehouse at the top of the stairs looked like it was being held up more by thoughts and prayers than structural integrity. Beams sagged, holes dotted the roof, rotted planks covered the floor, and the smell of urine was everywhere.

"Your friends really put us up in a nice spot," Mitchell told Lethelin, but gave her a grin to let her know his sarcasm was playful, not angry. She chose not to respond, just huffed and kicked some bit of wood across the floor and scowled. Her hand was inside her cloak and that usually meant she was fiddling with Mira's handle, which she often did when she was frustrated. Given how she was feeling responsible for them being trapped here, he could understand why she was feeling a little stabby.

The room was longer than it was wide. At one end there was a large set of ramshackle double doors that looked big enough to fit a good-sized wagon through, and indeed, Mitchell could make out ancient grooves in the stone floor in front of the doors where generations of vehicles would have been brought in and out. There was an office area off to the right with one wall collapsed and the ceiling sagging precariously. A stiff breeze looked like it would be enough to send it caving in.

Maybe twenty feet up, some space that had been built creating a sort of makeshift second floor but the steps leading to it had crumbled long ago, the remnants of which were now in a pile of rotted timber and planks on the floor. Vras had quickly ascended the wooden beams and was now prowling around up top. Mitchell trusted he would report back if he found anything of interest. Occasionally there was the sound of wood creaking as the cat made its way across the second level.

"Tell me about the Dregs," Mitchell said to Allora as they circled their cage.

"It is as Jonan said," she replied. "One of the oldest parts of the city near the original wall. It was an area not well-spoken of with only the roughest sorts of people. Many taverns and brothels reside within and attract mostly a criminal element."

"Sounds like my kind of people," Lethelin chimed in with a small grin.

"Are there lots of places to hide?"

"Almost certainly," Allora nodded. "Many places like this, and given what I saw below, who knows how many warrens cut under the streets. They could lead anywhere. Jonan and this Edrokii Sereg had ample time to prepare, so I do not doubt that there are agents watching the building. If we leave they might be under orders to attack us, or keep us contained. It is impossible to know."

"Would killing them cause the same sort of trouble as killing Jonan did?" Mitchell asked. Then he felt somewhat shocked at even asking the question. How quickly he had become accustomed to the notion of violence in this new world. But he shoved that thought aside to deal with later.

"It might," Lethelin said. "It would be a matter of debate. So far, we have not been harmed, we're merely being held. If he tries to attack us first, then the drake's out of the egg, and -- since we have not attacked any interests of his -- we would be free to retaliate in kind. But if we attack him on his territory first, assuming we survived, I'm not sure that the other edrokii in the city would stay out of it. They take threats to their authority seriously."

Mitchell expelled a breath through his nose.

"So it comes back to waiting to find out what he wants."

"Unfortunately," Lethelin said and slumped a little. "I'm sorry, Mitchell. This is my fault."

"No, it's not," he told her. "You did what you said you could do. As far as I can tell, we're in the city, slipped in right under the noses of the guards, and we've even got Vras with us. It's the other side that didn't keep the deal. And, if I'm understanding you correctly, they are walking very close to a line that would break the rules of their society or whatever this is."

"There is something I am confused about," Allora broke in. "What is to stop this Sereg from just killing us? No one in Varset knows you are here, you are not acting under any sort of orders from your..." Allora paused as she worked to say the distasteful word, "edrokii. What repercussions could there be for him?"

"Word would get out," Lethelin explained, "that he'd killed someone in the guild who had not broken the accords. He would lose respect, even among his own gang and the other edrokii would let it be known that he wasn't worthy of the title. Eventually, people would start coming for him, seeking to supplant him. Maybe even from within his own organization."

"Actual honor among thieves," Mitchell said. "Small comfort, I guess."

Vras came padding up then and bumped Mitchell's thigh.

"There are many two legs prowling outside. Some have magic."

Mitchell relayed the information.

"Can he say how many?" Lethelin asked.

"Numbers are hard for him, but probably more than we could safely deal with."

"I could slip out and take care of them. Some of them, at least," Lethelin offered, perhaps hoping to make amends for getting them stuck here.

"No," Mitchell mused. "Given what you said, fighting our way out is a last resort. We already have the entire city watch, or military or whatever is running things in this city, gunning for us. We don't need to add all the gangs as well. Let's not borrow trouble."

"Agreed," Allora said. "I think our original plan of waiting is our best choice at this time."

"Could they be listening in on our conversation?" Mitchell suddenly asked.

"It is possible, yes. There are runes which can be crafted to pick up sounds, as well as items that can be created to transmit it over distances. We should be careful of our words."

Magical items or runes, Mitchell thought. Something was tickling his memory. Then it clicked.

"I have something!"

He reached into his bag and pulled out his spell book, flipping to the divination section until he found the first circle spell he wanted.

"This one," he said as he turned the book around to show it to Allora. "Detect Magic. Would it tell us if there were magical items or runes in here?"

"It would, indeed," Allora said with a smile. "I find it very sexy when you are clever, my lord."

She blew him a kiss.

"Heh. I'll keep that in mind."

"If you two are getting a room, I want to come, too," Lethelin said. "Don't be greedy."

Allora and Mitchell both chuckled.

"You know," Mitchell said. "I rather like that we can be in this high stress situation but still be a little flirty. Let's not lose that."

"Fine with me, Captain Tight Pants!" Lethelin said with a grin, and swatted him on the ass.

"Okay, let me settle in and try to learn this. I haven't had much practice with divination, only the speak-with-creatures spell I use for Vras. So the rune style is still a little unfamiliar."

Mitchell sat down on the filthy floor and folded his legs to study the book. Vras returned to the second floor to keep watch, and Lethelin and Allora took up flanking positions and walked in circles around the perimeter, hoping to catch any signs that their "host" was going to make an appearance.

Divination was difficult for Mitchell to get his mind around. The runes always seemed indistinct when he looked at them directly. As such, it was harder for him to keep the images clear in his mind when he tried to channel into them. Initially he thought it was something particular to the way magic worked here, but after spending so much time with the Evocation and Conjuration schools, he knew now that such was not the case. Divination definitely had a distinct flavor to it.

It took him nearly a half an hour just to get the rune firm in his mind before he risked channeling mana through it, and those first several attempts saw the rune just... dissolve, like cotton candy in water. A rune losing cohesion with Evocation and Conjuration spells was much more jarring. Evocation was akin to an electrical shock. But this one merely evaporated. There was a mild sense of feedback as the accumulated mana flowed back into his body, but it wasn't painful. He thought maybe a higher circle wouldn't be as gentle, but so far, this one was.

Finally, though, the rune held, and he was able to fill it with mana and cast it. Immediately, the colors washed out of his vision. It was already dark in the warehouse, with only moonlight coming through the high windows for illumination, but what color there was became shades of black and gray. Except for Allora and Lethelin. Both of them glowed with magical energy. Well, their items did, anyway. Allora's sword was a lighthouse beacon in the muted vision of the spell, nearly blinding him with its magical power. The stones in her krisa were also glimmering magical energy, even though she wasn't casting anything, and the electrum it was made of glinted softly, as well. Mitchell supposed it was residual magic from being used so frequently. When he checked his sevith, he found the same thing for the stones he wasn't using, and the star sapphire he was channeling the divination mana through was a tiny sun. Looking up at Lethelin, he saw her cloak, which was enchanted, gave off a warm golden light, almost like the soft yellow of a child's nightlight.

"It's working," Mitchell called out, and even that little break caused him to nearly lose focus and drop the spell. He quickly firmed it back in his mind and then noticed the slight mana drain as he maintained it. This one wasn't a one-and-done, it seemed. He needed to channel continuously to maintain it. Slowly he got to his feet and began to prowl around the room, looking for signs of magic.

"Do you see anything?" Lethelin asked.

"So far," Mitchell answered slowly, trying not to lose focus, "besides you two, nothing."

He began making a circle around the grayed-out space, similar to the path that Lethelin and Allora had been walking, trying to examine his surroundings while also holding onto the spell. Nothing caught his attention until he got near the collapsing office. There, he detected a faint glow coming from between some cracks in the flooring. He relayed the information to the girls who had been following a few steps behind him.

"Should we have a look," Lethelin asked as Mitchell dropped the spell.

"Might as well," he told her. "Seems an odd place to put something, but it is magical, whatever it is."

"Let me squeeze in," she said. "I'm smaller than the two of you."

She handed her bow off to Allora, and Mitchell dropped the detection spell, quickly casting a magelight into the space so the thief could see what she was doing. She nodded her thanks and turned sideways, trying to slip between the beams without touching anything. Mitchell guided her to where the light had been coming from, and she knelt down and started poking at the gaps in the floor board with Mira.

"No obvious trap door," she called back. I'm going to try and pry up the floor boards."

The wood was rotted and came away with surprising ease. After just a few moments, she had created an uneven hole in the floor, about three feet by four feet and she peered into the darkness.

"It's an old safe," she said. "I don't think anyone's using this to listen in. I can see etching on the metal. It's a shock ward, if I had to guess."

"You do not use magic," Allora told her. "How would you know what it is?"

"I know a booby trap when I see one," she retorted. Mitchell could hear the eye roll in her voice. "I've tripped enough of them, and this one looks like a shock ward. Try to open the safe and it will fry you. Might be a little shock, might be strong enough to kill."

"Can you disarm it?" Mitchell asked her.

"I think so. This one is pretty basic. I've seen some complex enough, with double and triple redundancies worked into the runes, that you would need a caster to disarm it. But this one is fairly crude. Can you get my pack?"

Allora sniffed, but went over to where they had set their packs down. A moment later she was handing it through the boards and Lethelin took it up, then began digging around in one the outer pockets. She quickly found what she was looking for. It was a set of lock picking tools as near Mitchell could tell. She opened it up and he could make out a number of long instruments of various design, from needle thin, to about a centimeter in thickness, as well as what looked like files and other things that he couldn't guess at. The thing she ultimately extracted from the kit looked to be about as long as his hand and about as thick as her pinky finger. It had a gemstone at each end, secured by a delicate latticework cage. She spun it around, examining each end and then selected one before tugging at the tool which extended it to nearly as long as her forearm. Then, gemstone point leading, she stuck it down into the hole and Mitchell saw her inch it forward very carefully.

"Almost..." she said softly, and then there was a small flash and everyone jumped. "Gotcha!" she cried out in triumph.

"Are you okay?" Allora yelled as she blinked to clear her vision. She sounded surprisingly worried, which made Mitchell smile to himself.

"I'm fine," the thief said as she pulled the tool up out of the hole. The gemstone at the end was glowing now. "It was a small one, as I said. Didn't even fill up my extractor. Give me a minute and I'll have the safe open." She eyed it closely. "Actually, less than that. This thing is shit."

She pulled out some other device from her kit and unwound a length of wire, the ends of which were attached two small, peanut-sized objects. Then, taking her extractor, she touched the glowing end to each one, and they began to illuminate softly in turn, while the light from the gemstone on the extractor dimmed slightly. She placed one of the ends in her ear, and stuck her other hand down into the hole. A moment later, Mitchell could hear the distinct clicking sound of a safe dial that began turning.

"Only three," she mumbled to herself as the grating sound of unoiled gears filled the quiet space. "No wonder these boys got run out of business."

As promised, less than a minute later, there was a click and the squeal of rusted hinges as she pried the door open with a grunt.

"Oh," she said at last. "I call first bite!" she said then, and looked at the pair of them with an excited grin. "I did get it open, after all."

"What is it?" Allora asked with undisguised impatience. Mitchell agreed with the sentiment, but held his tongue.

Lethelin began to pull up things from the hole in the floor and one of the bags clinked in a very familiar way. There was also the rustle of paper, and the clinking of bottles.

Once she'd gotten everything out, she packed up her tools, handed the bag off to Mitchell and made two trips to bring over the bottles and the bag of coin. Once done, she squeezed back through the beams and the three of them took their loot back to the center of the warehouse.

"These are health potions!" Allora said with awe in her voice as she examined two maroon flasks. Setting them down she picked up another one in a black flask. She cleared away the dust, looking for a label, but there was nothing. "I do not know about this one," she admitted and began to examine the fourth bottle. This one was in a white flask, and had a black stopper in it, wrapped with wire. It also had no label.

"I am afraid I cannot identify the other ones," she said, sounding defeated. "We will need an alchemist. But the two health potions are very valuable."

"Are those hard to get?"

"Somewhat, yes. And expensive. I haven't had access to them since the city fell. There is a good supply in the armory of the Knights, but those are behind the shield now."

"I claim the white one," Lethelin said, plucking it deftly from Allora's hand.

"You do not even know what it is!" Allora said.

"Don't care, whatever it is, I want it."

It was Allora's turn to roll her eyes then. "Fine, take it."

Mitchell was peering into the sack of coin.

"There's a good amount here," he said. "Maybe close to a hundred crowns."

Lethelin and Allora's eyes both went wide.

"Whatever they were smuggling through here must have been profitable," Lethelin said appreciatively. "Ours now."

"Ours now," he repeated, and pulled her in for a kiss. "Great job!"

"Thank you, sir!" she said playfully and rubbed her nose against his.

"I think--"

But whatever Allora was about to say was cut off as Vras gave a hiss from up above.

Mitchell turned to find him gazing down over the lip of the second floor.

"Two legs come."

"Okay. Stay out of sight, Vras. Only show yourself if there is combat."

The shadow cat flicked his ears and retreated back into the darkness, quiet as a shark beneath the waves.

"I think our host has arrived," Mitchell said. "Let's pack this up and get ready."

Chapter 78

The three of them stood in the center of the crumbling warehouse facing the large double-doors, with Mitchell out front between the two girls -- Allora on his right and Lethelin on his left. Her bow was in hand and Allora's sword was out, as was Mitchell's. There wasn't likely to be an attack, at least not right away, but Mitchell wasn't about to be caught unawares. He sensed more than heard Vras in the rafters, skulking about, and that brought him immense comfort.

In just a moment, the sound of voices came drifting through the rotting planks and crumbling stone and then the smaller door inset into the larger door on the right was forced open on rusted hinges, the screech of tortured metal shockingly loud in the quiet space. A child stepped in and a shimmering field immediately sprung into place around him and he braced as if expecting an attack. With his boosted vision he could see the youngster peering into the darkness beyond until his eyes locked onto Mitchell and the girls. He studied them and Mitchell studied him right back.

It was then that Mitchell noticed he looked shockingly old for a child. As he paused to ponder, it clicked and he realized he was looking at a halfling, which made a lot more sense. He didn't want to think about the kind of person that would press a child into service and then make them first through the door.

"There gonna be a problem?" he asked, his voice gruff and gravelly.

"That depends on your boss, doesn't it?" Mitchell asked him, his voice flat. "He's the one keeping us in here."

"Seems you got a little handsy with Jonan," the short man said, his shield shimmering slightly in the gloom.

"Seems Jonan wasn't honest and he's lucky all I did was use my hands. I don't like being lied to."

The short man grunted.

"Sereg wants to talk. Answer his questions and you'll likely be free to go."

"If he commits no violence against me and my companions, then I will do no violence against him. I give my word."

The caster stared at the three of them a few heartbeats more, then turned his head and spoke quietly through the door. It wasn't meant for Mitchell to hear, he was sure, but he could pick it up just fine.

"Three of them, sir. Bow and two blades, man and the elf are casters. Too dark to see how many stones he has on his sevith, but I can make out three on the elf's krisa. Nothing glimmering. What you want to do?"

There was a pause, then Mitchell could make out another male's voice, just barely.

"Let's see what gifts the redhead brought me, then. Stick to the plan."

Mitchell saw the man nod, then he dropped the shield and stepped aside.

In walked a man as tall as Mitchell, but leaner. His blonde hair was cropped short into almost a high-and tight style like Marines often wore. Short on the sides and spikey on the top. His face was smooth and he looked no older than Mitchell, but he also wasn't human. At least not fully. His eyes didn't have the same angularity that the other elves had, but his ears also weren't rounded like a human's either. Mitchell could see that he had blue eyes which were almost glass-like but didn't have that sort of glow present with the other elves. He was strikingly handsome. All-American good looks didn't quite cover it. He was that and more, some sort of alien beauty.

His outfit was of a style that Mitchell hadn't seen before. It looked to be a strange hybrid of toga and breeches. The toga portion was tucked into the front of the breeches but the sides flared out like a cloak at his back. There was a long rapier at his left hip and a sevith on his left hand with three stones in it. The pants were black leather, and the toga blouse top was a deep blue. It looked to be made of sterner stuff than silk and Mitchell could make out runes etched into the fabric that glimmered ever so slightly in the darkness.

The man, Sereg, Mitchell presumed. Stepped into the room and forward several steps and behind him came three more figures. A human woman, a male dwarf, and another human male. Once the little entourage was through, the halfling swung the door shut and then, as one, they all began to walk forward. The dwarf had a moderately-sized war hammer held in both hands, the woman had two scimitars, and the man sported a staff about a head taller than Mitchell. All of them wore armor of some fashion or another, the dwarf being the most heavily protected of the lot, with plates of steel over his bulky frame. The man with the staff was wearing robes but Mitchell could see there were plates sewn into it at different sections similar to his gambeson, and the woman was wearing form-hugging leather armor that didn't leave much to the imagination.

Unlike the thugs they'd fought back in Iletish, all of them were moving like they knew what they were doing. Mitchell was seasoned enough at this point to spot those who knew how to use their weapons and those who didn't. All of them carried their arms with confidence and walked with a casual grace that spoke of being seasoned fighters.

Next to him, Allora sucked in a sharp breath. He turned to her and saw her eyes were wide and locked on the dazzlingly handsome man striding toward them with a dangerous air.

"What is it?" he whispered.

Her eyes flicked to his and she wobbled her head ever so slightly but also stepped back and a little more behind him. A heavy weight began to settle into Mitchell's stomach as he turned to face their host, who was coming to a stop about two meters away.

"Well," he said breaking the silence and looking over Mitchell and the girls. "Three gifts indeed."

He drummed his fingers on the pommel of his sword and then fixed his gaze squarely on Mitchell and let the silence stretch. Mitchell knew this trick though. He kept his mouth closed and met the man's stare. It wasn't even that hard as Mitchell found his blue eyes were fascinating. Not human, but not elven, either. Not the flat dead eyes of a doll but still reflective like colored glass.

After almost a full minute of the two groups eying each other up, the man Mitchell presumed to be their host grunted and spoke.

"I'm Edrokii Sereg. I trust our sister from Varset has found the accommodations suitable?"

He flicked his eyes to Lethelin and gave her a feral grin.

"She most certainly does not!" Lethelin snapped. "You would do well to remember the accords, Edrokii Sereg."

"I have broken no accords," he said, his voice tight. "But these are dangerous times we live in and I reserve the right to see what is moving through my city."

His accent reminded Mitchell a lot of the way Allora talked. Measured, precise and with intention. He wasn't just some street thug who rose up. He had an education, Mitchell surmised. Still, her reaction to seeing this man had troubled him and Mitchell found he needed to know why before they went any further.

"Edrokii Sereg, is it?" Mitchell spoke up then.

The crime lord's dagger-sharp eyes flicked back to Mitchell and he narrowed them.

"What a strange accent you have. I don't think I've heard the like before. Where are you from?"

"Give me a moment," Mitchell said, ignoring the question. "I need to talk with my associates."

Without waiting for an answer, Mitchell turned and placed himself in front of Allora, blocking Sereg's sight of her and then indicated she should walk to the back wall. Lethelin dutifully followed. Reaching it, gave Mitchell about eight or ten meters but it would have to be enough.

"Okay," Mitchell whispered. "Who is he?"

"His name is Falen Ne Eristan. His father was a minister on Baylor's council, although I forget what he oversaw. Falen was in the palace often as a child. We would sometimes play together, although he is a few years older."

"Were you friends?"

"Acquaintances, perhaps," Allora explained. "He was older, as I said, and once I joined the academy at seven high suns, there was not much time for playing with the other children. We would see each other sometimes at palace functions. More so when I was old enough to start guard duty rotations."

"Is he likely to recognize you?"

Allora made a face.

"Almost certainly," Allora said and glanced to Lethelin. "As you are so fond of pointing out, I am the most wanted woman in Awenor."

Lethelin shrugged and looked apologetic. "Sorry."

"What can you tell me about him? Anything useful?"

Allora firmed her lips and Mitchell could see her trying to get her head back into the game. Behind him, someone coughed and made sounds of impatience. Mitchell ignored it.

"His father was well thought of in his role, but I remember hearing that he was a very particular man. Believed strongly in rules and propriety. He was an elf and Falen's mother was human, but their bond didn't last and Falen grew up with his father. He liked to claim direct Waivian lineage, going all the way back to before our people came from Manaal."

"Sounds like someone I would have liked picking the pockets of," Lethelin mumbled.

"So, dad was uptight, strict, and prided himself on his formality. Now his son is an Edrokin."

"Edrokii," Lethelin corrected.

"Edrokii," Mitchell said. "Think he rebelled?"

Allora shrugged. "I do not know how he could have ended up here and in this position."

"Is he a threat?" Mitchell asked, at last.

"Everyone is potentially a threat, Mitchell," Allora said, her voice tinged with sorrow. "We can trust no one."

"Okay. Let's go see what he wants."

The girls looked at him, he nodded, and then they turned to face the crime lord and his crew.

Edrokii Sereg was glaring by the time they returned to their spot.

"I dislike being kept waiting," he said in a level voice.

"I dislike my companions and I being held," Mitchell said, matching his tone.

"I was told I had gifts. I came to see what they were."

From the corner of Mitchell's eye, he saw Lethelin's hands begin an intricate set of movements that looked like sign language. The movements were jerky and emphatic and she exhaled forcefully through her nose more than once as her fingers danced. Sereg caught it too, and arched an eyebrow.

"I don't care if it was a pretense," he snapped, his ice-chip eyes narrowing.

The hand signs were new, Mitchell thought to himself. But then Sereg --or Falen -- continued and Mitchell's heart seized.

"Now, Allora De Annen," Falen said slowly peering into the darkness behind Mitchell's left shoulder. "Why don't you tell me what you're doing back in Lorivin and who you've brought with you."

No one spoke. Slowly, Mitchell turned and looked back at Allora, her face flat and hard, her violet eyes panicked. Then she stepped out from behind Mitchell and came up equal to him.

"Hello, Falen. It has been many years."

Allora's voice was as flat as her face but Mitchell could read the tension in every line of her body. His own stomach was twisting itself in knots as well and he was fighting the instinct to simply attack and take their chances. There were only four of them and Vras was still on overwatch. If it came to violence, Mitchell liked their chances. His fingers itched to grab his sword and start swinging but he held back. He had asked Lethelin for her council and this was her area of expertise. His gut told him he needed to trust her, no matter how much he wanted to go on the offensive.

"I'd heard rumors you'd been spotted to the south in the Shadow Glen."

"You have good ears," she replied.

Falen shrugged.

"Then, I hear that an elf is trying to sneak into the city. 'Who could that be?' I asked myself."

Allora said nothing so Falen continued.

"And here you are," he said, his long fingers tapping on the hilt of his sword once more. "You must have been moving quickly. Why the rush, I wonder? Why come back?"

"I have business in the city. And what of you? How does a minister's son come to be an edrokii?"

"Oh, not that interesting, really. Growing up around my father and his work, I was privy to all sorts of information. I started making inroads into the guild as soon as I could find a reliable contact. The hard part was hiding my background. There were many who would have sought to use that to their advantage, maybe even with a ransom. That first year was like trying to tiptoe through bevik territory.

"But with information stolen from my father's things, I was able to make fast friends with some of the previous Edrokii's lieutenants. I expected it to take several years before I could claim the title myself, but..."

"But," Allora finished for him, "When Milandris came, you saw your chance."

"Something like that. Chaos also brings opportunity if one is bold enough to seize it. When the dust settled, Edrokii Red Fang was dead, as well as some of his most loyal lieutenants, and I claimed his territory."

"I don't imagine that sat well with the other edrokii," Lethelin said.

Falen glanced at her and a corner of his mouth quirked into a little half grin.

"No, it did not. But I've managed to hang on to his territory thus far."

"Well, now that we've all caught up, I think we'll be on our way," Mitchell interjected. "As Allora said, we've business."

Falen turned his alien eyes on Mitchell then and he got the impression the man was sizing him up, from the tips of his unwashed hair to the bottom of his travel-worn boots. Mitchell saw his eyes take in the sevith and count the stones, and also the sword at his side.

"That accent again. I've not heard its like before, and I've spoken to those from most of the seven kingdoms. Where are you from, human?"

"Jamaica. Right near the beach," Mitchell told him, not even bothering to hide the sarcasm. The sense of warning was growing in his gut. Something about the way his retinue were glancing around, acting shifty. He could see sweat on the brows of more than one and caught them glancing at Allora's blade. He had seen well enough what kind of fear an Onyx Knight could put into people, and this group were definitely afraid. If there were elite special forces on Tewadunn, the knights were it.

"You're right, I've never heard of it."

It was Mitchell's turn to shrug.

"Maybe you should get out of the city more. Big, bold world out there. I appreciate your man getting us behind the walls, but it's time for us to be on our way. As Allora said, we've business in the city."

"Business in the city," Falen repeated, his fingers tapping again on his sword hilt. Then, his strange gaze fell back on Allora. "You didn't really think you could get into the city unnoticed, did you? The last Onyx Knight? You should have stayed away, Allora."

"Falen..." Allora said, the warning clear in her voice. "Do not do this. You know whom I serve. You know I would not be back unless it was vital to Awen and our people. Your father served with distinction for many years. You know better than most what could happen if you stand in my way."

His too-perfect face split into a wry grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"You're right, I do. And there was a part of me that considered letting you go on your way once I confirmed it was you.

Mitchell felt his blood go cold at the use of the past tense. Falen flicked his eyes to the halfling and gave a slight nod. Immediately one of the stones on his sevith flashed and Mitchell jerked, ready for an attack, but none came.

"But," Falen said with a regretful sigh that Mitchell almost believed, "There is a substantial reward for your capture, as well as the capture of any you travel with. And that is coin I need."

Before he had finished speaking, the door that they had entered through opened again on ancient hinges, the screech echoing in the large room, and more of Falen's people began to file in. Eight men, Mitchell counted, as the last one closed the door behind him. Mitchell saw a mix of races. Then, from the steps leading down into the basement, more men emerged. Another five of his people came jogging up the steps. Nineteen in total, all of them armed with weapons and several with krisas or seviths. In just seconds they were completely surrounded. Even with Vras, Mitchell knew they couldn't fight their way out of this.

The silence was thick in the room and the tension was palpable. Mitchell thought he could actually smell the stress and the fear coming off of some of them. Even with their superior numbers, all of them knew they were within striking distance of an Onyx Knight and, if Lethelin was correct, they were risking the wrath of other edrokii by their actions.

"You limp-dicked half-breed son of a toothless dock whore!" Lethelin snarled. "You think word won't get out about this?" Then she turned her attention to the men and women surrounding them. "I am Lethelin Ne Forlia of Varset. I was apprenticed to Alvi De Demarin and I am the Black Hand of Edrokii Gijak. You'd all better pray to Denass and the moons that word does not travel back to him about this night. Because he will come for you. Denass might show mercy, but Edrokii Gijak will not. This will start a war."

At the mention of Edrokii Gijak, the two orcs in the group flinched and, although he couldn't read their expressions very well, they appeared to look uncertain. He saw them glance at each other, then at Lethelin and then at Falen. And the title Black Hand also got the attention of the entire group.

"My soldiers are loyal, Ms. Forlia," Sereg told her smoothly. "And with the money your bounty will fetch, they know they will be paid handsomely."

"What in the nine hells was that?" one of the men stationed up behind them suddenly cried out.

"What?" Falen demanded.

"There's something on the second level. I saw a flash of eyes. Large. Green."

"Probably just an animal," someone else said, "with large, green eyes."

Mitchell gave a low chuckle before answering. That he was laughing in the situation seemed to further upset the group.

"He wanted you to see him, then. He likes it when you're afraid. It makes you taste better."

"Who did?" the same man said.

Mitchell turned and found the man who had spoken. An elf wearing light leather armor and holding two daggers in his hand.

"Not a who," Mitchell told him slowly. "A what." Then he gave the man a wink.

Falen looked to his right and selected three of his men.

"You three, get up there and bring down whomever is up there. Capture if you can, but if they won't come quietly, do what you have to do."

"Not a who," Mitchell said again, "A what. You really don't want to do that."

Such was the conviction in Mitchell's voice that the three men sent to go after Vras actually hesitated.

"I don't want your men to die, Falen," Mitchell told him somberly. "Because they won't die quietly, I promise you. Anyone you send up there will be killed and their screams will haunt you."

This was spiraling out of control, Mitchell knew. If those men went up to the second level, there would be no saving them. In the dark, with Vras seeing them coming, Mitchell knew the shadow cat would have no trouble at all. And once the bloodshed started, it wouldn't stop until he and the girls were either dead or in chains. He had to think and he had to think fast.

What could he do? How could he get them out of this? He had no back up, he had no resources. He was vastly outnumbered and had only the barest hint of what was going on. He could see that the men, despite apparently being loyal to their edrokii, were not thrilled about what was about to go down. Lethelin's words had struck a nerve. There had to be a way to salvage this.

Mitchell looked to Allora and he could see by the set of her shoulders that she expected violence.

"Think!" he screamed to himself. "There's always a way out! Think, gods damn it!"

Mitchell started reviewing everything Falen had said. Everything Lethelin and Allora had said. He was missing something, and he knew it. He had to find it if they were going to get out of here. This was a potentially dangerous or deadly situation for him. He wouldn't be risking it without something driving him. Risking war with other edrokii, with the guild from Varset. Why would he be so stupid? Just for the reward money? It wouldn't mean much if he wasn't alive to spend it.

Mitchell's brain was churning so hard he was actually sweating. Falen must have a knife at his back to be risking so much. All Mitchell had to do was find something he wanted more. But what did he have? Nothing substantial he could offer, that was for sure. All he had was the hope of success. Would it be enough? Then he remembered Allora's words, that his family claimed Waivian heritage going back thousands of years. He'd chosen a Waivian word as his edrokii title. Maybe that meant he still put stock in the old ways. Then there was the knowledge that fey love to make deals.

"Fuck it," Mitchell said to himself. "What would Harvey Spector do?"

The men Falen had selected to go up to the second floor were on their way to the broke stairway to find a way to get up there and Mitchell knew they would be dead soon if he didn't stop them. Then, they all might end up dead.

"I claim protection by the Laws of Hospitality," Mitchell blurted out into the heavy silence.

Chapter 79

Falen blinked and he actually stood slightly straighter.

"You what?"

"You heard me."

"By what right do you claim the protection of the law?" Falen challenged, his voice hard.

"By the fact that we are guests and have been invited into, as you said, your city and to your warehouse. You are obligated to offer us food, drink, and to do us no harm."

"Are you mad? This is not my home!"

"As I understand it, this is part of your territory, is it not? You claim ownership of this warehouse? And we are invited guests. Does the law state it has to be a place you sleep in?"

Mitchell was pulling all of this out of his ass, but it was the only card he could think to play. He only had the barest understanding of alien legalisms, but it seemed to have gained him a little traction, so he intended to run with it.

"Allora, does the law say it has to be a place where they sleep?" Mitchell asked her, not wanting to lose momentum.

"No," she said, and he could hear her warming to the idea immediately. "The laws apply only to the interaction between the hosts and the guests. It does not matter where one is being hosted."

One man was halfway up the wall, balancing on support beams and reaching for a bar to pull himself up to the next section of stairs. The other two were close behind. Mitchell didn't have much time.

"There you have it," Mitchell told Falen. "Is she wrong?"

The Edrokii's lips were thin and iron hard as he glared at Allora, then at Mitchell. He gave the slightest wobble of his head.

"She is not."

"I think you need to reconsider this course of action, Edrokii Sereg," Mitchell told him, using his full title for the first time. Mitchell hoped he saw it as a sign of respect. "You are risking a great deal. The wrath of the other edrokii in the city, a possible war with Gijak for the death of his Black Hand, and the consequences of violating the laws and causing harm to your guests. Call your men back. I do not wish for them to die. Because they will if they breach the second floor, and I won't be able to save them."

Falen's fingers were no longer tapping his sword hilt. His hand was wrapped so hard around the pommel that his knuckles were white. The men and women around him were also looking uncertain. They were all guild members and looked to be feeling less comfortable with their edrokii's course of action as the situation dragged on. And whatever was waiting on the second floor seemed to have several of them spooked.

Allora spoke up then.

"Please, Falen. You know I would not lie. Your men will die if they venture any farther and then we will not be able to control what happens next. We were nearly friends once. I would have been happy to call you as such. Please bid your men return. Honor the laws."

"Call them back and we can make a deal," Mitchell said, tossing out the carrot after the stick.

The first man had made it to the ledge of the second-floor platform and the structure was wobbling ominously.

"From where I stand, you don't have much with which to bargain," Falen nearly snarled.

"If we can talk, I think you will see differently. But you must call your men back. Now."

Falen stared at Mitchell with those living doll eyes and Mitchell could see his heartbeat throbbing in his temple. One beat. Then another. The man on the stairs was about to pull himself up over the ledge.

"Hold!" Falen called into deadly quiet. "Come back down."

Mitchell saw several of his men sag in relief and weapons that had been raised in preparation for battle started to lower.

The man who was at the ledge looked down at Falen, then started to retrace his steps. The two men who were coming up behind jumped down rather than risk the wobbly boards, and, when the first got to a safe height, he did the same. No one spoke as they took their position back in the ring surrounding Mitchell and the girls.

"What is up there?" Falen said, finally.

"It's better if you don't know," Mitchell told him in all seriousness. "But I spoke truth. They would have died."

"Kasver, call the carriage," Falen said, looking to the halfling. "The rest of you, clear out. I'm sure you have other jobs I pulled you away from. We're done here."

"It is appreciated, Falen," Allora told him, gratitude plain in her voice.

He turned from giving his people orders and gave an indecipherable look.

"I will honor the laws. If you and your companions will join me in my carriage, I can carry you safely away to my manor. We can discuss your deal there."

Mitchell nodded.

"If you will give us a moment to gather our things, we will meet you at the carriage."

"Be quick," Falen snapped. Then, he turned and followed his men to the door, the others leaving by the basement passage that they'd come through.

Once they were sure they were in the clear, Mitchell brought the crate up from downstairs and had Vras climb in. The cat still didn't like it, but it didn't provoke the fight it had been at first. Then, he and Allora carried it out and, luckily, they were able to secure it to the top of the carriage that had been parked just outside the door. Two jivi were secured and the halfling Falen had called Kasver was sitting shotgun next to a human woman who was driving. They offered no help in getting the crate secured, and Mitchell didn't ask for any. The less interaction anyone had with it, the better.

Once that was done, the three of them took their place inside the carriage, all of them sitting opposite Falen, who sat alone on the other side. Lethelin on the far right, Allora in the middle, and Mitchell taking the left side. It was a little tight, and there was some difficulty arranging their weapons to sit, but but no one wanted to sit next to Falen and he didn't offer the space. Falen gave a knock on the roof, which was the signal the driver was waiting for. With the sound of reins snapping, the jivis leapt forward.

"Falen, I--"

"No conversations, if you please, my lady," Falen interjected. "This carriage is not warded and we could be overheard. Wait until we are at my manor."

She nodded her understanding and the four of them rode in one of the most uncomfortable silences Mitchell could ever recall. The only thing that came close to it was trying to have dinner with an ex-girlfriend and her parents a few days after the girl's mother had walked in on them having sex on her daughter's living room sofa. Mom had had a key, apparently.

Mitchell shifted uncomfortably in his seat and started humming Birdhouse In Your Soul by They Might Be Giants under his breath as the carriage traveled through the night towards their mysterious destination. It was his attempt at trying to ignore the awkwardness of riding with the man who, just a few minutes ago, had been prepared to turn them in for a reward. He couldn't even get a good look at the city as the windows were covered.

He'd gone through Birdhouse, Particle Man, and was in the middle of Ana Ng when he felt a small jab in his side from an incredulous Allora. As was usual, whenever he got into a groove with singing to himself, it took him out of the moment, but it was the best way he'd found to calm his nerves and sort of center himself. He was tired, hungry, nervous -- okay, terrified -- and this was his thing.

He looked over at Allora who nodded towards Falen. Mitchell followed her gaze and saw the crime lord staring at him, a look of bewilderment on his face.

"Stollar's balls, don't you people ever sing here?" he asked.

"It is not the song that interests me... I'm sorry, I never got your name."

"I never gave it," Mitchell said, not quite yet ready to be friendly with their host after what had transpired.

"He has agreed to abide by the laws," Allora said, more diplomatically than Mitchell was feeling. "We should do likewise."

Mitchell huffed and pushed down his instinct to be sarcastic and petulant before nodding his understanding.

"You can call me Mitch," he told Falen.

"Meetchu," the crime lord said, trying out the name and getting it wrong. Common didn't seem to have an ending ch frictive and its speakers always wanted to add an additional vowel at the end of the syllable. Falen continued on with what he had been about to say before.

"But, as I was saying, it is not the song so much that interests me, although I would question the timing. But rather it is the language you are singing in. I don't recognize it."

Mitchell felt his face heat up and he looked to Allora.

"Was I singing out loud again?" he whispered.

"Yes," she told him.

He cringed a little.

"Sorry, I'm just tired. It's been a long day."

He looked across to see Lethelin staring at him too, only she was grinning.

"You're really weird, sometimes, you know that?" the thief told him.

"Yeah, I know," he told her, smiling back.

Then he turned back to Falen. "I was singing a song of my people."

"And those are the people from this... Jamka?"

"Near there, yes," Mitchell told him, not bothering to elaborate.

Falen stared at him hard, tapping his fingers once again on his cane. He gave Allora a long look, but he didn't push for more information.

The carriage ride continued on in silence for another twenty minutes or so before it came to a stop. Mitchell heard the sound of gates opening and then the sound of the wheels changed from going over cobbled stone to gravel. A minute or so after that, it came to a stop and Mitchell heard the driver and the halfling climb down. The door swung open and Falen was the first to emerge, and Mitchell and the girls followed.

What greeted them upon their exit was a three-story manor made of gray stone that had more rounded sections than right angles. Mitchell had seen a few buildings like this but none as grand as this one. The house seemed to bulge in odd places and it almost looked like giant stone balls had been stacked upon each other and joined together. It was beautiful but also somewhat unsettling to look at.

Falen saw him staring as he turned from giving his people a set of orders.

"My father was a traditionalist," Falen began by way of explanation. "This design is reminiscent of Waivian architecture. He said we were descended from a sea fae race who fashioned their homes under the waves in bubbles of crystal that they grew on the sea floor."

"It's beautiful," Mitchell said truthfully, letting his eyes roam over the structure that had barely any right angles. Even the windows were rounded.

"But..." Falen said, hearing the hesitation in Mitchell's voice.

Mitchell broke his eyes away from staring at the near impossibility of the house's design. Next to him, Lethelin and Allora were staring as well.

"But something about it is... disquieting. I mean no disrespect, but I can tell that this was never designed for people to live in."

"No disrespect taken. You are correct. I hated this home as a child, but as I've gotten older, I find a certain comfort in it."

Falen pointed to the chest at the top of the carriage. "What would you like done with that?"

"If you can give me a moment with it."

"As you wish."

Mitchell and Allora went around to the opposite side of the carriage and the two of them wrestled it to the ground. It wasn't so much that it was heavy for Mitchell, but it was awkward. Once they had it on the ground, he whispered into one of the holes.

"Once the lid opens, I want you to make your way out and hide in the garden around the house. Stay out of sight and don't kill anyone unless you have no other choice."

The grounds that Mitchell could see beyond the lantern lit gravel gate looked to be expansive enough and with enough tended greenery, that Vras should be able to hide until they figured out what to do with him. That was Mitchell's plan, at least. With one last glance around to check that no one was nearby watching, he lifted the lid. Vras slinked out and vanished into the darkness like he was being absorbed by it. Then, with a nod to Allora, they picked it up like they were still carrying something, and brought it around to the other side. Falen was waiting with Lethelin, the two of them like staring at each other like vipers sizing each other up.

"You're going to bring that into my home?" Falen asked, a note of warning in his voice.

"Oh, this?" Mitchell said. "It's empty. But you never know when you're going to need a box to carry some things."

Mitchell tilted it forward and lifted the lid, showing him that the wooden crate was indeed empty.

Falen eyed the box and the three of them in turn and it was clear that he didn't accept the explanation, but Mitchell hadn't lied, so he had not violated any of the laws as he understood them.

"Leave it by the door for now. I don't expect you will be staying long."

He turned and headed towards the round double doors that were made of a heavy dark wood that had been polished to a high shine and seemed to glow with an inner light from the mage lights that were set around his entryway. The woman, with Kasver by her side, pulled them open and everyone walked through. Mitchell felt like he was walking through a human-sized hobbit door.

The interior was more wood and stone molded to the shape of the sides of the structure, but here there were exceptions. Alcoves and hallways made allowances for rectangular wall hangings and small tables. He could see a rounded hallway leading deeper into the bowels of the house with circular doors going off at different intervals The foyer was broad and round like everything else, the steps leading up, curved and also polished to a high shine. Mitchell saw that the wood paneling had been carved to represent flowing waveswith whirlpools and of various different sizes spaced seemingly at random in the swirls of wood. He stopped just inside, gaping and turning, his two companions doing the same.

"Balls and taint," Lethelin groaned.

Then she grabbed the side of her head and swayed slightly. Mitchell knew the feeling because he was suffering from it too. Standing in the center of the foyer as they were, one got the impression that the walls were curling around you, even though they weren't moving at all. Suddenly, he felt himself begin to tilt to one side and Allora reached out a hand to steady him, her own already on Lethelin's arm. As Mitchell fought to see her through the vertigo, he observed her eyebrows pressed together as if she were straining to stay upright herself.

"It is less intense as you move deeper into the house. Come, I'll show you into the study where we can talk."

Falen gestured through the other end of the foyer to the steps leading up and the three of them staggered upstairs, Lethelin groaned and Mitchell was holding back bile. Allora was looking pale as well, but seemed the least affected.

Once in the hall the effect did diminish, as promised, but Mitchell found he needed to keep his eyes cast down at the floor to clear his head completely. The lack of angles that he was accustomed to, as well as all the flowing lines, was playing hell with his senses. He even had a coppery taste in his mouth that he couldn't explain. The three of them continued down the hall behind Falen with the as-yet unnamed woman and Kasver bringing up the rear, as silent as ever. They didn't seem to be suffering any ill effects, and Mitchell reasoned they were probably used to it.

They were brought into a study that was mercifully rectangular. Mitchell never thought he would be happy to see right angles again, and the unsteady feeling he'd been suffering since stepping through the door alleviated immediately.

"Sit. Make yourselves comfortable," he told them as he went to his desk at the back wall. "Britha, bring us some wine, please. Something from Iletish. The blue, maybe. And have Gota prepare some bread and cheese. Just whatever she has laying around."

The woman gave a curt nod and turned without a word.

"Kasver, see to the jivis," he paused, looking at the three of them recovering on a plush leather sofa, "and keep the gnolhounds in their kennels tonight. I fear the grounds are not safe at the moment."

Mitchell saw the halfling arch an eyebrow at his boss, and give the three of them an angry look.

"I'll see to it, sir."

Then, the halfling spun on his heels and hurried out of the room.

Falen dropped into his chair with a heavy sigh, tossing his sword and scabbard across the mounds of papers he had scattered there. He leaned his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose. The silence stretched. Mitchell took the lull to examine his surroundings.

The room itself was well appointed. There were several maps of distant lands on the walls, all of them drawn in exquisite detail that Mitchell was itching to study more closely. There were shelves set into the walls with -- if he had to guess -- two or three hundred volumes spread across the three interior walls. The ceiling was domed, in a concession to the round design of the house itself and there was a large stone fireplace behind the desk where Falen sat. The room was lit by sconces with mage lights glowing dimly and it gave the area a twilight aesthetic.

After a long pause, Falen sat up with an exasperated sigh and stared hard at Allora.

"Do you have any idea how much coin you have forced me to give up?"

"I admit to being curious about the size of the bounty on my head," Allora said. "What is it up to?"

"Two thousand crowns," Falen said. "And an extra five hundred for the capture of anyone in your party."

Allora's eyes popped halfway to her hairline at the figure.

"Milandris has grown desperate, it seems. That is a king's ransom."

"Why even risk it, though?" Lethelin asked. "Why risk war with the guild? You knew who I was. That enough should have prevented you from trying to seek the bounty."

"Because I need those crowns!" he snapped. "It is getting harder and harder to move things into and out of the city. Every gate is watched, every wagon is searched. Smuggling has slowed to a crawl and I am running out of funds. The gambling dens and the brothels only bring in so much. I don't have the war chest of some of the other edrokii and if they hear about my struggles, they will come for my territory."

"Surely they are struggling just as much," Lethelin said.

"They are, but they are already well established and have the funds to ride this out. The reward from turning you lot in would have given me what I needed to keep hold of what I have until this blows over and, maybe even finance an expansion."

The group looked at each other, and then back at Falen. Mitchell wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with that information.

"So," the gang boss continued after no comment was given, "If you don't offer me something very lucrative, I will have no choice but to turn you in anyway, and take my chances with the fates for breaking the laws of hospitality. Because if I can't pay my people and at least maintain what I have, I'm as good as dead anyway. You said you can offer a deal, so offer your deal. Now."