By Frank Gori
Caravanner Malleck found negotiating with the Sewer King
disconcerting. It was the lack of eyes, he decided. Normally a person’s eyes
betrayed much of their inner workings for those who knew what to read. Eye
movement could indicate truth and falsehood, dilation indicated surprise or
fear, even the speed at which someone blinked could provide a skilled
negotiator like Mal with information.
The Sewer Kings eyes were torn from his skull with claws,
and in their place were orbs of green amber within which flies had been trapped.
Perhaps most disconcertingly, Mal would swear they fluttered their wings from
time to time.
The elderly dwarf that claimed kingship of the sewers was
also clearly insane.
The King demanded not only monetary tribute but that Mal
surrender over either Lazeron, Bellany, or himself to the king as a prisoner.
Lazeron was without doubt in trouble with the mages guild, he had not only
defected which was a rare and dangerous act to begin with but he had also
brought the majority of his gang with him, which could be construed as an act
of war unless he left Hub entirely. The Sewer King was in the mages guild. Mal
could understand why he’d not want to allow Laz to slip through his fingers.
Mal could even understand his own value. Liara would pay a
handsome ransom for him, or one of the other guilds would pay more and kill him
just to wound Liara. If it came to it Mal felt he had no choice but to
surrender himself.
What Mal could not comprehend was Bellany’s value to the
Sewer King. She was comely, and as deadly in her own way as Zool. But Mal and
Laz had value to the heads of two guilds, Bellany was nothing to that.
“If you tell me why you want Bellany, I might consider it,”
Mal bluffed. He had no intention of handing anyone over but he needed more
information, he needed a better look at his opponent's ivory. The Sewer King
clearly believed himself negotiating from a dominant position. The tiles he
concealed had to be strong ones, and this was a game of scrim Mal had best not
lose.
“I smell Jax’s seed has taken root in her, he would pay
handsomely for her, or you,” the elderly dwarf smiled showing that some of his
teeth had also been replaced with amber. It was an unpleasant sight. Mal could
feel hundreds of tiny eyes on him as the room darkened and the patter or tiny claws
scraped and scratched creating a menacing buzz of background noise.
Mal understood that the Music Guild was far more than a
bunch of entertainers, that they were the criminal element of Hub. The Music
Guild was powerful and inevitable, if Liara were to destroy it it’d simply
infect the other guilds. It was like beheading a hydra; leaving the Music Guild
intact was a wise decision. But Jax was just their chump figurehead, a preening
bard they used as a distraction for the real business of the guild. He could
and would pay something for Bellany, just less than the Sewer King might
expect.
A fight in these tight quarters in the Sewer King’s home
would end poorly. A few of them might escape, but it was just as likely they’d
all die even with Laz back up. Mal had painted himself into a corner and
surrendering himself was the best option available.
“Let them go and I’ll soul forge you a weapon of your
choice, on my honor,” a gentle even voice from the huddle prisoners spoke. It
was the elderly orc Blacksmith.
There was a collective gasp. As good a negotiator as the
Sewer King was, he failed to hide his surprise at the statement. Mal had
probably betrayed his shock as well, soulforged weapons were extremely rare and
valuable, it cost the Blacksmith something of what they were to make one, and
the smith that knew the secrets to such craft were rare and in high esteem.
The practice of soul forging was common during the Marian
empire and some say was part of the cause of the fall. Today it was used
sparingly and with consequence, offering it to the Sewer King was a measure of
profound respect and required tremendous skill or foolish bravery.
“What is your name smith?” the Sewer King demanded. The rats
and other vermin buzzed and squealed now into what could well be described as a
dull roar. It was the Sewer King’s tell, he wanted to take the offer. If the
offer was genuine he’d be a fool not to.
“My name is Hodge, you been around long enough to know it. I
speak the truth, on my anvil and my hammer.” Hodge kept his tone even and his
eye rose to meet the amber orbs of the Sewer king. His pose was one that spoke
of a man with deadly know how and defiant courage. Mal judged this was no
bluff.
“Once he finishes your sword he is also free to return to
his guild with an escort,” Mal added. The Sewer King’s face twisted into a
grimace then returned to a disconcerting smile. It was enough to tell Mal he
had hoped to keep the Blacksmith. Still, the deal was too good to pass.
“Bargain struck,” The Sewer King extended his hand toward
Mal to seal it. No doubt he’d sell information on them but Mal saw no other way
to get everyone out safely and shook on it.
The Sewer King touched his pinky to his jugular and drew it
across the apple of his throat. It was a Marian gesture which meant: I’ll yet
have your blood. Mal spit between his feet which was a gesture of violent
contempt to Marian sensibilities, or a gesture of respect for one’s martial
prowess to the kindred.
The Sewer King let it pass and they soon left. Hodge and
Zool shared a moment before departing and something passed between them. Hodge
was a familiar name to Malleck and the Sewer King exacted a steep price indeed,
the man was thought long dead, a soul forged blade from his hand would be a
powerful symbol for the Sewer King to claim.
The bargain was the least bloody one he could strike. Mal
had a sinking feeling it was a bargain he’d one day regret.
No comments:
Post a Comment