The Mists of Sorrow: The Morcyth Saga Book Seven (48 page)

“Fool!” the slaver says as he knocks
Reilin’s hands away.

“I’m truly sorry about this, sir,” Reilin
says then places his left arm around the man’s neck and begins
laughing. Those nearby who have been observing him and the slaver
chuckle at the sight.

When Perrilin moves adjacent to their table,
James and Jiron get to their feet. James gives Perrilin a greeting
and holds out his right hand.

“Get off me you idiot!” the slaver yells and
pushes Reilin away.

Stumbling backward, Reilin hits the edge of
a table with his leg and crashes into a man and woman.

Perrilin stops and takes James’ hand to
shake it with a glance over to where Reilin is now laying across
the two people’s laps. Then from behind him, Scar jumps up and
grabs him around the chest just as James grips his hand hard and
stretches his arm across the table.

Jiron produces a hatchet from out of his
cloak that acquired earlier for just this moment and raises it
high. Bringing it down hard, he severs the hand from the arm.

Perrilin cries out as blood spurts forth
from the bloody stump and the room becomes still from shock.

Then a woman screams and the room bursts
into action. Scar lets go of Perrilin who falls to the floor
clutching the bleeding stump and moaning in pain. He knocks the
slaver whom Reilin spilt ale on to the floor as he clears a way for
Jiron and James to make their escape. They make it halfway to the
door before three men move to block the exit.

Cries and shouts erupt as the people surge
forward toward them.

Leading the way, Scar pulls forth his double
swords and begins striking out at the men barring his way. One man
manages to draw forth his sword but Scar batters it aside and
plunges the point of his sword into the man’s shoulder.

Then Jiron is there beside him and the other
two men are quickly thrust aside. With the way to the door clear,
he yells, “Come on!” With the other two behind him, he bolts for
the door. Before he can reach it, another man, rather large and
angry, moves to block his escape.

Barely slowing even a little, Jiron strikes
the man with the pommel of his knife just before Scar hits him with
his shoulder and knocks him out of the way. Moving out into the
street, they race into the night. Behind them, they hear another
woman scream as she swoons into unconsciousness and just happens to
fall into the men rushing after them.

Aleya’s body hits the first man who was
trying to catch them, which knocks him into the second one and
suddenly the doorway is jammed with bodies writhing on the floor.
By the time they are able to untangle themselves, their prey has
disappeared into the night.

Splitting into search parties, the men begin
combing the streets to find the two who did this to Kir. The most
beloved and skilled bard they have ever had the pleasure to
experience. Blood is on their minds, and if they should come across
the men who did this, there is little confusion as to what they
will do.

Back in the Wallowing Swine, Reilin, who by
this time has become miraculously sober again, shouts for all to
hear, “We have to get him to a healer!”

Three men come and pick up the moaning and
blood soaked Perrilin. Then Reilin shouts again, “This way!” and
begins leading them out the back door. He and the three men who are
carrying Perrilin race out the back and into the courtyard there.
Several of those who were there to see Perrilin perform follow them
out.

Then, racing across the courtyard, they
leave through the courtyard’s gate and enter the street. Turning
right and away from the tavern, Reilin leads Potbelly, Stig and
Shorty who are carrying Perrilin, as well as the crowd following
them, quickly down the street.

Ducking into a side alley, James puts the
severed hand into an empty pouch and ties it shut. Then the sound
of running feet comes and they plaster themselves against the alley
wall. Holding still, they wait for the group of men to race past
before returning to the street.

“Scar,” Jiron says, “Go after the others and
make sure they make it to the rendezvous.”

He gives him a nod then runs back down the
road to the tavern. “Now,” begins Jiron as he points to the blood
soaked pouch, “let’s get rid of that and get out of here.” He then
turns down the street in the direction leading to the slaver’s
compound. Breaking into a run, they race along the street all the
while keeping eyes and ears alert for anyone in the vicinity.

“The whole city will be searching for us
before long,” James says. Forced to hide in the shadows as two
guards make their way down the street, they wait and watch as the
men come forward. By the way they’re just walking along, it’s
unlikely they have yet to learn about the events at the Wallowing
Swine. Whether they have or haven’t, he and Jiron aren’t likely to
run the risk that they have.

After the two guards turn the corner and
disappear, they return to the street. “It’s not far from here,”
announces Jiron. And sure enough, the gate to the slaver compound
appears before them shortly. It’s closed and stationed out in front
of it are two slaver guards.

Jiron brings them to a halt before the
guards at the gate have seen them. “If they don’t let us in,” he
says to James in a whisper, “we’re going in anyway.”

“What about your promise to Azku?” he asks.
“If we should do anything to hurt or destroy this place or its
people, you will be breaking your word.”

Jiron looks at him and replies, “If he
breaks his word, then what I agreed to is no longer binding.”

James gives him a look like he still thinks
it should. “Whether someone else keeps their word or not, doesn’t
affect your own honor. Only your choices. You swore to leave Baku
as you find him, and you should.”

An argumentative look crosses Jiron’s face
as he stares back at him, “We’ll see.” Moving out from the shadows,
he heads toward the gate with James right behind.

The guards are quick to notice them coming
in their direction. They stay where they are and make no movement
or gesture as they arrive. “Come back in the morning,” one says
when Jiron comes to a stop several feet away.

“We have a package for Buka,” Jiron
says.

“What kind of package?” asks the second
guard.

“The kind that I’ll have to kill you if I
tell you,” replies James.

The first guard whispers something to the
second who nods and turns back to them. “You two match the
description of two we were to keep an eye out for.” He looks them
up and down, taking in the blood staining both their clothes. Then
he nods to the first guard.

Removing a ring of keys, the first guard
moves to the gate and unlocks it. Pulling it open, he says, “Was
told to tell you to meet him in the same place as you had
before.”

James gives them a nod, “Thanks.”

Without a word, the second guard waves them
on through.

Passing through the gate, James and Jiron
enter the slaver courtyard as the gate swings closed behind them.
The sound of the turning of the lock tells them the guards have
locked it again. Lanterns are hung at intervals around the
courtyard, filling it with abundant light. From one of the
buildings nearby the cry of a slave is heard.

Something about this just doesn’t feel right
to Jiron. Maybe it’s the events of the night that has him rattled,
whatever the reason he has a hand resting on one of his knives. “Be
on your guard,” he whispers to James.

“Think he’ll try something?” James asks.

“I don’t know,” he replies. As they cross
the courtyard, he realizes the place is deserted. For this time of
night there should be someone out on one errand or another. A noise
from the darkness causes him to stop in the middle of the courtyard
and peer in that direction.

“What?” asks James.

“I don’t know,” he replies. When the noise
doesn’t repeat itself, he says, “May just be my imagination.”
Resuming their trek across the courtyard, they come to the building
wherein they met Buka the night before.

As they are expected, Jiron makes no attempt
at stealth and opens the door. Entering the hallway, he passes
through it to the door separating the two halves of the building.
At the next door, he opens it and continues into the next hallway.
Moving down, he comes to the door wherein Buka had been the last
time. This time however, he knocks upon the door.

“Come in,” is heard from the other side.
Opening the door, they find Buka sitting at the table with three
other men there with him. One of the men they recognize as having
been a guest at the Wallowing Swine this evening. The other two
slavers they saw there, the ones James was sure had to be the ones
Buka sent to observe the taking of the hand, are not.

“You have it?” Buka asks.

James removes the blood soaked pouch and
tosses it onto the table in front of the slaver Guildmaster. Buka
nods to the man sitting to his right who then takes the pouch and
opens it. Upending it over the table, the hand drops out and lands
before Buka. A trail of blood oozes its way across the tabletop
from the severed hand.

“We have kept out part of the bargain,”
Jiron says.

Nodding, Buka replies, “So it would
seem.”

“Now, tell us where the owner of the
necklace can be found,” demands Jiron.

“Calm down, young man,” Buka tells him. “I
always keep my word. Can’t rise to a position such as I have if you
don’t.” He nods to two of the other slavers there with him and they
take the hand and leave. Once the two men have left the room and
the door once again is closed, Buka gives them a look and starts to
laugh.

Startled by the unexpected reaction, Jiron
asks, “What’s so funny?”

Bringing his laughter under control, Buka
says, “The knowledge of where your friend is will do you no
good.”

“Why is that?” James asks.

“For one thing,” replies Buka, “you can’t
get to him even if you know where he is.”

“Where is he?” demands Jiron.

“Five days ago, he and several other slaves
were taken to Ith-Zirul.” He pauses a moment to see what affect his
words are having. When neither of them reacts to the name, he
shakes his head and chuckles.

“Why is that so funny?” asks Jiron.

“Because,” he says with a grin, “none who go
there ever come out.”

“Where can we find it?” Jiron asks.

“Ah,” Baku says as he holds up a hand, “I
only agreed to tell you where you could find your friend, and I
have.”

“But we need to know!” demands Jiron.

Baku’s face darkens as all signs of
amusement leave him. “Our bargain is concluded,” he states, tone
getting an edge to it. “I suggest you leave now.”

James can see the storm building behind
Jiron’s eyes. Laying a hand on his arm, he says, “We should go.”
When Jiron hesitates, he adds, “At least we know the name of the
place. Trust me, we’ll find it.”

With a slight nod, he allows James to lead
him to the door. Never once taking his eyes from Buka, he hears the
door open behind him. “Come on,” James tells him. Passing out into
the hallway, his eyes continue to bore into those of Buka until
James closes the door.

“Some day, he and I will meet again,”
prophesizes Jiron. “And when we do, only one of us will walk
away.”

“Should that day come I wish you all the
luck,” says James. “Right now though, we have to get back to the
others.”

Jiron nods and together they hustle back out
the way they came in. Once out of the building they head across the
courtyard to the gate. Jiron is internally fuming over what Buka
told them, rather what he didn’t tell them. They have a name of
where he is, but not where the place is located.

All of a sudden from up ahead of them, they
hear the creak that signals the opening of the gate. Jiron comes to
a stop when he sees the two slavers from the Wallowing Swine
passing through.

“You!” one of the slavers exclaims when he
recognizes them. Drawing his sword, he advances upon Jiron and
James. “You shall die for what you did this evening.”

“Never again will the music of Kir be heard
in this world,” the other yells as he, too, draws his sword.

Jiron gives them a grin and draws forth both
knives. “If it’s a fight you want, I’ll oblige you,” he says. With
that he again moves forward, wanting nothing more than to vent the
anger and frustration Buka instilled within him on these two.

As Jiron moves toward the two men, James
removes one of his remaining slugs from his belt in the event Jiron
should need his help. Just before Jiron reaches them, James catches
movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning his gaze in the
direction of the movement, he suddenly realizes there are men
within the darkness on the far side of the lanterns. Then, he hears
a voice speak a command, one that he’s heard dozens of times before
in battle with the Empire.

Just as the twang of a dozen crossbows
breaks the stillness of the courtyard, he creates a barrier. A
fraction of a second later, the flight of bolts strikes the barrier
and ricochets off. That’s when he realizes he unconsciously made
the barrier large enough to encompass not only himself and Jiron,
but the two slavers as well.

Jiron, oblivious to what is transpiring
around them, is only concerned with the two slavers. For their
part, all they want is to kill the men who took the hand of one
they held in awe.

As one slaver thrusts at Jiron, the other
brings his sword at an angle to slice into Jiron’s side. Deflecting
the thrust to the side with one knife, he brings the other in to
catch the oncoming blade on the knife’s crossguard. Thrusting the
sword upward, he moves inside the man’s guard and knees him in the
stomach. Knocked backward by the blow, the slaver staggers two feet
before regaining his balance.