Chapter 78: Freelance Work

Aretan brought the blunt end of his polearm around, cracking it against the immense man’s head. The thug teetered, then fell to the floor with a groan. Hopefully he would live; knocking someone out without killing them was never a sure thing, but the former mercenary captain didn’t like killing if he could avoid it.

After they heard a woman’s scream, Nelys had dashed off, leaving Aretan to handle himself. He could, but Nelys’ impulsiveness was a constant source of worry.

The smell of burning was getting worse, and tendrils of black smoke started to trickle in from up ahead. Nelys’ small voice shouted for him, so Aretan moved forward, stepping around the prone form of the big guard he’d been fighting, and the other two he’d managed to fight off earlier. The man hadn’t cut him, but he’d landed a solid kick to Aretan’s leg, causing the Navanaean man to limp.

Somewhere behind the two of them was Officer Lorton of the Lockmoth City Guard. He wasn’t lying about the extent of organized crime in the city, and Aretan hoped their lead as to who in the guard was taking bribes wasn’t going up in smoke.

The next room was a short hallway. Nelys’ voice came again from farther ahead—more urgently this time. Despite his injury, Aretan picked up the pace and sprinted down the hallway toward his friend.

Nelys was the one who had the idea to help the guard in the city after their inn room was robbed and no one would help. Honestly, Aretan liked the work as it reminded him of what he’d left behind; it was honest and he was helping the common folk.

Nelys just needed an outlet for their wanderlust. They coped with the smell in Lockmoth better than Aretan, but were restless staying in the city. This kind of urban exploration had allowed them to feel fulfilled in a way. But it also meant they often ran headlong into danger. I hope they’re alright, Aretan thought as he ran through the pain in his leg.

The dark smoke poured thickly out of the room where Nelys’s voice came from.

“Are you alright?” Aretan asked, running into the room. The room was hot, almost unbearably so. Burning stacks of crates with unknown contents lined the walls. The only light was from the fire: flickering, overbright, and erratic.

Nelys was bent over a burning mass on the floor, face serious and eyes teary. “Help me move the big one! She’s gonna burn!”

Aretan dashed around the burning table and saw the scene more clearly. The gagging, cloying stench of burning flesh hit him like a wall. He nearly stumbled despite his years of experience—there were some things you just never got used to.

There was a large man—either dead or he’d wish he was—half-burned on top of a small, comatose woman. The fire had caught her legs and Aretan thought her dead too, until he saw a brown-furred ear twitch. She’s a kazzel, and she’s alive.

Without hesitation, Aretan shouldered the large dead man off the woman. The corpse rolled off limply, still burning. The woman was hopefully still alive, but her legs were horribly burned.

Nelys gasped, then coughed on the smoke that drifted down lower and lower.

“Let’s go.” Aretan said quickly. With a grunt of effort, he lifted the woman over his shoulder. “Can you cover me on the way out?”

Nelys nodded. “We’re gonna save her right?”

“We’re going to try.”

***

The raid was a partial success. Officer Lorton filed his report before dawn—no sense in letting those in the pockets of the crooks have a chance to pin something on him. He was certain the captain was working with the gangs, but if Lorton did everything by the books, that afforded him at least some security. Some security that might not do shit after tonight, however. A problem for later, hopefully after some sleep.

What hadn’t burned in the Mudrat hideout was telling. Imported contraband of all sorts, gray market goods of dubious origins, and several counterfeit items.

Honestly, Lorton was glad most of it had burned. The storage room used for evidence might as well have been an apothecary’s shop for how much of its contents were resold then labeled “lost.”

Unfortunately, while they had reached a room that looked like a deranged noble’s office before the place had burned down, the most important documents had been taken. They’d just missed the bastard, too—the office was a mess and a few things had been left behind in the pulled-out drawers and scattered piles. This included a most unusual correspondence that referenced one of the people they had in custody. Aside from enough information to shut at least a couple fronts down, that document and the woman they had in custody were Lorton’s only leads.

The officer ran a hand through his short-cropped, thinning hair and took another step toward the door to the holding cell. The woman they’d saved had almost died; Lorton regretted how little he’d been able to do. If the bounty on her head was real, Taava wouldn’t survive a night at any hospital in the city.

As things were, he’d pulled his last favor with a local Church priestess whom he could trust just to get her stable. According to the priestess, she’d probably never walk again—not without the kind of magic that few possess.

And they aren’t exactly the type to go handing that out. Especially since the Church snaps all of them up, so there’s not going to be someone independent who could help.

Lorton gripped the doorhandle and paused to check his uniform. Rumpled, sweaty, and bearing a bloodstain under the lapel that he’d missed. Good enough. He took a breath, tightened his posture, and strode into the room.

With her legs broken and burned, Lorton hadn’t seen any point in restraining the woman, instead opting for a cot and a blanket. She was sleeping fitfully, but jerked awake when he stepped in, her ears twitching.

The kazzel woman looked over at him and hissed softly, her cat-like green eyes narrowing. “What will you do with me?” Her tone was formal, oddly-accented, and ice cold.

“We’ll try to keep you alive, that’s what,” Lorton answered, taking a seat on the only chair in the small room. “Now, what can you tell me about Garvin, the Mudrats, the Bleeders, and the Black Claw?”

At the last words, she couldn’t hide an ear twitch. Kazzel weren’t common in Lockmoth, but Lorton wouldn’t have gotten to where he was—that is, not dead—without knowing how to read people.

“Where are Aretan and the other small one? I have friends who are looking for them. Friends who really, really need to know I’m alive.” Despite her injuries the woman met Lorton’s easy gaze.

“Aretan and Nelys are resting,” Lorton started and Taava narrowed her eyes, “and I can take you to them once we’re done.”

“Am I not ‘under arrest,’ Sir Guard?” the woman asked derisively, struggling to sit up on her elbows in the cot. Her lower body stayed limp.

“Knowing the bounty on your head, if I did put you in a normal cell, you’d ‘escape’ and the guard on duty would end up a whole lot richer. No.”

“So you’ll just let me go?”

“Yep,” Lorton stared tiredly at her. “I’ll let you go. If the crooks in this town hate you, that’s good enough for me. Just don’t kill anyone who doesn’t need it.”

Taava hissed.

I guessed wrong, Lorton thought, or maybe too right.

“Right, sorry,” Lorton rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “Look, let’s just get this over with. You tell me everything you know and I’ll try to shut this whole thing down.”

Taava laughed darkly, trailing off into a hacking cough. “You? You and what army? And how do I know you’re not going to sell me out yourself?”

“If I wanted to sell you out, I’ve already had enough of a chance and you know that.” Lorton gritted his teeth. “I’ll call on some more favors. I might be able to get a bounty and sic one of the big merc companies on the Mudrats. And maybe, just maybe, I can get a contingent of Ordian Guard out here,” he said the last part knowing full well just how likely that would be.

Taava stared at him, then past him to the wall. “Maybe.”

It didn’t feel like she was talking to him.

“So,” she continued, her voice switching accent and timbre completely, “Whaddya wanna talk about?”

Lorton smiled. “I think we should start with some names.”

Taava smiled conspiratorially back.

***

I can’t believe Renna and Seyari are in town already!” Nelys bounced along the street.

“Nelys, it has been a month,” Aretan answered, glancing down every alley they passed. The sun had just come up, and it cast long shadows over the stirring city.

“Really?” Nelys put a finger to their chin. “Huh, yeah, I guess it has. Time sure flies when you’re exploring and helping out the city!”

Aretan nodded, with a soft smile. “I suppose it does.”

“Still, what are the chances that Taava knew Renna and Seyari! I wish we hadn’t been deep in an invest-igation when they were looking around for us!”

Something in Aretan’s mind clicked. “I think you just answered your own thought, Nelys.”

“Huh?”

“We knew we would have people out for us when we signed up. Zarenna and Seyari did not, and if they asked all over town for us…”

“Oh… oh no!” Nelys’s face twisted into a frown. “Do you think Taava got caught in all this because of us?”

“No.” Aretan shook his head, and quickened his pace. “But I am worried that Zarenna, Seyari and the other man they are with might have.”

“Salvador!” Nelys chirped, picking up the pace alongside Aretan. “His name’s Salvador!”

Together, the two of them ran for the place Taava had said Zarenna and Seyari would be.