Blood of the Underworld by Dalglish David

Author:Dalglish, David [Dalglish, David]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Publisher: Eschaton Press
Published: 2012-05-09T04:00:00+00:00

17

Victor looked up at his tavern and sighed with relief. He’d left only a token guard, and come morning, he fully expected it to be a burned heap instead of safe and sound. His head ached, and his armor felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, but the night was done, the sun rose above the walls, and at last he might have some rest.

“Get men sleeping in shifts, all that you can,” he told Sef. “We’ll need to be rested for tonight. There’s no guarantee this one will be any better than the last.”

“Course it won’t,” Sef said. Victor thought to reprimand him for the lack of respect, then let it go. They were all exhausted, their nerves shot. Pulling off pieces of his armor, Victor strode into his tavern. Within were around thirty men and women, people given shelter for fear of the guilds. Overnight, it’d been closer to a hundred crammed in there, but most had work to do, and mouths to feed. Cowering all day was just not an option.

A few looked his way, and he nodded to them in return. One in particular, a man with long dark hair, rose from his chair. Several of the guards reached for their weapons, but the man lifted his hands to show he was unarmed.

“A word with Victor,” the man said. “I know things, things you’ll pay much to know, but I speak only to him.”

Two of the guards were on him then, each grabbing an arm. They looked to Victor, seeking confirmation one way or the other. Victor rubbed his eyes and stepped off the stairs to the higher floor. His boots thudded in the crowded tavern.

“Come over here, and tell me your name.”

The guards brought him near. The man bowed low.

“I won’t give you my name, not with so many near,” he said. “But for the past six years, I have served Thren Felhorn and the Spider Guild.”

Victor glanced at the people under his protection, all watching with rapt attention. He frowned.

“Check him thoroughly for weapons,” he told his guards. “Then send him up.”

They saluted, and without another word, Victor climbed the stairs to his room. He’d planned to change completely, but instead only removed his outer armor, leaving on the inner padding despite it stinking of sweat and blood. The washbasin had been filled recently, steam still rising from the top. He washed his hands and face, the warm water feeling divine on his skin. When the door opened, he turned about and leaned against a wall of his room.

“Well, we’re alone,” Victor said, still holding a washcloth. In its folds was a slender dagger, which he kept carefully hidden. “I assume this is when you try to kill me?”

“Not at all,” said the man as the guards shut the door behind him. “Killing isn’t something I’m good at. Talking, really, and listening. That’s what I do. My name’s Alan. Pleasure to meet you at last, Victor. You’ve caused quite a stir.”

Victor chuckled.

“I think others have caused greater.

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