Thick as Thieves (12 page)

Vorgell turned to Madd and said, “This is a very interesting man.”

“He should be,” Madd said with a wolf’s feral grin. “Tagard’s the most elusive thief in all of Gurgh.”

“And you were a promising little thief, until you killed a man. The wrong man.” Tagard walked to end of the pier. “It’s a good morning for fishing. Shame I didn’t think to bring a line.”

Maybe he could use a live fish for breakfast? Vorgell cast a smile Madd’s way, letting his friend know he was neither worried nor disgusted by their talk. If Madd wanted magic to work with, Vorgell was a willing partner.

Tagard turned back to Madd, who was silently awaiting his words. “The Grand Wizard, Usdan, is visiting the baron’s lands.”

“I know.”

“How did you escape?”

“Magic. Usdan wasn’t around. He’d ridden on to Grappor by then.”

“Magic, huh?” Tagard chuckled. “Keyhole spell? You need an oak for that.” Turning to Vorgell, he said, “I taught him that one. Rare magic, but he has an affinity to moon oaks, same as I do. Takes a bellyful of magic though.”

“Speaking of oaks,” said Madd.

“I wondered when you’d get to that.”

Madd scowled. “I need a counter to the hiding spell upon the grove.”

Tagard lifted his hands into the air, indicating the request was too steep. “Too risky. The baron’s bounty has attracted every low-rent bounty hunter in the city. If even one of them follows you and finds the grove—”

“Then help us make sure they don’t. Getting Vorgell here out of the city unseen will be impossible, and if we take the road to Stormfell our chances are worse. Look at him”—Madd gestured to Vorgell—“he’s the size of three men! Even if I had the coin, I couldn’t buy a horse big enough to carry him!”

Vorgell opened his mouth to protest that this was not true. He had ridden a horse. Then he closed his mouth again. During his entire time in Gurgh, he had not seen even one horse close in size to a Kaulo war beast.

“Hah! And I should help you why?” People were starting to put boats onto the river. The dark shapes of punts from a line of piers downriver sliced into the silver water. Tagard frowned at the intruders.

“Because you don’t want me enslaved to the baron any more than Ibeena does. He’ll use me badly and just end up selling me to some wizard for fiend fodder. You didn’t save me before just for that to happen now. Tagard”—Madd stepped so he was in front of the man again—“if you help me now, I can do this. I’m no stranger to Stormfell. I can get in and out. You know how good I am. Wasn’t I your best thief?”

“No. You were my best street rat. There’s a difference.”

“Well, rats have the run of castles. I can steal what I need from this one. Once I’m free, I promise I’ll come back and do thieving for you.”

“That’s what you promised last time. Six months of thieving. If I do this for you, you’re up to a year—and I get a percentage of him too.” Tagard pointed to Vorgell.

“Me?” Vorgell asked. This sounded interesting. “I get to become a thief?”

Madd flushed. “You can’t be serious!”

Tagard laughed and looped an arm around Madd’s shoulders, pulling him along as they started to walk back to the stench and bustle of the waking town. “A thief? Perhaps. Though he’ll never be the thief you are. No, I was thinking more of offering protection. Rich men will pay a premium to have their asses being guarded by a man like him.”

Vorgell nodded at the look Madd gave him. He could tell Madd wanted to do it.

“A year,” Madd agreed. “But you have to help smuggle us over the river.”

Chapter 10

T
HE
baron’s castle was a good distance from Gurgh, it turned out. Stormfell stood on the edge of the great forest Nakrooinbeh, quite some way upstream. Locals knew the forest as the Spirit Wood and feared its deep history. Among other things, it was the ancestral home of the witchkin. Madd feared the forest not at all and said no witchkin lived there now, that his kind had left long ago or been driven from their homes. Reaching it would require a few days travel.

It amused Vorgell that he had left Gurgh two weeks ago headed for this same forest. Someone had told him there was gold to be made hunting witches. At the time, he had little cared what for. He disliked magic users and needed an occupation, preferably one that paid well. Border lords put high bounties on troublesome witches. He had assumed it was for the same reason he hated the shaman. Meeting Madd had completely opened his eyes to other possible reasons.

Damn! Every time he looked at his dark-haired companion, his cock leaped to the fore, stiff and primed for action. Had he not met Ibeena, he would have wondered if all witches affected men thusly. But she had curdled his blood to the same degree Madd heated it.

Tagard, however, seemed like a reasonable man, although slippery. Getting them to promise to work for him for a year, for one thing.

He adjusted his pack and made a mental check of their preparations. They had decent new blades and had bought a stock of provisions, just enough to spend a few nights in the wild. Madd wished to travel light, though Vorgell would have preferred to take more lest they run into a snag. Over the last couple of years, he’d experienced more than the usual share of snags, and he liked to be prepared. He thought Madd relied too heavily on magic for making good his escapes. The young witch was crafty and not even a bad fighter in a pinch, but magic was a tricky ally and not practical for every situation. This cloak of shadows, for one thing. Vorgell shifted the bundle in his arms. While useful for actually entering a place or moving about unseen, the cloak would only draw attention if worn on the street, with head and hands exposed by necessity for talking and doing business. As such, he had to carry, not wear, the thing and it might as well be a spare blanket.

Both men carried sacks laden with more practical items: bread and smoked sausage, two strange brown, wrinkled fruits Madd had promised Vorgell would taste good, and a pot of honey to sweeten their food. Madd had spent his remaining gold coin on a fine linen shirt, warm socks, and a deep-brimmed hat that on him looked less ridiculous than it could have. Just seeing him made Vorgell smile, because if any man had looks enough to be vain, it was Madd.

They left Thieves Wart by way of the Back End Gate, which was aptly named. Day or night, it reeked of shit. Even in daylight, the alley was poorly lit and dangerous, and haulers worked through the night. Gurgh showed a fair face to the world and only allowed waste to be dumped into the river after dark. By morning, the odorous crap would be carried away by the current, resulting in a lesser stench. The gate presented no advantage to anyone wanting to enter the city in force. Horses could not travel the narrow footpath along the city wall, a passage likely at any time to be blocked by pushcarts piled high with human and animal refuse. Only assassins or thieves used it with any frequency.

Apparently any soul in Gurgh was a fair target for assassinations, including wizards. Killing ordinary humans, even Sun Virgins, was easy work compared to assassinating wizards, at least according to Madd, who appeared to have given a lot of thought to the matter.

Go for the wand
, had been Madd’s advice on how to handle wizards.
The wands give wizards control over their fiends. Take away their fiends and they’re not so tough.

They exited the Back End and trotted along the Bank Walk, a path atop the foundation of the city wall. The offal workers dumped upstream, leaving this way malodorous and therefore less traveled. The path emptied into a rough collection of hovels on the waterfront. A few folk lived there, earning scant livelihoods through fishing or hunting the wild pigs that flourished on the river bend. The pigs grew fat on garbage and rotting carcasses tossed away by butchers and successful assassins. Tagard had enlisted one of the fisher folk to carry Madd and Vorgell across the river.

The bottom of the boat stank of fish, but Vorgell found it bearable, especially because secrecy demanded Madd lie with him beneath a tarp. As the river current rocked the boat, their bodies bumped pleasantly.

“I’ve decided Ibeena is right about one thing,” Vorgell said. “You are a great deal of trouble.”

“Feel free to take your chances without me.”

As if he would do that. He had already made up his mind he would free Madd of every obligation or enchantment until only he remained.

When the boat bumped against the other bank, they scrambled out and thanked the boatman, then vanished into the underbrush. Before they’d left Thieves Wart, Tagard had spent time telling Madd the way and providing him with a crude map. They skirted farmhouses and left all paths and roads behind. Instead they sought the shelter of the woods. Once they were deep among tall trees, Madd stopped and searched. When he found what he was seeking, they would move on. The third time they stopped, Vorgell stared up and wished he could see the sun.

“Are we lost yet?” he asked.

“No,” said Madd, turning toward a leaf-strewn gully. “This way.”

The gully led to a rise thick with old logs and the dark, gnarled trunks of venerable trees. Leaves littered the ground, muffling their footfalls. Madd stuck a forefinger in his mouth, wetting it before holding it up to test the wind, though the gesture gave Vorgell other ideas. His satisfaction from the night before had passed hours ago, and his cock was ready for another round. The tree knots weren’t looking good just yet… but Madd certainly was.

Madd reached into his jacket and pulled out a pouch he had gotten from Tagard. He opened it and poured a handful of coppery dust into his hand. Holding his hand and its burden before his lips, he softly pursed them and blew. The dust dispersed in the wind, floating toward the rise. A moment later another tree appeared that had not been there before: ancient, broad, and crowned by silvery leaves. Around its massive trunk gathered a fringe of golden ferns that glinted so brightly they almost sparkled.

“Moon oak,” Madd said. He sank to the ground, where he sat and just stared, lost in his own thoughts.

Vorgell had a fine respect for trees, though little knowledge of those of this land. At least here there was a sliver of sun. He eyed the shadows, thinking they could travel for another hour at least.

“Is this where we make camp?”

“No. This is the Hidden Grove. It’s where I take us to the castle.”

“Here?”

“Witchkin get hunted a lot, so we have our own ways.”

Vorgell remembered the last time he and Madd had traveled without a road. “Don’t tell me you’re going to make another of those tight swirling holes for us to crawl through. I barely squeezed through the last one!”

“It wasn’t that bad! I just hadn’t had much practice—”

“Nor have you had more since.” Vorgell scowled. “I happen to enjoy wearing clean clothes.”

“Look around you,” Madd snapped. “This was once a great oak grove. It’s in a bit of disrepair, but you can still see it. And I’m not making the damn portal this time. I’ll be opening one other witches made—made and locked and shored up. We won’t have to crawl through it. We’ll walk.”

“Even me?”

“All right. You might have to stoop. But you can still walk through.”

He shook his head. “All this using magic. It doesn’t sit well with me.”

“It will soon sit better.” Madd shot him a wicked little grin. “In order to have enough magic to make it work, I’m going to need to suck your magic dragon.”

“You will?” The tenting of his trousers announced his immediate agreement.

“Happily. Unless you think it’s a better idea to walk for three days on roads infested with bounty hunters.”

There hadn’t been a choice since Madd had said he’d suck him. The damn witch had him by the cockhead. With a laugh, Vorgell walked up and leaned back against the trunk of the tree to watch Madd work. First, Madd made a cut on one finger and walked in a pattern, leaving drops of blood on the mossy ground. When he was done, he cocked his head and gave Vorgell a smile.

Vorgell knew what that meant. The sight of his companion—a confection of black hair and deep brown eyes and sweet beckoning secrets—was enough in itself to inflame his consent. Thing was, he wanted more. Last night’s bout of cocks and bottoms had left in its wake a longing to advance their companionship toward more promising lands. Vorgell crossed his arms.

“You can have magic, if I get a kiss.”

“A
kiss
?” It was difficult to say which was more alluring, Madd’s shapely lips parting in disbelief, or his pretty eyes narrowing with feral intent. “As I recall, kissing is not part of our agreement. I told you… I don’t kiss. Not on the mouth. I’ll suck your cock—”

“No,” Vorgell shook his head, “I want a real kiss. The kind that tastes like honeycomb and summer and makes my head spin. That mouth of yours drives me mad. You kissed me in the dungeon that time.”

“Just so I could get us out of there! It hurt like hell.”

“Yes, it did. May I remind you, you bit
me
.”

“Would you stop listening to that damn unicorn-tingly cock of yours? It’s putting nonsense in your head. I can see the spinning from here.” Madd sighed and tried to reason with him. “I don’t kiss, Vorgell. I told you that. It’s not personal. I don’t kiss you; I don’t kiss anyone.”