Thick as Thieves (25 page)

“Don’t press Maddog this way.” She had shed her traveling cloak to display fine clothing embroidered with gold thread and beautiful beading. More than that, she had a grace that came from having been born to rank. “Hasn’t he done enough this night? Because of his bravery—his and that of his friend—I was saved from a terrible fate. Talk to Reannry if you do not believe me, but I would be in Gurgh right now if not for them. Perhaps it was by our Goddess’s hand that Maddog was at Stormfell this day, when he was most needed!”

“Ha! He was at Stormfell because he was careless enough to get himself caught and become Baron Flemgu’s bed boy!”

Gillja lifted her chin. “He allowed himself to be caught by Flemgu so he might be brought to the castle to deliver a priceless spell to me.”

Ibeena curled forward. She fixed Madd with a suspicious stare. “Is this true?”

He shrugged. “Why not? It’s as true as anything being said tonight.”

Gillja lifted a handful of her golden hair. All could see the black strands entwined with her own. “I wear a lock of his hair bearing the spell. I took it from him in the castle.” Seeing she had the attention of Ibeena and the others, she let her hair fall, concealing her secret. “The spell Witta Moonotter wove will restore my fertility… once I choose a man. Only then will I release it, but not a moment before! For now, other matters are more pressing. With Flemgu’s death, his campaigns against our people are ended. I am the rightful Baroness of Stormfell through my father and through Flemgu also. Tomorrow I will take residence in Gurgh and communicate with allies to secure my position.” She looked completely composed as she outlined her plan. “The baron and the Grand Wizard were killed by bandits. There will be a ransom demand and ransom paid, and the Wizards’ Guild will be compelled to accept that the deaths of Flemgu and their brethren were caused by those who demanded it.”

“Madness!” was Ibeena’s verdict. “You think you can pull this off?”

“I am convinced of it. Reannry took care of matters at the castle. It will look like Flemgu died defending Usdan, who was caught unaware in the wizard chamber. Many valuables and his wand were stolen.”

Vorgell turned his head when Petal softly chittered. He agreed. It was a good plan. Possibly one that could yield to serious investigation, but it would hold up for a bit.

“In the meantime,” Ibeena complained, not backing off in the least, “we have an un-Circled witch male practicing magic, and he is partnered”—she pointed at Vorgell—“with an unschooled barbarian who has bonded with a basilisk! They cannot simply walk away from this mess they created.”

Gillja walked over to where Madd was seated and placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her warily. “I think we would be wise to bind them with an agreement. If ever we need a favor, they could prove very useful.”

Vorgell felt a touch of dread and caught the glance of horror Madd sent his way. The damn witches were being crafty.

“I don’t want—” Madd started.

“You owe me a debt!” Ibeena’s smirk, never pleasant, now threatened to sour mother’s milk. “I cannot force you into a Circle, and the Mother of All forbids that you should be forced to father a child, but I can bind you to repay a debt, and that is my price. A favor. You owe us a favor.”

“Aw, for the gold of the Sun—”

“The Sun itself has not enough gold to satisfy your debt. Your debt is not one of gold, but magic. Your debt is the price of a basilisk, or a cloak of shadows.” She sat back smugly. At least Gillja had the grace to look deeply sympathetic. “Very well. A favor. And the barbarian must be instructed in how to care for and train a basilisk. Or Maddog can choose to join the Circle of Stones and become a proper male of his kind.”

The weight of his dislike for the old woman caused Vorgell to exhale a heavy sigh that prompted Petal to lift her little blindfolded head and nuzzle his beard. He would rather battle a dozen wizards
and
their fiends than be in this withered crone’s debt. Just for what she was putting Madd through, he was tempted to lift off Petal’s hood and let the basilisk do her worst. If only Ibeena were in the room, he would have done it… but unfortunately Madd, Reannry, and Gillja were there too. He didn’t care about the other witches standing about, except maybe Tagard, whom he still somewhat liked.

It was a new feeling, to be in the midst of desirable women—and a man who made his blood run hot—and want only to kill something. Someone.

“Well, I’m never going to be a proper male of my kind,” said Madd, his voice carrying an edge of frustration so rough it frayed the words, “so I guess I owe you a favor. And Vorgell could use basilisk lessons.”

What? He and Petal were doing just fine. He glowered at the smug old woman and silently vowed to exact revenge.

Madd rose and stomped to the door, pausing only to throw on his now ragged cloak.

“Stop!” ordered Ibeena. “I forbid you to leave! It’s dangerous out there. Thieves and brigands prey on fools.”

Madd turned on her with a snarl. “I don’t belong to your Circle. And I’m not afraid. Hell, look at me! I have a giant barbarian and his pet basilisk. I’ve never been safer.” He opened the door and didn’t look back. He was entirely correct about his companions, because Vorgell was right behind him.

They exited into a night thick with scents of rush smoke and sewage. When two witch men who were standing guard stepped out of the shadows intent on stopping them, Madd just snapped, “Don’t even try or the basilisk will turn you to stone.” The men went around the side of the house just to be safe.

“I don’t think it’s prudent to threaten people with Petal,” Vorgell said minutes later as they walked along the river path toward the docks and taverns of Thieves Wart. He coaxed Petal onto his hand and tucked her into his roomy hip pouch. In the course of just one night, she’d already grown too large to fit anywhere else.

It was nearing dawn, and the Back End was quiet, no longer rattling with dung carts. Vorgell and Madd quickly skirted the wall and kept an eye on the few other furtive men they encountered, but no one moved to stop them, and they soon cleared the city. The thugs staking out the path leading under the Cutpurse Bridge to Thieves Wart lifted their heads for a moment, but when Vorgell brandished his mace, it jogged their memories, and they let them pass.

By the time Madd’s pace slowed, they had entered the darkened town.

“Screw this, all of it—”

“No, Madd. It’s finished.” At the end of the street, Vorgell pulled Madd into the deep shadow beneath an overhanging eave, out of the sight of anyone who might emerge from the shuttered buildings around them. For now, even Thieves Wart was asleep. “We’re done with them. Until they call in their favor. Then we have to answer, because we’re men of our word. But until then, we are our own men. We can put to rest both our pasts.”

“You think it’s that easy.”

“No. Not easy. Necessary.”

Just enough fading moonlight caught his friend’s face to make Vorgell’s heart skip a beat. He would never tire of looking at those beautiful cheekbones and dark, clever eyes, the way Madd’s mouth twisted with promises he had no intention of keeping.

“We don’t escape our pasts, you know,” Madd said. He sounded defeated. “Never. We can never escape what we are.”

“Maybe not. But I think we can escape what other people try to make of us. We can decide our fate for ourselves.”

Madd blew out a sigh and relaxed just a little. “Maybe we can.”

“I think we owe it to ourselves to try.” Vorgell lifted a hand to Madd’s face. For once he saw no warning to desist. Madd was listening. He leaned in until their foreheads touched and chose that moment to speak his heart. “I thought I’d lost you. There in the castle, when you told me to run away, and I did, I thought I’d lost you. Because I ran and you’re the one thing in this world I could never abandon. You see, I never thought I’d find someone… a man… like you. My life has been ravaged by magic and death and slavery, some of it by my own causing. But then I found you, and the Father of Wolves must have given me his blessing, because I feel like I have found myself for the first time since I left the steppes of my homeland. I have no home, but I do have you. Be it the will of the gods or damn unicorn’s magic, I have you.”

“You oaf. What does that even mean? I use you for sex, to get magic—”

“You don’t want magic. You don’t even like it.”

“That’s true enough.” Madd looked away. The moon had set, and now only starlight lent a glimmer to the tears in his eyes. “I like you, Vorgell. More than anyone, and I mean that. You turn me inside out sometimes. Not many men would put up with someone like me, except for sex. And even then—” He swallowed hard. “—I can’t stand being used. I always have to be in control.”

“Have I complained?”

“No, but you will someday. A man like you doesn’t need someone like me.”

“I believe that’s for me to decide. What I want, who I want… what I need.”

Silence fell over them like a veil, thin, barely concealing their heartbeats. Madd’s eyes, as they searched Vorgell’s face, were dark wells of uncertainty. For way too long he had trusted no one. Then he flashed a smile.

“So you still want to be partners? After everything that’s happened?”

“I’ll watch your back if you’ll watch mine. Together, we can outwit and outfight them all.”

“I like that. It might even work,” Madd whispered. “We can do it together. Decide what you want, or need, and I’ll do the same. Just don’t try to own me. I can’t stand it. It’s bad enough we now owe favors to Tagard and the Circle. You have no idea how much I hate that. It’s like wearing chains.”

“I don’t want to own you. I’d much rather you own me.” At the startled look Madd turned up at him, Vorgell laughed. “There is one thing, though. You aren’t wearing a cursed love collar anymore. Gillja healed our hurts. You’re out of excuses. I want what I’m owed.”

Madd’s eyes widened, his smile betraying teeth… and a dare.

Was that an invitation? Vorgell angled his face as he leaned down, half fearing Madd would duck away or make a grab for his balls. He moved in until Madd’s nose pressed to his. He had been this close before and been rebuffed. What he felt next were Madd’s fingers tangling in his hair, holding him fast, followed by the amazing sensation of hungry lips landing on his. Stunned, Vorgell gave himself to the kiss, surrendering to each gentle tug and tender suck that tasted him, tested him, went straight to his soul.

Vorgell’s cock rose in his trousers and he overrode its demand. What he wanted more than anything in the world was what he had at this moment, the heaven of Madd’s mouth laying claim to his. The young witch tasted like midnight, dark magic, and strong honey-laced mead. His exploration grew hungrier, harder, and Vorgell opened to it, begging for more until he felt Madd’s teeth on his and the tender push of a tongue sliding against his, and he moaned, yielding all by obeying and answering its slippery commands.

When the kiss broke, he gazed down into the warm glow of Madd’s smile and said, “The gods have answered all my prayers.”

“Balls to you. Now get us a room if there’s an inn in Thieves Wart that will have us,” said Madd, “and maybe they’ll answer one of mine.”

Chapter 18

V
ORGELL
pounded his fist on the table for luck before he threw his dice. The bones rolled and came to a stop. Four and six. “Cart and horse, Raunir! I win again.” With a hearty grin, he scooped up the Boreenchi gem trader’s small pile of coins. “Better luck next throw, friend,” he said, pocketing his winnings as the three other men seated at the table laughed and lifted their cups. As long as Vorgell’s luck held and he was paying for their ale, they were his friends.

The Fat Hand was shadowy and smoky even at midday. The tavern’s location at the edge of Gurgh’s temple district contributed to it having a slightly more exotic clientele. A “fat hand” suggested wealth, the having and the getting. Diplomats, merchants, and foreign traders hawking high-priced goods to the priests and nobles who frequented the district’s spice shops or artisans crowded the place. Over the last few months the Fat Hand had become Vorgell and Madd’s favorite haunt when between jobs or while taking breaks from the jobs they had. Traders in general had little skill at Gurghali dice.

“You are too good, Scurrian,” Raunir acknowledged, snapping tight his purse strings to indicate he was finished. When he rose to leave, the other men protested, but he waved them off. “You only hope he will buy your drinks with my coin! I need keep enough to pay him later. What say you, Vorgell? Tomorrow morning, you will escort my daughter to the home of Danners Domaeesko?”

“And I told you, I will—but only if you pay for the time I escorted your wife.” Vorgell liked Raunir—and his wife—and might have agreed to forgive the debt if Madd wasn’t sitting a few feet away, scowling at the exchange. Though Madd seldom joined his dice games, he often sat nearby, keeping an eye on Vorgell’s winnings.

Heaving a sigh, Raunir opened his purse again so he could drop two heavy gold coins into Madd’s outstretched palm before he left. Madd added the coins to his purse and gave Vorgell a nod. Pleased with the day’s profits, Vorgell sat back and resolved to enjoy his beer. His companions knew there’d be no more rounds, but stayed on to share the empty wit and wisdom of men deep in their cups. For his part, Vorgell was content to gaze across the table at Madd.