Shadow of a Dead God: A Mennik Thorn Novel by Patrick Samphire

Author:Patrick Samphire [Samphire, Patrick]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Five Fathoms Press
Published: 2020-05-26T16:00:00+00:00

In my time, I had come up with some good ideas, some bad ideas, and — to be frank — some bloody awful ideas. It was the source of my astonishing success, Benny liked to say, and this from a man who was more than familiar with the inside of a City Watch cell. But, I reflected as I settled at a small table in the shadows at the back of Dumonoc’s bar, planning to steal Ash from a captain of the Ash Guard had to rank right up there with the worst. Even Dumonoc’s happy greeting of, “Oh, just fuck off!” didn’t cheer me up.

There was no way this was going to turn out well. If Captain Gale didn’t catch us in the act, she would find out soon afterwards. I couldn’t even use magic to help me because of the dampening effect of the Ash.

I squinted into the shadows by the doorway where Sereh was supposed to be waiting, but I couldn’t see her. Either that meant she was doing her job or she had given up on my stupid plan and buggered off to deal with it herself.

I was so busy watching the door that I missed the figure approaching from the corner until he swung a chair across from the nearest table and seated himself.

“Afternoon.”

I started, then slumped back when I realised it was Squint, the Wren’s information broker.

“I’m kind of busy right now, Squint.”

He ignored me. “You getting some wine in?” He looked meaningfully at the empty table.

“I’m kind of broke.”

Squint waved over to Dumonoc, miming a bottle and a couple of glasses. Dumonoc spat on the floor and shook his head.

“I’m serious, Squint. I’m meeting someone.”

He squinted over the table at me. “Sooner we get down to business the better, then.”

I waited while Dumonoc slammed the bottle of wine and two chipped mugs onto the table. He shot me a disgusted look before stomping back to the bar.

I would say this for Dumonoc: his wine might be as sour as vinegar, and he might have an expression like a goat’s arse, but his cups were clean.

“I’m calling in that favour you owe,” Squint said.

I shot a glance at the door. Still no sign of Captain Gale.

“Can it wait?”

Squint shook his head. I was tempted to tell him where to shove his favour, but Squint worked for the Wren. If you tried to cheat Squint, you were cheating the Wren, and I had pushed my luck too far with him already.

“What do you want?” I said with a sigh.

His lips parted in a toothy smile. Seeing Squint’s teeth was not one of my favourite pastimes. Even if I hadn’t tasted Dumonoc’s wine, Squint’s brown stumps in place of teeth would have been enough to put me off.

“Information,” he said. “Of course.”

I checked the doorway again.

“Fine. But if I tell you, I need you to make yourself scarce for an hour or two.”

His smile widened. “Is that another favour?”

“No. It’s because I know that whatever you’re going to ask me for is worth more than the information you gave me or you wouldn’t be asking.

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