Kal Moonheart Trilogy: Dragon Killer, Roll the Bones & Sirensbane (18 page)

Kal’s destination was three streets back from the river. Standing alone in the centre of a wide plaza was a giant redbrick building in the shape of a cube. It was one of the biggest structures in the city. Words were emblazoned on the frontage, above the columned portico; they had been created by removing bricks in the shape of letters and lighting fires behind them. The name of the building shone out for all to see:
THE SNAKE PIT.

Kal stopped at an ornamental fountain halfway across the paved plaza. She scooped up a handful of the clear water and splashed her dusty face clean, then ran her wet fingers through her shoulder-length reddish-brown hair. Luckily for Kal, the Snake Pit had no dress code: she was wearing a once-black linen shirt that had faded to grey, a black knee-length skirt, and worn suede ankle boots. The only other item she was wearing was a shortsword across her back, which she deposited with the guard on the way in.

‘Good luck, Kal,’ the guard said, no doubt angling for a tip when Kal came back out.

The Snake Pit had only one floor, the ground floor, which was itself below ground level. The rest of the space was filled with a vast emptiness that was surrounded by several layers of balconies and staircases. Upon entering the gaming den, gamblers found themselves at the top of a double staircase that twisted down to the Pit below. The view from here over the hundreds of card tables was intoxicating, and Kal felt the usual thrill of anticipation as she gazed out over the noise and crowds. She chewed her lip at the thought of all the loose money changing hands down there.

She slipped down the stairs and wandered among the tables, as she always did, on the lookout for a good game. She wasn’t driven by her ego to play with the high-rollers; sometimes a friendly and careless low-stakes game could prove more profitable than a serious high-stakes battle. The tables at the Snake Pit were all mixed in no particular order: a table of dock-workers and market-traders (playing for pots worth less than ten crowns and arguing about the route of tomorrow’s bar crawl) was placed next to a table of city officials and aristocrats (playing for pots worth hundreds of crowns and discussing politics and the imminent elections.) Kal followed the sound of a booming voice that carried across from a table in the far corner of the Pit.

‘Firehand, he has the influence and the grand family-name in his favour, that is true! But when Cassava returns there will be trouble—that woman has the might of the legions behind her, and the experience of fighting with them as well. But both of them could benefit from grovelling to Godsword for some of his spare cash, ho ho ho! If I were a betting man—’ (raucous laughter from around the table) ‘—I would wait another week or so, even if it meant taking shorter odds.’

‘Speaking of waiting, Ganzief, are you ever going to play a hand tonight, or are you waiting to be dealt two dragons of the same suit? Hey Kal! Come over here and help me out!’

Kal approached the senators’ table. The man who had turned around to face her was young, but had a shiny bald head. He showed Kal the two cards that he had been dealt. She looked at them, then looked at the five cards face-up in the middle of the green felt. The object of the game was to make the best five-card hand with any combination of the cards you held or those on the table.

‘Oh, come on, Raelo!’ one of the other players—a thin black man, dressed in white—complained. ‘You can’t ask anyone else for help, let alone
her
!’

The pile of ivory chips they were fighting over was large, and Senator Raelo was facing a small bet from a woman opposite him. She had ringlets of beautiful black hair, and flashing green eyes that stared down her opponent without giving anything away.

The final player was the owner of the loud voice: a large, bearded man who laughed uproariously at the black man’s complaint. ‘Let her help him!’ he roared in a thick eastern accent. ‘Poor old Raelo has had the luck of your gods tonight, and they had no luck at all, ho ho ho!’

Kal smiled and put a hand on Raelo’s shoulder. ‘You have a great hand! Bet everything!’

Raelo looked uncertain. ‘Everything? Are you sure?’

‘Trust me,’ Kal said, and addressed the other players: ‘Senator Witchwood made such a small bet because she's too afraid to call a big one. Senator Grey doesn't want me to help you because he's hoping you'll just play it safe and call, and Senator Greatbear couldn't care less if I help you or not because he was planning on folding anyway.’ She gave the big hairy man a grin. ‘Like he always does!’

Raelo shrugged and pushed all of his chips forward. Senator Grey folded his hand as predicted, as did Witchwood. Ganzief Greatbear stroked his mighty beard for a few moments, then started to count out his chips ready to call the bet.

Raelo looked worried, but then Ganzief winked at Kal and threw his cards away. ‘I am joking! You are a little bitch, Dragon Killer!’ he said good-naturedly. ‘Ha ha ha!’

‘What did you have?’ the green-eyed woman asked Raelo.

Raelo tossed his cards into the discard pile without showing them. He seemed to be shaking in relief at his win.

‘He had
me
.’ Kal said. ‘Let me go and grab some chips and I’ll come straight back and join in!’

Kal weaved through the Pit to the cashier cages along the edges of the building. As she passed the bar, someone called her name. She stopped and hopped up onto a bar stool to join Zeb Zing, the owner and manager of the Snake Pit, who was sat drinking beer from a bottle while keeping watch over the gaming floor.

‘Kal, darling, are you tormenting my regulars?’

‘I’m doing my best!’ Kal said, accepting the bottle that was offered to her.

Zeb Zing was a tall woman whose broad, flat features marked her out as someone from the distant Winter Steppe. She was dressed in black-and-red leather and silk. Other than the guards stationed around the walls, she was the only person in the Pit who was armed: a curved scimitar hung from her hip.

How have you been, Kal?’ she asked. ‘I can’t believe you left me here and spent a year in Balibu! Look at you; you almost have a tan.’

‘I had to come back,’ Kal laughed. ‘They banned me from the Croc eventually—’

Kal suddenly flinched as a frighteningly-loud bang sounded from the centre of the pit. Seconds later a series of explosive reports fired and echoed from all around the balconies, and a thick cloud of smoke filled the air and began to sink down and smother the tables. As soon as they regained their presence of mind, Kal and Zeb jumped down from their stools and dived behind the bar.

A clear voice rang out, silencing the startled crowds: ‘Ladies and gentlemen, please remain seated! We have you surrounded. Anyone who runs will be killed at the door. But I assure you that everyone who cooperates will make it back safely to their beds tonight … minus a few coins and valuables, regrettably!’

Kal and Zeb sat side-by-side with their backs to the bar. Zeb was toying nervously with a large key that hung around her neck on a chain.
The key to the vault.

‘I hope you’re insured,’ Kal tried to joke. A lot of her money was in that vault; she used the Snake Pit as a bank, and in return Zeb’s name guaranteed her a line of credit in gaming houses around the world.

‘I have
protection
, damn it!’ Zeb fumed. ‘These idiots must be crazy to think they can get away with robbing this place.’

Kal gritted her teeth. Amaranthium’s crime lords would no doubt hunt down the robbers as a warning to others to stay away from the Snake Pit, but for Kal and Zeb it would be a long hard fight if they wanted to be fully recompensed for their losses. Kal got to her feet and, crouching low, scuttled to the edge of the bar.

‘Where are you going?’ Zeb hissed. ‘Kal, don’t try to be a hero … Kal …
Kal
!’

I.iv

The King of Thieves

A strange greenish fog had descended into the Snake Pit, not only reducing visibility but also having a seemingly soporific effect on the men and women sitting at the card tables. Peeping out from around the end of the bar, Kal could see them swaying and drooping in their seats. She pressed her lips together and breathed slowly through her nose to try and filter the poison. What had happened to the guards? They were nowhere to be seen.

There were figures moving around in the fog: masked and hooded thieves carrying sacks, into which they dropped jewellery and coins grabbed from their unresisting victims. Kal figured she should take her cue from the intruders; she reached up to the bar and grabbed a dishcloth. The nearest liquid to hand was a bottle of gin, so she soaked the cloth in the flowery spirit, then wrapped it around her mouth and nose.

The ringleader was still talking, his voice carrying through the green fog from somewhere over near the centre of the Pit. It was a strong, clear voice—authoritative, but with mocking undertones: ‘That’s it, just hand it all over! You couldn't have wanted that money so bad anyway if you all came here to gamble it away.’

The men moving back and forth across Kal’s line of sight had unusual weapons slung across their shoulders: thick-bored firearms with a flared muzzle. They must have been the cause of the explosions that had announced the robbers’ arrival. Kal had seen one of these weapons once before; its name was unforgettable:
blunderbuss
.

How best to tackle a roomful of armed opponents? Take down the leader, of course! At the first opportunity, Kal rolled out from behind the bar, crossed the floor and ducked underneath the nearest table. The card-players lolling in their chairs—a group of young nobles who had been especially rowdy earlier—took no notice of her. The next table was no more than five feet away; Kal made a move for it, and so table-by-table she made her way to the centre of the Pit.

Her target had his back to her. He was standing on a table, a sword in one hand and a handful of silver chains and pendants in the other. Like his gang, he was hooded and masked and wrapped-up in a cloak. Kal’s hands went to her waist, her thumbs pressing against two studs on either side of her belt. She drew out her concealed weapons: two thin, flexible blades that were stowed between the belt’s layers of leather. Then she moved silently out from under the table, straightened up and, using a chair as a step, mounted the table right behind her target.

She raised her blades to the back of his neck …

… and froze in surprise as two eyes flicked open in the back of the man’s hood. His arms bent at an unnatural angle and grabbed Kal by the wrists, twisting violently until she dropped her blades. Next thing she knew, the manacles she had mistaken for stolen booty had secured her, and she was pushed firmly down to her knees.

The man tore off his hood, and Kal found herself looking at the lips and chin of a face that was half-hidden beneath a black mask.
He was facing me the whole time, with his cloak and hood on backwards!
The man’s chin was strong, the lips full. They split into a grin that revealed a set of perfect white teeth.

‘Dragon Killer!’ he exclaimed gleefully.

‘Who are you?’ Kal gasped.

‘Someone smarter than
you
, Kal Moonheart,’ he replied.

Kal tried to stay calm. The man seemed playful, but she sensed that he was extremely dangerous. ‘Well,’ she muttered, ‘it’s nice to know that there
is
actually someone that smart.’

The robber laughed. He shouted out across the Pit: ‘Zeb Zing, get over here now! If you don’t hand over the key to the vault in the next minute, then your little friend here is going to spend the rest of her life dealing cards … with only one hand!’

He stared down at Kal as they waited. ‘Look at all these fools,’ he said, indicating the hundreds of zombified people all around. ‘The brightest and richest people in the world, wasting their time playing games when they should be ruling and planning for the future. This city has been missing its king for, what—five hundred years? It’s time for someone to step in who can make a difference!’

He reached down and tore away Kal’s only piece of personal decoration: a thin silver choker adorned with a black onyx stone.

‘That person is me,’ he said. ‘I am the ruler of the night, the champion of the voiceless and the powerless, the enemy of the corrupt and iniquitous … I am
the King of Thieves
!’

* * *

Five hours later, as dawn filtered through the high windows, Captain Silas Dogwood of the Senate Guard entered the Snake Pit for the first time in his life. Accompanied by a troop of his own soldiers, as well as several members of the Night Watch, he marched past the gaming tables and headed down to the vault.

Kal heard the clattering of the soldiers’ armour before the heavy vault door swung open. Dogwood stood in the entrance and stared at Kal and Zeb, as if seeing two women chained up was the most incredible thing he had ever laid eyes on.

‘Well, well, well!’ he said. ‘I’m starting to see why people seem to like this place so much.’

‘Just get us loose, Dogwood,’ Kal said. She had known this insufferable bully for years, long before he had risen to the position of captain. Following the tragic death of the previous captain in Balibu last year, the Senate Guard was now under the command of Senator Felix Firehand, and Dogwood had been quickly promoted. The new captain was short and overweight, but his blue surcoat was spotless and his boots were polished.

Dogwood took one look at the chains, then sent one of the Watch off to find a blacksmith. While they waited, Zeb tried to explain what had happened. As she talked, Dogwood poked around the empty vault, only half-listening to her story. Kal and Zeb were chained with their backs to a pillar in the centre of the underground chamber, and had been forced to watch as the robbers hauled away all the gold. Zeb’s own guards and were still conspicuous by their absence.

‘Some witnesses say they saw your staff pulling on cloaks and masks before the attack,’ Dogwood told Zeb.

She stared him down with fierce dark eyes. ‘Never,’ she said simply. Kal knew that Zeb’s business and security depended on an unbreakable bond of trust between her and her employees.