Yurunn threw more punches and built himself into a berserker rage. He roared with each strike but oddly, another sound ruined the effect.
Unbelievably, the barbarian was laughing. Blood trickled from wounds across his cheek and over his eyes, but he continued to laugh.
Finally, he pushed his attacker back a few steps. The simpleton needed a moment to catch his breath, surprised that the larger man was still on his feet.
"Been too long in civilized company," the barbarian rumbled, still chuckling. "I missed it. I thank you for that!"
Yurunn screamed something that Carel couldn't understand and surged into another assault, but he was stopped in his tracks and forced back a step. His opponent moved faster than his size should have permitted and his whole body jerked forward and his fist swung powerfully.
The blow caught the man across the jaw and he careened into the bed before he flipped over it.
He regained his feet quickly, but the room’s occupant had followed-through immediately. A knee crunched into his nose to break it easily, and another punch cracked his jaw again and broke it as well.
The young man fell heavily, spitting blood and teeth.
"You finished, you bottom-crawling pit-grubber?" the barbarian asked and touched the cut over his eye lightly. "I am sure I can break a few ribs to slow you again if you have a mind for it."
Yurunn looked like he was about to try to stand again, but after a few attempts, he simply sagged and moaned softly in pain.
Carel had remained huddled safely against the wall—and hopefully out of the way—where he’d been pushed when the fight began. He struggled to find his feet, but the warrior reached him before he could stand fully, twisted a meaty fist into his shirt, and hoisted him almost effortlessly using only one hand.
"I won't kill the two of you this time," the large man rumbled. "Although I feel you might deserve it. Your markings appear to connect you to some of the criminal families that rule the underworld of this city. I have a feeling that a certain amount of violence is required to have those seared onto your body, would that be correct?"
He considered not answering but a swift, hard slap to the side of his head made him reconsider.
"Yes! Yes."
"What did you have to do?"
"I killed a man."
"And have you killed since?"
"Yes."
"So, you think I shouldn't let you live."
Carel looked into the man's eyes, unable to tell if he was joking or not.
"But I have a habit of not killing folk unless I'm protecting my own life—or for coin—and since neither of you weak-spined swill-suckers pose a threat to me and I don't see any coin in it for me, I won't kill either of you. But if you happen to intrude on Ingaret's life—if you so happen to even cast a shadow on her doorstep—I'll snap the big one's neck and smother you to death by shoving your godsbedamned head up his maggot-riddled ass. Now, while that might be a hilarious image, I want you to know that I am in no way less willing to kill either of you. Do you understand?"
He nodded. The cold look in the warrior’s eyes wasn't an unfamiliar sight in his business. The hard glare told him clearly that this was the kind of a man who would deliver on threats of violence without so much as a hint of hesitation or guilt.
"I do."
The barbarian smiled. "Excellent. Now then, will you gentlemen exit by the window or the stairs?"
"The…the stairs?"
"A fine choice, I have to admit. Let's go."
He didn't bother to put Carel down before he picked Yurunn up, groaned somewhat with the weight, and carried them both.
It seemed logical that they’d simply be thrown down the steps, but the man carried them to the bottom.
"Troubles, Master Skharr?" the innkeeper asked when they arrived at the foot of the stairs.
"A pest problem. Nothing to worry about. I already cleared the turd-eating vermin for you."
The door opened and Carel was hurled out to land face-down on the dusty cobbles outside. Before he’d even registered what had happened, Yurunn followed and his full weight sprawled on top of him. Both men groaned and tried to disentangle themselves without drawing too much attention.
Skharr smirked as the two rose slowly to their feet and struggled a little with their balance. The smaller man helped the larger, who was more dazed and beaten than his friend, and they staggered away from the inn.
He turned his attention to one of the pickpockets who saw a chance at an easy score and immediately caught the youth by the shoulder.
"They are not worth your time, believe me. But if you have a mind to earn some steady coin, follow them and report their movements to me every day. You'll be rewarded with a gold for every day that you have a report for me."
"A…a gold coin?"
"No, a golden fucking elephant. What the hells do you think?"
"What's an…ephelant?"
"Never mind. A gold coin a day for you. Does that seem reasonable?"
"Aye, sir."
"Good." He placed a coin in the boy’s hand. "Now, run along."
Chapter Three
Too many places like it existed in the city. Slums had made certain people too much money for them to want to give their luxuries up. Despite this, others felt more at home in the ramshackle side of the city than they would have in villas on the other side and farther away from the docks.
But there was much that coin could purchase, no matter where the location. From the outside, it looked like merely another building set into the marshes that began to creep in from the delta of the river leading into the sea. Stilts kept most of the houses up, although they barely did their work well once the tides came in.
This house was elevated above the rest. It had taken work and more than a few bodies, but the end result kept the water away from the luxuries contained within.
She had long since put her thoughts on how disastrous the location appeared on the outside away. Lessons were learned and she had arrived at the conclusion that not all was as it appeared. Guards stood watch disguised as beggars outside and studied her closely as she approached.
The roofs offered her enough cover, of course, but the crossbows those men carried would be used if she tried anything stealthy.
All gazes were fixed on her as she moved closer, which left her no way in but through the front door. She could see the signs of urum root addiction in the eyes of the guards, which would only make them that much more aggressive if she tried to circle them.
With a smile, she stepped through the front door as it was pulled open by someone who was waiting for her. Her expression a mask of civility, she removed her cloak and handed it to the man who stood nearby without so much a look in his direction.
After a moment while she waited for the doors to close again behind her, she moved to a large painting of a man in full plate armor astride a white horse. This was supposedly the count, although the man had been unable to ride a horse for years now.
A small click emitted as her hands explored the edges of the painting, and it moved away to reveal a hidden staircase that led into a bedroom.
Folk knew that approaching this building meant the possibility of not leaving it again, but she wondered how many knew that many of those who entered were her in her various disguises.