The Silent Blade_A Seven Virtues Novella by Jacob Peppers

Author:Jacob Peppers [Peppers, Jacob]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jacob Peppers
Published: 2017-08-21T22:00:00+00:00

***

The tunnel came out in the basement of one of the houses further down the street and, Aaron was surprised to find it unguarded. “Not even a single man, eh, Claude?” He said, glancing around the abandoned, dust-covered interior of the basement. “Well, I guess spending your life working with the worst the Downs has to offer doesn’t exactly inspire trust, does it? But what of those that helped you dig the tunnel? I can’t imagine you digging it all out yourself.”

“They’re dead,” Claude said, his hand still cradled against his chest. He’d been silent as they trudged through the dirt passage, Aaron’s sword held at his back and even now the words came out reluctantly. Aaron supposed tortures lost some of their appeal when you became the tortured.

“Well. Of course they are. No one left to tell your secret, no one left to worry about. Still … kind of leaves you in a spot now, doesn’t it?”

Claude didn’t answer, only stared at him with that cold, dead gaze. “Well,” Aaron said, motioning to the stairs with his sword, “Lead on.”

They walked for over an hour, sticking to the back alleys, avoiding those few people they saw walking in the street, and the sun was just peaking over the horizon when the fat man finally stopped, “We’re here.”

Aaron stared out at the street from where they stood in the alleyway. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

He looked out upon God’s Row, one of the finest streets in Avarest. No run-down buildings here, no beggars sitting in the street in rags, their hands held up in desperation. The city guard would have made sure of it. Instead, men and women dressed in their finery, brightly colored silks and velvets, walked along the streets or traveled them in coaches, stopping from time to time to admire some bobble or piece of clothing at one of the many high-end shops lining the lane.

The shop owners did not shout their prices, huckstering to passersby as was common in the Downs. Instead, tailors and silversmiths and merchants of all sorts bowed to their well-dressed, well-moneyed guests and scraped and complimented them on their most discerning choice of this potion or that trinket, their tones always admiring, always slightly apologetic. Aaron shook his head in wonder, noting that the shop owners wore clothes and jewelry almost as nice as that of their patrons, a single piece of which would have been worth a fortune to a man or woman living in the Downs.

City guards, their uniforms washed and bright, patrolled the street, smiling and nodding to men and women who rarely deigned to notice their presence and, when they did, did so with the air of someone who’d sat down for tea and noticed some foul scent on the air. “You mean to tell me,” he said, unable to keep the incredulity from his voice, “that Grinner, your boss, works at one of these shops?”

Claude sneered at him, apparently emboldened by the crowds of people, “Don’t be a fool.

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