Shaddar can barely contain his fury as Jorin and Bort reach the second floor after their disastrous encounter with the constables. Bort at least has the good sense to look at the ground, knowing that they failed in ever aspect of The Boss’ wishes. But Jorin stands there looking pleased with himself!
“Go!” Shaddar says in a tone of lethal, sharpened ice, pointing with one outstretched and trembling claw to the stairs.
Jorin has the gall to look offended at his just ire! The man dares to speak, “What’s the matter, Boss? We made them leave didn’t we?”
Bort takes one look at the smoldering eyes and dangerously jerking tentacles, grabs his friend by the arm, and runs for the stairs while apologizing humbly all the while. His thoughts are filled with suspicions and dread about the talk of Murder-Most-Foul – especially the rising number of deaths mentioned.
Shaddar is not ready to be rid of their services. Quite. But as the offensive minions fade from his sight and the constables do in fact leave with most of their suppositions allayed, he calms slightly. Enough to spare Jorin’s life, in any event.
Shaddar returns to his room to recover and settle his emotions, but he is not even given ten minutes respite before he senses another group of newcomers enter the meadhall.
He leaps to his feet and snarls. If there is any possibility of it, he will see blood for this second irritation! His mental screech has Toothsnatcher moving into the hallway like a diving hawk. Swift, sure, and deadly.
Shaddar examines the new group. Five of them this time. And from their thoughts, not constables. Pity. They do not speak to one another and their thoughts are almost as full of angry, bitter thoughts as Shaddar’s are. This fact actually serves to calm him somewhat and he begins to examine this situation as he should: seeking his best advantage.
Their thoughts are most puzzling: “If this is really who did it… We’ll make him pay.”
Shaddar runs his thoughts over the minds of all in the building quickly to insure himself of their locations. Widow Cottondur and her daughters are working in the kitchen. The daughter that Shaddar talked to has told her mother all about the strange man and stranger goings-on upstairs and the widow is alarmed. The widow is currently telling her daughters to not go upstairs at all while the ‘construction’ is going on and is telling them some fanciful tale about leering men who work with their hands.
Hawke is sulking behind the bar and wondering how the constables could have believed such obvious lies peddled by Jorin and Bort. He is also worried about the rising body count mentioned by the authorities, but he is not surprised to hear it.
Toothsnatcher is ready for instant action, and happy about it. Loolipo stands guard outside the room with his wretched prisoners. Cutt is still hard at his rest as are all of the hobgoblins.
Shaddar is still too angry to listen to any of the thoughts of Jorin, but Bort is trying to convince his friend that The Boss is quite angry with him. Enough. He will instruct the fool later…
He turns his mental attention back to the five men who are now entering the meadhall as he steps to the top of the stairs once again to listen to the conversation better. At first all he hears is the banging of the door and the stomp of heavy, hob-nailed boots against the floorboards.
“Sirs? Would you mind walking quieter?” Hawke pleads, “I had a bit too much of the bottle last night and my head is feeling it today.” He listens for a moment to the pace of their walking and adds, “Not any of my regulars, are you?”
“No, Hawke. We’re not.”
Shaddar feels the shock run through Hawke’s mind as he instantly recognizes the speaker’s voice.
“Vicacili Lowdrake!” Hawke says in a startled tone, but he soon controls his shock and his voice hardens considerably, “Why are you even here? This is the border zone! Not one of your fancy pubs run by your master.”
“Not here for a drink, Hawke,” the dangerous-sounding, yet weedy voice oozes, “I’m here for you.”
“But I haven’t done anything wrong!”
“Really? That’s not what the Guildmaster thinks… You know, when the captain of extortion kicked you out of the Guild and the slums because you went blind, we thought that we’d never hear from you again. That’s the customary arrangement, as you well know. But now!” He pauses expectantly. “Now we hear rumors, Hawke. Disturbing rumors. You know who the Guildmaster calls in when he’s unhappy with rumors, don’t you?”
“You, Vicacili.”
“Right you are, Hawke. Never did forget anything important, did you? And that’s just the trouble, isn’t it? You see, someone with knowledge (intimate knowledge, might I add!) of how the guild works is starting up some competition… You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? Hawke?”
“No. Why do you think I would know anything about that?”
“Only because before you went blind you were thinking about taking over as the new captain of extortion. And rumor had it back then that your ambition might go higher – that you might even want to try for the Guildmaster title yourself. That’s why. Your ambitions have brought me here.”
Hawke responds gruffly as if unwilling to dredge up painful memories, “All my ambitions died with my eyesight!”
“Yeah. That’s what you said then too…”
The sounds of a scuffle can be heard with Hawke grunting in pain. Shaddar gleans from the thoughts of all of them that they have come behind the bar and are holding him bent over backwards – one of the unspeaking men holding to each of Hawke’s limbs.
Hawke is furious, but manages to sound pitiful as he says, “What? You’re going to beat up a blind man? I’ll call the constables!”
“Yeah… I don’t think you want to do that, Hawke.”
“And why not? You know they are very harsh on villains who take advantage of the disabled and infirm!”
“Because we happen to know that you have… how to put this? Personal feelings for a certain widow and her two daughters?” Shaddar feels the threat go home and slice into Hawke’s mental resolve like a stiletto.
“Go to the top of the stairs and wait with your axe at the ready. I will lure some of these men to you and you will kill them,” Shaddar instructs Toothsnatcher as he walks down the steps.
Shaddar walks to the main hall and stops, examining these men who threaten his minion with his eyes for the first time. The four men who hold Hawke down are large, wearing studded leather armor and gloves with leather weights in the knuckles. Brawlers or toughs of some kind, clearly. The leader is obviously this Vicacili – a short, nondescript man other than the black, silken outfit, complete with flowing cape that he wears. His slicked-back hair reveals a thin scar running from the top of his hairline, down one cheek, and disappearing under his collar.
“What’s the matter, Hawke? Don’t you want to talk to your old mates?” Vicacili chuckles as he prods the old man in the belly with a sheathed dagger.
Shaddar spreads his arms wide and speaks in refined tones, “Gentlemen! Gentlemen! I could not help but overhear your conversation with my good friend here. He can not help you, but it just so happens that I have the information you require.”
“What’s that,” Vicacili says quietly.
Shaddar continues, lowering his arms, “However, the information is of a sensitive nature and I do not wish others – such as Hawke or the women who are listening behind the kitchen door there – to overhear it.” He motions upwards. “Come to my office and we can discuss these delicate matters in private…”
“I don’t know you,” Vicacili says with venom, “And we have the guilty man – the rival of the Guildmaster.”
“Hawke? The Guildmaster of the Swashbuckling Rogues? Don’t make me laugh!”
Hawke’s thoughts are a bit wild: “What is he doing? He has no idea how dangerous these men are! He is endangering me and the widow and her girls with this mad charade!”
The brawlers and their leader are certain that Shaddar is no threat. Their thoughts only reveal how badly they have underestimated him: “This guy’s scrawny – we can take him.”
“What’s up with that illusion you wear? Is it supposed to frighten cats?” Vicacili asks rudely, putting the dagger back on his belt.
Shaddar ignores the question, turning instead to mount the stairs himself. He calls out, “Haste, sir! Follow me and I will gladly tell you all I know – which is much indeed. And allow poor Hawke to return to his business; you are wasting your time with him.”
Vicacili purses his lips, but makes up his mind to see what Shaddar has to say. He motions with two fingers for half of his men to come with him. The other two remain holding Hawke.
Shaddar reaches the top of the stairs and travels to his room, opening the door and beckoning inside with both hands. “Right this way, sirs,” he says in a friendly tone.
His crisp mental orders to Toothsnatcher are not nearly so kind, “Save the first man alive. Destroy the others.”
Toothsnatcher nods and readies his axe in one hand and his other is outstretched in a grasping claw – waiting for the first figure to come into his view.
As soon as Vicacili’s head comes into view, the minotaur snatches him by the throat and hurls him with all his strength into the wall behind him. The monster then transforms the backwards motion into the backstroke of the axe, gripping it firmly with both hands as he steps forward and decapitates the two men walking up the stairs side-by-side. The detached heads ricochet off the back of the wall and bounce past Shaddar’s feet and the bodies collapse down the stairs – crashing into the walls of the landing heavily. The heavy smells of death flood the hallway instantly.
Toothsnatcher plants one foot firmly on the dazed and bleeding Vicacili’s gut, knocking the wind right out of him and rendering him unable to make a sound.
Shaddar hurries back down the stairs, daintily sidestepping the massive splashes of gore as best he can. When he reaches the bottom, he sees that both of the other men are already almost to the stairs themselves, with swords half-drawn.
“Come quickly! Your friends have slipped on the steps! They are loose from the construction and I forgot to mention it! I feel terrible!” Shaddar says.
From the angry looks in their eyes and the thoughts running through their minds, Shaddar sees that his admittedly pathetic ploy has failed to fool them. No matter. Plan B.
He releases a surge of powerful mental energy. One man drops to his knees, the weapon falling to the floor from now-senseless fingers.
The other man tries to lunge at Shaddar, but instead the fool merely brings himself into the rough embrace of Shaddar’s eager tentacles. He screams horribly, trying to pry them off his head! The sound is cut short and replaced by the disturbing sounds of a mindflayer eating messily…
Hawke has gone pale as he strains to hear what is happening. “What have you done? What is that? Boss? What is it?” he whispers.
Shaddar allows the body to hit the floor with a dull, wet thud. He looks with disdain at the stunned man and the corpse.
“Loolipo?” he broadcasts, “I have some work for you down here in the main hall and on the stairs. Take the bodies and a stunned human to my larder. We will dispose of the dead when night falls.”
Shaddar looks at the unholy mess that is trickling down the stairs and pooling on the floor of the main hall. He prods his last thrall mentally, “Cutt! Wake up, sluggard! I have a minor task for you. A small mess needs to be cleaned in the hall and a trifle on the stairs as well. See to it. Personally.”
That small debt paid for past offenses, Shaddar climbs the stairs, leaving a bewildered Hawke behind – his continuing queries unanswered...
Chapter 1 < Chapter 28 Chapter 30 >
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