The City of Ravens (The Cities) by Richard Baker

Author:Richard Baker [Baker, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780786963812
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast Publishing
Published: 2012-08-21T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

Jack, Anders, and Tharzon celebrated their escape from the Guilder’s Vault with steins of beer and flagons of wine for most of the rest of the day. Between the three of them, they had pocketed a handsome amount of dwarfwork valuables. Jack did not see fit to mention the small brandy bottle nestled safely inside his jacket. He didn’t know whether to sell it (Cedrizarun’s work was doubtless worth many hundreds of gold crowns, possibly thousands), share it with his comrades, drink it himself, or give it to that old sot Ontrodes for a lark.

“That weighty decision must be delayed until I have given the issue due consideration,” he told himself. “The tragedy of using this irreplaceable liquor poorly would haunt me for the rest of my days.”

Now that he’d had some time to reflect on their narrow escape, he seemed to recall that a month or two back the Lady Mayor had issued a proclamation offering a generous reward, a very generous reward, to the plucky soul who braved Sarbreen’s awful dangers and hungry deep dragons in order to recover various artifacts from the depths, including the Orb of Khundrukar. Something to the effect of a noble title and ten thousand gold crowns for recovering the dwarven device …

“Perhaps she might pay handsomely for a ring, a dagger, and a bottle of the most superior brandy residing in mortal hands today. Failing that, perhaps she might pay handsomely to learn that the Red Wizard Zandria had recovered the Orb or perished in the attempt,” Jack mused.

Jack bid his partners a good night and left to find a bed. He even left his fair share of the night’s tab on the table and sauntered off into the cool spring evening, humming a merry air as he strolled down the streets leading toward home. Perhaps he’d purchase a small manor out in the countryside, nothing ostentatious or crass of course, a few dozen acres and servants to maintain his modest yet comfortable lifestyle.

“Women such as Illyth or Zandria might prove eager to attach themselves to a person of my status and dignity,” he mused. “Why, I might—”

Someone threw a cloak over his head from behind and wrapped it tight in the blink of an eye. A flurry of punches and jabs battered Jack through the heavy coat, and he was wrestled and dragged a few steps only to fall into a muddy, foul-smelling pool of water. He flailed about, trying to defend himself, but hard-driven fists hammered into his head, shoulders, and back, knocking the wind out of him and pounding him mercilessly. Jack gibbered in panic.

“Wait! Stop—unh! Who—agh! Stop!”

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t—”

“Jack Ravenwild. Where’s the ruby, Ravenwild?”

“You know, dear sir, we’ve been quartering the city looking for you. We’ve discovered that the ruby stolen from House Kuldath was sold in Tantras a few days ago. Perhaps now you may be inclined to—”

“Tell us where the money is, or we’ll slit your throat.”

Twisting in agony, Jack managed to wriggle out of his cloak.

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